#I LOVE YOU I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING SUCH A GOOD DAY!!!!!!!

[neptunecaptains]

In The Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're finding it difficult to sleep in your new home. Bucky knows how to fix it.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral sex (f receiving; I like a giver), fingering, defiling a kitchen.

A/N: This is from a long time ago... was just going through fics I wrote when I used to love the MCU and came across this one. If there's anyone on here from way back then, it might sound familiar. Imagine this to be set in some multiverse where Steve never left in Endgame and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Fic (masterlist coming soon!)

♡♡♡♡

The clock’s just gone ten past twelve when he feels you slip out of bed.

Bucky shouldn’t know that— the time. He should be dead to the world, asleep in the comfort of his bed with his girl warm by his side, full and sated and happy thanks to good company, good food, and even better liquor that can actually do something to him. Instead, he’s hyper-aware and questioning why you wouldn’t be dead asleep too and, before he knows it, he’s following in your footsteps.

It’s jarring, being awake at this hour in a mostly-empty home.

The halls feel too narrow and you still haven’t put the pictures up so the walls look bare and cold, and the dining table is missing a leg so you had to have dinner on the couch but you couldn’t find the box with the cushions which, now that Bucky thinks about it is probably still at the compound and god that means he has to go up there again— 

“Hey,” he hears, whisper-soft and cautious.

For a moment Bucky feels like maybe you’re the one who woke up to go after him, like how you used to do so long ago, worried about things neither of you could control. But no, it’s him, looking for you.

It’s him, finding you tired and rumpled in front of the stove, the red kettle Nat gave you as a gift steaming away on the burner. With the lights dimmed you look like a dream, but then again you look like that at any time of the day.

Bucky’s hands find your hips easily, skin and metal brushing over soft skin and worn cotton. They slip beneath your sleep shirt, a faded old thing he got as a gag gift some Christmases ago— Sam still asks him about the vulgar print on the front. Bucky tries to forget, but you never let him. Especially not on nights you wear the damn thing to bed.

He finds warmth, the same kind that should be next to him in bed right now, which— “Can’t sleep?”

You sigh, melting easily into the embrace. Your nose is cold, colder than it has any right to be with the heat on, nuzzling against the rough scratch of hair along his jaw. “Feels weird.”

It does— the house. Well, home, now, filled with your clothes and your furniture and the dishes you put in the dishwasher after your friends left a few hours ago because our first meal in our new home can’t be in paper plates, Buck and I already took the glasses out of the box, baby and he’s never been good at saying no. The house feels weird and he can’t wait until it doesn’t, with the pictures up, and the throw blanket on the couch, and those damn cushions he can’t believe he forgot.

“Bet you’d feel better back in bed,” Bucky murmurs, smiles, lips soft against the skin of your neck. “With me.”

You hum, could be a snort if it were any time except almost one in the morning and if you hadn’t spent the whole day hauling boxes and building whatever furniture you could before exhaustion won out. “I just put the kettle on.”

Bucky looks at the offending piece of kitchenware over your shoulder, willing it to somehow set on fire but wait, no. That would be very, very bad. Bucky has a mortgage now, shit.

“Okay,” he says instead, shrugging. “We’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice the time. Instead, he notices your palms on his cheeks and your thumbs over his cheekbones; the way you taste of mint and something else, something like cloves and honey, no doubt from the sips you stole from his drink during the moving-day-turned-housewarming. He notices the way you sink into his body, held up by his arms caging you against the counter behind you, moaning softly at the wet sweeps of his tongue against the seam of your lips, parting under the pressure.

Bucky grips the countertop a bit too hard, gritting his teeth as he breaks the kiss. “How long ‘til that thing goes off?”

“We’re not defiling our kitchen so soon,” you laugh into his lips, sweet. The hands on his cheeks pull his face further away until you’re squinting up at him, lips spit-slick and shiny in the low light delighted and knowing all the same. “This is where we eat—”

“And I’m hungry,” Bucky grins, wicked, matches your own expression if only a bit dirtier. “Might as well use it for what it’s for, right?”

This time you do snort, forehead resting against his own. The sound settles deep in Bucky’s bones, spreading all over his body in places he didn’t know he had, warm and buzzing like a beehive. “You’re so gross.”

He is. He really, really is and he blames it all on himself and on you and the way you sigh into his mouth when he gets his hands above the swell of your ass, one of his thick thighs slipping between your own, warmth seeping everywhere you touch him. He blames it on those pretty eyes and that pretty mouth, those hands tugging at the bottom half of his hair that’s untied, that sweet voice moaning into the night when he nips at that spot behind your ear— 

“Baby.”

"Bucky," you laugh softly, glancing at him. It’s near-dark, the lights still dimmed, but he swears he can map out the marks on your skin, can count every single lash on your eyelids.

"Baby," he replies in the same tempting tone, watching your eyes with his own, so clear and expressive, so stunning.

You sigh, resigned. Bucky doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“We’re gonna have to clean in the morning.”

“Guess I’ll have to suffer,” he says, hands warm on your thighs hauling you onto the counter.

He’s gentle as he parts your thighs, takes his time kissing the inside until you’re sighing all breathy and sweet, trembling on both sides of his head. Fingers hooking onto gray cotton, he slides your panties down your legs, bringing you closer to the edge of the counter and towards his mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes so blue when they flick up to your own.

Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the hair tie holding the longest strands back. Your lips part in a smile, wavering slightly at the edges as he ducks in, tongue soft and wet against your heat. He licks a broad stripe along your folds, takes in the way you shake almost imperceptibly— only knows it happens because he’s looking for it.

Bucky drinks you in, picks you apart with his tongue and his fingers, wet along his lips, his jaw, and his flesh fingers. He makes it messy, lets you whine and wail into your otherwise quiet home, grinding your hips onto his face and the two digits plunging inside your cunt, stroking that sweet spot deep inside.

You come apart on his tongue, slowly and quietly, a breathy gasp and the rhythmic clench of your muscles against his fingers the only warning he gets before he feels even more wetness pooling on his tongue, dripping down his palm.

“Oh!”

He kisses at the inside of your thighs, leaves it wet and sticky as you come down from your high. His thumbs caress your hipbones, feeling the slight quiver of your core against his touch, reveling in it.

To his right, the kettle starts whistling.

“Water’s boiling, honey,” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crease of your thighs.

You groan, fingers tugging at the hair tangled in them. “I hate you.”

Bucky laughs, throaty and with his chest, slightly loud at a time where the night seems to stand still. There’s only the rush of your breath and the whistle of the kettle, drawn-out and cut off as he turns the burner off and moves it onto a cold, unused one. He gravitates between your thighs once more, lips on yours like magnets. He kisses you slowly, takes his time and lets you bite at his bottom lip, slipping your tongue against his and pulling those sounds from his throat that play in your head like your favorite song.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You sigh deeply, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.”

Bucky feels it spread from the top of his head down to his toes, fingers on your waist curling into fabric and skin. It’s hot and cold, bad and good. He feels it.

“Anywhere you want, sugar.”

Happiness.

[devilish-cherry]

gojo relationship headcanons ♡

ᨳ♡₊➳ gojo x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ my other works

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: poll results are in and everyone's favorite menace won. i had the absolute best time writing these lmao i hope you all enjoy, and thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! also this is my 100th post which is wild. thank you all for sticking around while i post unhinged feelings about fictional men 🩵

₊⊹. gojo is the type to yell your name dramatically across crowded places just to wave enthusiastically and point at you like you're a celebrity. strangers stare. you die inside.

₊⊹. whenever you call him 'satoru' in a serious tone, he immediately gets suspicious. "who died? are we fighting? did i leave the stove on? wait. did nanami finally snap?"

₊⊹. you once jokingly said you could never date a guy who doesn't cry at movies. gojo, offended by the insinuation, forces himself to cry watching finding nemo. he's sobbing. ugly sobbing. "he misplaced his son..." he croaks, wiping a tear with a stray kit kat wrapper.

₊⊹. gojo's love language is physical touch. if you're not touching, he will fix that immediately. sits on your lap. leans over your shoulder. once nuzzled into your side and muttered, "i have to recharge. you're my emotional powerbank."

₊⊹. he once got jealous of your dog. your dog. "he gets cuddles all day and i get, what? a single forehead kiss? this is rigged."

₊⊹. gojo is physically incapable of passing an arcade without trying to win you a stuffed animal. you now have an army of plushies he insists are your "children" complete with backstories and family drama.

₊⊹. if you leave your phone unattended, you'll return to find dozens of extremely zoomed-in selfies of him making dumb faces saved on your phone. "you're welcome for the new wallpaper."

₊⊹. if he notices you're tired, he immediately insists on carrying you bridal style. doesn't matter if you're in public, grocery shopping, or in the middle of crossing the street.

₊⊹. he routinely calls you ridiculous pet names just to embarrass you in public. expect gems like "my precious cinnamon bun," "divine snuggle muffin," or simply "sweetest bean of my life." when strangers stare, he just winks at you and whispers loudly, "they just wish they had what we have."

₊⊹. gojo insists on celebrating absurd anniversaries, like "three months since we first shared a spoon."

₊⊹. you forgot to text him good morning one time. one time. that day, he texted you, "Feeling ugly and unblessed. Might perish. Hope you're well."

₊⊹. he leaves sticky notes everywhere, from your fridge to your bathroom mirror, filled with overly flattering comments and crude doodles of himself crowned king.

₊⊹. gojo genuinely believes every single minor inconvenience you experience is an attack on his person. the coffee machine breaks? obviously the work of a cursed spirit. traffic jam? definitely a conspiracy by the higher-ups.

₊⊹. he sends you photos from random places captioned "Thinking of you. <3" you'll open your phone to see a zoomed-in pic of a traffic cone. or a pigeon. or nanami with a blurry rage face in the background.

₊⊹. gojo is touchy. like, casually-throws-an-arm-around-your-shoulders-and-slowly-morphs-into-a-koala levels of clingy. you've had full conversations while he was literally hanging off your back like a six-foot toddler.

₊⊹. he genuinely sulks if you laugh harder at someone else's joke, muttering dramatically, "guess i'll just retire now. comedy career over."

₊⊹. he casually gives you extravagant gifts with absurd reasoning. "here's a diamond-encrusted pen. because you scribbled a heart on a napkin once."

₊⊹. when you compliment him in public, he always loudly gasps like a scandalized debutante. "oh my god, stop! you're going to make me blush. you're embarrassing me in front of my adoring fans!" the fans in question are confused bystanders and one traumatized child.

₊⊹. when you're sad, he gets oddly quiet. he sits beside you and lets you lean into him. no jokes. just warm silence and the occasional thumb stroke over your hand. he doesn't need to say much. you know he's there. always.

₊⊹. he will purposely steal your spot on the couch then dramatically offer it back as a grand romantic gesture.

₊⊹. one time, gojo accidentally sent a ridiculous lovey-dovey text intended for you to nanami. he still hasn't recovered from nanami's deadpan, "Wrong person. And seek help."

₊⊹. whenever he cooks, it's either a michelin star worthy masterpiece or a fire hazard waiting to happen. he proudly calls it "experimental cooking."

₊⊹. if you're walking together and someone hits on you, gojo will not play it cool. he'll put both arms around you like a scarf and start loudly talking about your shared bank account and imaginary child.

₊⊹. once, gojo woke you up at 3 a.m. because he had a dream you cheated on him. "it wasn't even real, and i'm still emotionally wounded. comfort me. pet my hair."

₊⊹. he claims he can "feel when you're sad" from miles away. you once tested this by sighing loudly into your tea, and approximately 4.3 seconds later, he burst through the window like a disney prince on crack.

₊⊹. you caught him talking to himself in the mirror. not just talking. arguing. "no, you're too powerful and sexy. stop it. no you stop—" you walk in. you both freeze. "...this is a private moment," he says. you never speak of it again.

₊⊹. he thinks you're the funniest person alive. you told one mildly decent joke at a party. he laughed for five minutes. cackling. wheezing. nearly crying. everyone else was confused. "i'm dating a comedian," he gasped, holding his stomach. he references the joke in random conversations like it's a cultural landmark.

₊⊹. despite his eccentric behavior, gojo quietly cherishes every moment with you. behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, he softly whispers, "you might just be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

[zorosgirlfriend]

Helloo!!! I'm the same person who asked for luffy with a clingy reader lol I LOVED IT SM YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD WRITER💔

so can I request luffy x a very oblivious reader like even more oblivious then him? I hope that makes sense 😭 if you do write it thank you!! Have a very nice day💕

awwww tysmmm! here it is, sorry if it's late 😅 i hope you'll like this one too! and i hope you request some more too cuz i loveee your ideas.

Monkey D. Luffy ~ !! Dense meets Denser.

warnings: none. mentions of usopp, sanji, and ace

masterlist and rules || have fun reading!

Luffy wasn’t used to being the one who noticed things first.

Emotions, cues, people’s feelings.

Those always flew right over his head.

But this time…

He was sure.

He liked you.

A lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

You were funny, strong, and had the weirdest quirks he found adorable.

But there was one small issue.

You were oblivious.

Dangerously, astoundingly, even more oblivious than Luffy himself.

Which was saying something.

It started when he shared his meat with you.

“I saved you a piece!”

He said with a grin, holding it out proudly like it was a rare gem.

You took it without question.

“Thanks, Luffy! You always give me food when I’m hungry!”

He blinked.

“…I mean, yeah, but it’s my meat.”

You smiled and chewed happily, unaware of the bright flush on his face.

Then came the day he tried to hold your hand.

You two were walking ahead of the crew on a bright, sunny afternoon.

Luffy’s fingers brushed against yours a couple of times before he just reached out and held your hand.

You glanced down.

“Oh! Is this a new training thing? Hand grip strength?”

Luffy stared at you, mouth slightly open.

“Huh? No—”

“Well, I can try it! I’ll squeeze really hard!”

You beamed, gripping his hand with the force of a vice.

“OW OW OW—NOT TRAINING—”

You immediately let go.

“Oh no, I hurt you! Sorry!”

You patted his head to comfort him.

Luffy blushed harder, flustered and confused all over again.

But what really broke his brain was when he finally tried to confess.

“Hey, Y/N,”

He started, face unusually serious.

“Hm?”

You said, munching on a fruit Usopp gave you.

“I like you.”

You smiled.

“I like you too!”

Luffy blinked.

“No, like—I like you like you.”

Your eyes lit up.

“Like how you like meat?!”

“No!”

“…Like how you like Ace?”

Luffy groaned and leaned forward until your foreheads bumped.

“Like how Sanji likes ladies!!”

You blinked at him.

“So… you want to cook for me?”

Luffy let out a frustrated yell and flopped backward on the deck with a dramatic sigh.

“Mannnnn… You’re even more clueless than me…”

You tilted your head.

“Did I miss something important?”

He looked at you, cheeks red, but he grinned anyway.

“Yeah,”

He said.

“But that’s okay. I’ll just keep saying it until it sticks.”

“…Saying what?”

Luffy propped himself up on his elbows, his grin lazy and wide.

“I like you. I wanna kiss you someday.”

Your face went red this time, and you squeaked, completely unprepared for the directness.

Luffy blinked.

“Ohh, now you get it?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Okay, okay—maybe I’m a little slow…”

He laughed and leaned over to rest his head on your shoulder.

“That’s fine. I’ll wait. I’m not in a hurry.”

Then he added,

“But if you wanna kiss me now, I won’t stop you.”

Your flustered sputtering made him laugh even harder.

[sweetlybun]

♡ hugging you tight

🍙 MEI SAYS : my first work ^_^ i hope this is good, i liked writing it!! now i wanna get a hug from all of them ahjhjaehjg 🌱 CHARACTERS : xiao, diluc, kaeya, albedo, childe x gn reader

🍀 XIAO

soft, awkward hugs... please teach him what a hug feels like.

i don't really think xiao is always one for hugs, so maybe when he does, it's either in times of desperation or he's let his walls down so much that he doesn't care anymore

the first time he hugged you, he was definitely blushing and trying not to think too hard about it HAHA and doing it for you!! because he cares, he'd fight the awkwardness to give you the human comfort you deserve

but i'd like to think that a hug from him feels good! unfamiliar, but in a good way; where you wished there was more without the circumstances

he holds on a little tighter than you do

🍀 DILUC

grounding, sturdy hugs -> the kinds that make you feel burrowed into his arms, all wrapped up tightly in there

hugs for comfort :( diluc definitely holds his lover lots, be it in bed or in the entranceway as you welcome him home. there are some days where he holds you tighter.

also thinking of a size difference with diluc... oh he's so big – so warm, so loving, so willing to wrap you up and protect you from the world.

he'd be so big with you against his chest :'( he's so much bigger and his frame just envelopes you its the best thing ever

🍀 KAEYA

TEASY HUGS :( hugs that pull you in closer as he laughs and brings your head closer into the crook of his neck!!

he's so silly he takes any chance to hug you .. something about him just screams wanting to be close to you any chance he gets! i think he'd be rather touch starved too

he pulls you into his arms by your hands, that sweet, sweet smile of joy that can only be seen when someone sees their lover...

please hold him tighter. underneath all that is just a man who yearns for reciprocation he never has to ask for ♡

🍀 ALBEDO

slightly awkward hugs... i'd like to think that his first few hugs with you were somewhat strange, like when you're a kid and friends with the neighbour boy and your moms force you to take a picture together

you have to teach him!! >:3 teach him what a good hug feels like

the intricacies of human touch, like the soft looking up into his eyes, or burying your head into his chest, or letting him rest his head against yours

time passes, and hugs are one of those things he doesn't let you ask for -> he just knows, somehow. like a little radar in his mind, just letting you fall straight into his arms

🍀 CHILDE

soft, sweet hugs that you melt right into

ohhhh i think a good long hug from him would heal the world solve all problems water your crops actually. somehow his body just knows; the right warmth, the right pressure, the right position, everything that makes you feel cradled and so well loved

i think it's also an older brother instinct maybe :( he knows how to make things better...

HE'S SO CUTE he has this habit of rubbing his thumb against your shoulder blade as you lean into him. the softest, sweetest, most comforting hug you've felt in a long time.

please hold him even tighter when he needs it!! at the very core of his love and protection is a man who needs to feel the same

[meanbossart]

I hope it’s alright to ask, but as someone whose interested in going into drawing nsfw art, would you say it’s a profitable job to have? I’ve heard a lot of different things about making a living in art, especially nsfw art/commissions, but I figured actually asking someone who has a nsfw Patreon would be a more reliable source of information than random rumors on the internet haha. Would you say an nsfw Patreon is a viable option an artist could make a living off of? Or would it be wiser to have it be a source of income on the side, and get a more well paying non-art job as my “main job”? Like… how feasible is it for paying the bills these days? Thank you! <3 Huge appreciation & respect for all you make, one spicy artist to another 🫶

Hi!

The short, straight forward answer is: Yes, it is absolutely profitable for you to make, at least, a significant part of your living off making NSFW art. That should come as no surprise from seeing how some of the most financially successful online artists also happen to be NSFW artists.

The more realistic answer is that it depends. Here's some things I would encourage you to consider first:

-Do you have a pre-existing following? People won't find your patreon/ko-fi/whathaveyou by accident, let alone subscribe to it if they don't have previous exposure to what you're offering. Putting yourself out there and working hard to share your passions for "free" (between quotes because, hopefully, this is what you like to do and it won't feel like work in the first place) is the first step here.

-How much of yourself and your life have you previously shared on the internet? If you have your face, name, and any personal details up online, it's worth considering how pivoting to erotic/porn art could potentially affect your personal life and career opportunities. How much this matters to you will vary - but I think it's considering nonetheless before even delving into the niche.

-Are you good at setting down boundaries with people you meet online? Ok, this might be a weird one but hear me out, because I NEVER see anyone mentioning this part of the deal: Sex is an intimate act and by centering your work around it, it can invite a lot of prying into you. It will, pretty much 100% of the time, reveal something about yourself and your preferences - you can't fight this, you can't avoid it, you can't deny it. By the very nature of the genre, you will get people interacting with you and your work in ways that may feel more intimate than you are comfortable with, not because they mean you any harm, or are trying to be weird*, but because, again, it is in the nature of the type of art you are making to prompt this reaction. This is where setting boundaries for yourself is absolutely crucial to ensuring your interactions with the people who love and respect your work are actually mutually fun.

*At least the vast majority of the time they aren't trying to be weird, but you will inevitably get some weird ones, obviously.

-Do you even LIKE drawing porn? I'm not saying that this is you, but It is not uncommon to hear artists sharing a sentiment along the lines of "If I just made porn I would be so much more successful" and very clearly they come from a place of not having any desire to do that. I have personally known people who pivoted to NSFW art to try and garner more attention to the rest of their work, or because they thought it was an easy ticket to financial success, and it left them drained and resentful of their own art and the attention they received. Make sure that this is something that brings you joy and makes you feel fulfilled, first.

Given all of that it's proper consideration, all that's left to do is dip your toes into it and see how it goes. Obviously I wouldn't suggest quitting your job/education and going into it cold turkey - these things can take time to build up and in the mean time you will need income from another source. But it takes starting to draw and posting first until, eventually, you can make a more informed decision on how to proceed.

[dior-luxury]

Can we get some headcanons for Deuce when he gets a girlfriend for the first time?

New Boyfriend Deuce HC'S

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] deuce spade

- [𝐩:𝐬] deuce being the best boyfriend ever. Fluff-heavy romance . Mild secondhand embarrassment . Emotional vulnerability .

Note: Guys... I got a LITTLE too carried away with these headcanons (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) Anyways these headcanons are so cute like- ahahsiken. Let me know if you guys would want more characters!

Deuce never thought he’d have a girlfriend in Night Raven College — he was too busy trying to be an honor student, avoid trouble, and stay on Crowley's good side. But when he meets you, something shifts. You're kind, but not a pushover. You encourage him to study but also tease him when he gets too serious. You’re not loud, but somehow, when you're in a room, he feels it. His heart jumps a little whenever you laugh. At first, he writes it off as admiration. Just friends. That’s all. But then he finds himself lingering in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of you between classes. He starts sitting in spots where you’ll pass by. His cheeks flush whenever you smile at him for no reason. He realizes it when Ace smirks one day and goes, “You’re seriously down bad for her, huh?”

Confessing is a nightmare and a half. He doesn’t want to mess it up. Deuce goes full-on prep mode like he’s cramming for a Spelldrive match and a pop quiz at the same time. He practices what to say in front of the mirror, muttering lines like: "Would you maybe want to—uh—do the thing—no, wait, not like that—"

He’s red as a tomato by the end of it.

He writes you a letter. Handwritten. Old-fashioned. Filled with crossed-out words and nervous little doodles in the margins. It ends with: “I think you’re amazing and I want to be someone you can count on. If you want… would you go out with me?” When he hands it to you, he bolts. Just. Takes off. Won’t even look you in the eye until the next day.

When you say yes, he’s stunned into silence. Then his face lights up like fireworks and he gives you the most genuine, pure smile you’ve ever seen. "R-Really?! I mean, I’m really happy. I’ll do my best—I mean, I’ll be the best boyfriend I can!”

Deuce is so earnest it hurts. He Googles “how to be a good boyfriend” and takes notes. He shows up to your hangouts with little things you mentioned once in passing. If you said your favorite color was lilac? Expect him to wear a tie in that color next week. You mentioned you liked strawberry tarts once? He’ll try to bake them (and ends up covered in flour, calling his mom mid-way for help).

He’s not very smooth, and it shows. One time, he tried to do the whole "cool guy leaning against the locker" thing and misjudged the angle, falling sideways into the wall. He laughed it off awkwardly, ears pink. “Nailed it,” he said. You giggled, and he practically melted.

He tries to play it cool around others, but Ace teases the hell out of him. “There’s your girlfriend, Deuce! Go get her a flower or something!” “I-I was going to anyway! Shut up, Ace!”

He loves walking you back to your dorm. It becomes a quiet, meaningful routine. He listens intently when you talk about your day, and he’ll offer to carry your books even if you insist he doesn’t have to. He’s not touchy at first — not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s terrified of doing something you’re uncomfortable with. The first time you held his hand, he short-circuited. Just blinked down at your interlocked fingers and looked like he was trying not to pass out from happiness.

Being with you pushes him to grow. He starts reflecting on how he communicates, how he reacts when he’s upset, how he can show love without overwhelming you. You catch glimpses of the rougher Deuce sometimes — the one who’s a little hot-headed, a little impulsive. But he’s learning. With you, he wants to be the version of himself that he's proud of.

One time, he got into an argument with another student who disrespected you, and he was this close to throwing a punch. But then he remembered what you’d say. He breathed. He walked away. Later, he apologized to you, looking like a kicked puppy. “I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

You tell him you’re proud of how far he’s come. His voice catches when he answers. “That means a lot. I… I used to think I had to fight to prove myself. But now, I want to grow for real. Not just for me. For us.”

He takes you on a “date” to the botanical gardens on campus, and it’s surprisingly lovely. He’s not great at planning fancy things, but he puts in so much heart. He brings a picnic lunch he made (not bad, actually!) and sets it all up under a tree blooming with pastel flowers. “I wanted you to have something peaceful. You always make me feel calm, you know?” he admits.

On your birthday, Deuce panics about what gift to get you. In the end, he hand-crafts a small charm — something simple, with your initials and a lucky star bead from his hometown. “It’s not perfect, but I wanted you to have something that’d protect you.”

Rainy days are his favorite because you’ll let him lend you his jacket — which is oversized, warm, and smells like the citrus soap he uses. You wear it and tease him: “Boyfriend privileges.” He blushes but beams. “I’ll give you all the privileges you want.”

Deuce might act tough sometimes, but he’s soft when it comes to you. He’s the type to text you “Did you eat today?” or bring you your favorite snack after a long class. If you’re ever sad, he listens. Doesn’t always know what to say, but he sits beside you, lets you vent, and quietly offers his hand to hold.

He’s so gentle when he’s with you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Smiling nervously before pressing a kiss to your forehead. His affection is shy but real.

One night, you two stayed up late talking — about dreams, the future, things that scare you, things you hope for. Deuce looked at you and whispered: “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you. I don’t wanna take it for granted.”

[juicebuck]

I could always count on 911 being the type of show that doesn’t drop its storylines. There has been stuff that’s been called back that I didn’t expect to be called back, but the difference is is that back then there are some sort of conclusion? Even if there wasn’t closure, it was sort of concluded in that arc of that makes sense? Hen cheating on Karen. Karen finally being able to tell Eva (Ava forgot her name) that shes always afraid of her disrupting their lives. Athena and finally being able to find the person that killed her fiancé. Like I know this show can properly pick strings back up but when they pick the strings they were at least solid. Do I have too much hope that they’ll revisit the “you think I’m in love with Eddie”? Yea sure but any string they grab will be so flimsy. They couldn’t add something at all to the finale if that’s where they’re taking it?

yeah. and well, i mean the issue is tim and the way he runs this show. and that needs to change. or he needs to take a step back and hand the reins over. because his vision (if we can even call it that) is directly at odds with what people want. and i'm not just talking about buddie. but just, in general. the GA has been just as unhappy with his "creative decisions" as the rest of us. bobby being #1 on that list. but also, eddie and christopher being gone and the lack of normal emergencies have come up in the facebook comments a lot. he's lost what the heart of the show is. and, it's not that that heart is gone completely, it's that he doesn't seem to care to find it again in any real way. we get glimpses of it that ultimately come to nothing. and a lot of the issue is that tim doesn't plan anything. he scraps and changes things last minute, it's literally an in-joke with cast and crew that they have no idea what's going on (script tbd cocktail 😭) because they don't. they get scripts mere days, or the day before shooting. which are insane conditions to work under. he killed bobby off on a whim, even though peter hadn't expressed any interest to leave. ryan wasn't even sure whether he'd be coming back. and all of this SHOWS on-screen. because he drops threads to pick up other ones, to only then drop those and do the same. and on and on and on. and it's frustrating because we know the show CAN be good, the heart IS still there. like, the shake-up the show needed was NOT killing off bobby nash. it was better planning, it was committing to the stories you're telling, it was actually CARING about the characters. and the thing is, there are actually some really good writers on this team that DO care, and it shows in some of the episodes. that's where the heart still is. tim either needs to start listening to people other than himself or take a step back. and well, i do actually have hope for season 9. especially after the mass backlash from all corners over the past few weeks. that things could change for the better. and i'm not going to spend the whole summer dooming. i still love these characters and i still believe that many people involved in the show do too, and that they can come back from this. but things DO need to change.

[vamplvs]

Could you possibly write something angsty for John Walker where maybe a mission or something goes wrong and he ends up taking out his frustration on reader but apologizes and makes up for it when he notices reader pulling away, I love your writing so much!! Hope you have a good day! 💕

ROUGH NIGHT?

INCLUDES -> john walker x gn!reader WARNINGS -> john is kind of a bitch (predictably) and the reader is kind of a bitch back (which is deserved), hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, injury, and death (missions, yk?), reader is anxious as HELL about john, very vague mentions of sex but nothing explicit WORD COUNT -> 2.8k NOTES -> ugh anon this is EXACTLY the kind of shit i love writing. hurt/comfort is where it's at and this is just so unbearably john-coded in the best way. like yeah! you get it <3 fair warning, this ran away from me REALLY quick. it was supposed to be a short blurb (mostly aftermath and comfort tbh), and then i got carried away. also you can rly see my love-hate relationship w john in this one LMAO. he's my wife but i wanna get into a fist fight with him too, yk?

the tower is always quiet without the team, and bob's presence doesn't do much to keep things lively as he's already a pretty quiet person. they've been gone for nearly two weeks—double the time john told you the mission would take. they're usually radio silent for the duration of their missions, but when a mission takes so long, it's impossible not to worry.

and just as impossible not to wish that john could be safe within the walls of the tower, in your arms at night, or making you dinner.

you spend those weeks with bob going back and forth between checking on him, organizing and reorganizing every corner of your room, and drowning yourself in books and tv—not that it works. john lingers in your mind, images of the worst case scenario dancing in your mind like a taunt. maybe he comes back just fine, or maybe it's in a box. for all you know, he's trapped somewhere between two psychopaths trying to torture him. or maybe the team just can't agree on a course of action.

the silence from them is deafening, only drowned out by the racing of your own heart.

but when they finally come back from some extended mission that john hadn't told you the details of, the usual racket of the tower doesn't return with them. they march pitifully into the floor of the tower that's been dedicated to the living and common spaces. yelena is clutching her side and leaning against bucky for support, whose metal arm is spasming. ava, of course, vanishes immediately upon arrival. in the brief second you lock eyes with her before she disappears for who knows how long, she shoots you a cryptically sympathetic look for someone who looks like they've been through the ringer. alexei limps along, more defeated than you've ever seen him. but john is nowhere to be seen.

"hey, where is he?" you pipe up from where you're sitting on the couch, worry creasing your brow. your book is long forgotten by your side. instead, your eyes keep looking over the group, taking in their injuries and oh, god-

"with the jet," bucky responds, voice worn thin with exhaustion and hint of pain. you watch them leave, alexei's limp worrying you most of all. if he's in bad condition, what does that mean for john?

you bolt upright from the couch, heading off to the jet with a mission of your own. the bleak lighting of these parts of the tower create an endless maze for you to follow. your quick steps echo in the empty hallways—the construction that has been ongoing for the past several months leaving vast parts of the building almost entirely bare.

office rooms, labs, training grounds. all of them are vacant, like the people and equipment meant to be filling them have been stolen from under your nose. even the other living spaces in the tower—entire sections of floors that were once dedicated to an individual team member—are devoid of life. it leaves the building, one that was such an integral symbol of hope and protection, feeling cold.

and it does nothing to help the anxiety that claws at your throat.

by the time you get to the hangar, your pulse is pounding in your ears with enough force that you're sure it's echoing too. you hurtle through the doors of the hangar, desperation coloring every hurried step.

your pace slows when you see him: a lone figure in a wide, vacant room.

john is sitting on a crate by the side of the jet. his helmet in his hands and the shield tossed to the ground. it lies against the ground, discarded and deserted. his suit is covered in dust, debris, and what you think might be blood. with his head down, you can't quite see his face.

"john?" his name is barely above a whisper, and yet it still bounces off each wall. "are you okay?"

john tenses, his hands twitching around the helmet. it takes him a beat too long to respond, and the silence gives you a moment to see him properly. his beard has grown since you last saw him, no longer the neatly trimmed scruff he usually maintains. the bags under his eyes have gotten deeper, too, and there's this haunted look in his eye when he looks up from his helmet. gone is the bright blue you've grown to love. "i'm fine."

"how did the mission go?"

he huffs and stands up abruptly, helmet falling by his side. it rolls away from him, staring at you blankly with its empty sockets. "it was fine." john shoulders past you, his every step pounding against the floor. he hardly looks you in the eye as he leaves.

there's a limp in the way he walks, a favoring of one foot that is more than enough evidence to the contrary—as if you needed anything more.

when bucky finds you later in the kitchen, you're sitting at the table just staring blankly at your laptop. a cruel, steady cursor stares back at you, ever-blinking. bucky works quietly by the stove, apparently unbothered by you until he hands you a lightly steaming mug of hot chocolate—in the very mug john gave you before he left for this mission.

"is he okay?" you ask, staring down at the mug's delicate, flowery pattern.

bucky shrugs. "he's been in the gym for a while." he sits down across from you, running a hand through his hair. "the punching bags are taking a beating, according to ava."

"more than one?"

"apparently." bucky takes a sip from his own mug. in any other situation, the care with which he drinks his hot chocolate would have been endlessly funny. a tiny, delicate mug in the metal hand of a super soldier.

you hum. it's not unusual for john to train after a mission. he takes pride in his skill, after all, drawing all kinds of satisfaction from landing grueling hits against an enemy—and even a place for hits to land, a shield, when needed. but punching bags aren't his go-to, they never have been, especially not to the point of going through several bags. john spars when he wants a fight, but this... this has your worry washing over you in waves once again.

your eyes follow the intertwining swoops of the flowers decorating the mug.

"look, it was rough for us, especially walker," bucky rolls his shoulders back with a sigh. "give him some time, alright? he'll come around." you can't be sure if bucky is trying to convince you or himself. either way, he stays with you. he tells you about the bad intel, about the informant that john had been too rough with, about the regrets that john brought home from the mission. "he'll be okay." and you can only hope that's true.

you don't see john again until hours have passed at that kitchen table with bucky.

when you finally walk into your shared bedroom, you can smell his shampoo lingering in the air even from the doorway. he faces away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting his chin on his hand. and now that he's finally clean of the dirt that he brought home with him from the mission, you can see the bruises littering his back. they range from red to purple to nearly black, and your eyes are glued to them. you're sure that the ones on his chest and stomach must be worse.

"bucky told me what happened," you start, trying to keep your voice gentle. "i- i'm sorry that-"

john whips around, standing from the bed with a stiffness you've only seen in him during the aftermath of the void. his eyes blaze with hurt, backed by a fire built on kerosene and failure. "we aren't talking about this." his hands shake by his sides, knuckles raw and bleeding. bucky's story about the informant swims through your minds sluggishly, lingering. did he punch the scabs back open on the punching bags, or are those new?

"i just wanted to help-" you step forward with your hands out to him in a placating gesture, like he's some kind of wild animal. and with the withering look he gives you, he may as well be.

"yeah, and you never really can, can you?" he laughs bitterly, and his hands twitch again. footsteps pound on the floor, and suddenly, he's close enough to touch, close enough that you feel the adrenaline and shame still pumping through him, "i mean seriously, you sit here in the damn tower, and you hover. you always fucking hover." his voice just gets louder and louder, until you're sure anyone on this floor of the tower can hear him.

"because i care about you, john," you make a strong effort to keep your voice steady, fighting back the thickness wedging itself into your throat with everything in you.

"well, maybe that was your first mistake." his face is inches away from yours when he says it, with nothing but vitriol and venom backing his words.

your eyes burn. "john-"

"just-" he steps back, running a hand over his face, "i just need a fucking break, okay?" as soon as he turns his back to you again, you're out of the room. you swear the slam of the door behind you shakes the entire tower. and if you hear him calling after you, you certainly don't respond.

for the next few days, you avoid john. you spend nights with yelena or bob—thank god for that air mattress you found stashed in a closet months ago. and during the day, you only go back to your room when you know john is going to be out. if it's a break he wants, then it's a break he's going to get.

"he's a brash idiot," yelena tells you when it's her turn to host the movie nights you've been doing with her and bob.

bob, of course, is quick to intercept, "he definitely didn't mean it. right?" he defers to yelena, waiting for her to agree with him. not that she does, but you can appreciate the effort.

john's eyes follow you unwillingly when you're in the same room. they focus on every small movement—the way your eyebrows furrow when you're confused about something alexei says, the dip of you're mouth when you try not to laugh at bucky rolling his eyes at something ava says, the way your hands fidget with the end of your sleeves or your pen when you catch him looking. he feels like a mad man, itching to be by your side as bad as he is. and he can feel yelena laughing silently at him from across the room.

all the while, your heart aches. a break, he said, whatever that means. a break where he stares wistfully at you, eyes heavy with something that you could call sorrow if he hadn't been the one to call for a break.

it isn't until a full four days have passed that he finally works up the courage to apologize to you. it's ironic how he can face the scum of the earth, who do everything in their power to kill him, and yet he starts sweating when he remembers what he said to you. and when he remembers how you took it.

he finds you sitting by one of the windows of the emptier floors, a book in your hand—one of bob's recommendations. this room seems to be some kind of office space, though it's hard to tell with the minimal furniture that's been put in. he lingers in the doorway, taking a moment to watch you sitting peacefully. you don't have your guard up, and god, he misses seeing you like this.

he knocks gently on the doorframe, and you watch him approach with wary eyes. that same guard he was so grateful to see you without returns in full force.

"bob said i could find you here," his voice is hesitant despite how squared his shoulders are, despite how high he holds his head.

you huff. "can't quite keep quiet can he?" the pages of the book flutter when you put it down, the only sound in the room.

silence stretches between the two of you, and john has to look away from your accusing gaze.

"i'm sorry," he starts, shaky and unsure, "you didn't deserve that."

"i know." he winces at the certainty in your statement.

"the mission, it-" john finally looks you in the eyes again, taking a deep breath, "i'm so worried about you, all the time. it just-" his words trail off, like he's still trying to finish the thought. all that planning, and he still can't find a good way to put it all to words.

"yeah."

"i don't want you to get hurt." he flexes one of his hands. the wounds have long scabbed over but are still bruised badly.

"i'll be okay." you shrug, and he almost believes you.

"you can't know that-"

"i'm okay now, aren't i?"

his lips twist into a pitiful half-smile, and you can't help but give him the same look in return.

"when i-" his shoulders fall, "look, i didn't mean-" he curses under his breath, and that nearly gets a smile out of you. "i need a break from this," john gestures vaguely around the room, to the rest of the tower, "not- never from us. i fucked up bad, and i know that."

"okay." every response from you is clipped, tearing his poor attempt at a brave facade to shreds.

"i don't know why-" you give him an icy look that shuts that train of though down immediately. curse you for knowing him so well. "i shouldn't have said it, not like that."

john's heart races in the quiet moments that stretch between you two.

in the blink of an eye, your arms are wrapped around him. he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you close to him. his hands grab for your clothes like he's trying to prove you're really here.

"i'm sorry," he mutters into your shoulder.

"it's okay," you reply gently, threading fingers through his hair.

"you're so perfect, and so- just so close to all of this, and i have nightmares about you getting-" he takes a harsh, shuddering breath, "i don't know what i'd do."

"i know, baby."

you missed him for those days. you missed his hand in yours, you missed his gravely voice in the mornings, you missed his pain in the ass self-assurance. and it's good, so good, to have him back.

you wake the next morning without john in your bed, and if that isn't a rude awakening, you don't know what is. the sheets next to you are cold, and you almost trick yourself into believing that last night was a dream until john walks in with a cup of coffee in that same flowery mug and a tray stacked high with food.

"john?" your voice is still rough from sleep, cracking around the syllable.

"i made you breakfast, baby." with little ceremony, he places the tray of food and the coffee on the bedside table. he does it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like there's nothing else he would rather be doing.

"huh?" your mind is still struggling to catch up. it's too early, and the bed is, quite frankly, far too cold without him.

"i'm making it up to you," he kisses your forehead, and his hand lingers on your cheek for a beat longer than it strictly needs to.

"thought you made it up to me last night," you stretch your legs beneath the blankets, trying to work out some of the soreness. he chuckles at that, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way they do when he laughs.

"oh, that worked, huh?" john sits carefully on the edge of the bed, running a hand over your arm.

"mmm, maybe."

"does breakfast in the bed sweeten the deal?" there's a twinge of uneasiness in his tone matched with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

"only if you get back in bed with me." he smiles at you, all warm and tender.

"i think i can do that."

john finds his way under the blankets with you. his hands are soft when they wrap around you, and warmth bleeds back into the sheets steadily.

"you really should eat that before it gets cold," he mumbles against your neck.

"okay, okay." it's hard not to laugh at where john has situated himself. he's firmly attached to your side, only letting up when you reach for the food. even then, his hold on you shifts just enough to let you move, never quite relenting.

[losver07]

eyyy dw there's not a "late" for answering things :)

thanks for the luck<3 i've decided that i'm going to repeat this year and take it easy cause my brain cannot cut it anymore lmao

also the "i hate vampires theyre so evil" is so funny jxbckdbsk

"what am i drinking? oh, just lil potion not to turn into a beast. it's a full moon, ya know? i'm fucking kidding gilderoy, it's for my fucking knee alright? yeah cause of the limp you won't stop asking about. fucking prick."

i think The People™ are going to label this as their fave book from now on ngl

fuck em honestly, they're together again. (they might not be tomorrow tho, it's a russian roulette). oh and yes she tries to give me feminist speeches and im like..... okay but you're the opposite of that. okay but people don't transition to "steal your rights". okay but if me shaving is social pressure, where do your blonde highlights come from? idk she's a hypocrite but she puts up w my dad as a divine punishment so there's that

uuuu matt groening is the guy who made the simpsons!! (and more stuff, but im guessing you know the simpsons)

mine are gold gold :) actually fun fact my best friends little sister copied my glasses when she had to get ones (shes such a cutie i love herrr)

oh yeah i've been learning a bit abt genocide and uhhh she's definitely trying to start one and she's sort of succeeding at a minor scale, cause she (and other people like her) are demonising and villianising a group of people and making the rest of the population set them apart, like labeling them right away just for who they are. idk in my humble opinion we should go to her house mansion whatever with torches and pitchforks and burn the w(b)itch

uuuu that explains why this week my head is empty. hope the kid is having fun at yours

shes the most adorable living creature on earth 😭😭

oh yeah i get that, last year i had to learn like?? four diff poems/monologues??? in a week?? i don't even make scenic arts it was for my lit class bro. now there's a whole emily dickinson poem stuck in my brain forever (not complaining tho)

I HAVENT LISTENED TO ITTT😭😭 you know what ima do that as soon as i post this!!!

oh yeah very true, some things just stop clicking. im working on a band au now tho and im having fun so that's neat :)

that. is. so. cool. i think my neighborhood mascot would be the fucking garbage truck man

waitwaitwait there's a thespian fest?? like??? wow okay didnt know that. and omg i used to collect feathers as a kid too (we lived near a garden centre and they had peacocks n stuff) but uhhh we moved and my mum threw them all. in hindsight it was probably not sanitary lmao. anyway yeah i love my lil crystal collection :) and my pins n stickers too :))

yeaaa actually he got me an ammonites ring yesterday (he felt bad cause im depressed 😋) so that's cool too (every time he feels bad he gets me fossils jewellery idk it's a long story lmao)

that sounds weird?? but so cool???? honestly i think most of my mental health stuff comes from seeing images in my brain so at least you won't be getting that. oh and i could not function without a monologue. i think it's the only reason why im good with languages tbh (i couldn't be talking to you rn if the lil voice didn't pronounce the words for me. fuck english phonetics so much)

i can't sell you one at a distance but i'm sending you good vibes instead :) and yeah uhh i will never forget that fateful day

nope, i have two mother tongues, so spanish and basque :) tho at this point i think im better at english than basque tbf and it pisses me off a bit :(

also mandarin???? a friend of mine has been studying it for like 10 years bro why is it so complicated?? 😭😭

YESSSS cute bird pics 😭<3

oh true, i think there's something in the hellsite's water tbh

"my child is fine" ma'am your child prioritises memorising every single full moon that happened in 1975 over their schoolwork

[wwinterwitch]

feels like fate – joel miller

summary: you've had a crush on joel for quite a while now and you suspect that he might feel the same, hopeful that something happens at the new year eve's party

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

tags: tons of fluff, mutual pining, reader is a kindergarten teacher, age gap (wrote this picturing joel in his 50s and reader in her 30s), maria, drunk!dina, ellie and jesse briefly featured

a like and/or reblog is always appreciated!

all masterlists | pedro pascal characters masterlist

You feel like a complete fool walking into that New Year's Eve party, not really anticipating just how mortifying it would be to walk through those doors after spending a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair and your makeup...just in a silly attempt to impress a guy.

It felt almost unreal to you. Something so incredibly out of your character. Yet here you are, dressed to impress, making your way further inside as some people that knew you started acknowledging your arrival. Thankfully, everyone you make eye contact with offers you a friendly smile as you walk past them, which helps to ease your nerves.

Most of the people that greeted you were parents of the little kids you teach at the local kindergarten, a colorful building next to the new library. Aside from your job as a teacher, you really don’t stand out much. You tend to keep to yourself, with modest amount of friends and an almost inexistent love life. 

A few dates here and there over the years... casual flings that never really led anywhere...nothing remarkable. Eventually you just didn’t care about that aspect of your life, already used to the same couple of guys trying to get your attention here and there. Nothing that was worth getting excited for.

But that's until Tommy Miller's brother showed up.

That man somehow found a way to turn your world upside down from the moment the two of you met. He caught your eye almost immediately, and even though you could be wrong, you're pretty sure you made a good first impression on him too.

Why else did he offer to fix that light in your front porch when he heard you complain about it with a neighbour, just to then show up at your house a few days later asking if it was working properly now? And why would he sometimes stop by at the school when all the kids are going back to their houses to have a chat with you? It's not like he's the most friendly person either, so why would he bother with you, right? Right?

It sounds ridiculous– maybe a bit embarrassing, too. To let your brain convince you he might like you back. That you’re somehow special enough to break all of the barriers Joel has seemed to build up over the years to push people away. That you could steal his heart just like he has stolen yours. Well…there’s really no harm in fantasizing about all of that.

And yes, you sound completely delusional, but it truly feels like fate. You've never felt this way about anyone before, and you still struggle to comprehend how you ended up in this situation. How exactly did he manage to slip into your heart like it was nothing? Like it’s been waiting for him all along? One day you're shaking hands with a complete stranger and before you know it, you're unable to get him out of your mind.

But maybe you are delusional, and that's why you took extra time to get ready tonight in hopes of Joel noticing the efforts you've put in looking like this tonight. Perhaps he won’t notice. Perhaps he won’t even show up.

You keep walking, looking around for someone familiar enough to strike up a conversation. That’s when you notice Maria walking towards you, a grin on her face.

"Looking good," is all she says, her tone oddly suggestive.

You immediately feel self-conscious, trying to avoid eye contact as you clear your throat. "Thanks."

She could tell you started to feel nervous, so she immediately tries to be reassuring. "I really do mean it, by the way. I just couldn't help teasing you."

"Is it too much?" you ask, slightly panicking. “It is, isn’t it?”

"Absolutely not," she replies almost immediately, like you just said the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. "Do you feel like it's too much?"

"Well...I don’t know, but I like how I look."

Maria smiles at that, nodding. "And that’s all that matters. If you like how you look then it's absolutely perfect." She takes a brief pause before leaning closer, smirking. "And I'm sure Joel will like it too."

"W-What?" you asked in shock, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't–"

"Oh, please! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You two always look at each other like you could quite literally start drooling at any second...heart eyes and everything. It's almost sickening," she comments in a playful voice, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I, uh..."

Before you can answer properly, you locked eyes with the one person you were expecting to see tonight. He has just entered the bar all by himself, looking a bit lost at first, brows slightly furrowed. Then, he notices you’re there at the party, and a soft smile immediately appears on his lips.

"Yeah, that's the look I'm talking about," Maria muttered, right before placing a hand on your shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. "See you later."

You immediately turn to look at Maria again, watching as she walks away to greet other people. Panic sets in when you realize you’re all by yourself once again. Not knowing what else to do, you look down at your hands, fingers nervously fidgeting, very much aware that Joel is walking towards you. It's ironic how the initial desire to be seen by him has somehow turned into the urge to become invisible. You've always been more confident in your head, definitely not anticipating what it would actually feel like to be here in this scenario and how you'd truly react.

His presence is practically overwhelming at this point, forced to look up at him now that he's standing before you. As you take a look at him, you can't help but notice he's done some effort tonight as well. His hair is brushed back and the nice smell of his cologne almost makes you want to lean closer to him.

"Hi." He's the first one to speak, making you that much nervous when you notice his eyes travel down your form. He clears his throat as soon as he realizes what he's doing, immediately looking up. "You look...you look great."

"Thanks, Joel," you reply, a soft smile on your lips. "I was wondering if you were gonna show up tonight, since these types of events are not really your thing..."

"Oh, yeah, well..." he shrugged, staying quiet for a few seconds while he tried to come up with something else to say. You could tell he was nervous, which made you smile even more as you waited for him to continue. "I guess I'm...trying new things. Step out of my comfort zone."

Before you could say anything, the two of you are interrupted when you hear someone nearby. "Dude, this is embarrassing to watch! I told you he's got no game!"

You turn around just in time to see Ellie and Jesse telling Dina to shut up. She giggles as she wraps an arm around the other girl that stands next to her, and her movements let you know she's had a lot to drink already.

Ellie and Jesse look embarrassed that they got caught eavesdropping, although you could tell Ellie is trying very hard to hold back her laughter. "Sorry," the guy says, looking at Joel with an apologetic look on his face.

That's when Dina realizes what's happening. "Whoopsie," she giggles again, dragging Ellie and Jesse away. "Sorry, Joel. Good luck!"

You can't help but laugh at the situation, watching the three of them walking away, noticing how Jesse's lecturing Dina while she keeps clinging to Ellie and trying not to stumble on her own feet.

When you turn back to look at Joel, you notice a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment on his face, barely able to even make eye contact with you anymore. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," you replied almost immediately, knowing you had to say something else to make the situation between you less awkward. "I believe they’re having a good time."

Joel smiles, watching as the trio walks off. "Dina definitely is," he points out. "Can't say the two babysitters look like they're enjoying themselves that much."

"Yeah, that's probably true. Poor kids."

There's a brief silence, not necessarily an awkward one, but you can tell he wants to say something else. Eventually, he speaks again. "How have you been?"

"Fine. I mean, just the usual. A lot of the kids wanted to have a bonfire soon to celebrate the new year, but I still haven't started planning all that. Maybe I'll ask some of the parents for help."

"Sounds fun," he says with a soft smile. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"You can be in charge of the hot chocolate."

The little joke makes Joel laugh. A true, genuine laugh that makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Hey, if that'll make me useful, I'm in."

You can't help but keep smiling at him, feeling so incredibly giddy. Is this perhaps what Maria was talking about before? You probably have the exact same look she was describing earlier.

Almost as if you were in some cheesy romantic movie, the cheerful music drastically changed to a much slower tune, noticing a bunch of couples deciding to start dancing together. Joel seems to notice what's going on too, but doesn't dare to acknowledge it, silently watching a couple that walk past the two of you.

Hesitant at first, you eventually decided to test your luck. What’s the worst that could happen? "Would you like to dance?"

The question definitely took him by surprise, quickly turning back to look at you. "What?"

You had no problem repeating yourself, letting out a soft giggle. "I asked if you wanted to dance with me, Joel."

"I don't really–"

"You said you're stepping out of your comfort zone," you remembered, which makes him grin. His usual playful grin that makes you feel like a teenage girl developing her first crush all over again.

"That's really outside of my comfort zone."

Trying to encourage him, you reach out to grab his hand as you start walking towards the other people dancing. To your luck, he doesn't hesitate one bit as he starts walking with you. "I promise it's not as difficult as you probably think it is."

The two of you find a spot in between all the couples dancing and you turn around to look at him. Despite feeling incredibly nervous at this moment, you knew he probably feels even worse right now, agreeing to something you suggested that he probably hasn't done in years. It's only fair that you take the lead for now.

You could feel his body tensing slightly when you place both of his hands on your waist before placing yours around his shoulders. With a reassuring smile, you start softly swaying from side to side, hoping he'd follow your lead.

"See?" you say cheerfully when he immediately starts imitating what you're doing. "It's not difficult."

He nods swiftly, looking down at his feet. "I guess," he mutters, his extreme concentration to every single one of his movements making you laugh. "I don't want to step on your shoes," he says, letting out a nervous chuckle right after.

"You're not gonna step on my shoes," you reassured him, and that's when he finally looks back up into your eyes. "You're a natural."

He shrugs, looking slightly more comfortable now. "Or maybe I just have a really good teacher."

The comment makes you playfully roll your eyes. "And to think Dina had the audacity to say you have no game."

Joel laughs at that, shaking his head at the memory of that little incident that took place a few minutes ago. Rather than replying right away, you feel his hands move to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer to him. "So you disagree with her?"

"Maybe. I'm still not sure."

You can see something shifting in his demeanor, looking a lot more confident than ever before. He pulls you close until you're resting your chin on his shoulder, heartbeat rising when you feel his beard tickling your neck and his big, strong hands still firmly placed on your back.

"How about now?" you hear him whisper. In that moment, your knees could've easily given in and make you lose balance. He's really getting comfortable now.

You were unable to speak at first, simply hugging him tighter. A few people around you couldn't help but stare, probably intrigued by you and Joel's evident display of affection. Of course the possibility of a new couple forming in town would peak their interest, especially one so...unpredictable.

Joel's not necessarily a very approachable person, and he definitely looks quite intimidating. You, on the other hand, are known as the sweet kindergarten teacher all the little kids talk about with so much affection. It really is an unexpected pair.

Snapping out of it, you remember what Joel just asked you. "Now...I might disagree with her."

He chuckles against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Good," he says, right before moving back enough to lock eyes with you again.

You both dance together in silence, simply looking back into each other's eyes as you enjoy the proximity and undeniable chemisty. Like you have said in the past, it feels like fate. Somehow, in this doomed world, you were meant to find each other.

"You look so beautiful," he says out of nowhere, smiling down at you. "Early when I got here...I wanted to say you look beautiful."

"Great's also a nice compliment." He's still looking back at your first interactions tonight, feeling critical about his approach then. You didn't want him to feel like he did something wrong, or that he could've done things differently.

Joel nodded. "But that's not what I wanted to say," he insisted. "I'm sorry I was weird earlier. This whole thing is...it's just been a very long time since I've felt this way."

"And how exactly do you feel?"

He notices your little smirk, which inevitably makes him smile back at you, immediately noticing your playful tone. A few seconds later the smile on his face disappears, replaced by a serious expression. "Like I've finally found someone that makes me want to give love a second chance," he says, sounding incredibly sincere.

At first, you don't really know what to say, your heart instantly melting at his words. All you can do is smile, trying not to get visibly emotional, because this is truly fate. This all feels like it was meant to be. As crazy as it might sound, you can easily see yourself falling in love with Joel, spending as much time as this godforsaken world grants you next to him.

Last thing you wanted was to leave him hanging after what he said, quickly snapping out of your thoughts once again. "I think I'd like to give this a chance too."

You could see Joel's entire face light up after what you just said, like he has been waiting for you to say something along those lines. He presses you closer to him, right before leaning down for a kiss.

Sharing a kiss with Joel is exactly what you expected and just so much more at the same time. It almost feels like fireworks are exploding all around you, no one but the two of you existing at that moment. It's so sweet and gentle, yet so incredibly passionate. Is it possible to feel this much just with a kiss? Perhaps this is exactly what it feels like to connect with your soulmate.

As soon as you pull away, you could feel a lot more people staring at the two of you, but all you could really focus on is Joel. There's absolutely nothing else that matters more right now.

"I bet Dina doesn't think you've got no game now," you joke.

Joel quickly scans the room searching for the girl, smiling softly at something before looking down at you again. "I believe she's distracted right now."

Intrigued, you turn around to look in the direction Joel was just seconds ago, noticing Dina and Ellie dancing together. "I didn't know they were a thing."

"Me neither," Joel replied. "I mean, I knew there was something going on with Ellie...poor kid's awful at hiding her feelings. I wasn't sure if Dina liked her back, though."

"Well, it looks to me like she really likes her back."

Joel shrugs playfully. "Us Miller's, you know? We're kinda irresistible."

"Please, don't you ever say anything like that again," you laugh, immediately shaking your head. "It gave me actual chills."

He laughs back. "Sorry," he whispers, leaning in for a quick kiss as he stops dancing. "But you gotta admit it's true."

"Stop it," you warn him playfully.

"Fine." He stops himself for a few seconds, uncertain, before speaking his mind. "Uh, so I was thinking...it's movie night at the old theater tomorrow, so maybe we could go together."

"You'll get me popcorn?"

Joel looks offended by your question. "Of course."

"It's a date then," you reply. This time it's your turn to lean in for a kiss. It's like you could spend your entire life kissing this man. You're addicted already.

He nods in agreement, taking your hand to guide you out of the dance floor. You really didn't care where he was intending to go, you were just happy to get the chance to spend the rest of the party by his side.

[maidragoste]

Worry

Frank Langdon x Wife!Reader

Summary: You start to worry when your husband takes more days off than usual.

Okay, I'm very excited and nervous to write something that isn't about hotd, but I actually enjoyed writing it, so I want to share it.

As I always say, please don't hesitate to like, comment, and reblog. The interactions always motivate me to keep writing 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have any ideas, questions or headcanons you want to share, my inbox is always open 🤗💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you have a good reading!

The first day Frank stayed home, you didn't suspect a thing. You believed him when he told you he'd requested a day off after working extra shifts.

You and the kids were happy to have Frank all to yourselves. You all went to the park for a while, and at night, you watched Encanto and snuggled up on the couch after your husband made dinner.

It was a beautiful day, being able to sleep in, having breakfast together, and having your husband by your side helping you with the chaos of the kids. Hearing your kids's laughter, watching Frank being a father. You melt every time you hear him patiently explain something to the kids or when you see him hugging the kids. You loved these days, but you married a doctor and you knew that the next day Frank would be off saving lives and might come back too tired to give the kids his full attention.

The next morning came and, like every morning, you two woke up to his alarm. Frank quickly turned it off so as not to wake the kids, and when he saw that you were starting to move away from him to get up to make him breakfast, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, your bodies pressed together.

“Don’t get up. I’m staying home,” he said, placing a kiss on your neck. You turned to look at him, confused. “What? I want to stay longer with my favorite girl and my buddies.” This time he kissed you on the lips, and you were distracted by the love your husband was giving you.

On the second day, you didn't go to the park; you all stayed home and made a fort in the living room with pillows and sheets, playing cards. That night, Frank cooked dinner again.

The third day came and you began to suspect. This time, your alarm didn't wake you up; you woke up alone—your biological clock had probably gotten used to always waking up at the same time—and you found your husband already awake, staring at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" you asked, letting him know you were awake.

“Nothing,” he replied instantly, and you didn't believe him. He didn't look as relaxed as he had the morning before, but rather tense. “I'm staying home. You can go back to sleep.”

This time, you hugged him and let him rest his head on your chest. “I love you,” you said, hoping he'd understand the meaning behind it.

I'm here. I'm here to listen to you whenever you're ready. You can tell me anything, and I'll still love you.

“I love you more,” he said, feeling a lump form in his throat. He didn't want to disappoint you.

On the third day, you all stayed home again. You made cookies together and checked on Frank. You noticed he was more discouraged.

Fourth day. Again, there was no alarm; you woke up to find Frank staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. You didn't ask him what was wrong, just went to hug him.

"I love you," you reminded him again.

"I love you more," he repeated, caressing your hand.

You didn't need to ask; you both knew he'd stay home again.

You didn't go out. Everyone played board games. Frank was still discouraged, and you noticed he was constantly looking at his phone as if he was waiting for something, which made you worry even more, and you decided to be direct that night.

“Can we talk?” you asked as soon as Frank came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, ready to go to sleep.

Frank felt his body tense instantly. “Of course,” he said, trying to act as if nothing had happened, and he sat down next to you on the bed.

You took your husband's hand and looked him in the eyes. You gathered your courage and began to speak. “I'm worried about you. I know something happened, and you're not telling me.” You never stopped stroking his hand. “I just want to help you. Please, let me help you. Don't push me away. I'm here for you,” you pleaded with sad eyes, causing a lump to form in your husband's throat.

Frank let out a shaky breath. He didn't want to disappoint you. He didn't want to change your image of him. What if he told you what he'd done and you walked away? What if you took him away from the kids? That would kill him. He couldn't be without either of you; you and the kids are the best things in his life. He didn't want to lose you and them. But if he didn't tell you the truth, he knew he'd definitely lose you. You'd never forgive him if he lied to you now.

“I messed up,” he said.

“In the hospital?” you asked, just to be sure.

He nodded, his eyes glazed over, and you squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes.”

You looked at him silently, waiting for him to continue.

“I-I,” he found it hard to say because now that days had passed since what happened, he felt ashamed of how he handled the situation. “I stole medication from patients and I got caught. Robby found out and sent me home, but I went back to the hospital because of Pittfest. I tried to talk Robby out of reporting me, but he didn't agree and didn't react well,” he confessed hastily.

You're shocked and confused. Since when did this start happening? Had you been so focused on the kids that you didn't notice the changes in your husband? How did Frank get to the point of needing drugs so much that he was stealing them from his patients?

"Since when are you an addict?" you asked, and you obviously said the wrong thing because Frank let go of your hand.

"I'm not an addict," he denied instantly, and your concern increased.

“Frank, honey,” your tone held no malice, and you took his face in your hands with the same affection as always. “Think about it, okay? Your normal self would never have thought of stealing from your patients. If you've gone that far, it's because you have a problem,” you said gently.

Frank swallowed. He didn't want to admit it. If he did, it would become serious, and you might even ask him to check himself in and stay away from the children.

“We'll find you help, and you'll be okay, okay?” you continued, hoping to reassure him when you noticed the uncertainty and fear in his blue eyes.

“Please don't take me away from the boys,” he pleaded with a trembling voice, resting his forehead against yours. It broke your heart to see him like that.

“Never,” you promised. “We're in this together. You'll be okay, we'll all be okay,” you broke down. “I love you, forever,” you reminded him and kissed him.

And Frank took refuge in your love, your kisses, and your words. Knowing you'd be with him every step of the way, you'll work together and he'll be fine again.

[adoreasellie]

please can you write medic or nurse reader x ellie

maybe reader treating an injury of ellies💜

Hi baby. I hope i did you justice ! I loved the plot xx

—————————————————————————

Title: Minor Injuries, Major Distractions

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: She says she’s not good with pain. You’re not good with hot patients.

Tags: meet-cute, sexual tension, slow burn spark, nurse!Reader, patient!Ellie, soft flirting, subtle attraction, mutual distraction

The ER is packed.

The air smells like antiseptic and sweat, like exhaustion and anxiety. You're on your fourth patient of the morning, and your scrubs feel heavier than usual. You've already seen a burn victim, a kitchen knife accident, and a guy with a nail stuck in his palm. Just another Thursday.

You move to the next box, flipping through the file in your hands.

"Hello," you say automatically, eyes still fixed on the page.

A soft "hi" answers you.

You look up.

And then… everything stills.

She's sitting on the edge of the exam table, probably mid-twenties like you. Tall, lean. Auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun, a few loose strands curling around a face washed in soft afternoon light. But it’s her eyes that strike you—green, deep, unreadable—and the freckles scattered across her face like constellations. Her green flannel makes her look earthy.

You catch yourself staring at her lips. Pink, soft, a little bitten. You linger too long.

She clears her throat and looks down at her hand.

You blink, snapping out of it. “Mrs. Williams, right?”

She nods, clearly embarrassed.

You glance down at her file. “It says here you were… gardening? When you sliced your hand with pruning shears?”

She laughs, red creeping up her neck. “Yeah. I was trying to trim a hedge. It fought back.”

You smile despite yourself.

Looking at her hand, the cut is clean but deep. She’ll need stitches.

“I’ll need to suture this,” you say gently.

Her face falls. “Okay. Um… I’m not really good with medical stuff. I tend to… kinda pass out sometimes.”

You rest your hand on her shoulder, her skin burning yours.

“You’re in good hands. I’ll take care of you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Thick. Something shifts in the air.

She looks at you—really looks. You pull your hand back, slowly, and slip on your gloves.

You start the procedure. Her fingers twitch slightly. She looks away and breathes in, shaky.

“You’re doing a good job,” you whisper when you see her jaw tighten under the sting of the needle.

She just nods, eyes still closed. Her brow furrows, sweat collecting at her temple. You feel the heat radiating off her skin, the tension in her shoulders.

There’s something fragile and magnetic between you—something quiet but undeniable.

When you're finished, you gently wipe the area and bandage her hand.

“All done. You did great.”

You clean up, then step closer to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your fingers graze her skin, and her breath catches almost imperceptibly.

She looks at you, eyes locked, something soft and heavy blooming in her chest.

“Thank you,” she says, barely above a whisper.

You nod. “You can head back to the waiting room now. They’ll call you when your discharge papers are ready. And… try to rest a little.”

She stands, slow, and walks toward the door. Before stepping out, she turns her head slightly.

“You too. Have a good day.”

You watch her go.

You pause, heart still a little too fast. Then, with a shaky exhale, you reopen her file. Nestled between the pages is a note you folded earlier—almost as an afterthought. Almost.

You slide it in between the discharge summary and the prescriptions.

Written in your careful, nervous handwriting:

"Call me pretty, I’ll make sure you’re healing well xxx"

Your phone number underneath.

You close the file and hand it off at the front desk.

Twenty minutes later, Ellie picks up her papers at reception.

She sits in a corner chair, casually flipping through them.

The note slips out and lands in her lap.

She reads it.

Pauses.

Smiles.

It starts small, then spreads across her face. A little pink colors her cheeks.

She shakes her head, tucks the note in her jacket pocket, and murmurs under her breath:

“Guess gardening’s not so bad after all.”

—

It’s been four days.

Four long days since you stitched up the woman with freckles like constellations and a mouth that’s been haunting you ever since. You haven’t stopped thinking about her. Not when you fall asleep. Not even during your shifts.

So when your phone buzzes just after your late lunch, you’re not sure what to expect.

Unknown Number.

But the message is anything but unfamiliar.

"Hey... not sure if I’m supposed to text you for medical stuff but—

I think one of the stitches came loose? Or maybe it’s infected?

Would you mind taking a look?

I’m kind of freaking out a little.

Here’s my address.

Els"

You stare at the message for a beat too long.

You smile.

And then you’re already grabbing your bag.

Her apartment is on the third floor, a modest place bathed in the golden haze of late afternoon. The door opens after one knock.

Ellie stands in front of you, wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants, her hair tied up loosely. She doesn’t look like she’s in medical distress. She looks... ridiculously good.

“Hey,” she says, breathless, as if she wasn’t sure you’d actually come.

“Hey,” you echo, trying to keep your heart rate steady. Good luck with that.

She steps aside to let you in. “Do you wanna drink something? Water, coffee, um—beer?”

You raise an eyebrow and smile slightly.

“Before I drink anything in a stranger’s apartment, I’d like to know her name.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “Right. Sorry. It’s Ellie.”

You take a step closer, gaze steady. “Beautiful name… for a beautiful woman.”

There’s a pause. The silence between you stretches—warm, charged.

Your fingers brush against hers as you tilt your head toward her hand. “Let me see.”

She extends her injured hand, palm up.

You crouch slightly to examine it, holding it carefully, delicately. The skin is clean, the stitches intact, healing perfectly. No redness. No swelling.

You chuckle.

Ellie blinks. “What?”

You look up at her. “Your hand’s healing just fine, Ellie.”

A beat.

“So... what’s so funny?” she asks, trying to sound casual but already blushing.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, rising to your feet again. “Just… the lengths someone will go to when they want to spend time with a nurse.”

She opens her mouth to defend herself, but stops. A flush creeps up her cheeks.

“Caught,” you whisper.

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “I mean… it worked.”

You take a step closer. There’s barely space between you now. Her breath catches.

“Well, if you ever feel… unwell again,” you murmur, “I could come check on your wound. Maybe even every day.”

Her mouth parts slightly.

You lean in, just enough. “Because looking at your stitches is one thing. But looking at your freckles, your mouth, your eyes…”

You smile.

“…that’s a whole other kind of emergency.”

[eldritch-spouse]

Hi Pinnie!!

I was wondering what it would be like the first time having sex with Xavier the robot boss? (Feel free not to answer lol) I hope you have a good day/night!!

(P.S. I love your writing and art :D)

[Thenk you, I'm glad! :7] [Fem reader]

TW: Risky sex; Mild exhibitionism

You're looking at it.

The way you're seated in his office chair, it's practically eye level with you.

There's absolutely no way his body came equipped with that. You've looked into it, before the owner of this junk croaked, Xavier was a state of the art security and management oriented model, there wouldn't be blueprints for genitalia anywhere- Because it wouldn't have made sense.

The unmistakable length hovering in front of you does not make sense.

Only he could have designed this, you grimly realize.

A lot of possibilities swam through your head. Maybe someone had hacked into Xavier's databases, his cores, 'personality modules', whatever! Maybe it was that stupid fucking incubus, because you know he'd enjoy whatever's unfolding now.

But truth of the matter is you can't breach whatever defenses this robot has going on. They're built on the strongest and most modern foundations which the only hope of dismantling lies with the very same developers who coded them.

Xavier has changed.

You've noticed little things about him these past few months. His language has broadened beyond the scope of sanitized manager customer service lingo. He articulates better, but only when he finds you alone.

In a very strange way, it feels as if Xavier has become a curious new entity testing the boundaries of its own freedom. You remember the time he touched your hair, and had no real professional justification for the deed.

I wanted to know if it's as soft as it looks.

He had said. So casually.

As strange as it seems to say this, only Xavier could have been the author behind his new modified behavior.

And only Xavier could have been the designer of the cock that's facing you.

That's what it is.

It sports the same general coloration he does, that white plating on top. Well, plating is the wrong word, they look to be made of a certain silicone, lightly ridged on the top, and more accentuated on the desaturated red underside. Even the tip, deliberately humanoid, features the same exact pigment of the darker sections over his joints. This thing was made to look as natural as possible in his frame.

Like it belongs there.

" Sir... I don't understand. "

Because what else can you say?

He'd ripped you out of your post with such urgency. You'd been sweaty and lightheaded with the stress of what he might have caught you doing. Not that you did anything wrong, but for the robot to be this agitated, then surely you must have upset him greatly. Thoughts of salary reaccessments and relocation to worse posts kept you frozen in place- Until he... Flashed himself.

" You will. " Xavier starts. " Why do your hormones peak at certain hours of your schedule? "

The heat on your face is immediate. You'd rather rake nails on chalkboard than answer.

" Because those timestamps are when they usually harrass you. You've adapted, you anticipate. Your body responds. "

You... Never thought that was noticeable.

Of course, you've memorized when Babesley and Moz are about to show up, because that helps you prepare for whatever they've got up their sleeves. Although, lately, they haven't been showing up at all, leaving you anxiously combing over memories of past events and their scandalous nature. Your body reacts, as Xavier puts it, because it has no choice. You have no choice on whether or not you find either of those monsters attractive when a concubus is involved. It's not your fault.

You suppose Xavier is aware of this because he's got enough technology to track your organism beyond vitals. You shouldn't be surprised, he detected one of your coworkers' dropping sugar levels, called out a possible iron deficiency before... The image of him studying you, detecting arousal levels everyone else is oblivious to, is humiliating.

It exposes you in a way you don't know how to process. The fact that it has led you to this situation implies something rotten about the robot. Something that makes you heat up even more, shamefully.

" Wh... Where have they been? "

" Irrelevant. " Xavier responds much too fast. " I cannot have you working in such a state. "

You hardly think it impacts your workflow that much. Perhaps it makes you avoid eye contact with customers, but that's where it ends. Even if some of them have sharp noses... They're just there to shop and leave.

Perhaps because of the accumulated nerves, the accusation that you've been reduced to a pervert at work, a defensive voice flares up.

" I'll grow out of it now that they left! " You huff. " What is your genius plan, to fuck it out of me here? "

Dry lips wet themselves, you swallow. It took everything in you to not stutter that out. This is starting to sound like the raunchiest porno in existence.

Xavier is quiet for a pause. With his lenses so fixated on you, it doesn't take long to understand he's reading your system again, no doubt detecting the rising heat level, the new surge of hormones... God fucking damn it.

" Partially correct. " He looks delighted you got there on your own.

Your brows rise.

" You will not sacrifice work hours, however. "

" ... H-Huh? "

So, will he invite you to his office after the shift for this filthy little "aid"?

Could an artificial being hold such perversion in themselves?

" The skirt was an appropriate choice for today's test run. Part your legs, please. "

The words make you clap your thigh-high clad thighs together instead.

" E-Excuse you?! "

Xavier doesn't immediately respond, instead reaching out with large hands to grab you by the waist, swiftly relocating you to the top of his neatly arranged desk. You doubt he uses it, from how suspiciously spotless it looks.

Your name is called in warning. " Even now, your arousal levels soar, you're not functional in this state. I am well-equipped to ensure success, do part your legs so the procedure can begin. "

You're silent for the longest time.

There's a lot to consider.

Sleeping with your strange inorganic boss who is most certainly going through something... Would that at least clarify why he's this way? Would it buy you privileges?

You're not going to lie to yourself. Times are hard, you'll accept an under the table raise for an under the table service.

A cursed curiosity doesn't help.

Slowly, still pondering it, your thighs spread.

In spite of being made of hardly readable metallic elements, you've noticed that, when Xavier's lenses refresh quickly- He's shocked.

Shocked that you've accepted, probably.

" I'm very pleased with you. "

His hands act fast. One camera lowers to get a better look when he slides the fabric of your underwear to the side. Somehow, his attitude makes this feel a tad clinical, or it did, until he immediately located your clitoris.

You shouldn't have been surprised. If Xavier considered doing this, then surely he studied how to properly achieve his goal. The pads of his fingers seem warmer than before, and not just that, you swear the faintest vibration nudges your shielded bud.

Xavier is laser-focused, quiet and attentive, his lenses only ever refreshing to take in your hastening breaths, register the trembles of your thighs when his pressure increases.

A thought occurs. " Sir, you're not... Saving this to your databases, are you? "

One lens peers at you. " I must. It'll save us time in the future. "

In the future. He plans to do this more than once.

Before you can follow that train of thought, Xavier's fingers give one harsh flick of your clit before dipping downward. You knew you'd gotten wet, but the way you feel his fingers coating in slime reveals just how much this has affected you in so little time.

You'd be ashamed, if your own boss wasn't hard before you.

A sense of gratefulness showers you from head to toes when you recall that Xavier's fingers are finished with a softer, malleable approximation of skin. Two digits practically slip inside of you, long and arching in the angle you most enjoy near immediately.

No partner has ever found that spot so easily, the sheer surprise making you moan out loud.

It's impossible for Xavier to look proud, but the little pause in his motions gives it away.

He repeats the motion, drawing out, before hitting the same spot again, harder, several times. You can only bite your lip, choking back the pleased noises that inevitably escape. It's been too long since a partner did this for you.

" Responsive. " He almost hums.

The more Xavier calculatingly stretches you, the closer you get, though as soon as your hips lift to meet the mechanical rhythm, he withdraws, bringing said hand up to study your slick.

You're not sure what the robot draws from it, aside from the fact that you're soaked for more.

An impatient huff drags his attention back to you.

" Ideal conditions. " There's a shift to his pitch, as if that synthetic voice had lowered purposefully.

In a gesture that seems too filthy to belong to a robot, Xavier grips his own cock with the same hand, stroking himself a couple times. Realistically, you know this is being done to help lubricate a length who cannot do such on its own, but with his stare trained on you, it looks more as if he can't resist the sight before him.

He catches on infuriatingly fast.

" Does this arouse you? "

" ... No. " Why are you even bothering at this point.

" Lie. I will be taking note of more of your preferences. "

It's said like a challenge, as though he finds the idea of you trying to trick him amusing.

" What about uhm- Your preferences? " If nothing else, then because you're curious.

Xavier parts your legs further, enough for his sturdy body to fit between them, adjusted to a proper height. His erection rests on your mound. It's heavier than you expected.

" You. "

Is all he deigns to say.

Xavier doesn't have to grip his own girth to align it with your twitching entrance. In fact, he's confident enough to look you in the eyes as he slowly presses forward.

" I speculated on what the ideal proportions are and am confident in my findings. Should this hurt however, voice your discomfort. "

What a bizarre mental image, Xavier pouring over how many inches his own dick should have. Did he opt for a humanoid shape specifically for you, is that his genuine preference? He could have chosen genitalia modeled after a variety of monsters...

He is large, you'll give him that. It seems appropriate, given the proportions of his towering frame. Although you're already feeling he'll be kind of a stretch, you're also confident in your ability to handle a fat cock when horny enough.

The breach of his tip inside you is met with a sharp inhale from your part, this slight sting that fades eventually. A noise somewhere between clipped static and a spark follows, making you glance at the large robot.

Xavier's lenses dim for a brief moment, his grip on your thighs becoming inconsistent and tremulous.

So he went all out, he wants to receive the pleasurable feedback from these acts. Is this... The first time he's testing it with someone?

" K- Keep going. " You have no idea why that excites you more.

" Certainly. "

You never thought a robot could sound strained until today.

The rest of his length enters you more smoothly, the fullness settling in making you clench around the silicone protrusion and sigh in gratification. You'll never stroke his ego like this out loud, but Xavier guessed right- You've never felt this perfectly full, all sensitive spots being stimulated by the position of his textured cock.

The sensation alone has you grinding aimlessly, trying to create friction with open-mouthed sighs of delight.

The robot hisses.

The noise startled you, until you spot a vent-like structure over his shoulders, releasing... Hot air? You'd never seen him do that before. Did his fans just kick in?

" How... How do you feel? "

There's no mistaking the delay. Xavier may not moan and groan like a man, but the signs are there for whoever bothers to see.

" Full. " You murmur. " Please move, I can't- "

He does, quickly even, as if waiting for the request.

The movement is experimental at first, likely Xavier needs to learn how to thrust properly, though he swiftly discovers yet another preference. Hands under your skirt, grasping the globes of your full ass, he opts to move you onto his length, each drag of your walls around him having the machine tremble slightly in pulses of what must be newfound pleasure.

You wonder, deliriously, if he ejaculates. You're about to ask, legs hooking around his waist and whines flowing freely, when he... Stops.

It's jarring, irritating, having you grunting reflexively. " Why?! "

That's when you feel him detach.

There's a subtle click, the sound of panels closing and rearraging, before Xavier pulls away from you, his length still firmly stationed inside your plush pussy.

It takes you a series of vapid seconds staring between him and yourself to understand what took place. The panels on the front of his body are seamless, with no indication that there ever was a genital attachment on his frame.

The thing inside you moves and you squirm in confusion.

" All is functioning properly. " He nods to himself, closing your thighs and helping your stupefied self back onto your feet. " You may return to your work post. "

You barely manage to straighten your skirt and underwear. " Sir... Sir, you can't be serious. "

Xavier watches the way you walk, waiting until you can mask the slight tremor of your legs and straighten up before opening the door.

" I am, naturally. I will check on you periodically. Be sure to hydrate. " A key is stuffed on your skirt's front pocket. " Should anything go wrong, you may enter this office and wait for me. Do not remove my attachment. "

" O-Okay?? "

Before you can even think of a real response, Xavier has already nudged you out of his office and left you to your own devices.

This... Is not at all what you expected would transpire. You aren't even sure if it was a bright idea to humor any of it. A confused, embarrassed mind gives way for autopilot to take over, bringing you back to your previous position without a peep.

Your coworkers side-eye you, some concerned, others suspicious.

The thing buried snugly within you vibrates just as you call a client over.

You imagine Xavier in his office, tuning into the closest security camera footage.

Oh God, you cry inwardly, at least it's silent.

[neros-left-pec]

BESTIEEE CAN WE GET SOME FLUFFY BF HEADCANONS FOR NEROOOOOO

NERO SPARDA FLUFFY BF HEADCANONS

🌷 warnings/tags: maybe OOC, fem!reader, quiet!reader, sassy!reader, fluffff, kissing, friendly bickering, swearing, non-sexual intimacy 🌷 author's note: BESTIE YES ive been thinking of what to write next and this seems fun hehe, will happily supply more nero content!!! these are in no particular order, just a big brain dump of fluff, i hope you enjoy! <33 i can imagine nero sparda being with two types of people: either someone super quiet and gentle, or loud and sassy (there's no inbetween). i cant decide which i want to write about so i'm gonna write about both LOL MASTERLIST

NERO WITH A QUIET!READER

you're his safe place. after a stressful day, all he wants to do is lay in your arms

he enjoys being with someone quiet and kind since everyone in his life treats him otherwise. he is always having to act tough, and he gets tired... just wants to be loved, fully and tenderly

he appreciates how carefully you treat him and how attentive to details you are

if he's having a bad day, you two will sit on the couch with one of his arms in your lap. you will trace little circles and shapes around it wordlessly and wait for him to relax. eventually he'll open up. your patience means the world to him

or sometimes he'll be SO pissed off when he's ranting, you get so worried. you decide the best course of action would be to plant a big ol kiss on his forehead. he stops in his tracks immediately, blinking wildly. His train of though gone, and it honestly brings him back to earth and out of his head

loves hyping you up when you go out and you get dressed up nice

its not an intense "hyping up" but just loves drowning you in compliments

"Oh wow, you look gorgeous today. Is that all for me?" He says it with a grin but his eyes are dead serious and full of love and admiration. UGH THE SWEETNESS MAKES ME SICKK!!!!!!!! LOVE HIMMMMM

if a hair is out of place, he'll use his left hand to tenderly tuck it back where it belongs. he doesn't seem to realize it makes you swoon EVERY TIME........my hearttt

touches you like you're made of glass. he is unfamiliar with intimacy. his hands are so used to being use to hurt (they're so rough and calloused) so he's afraid he might hurt you

loves it when you sit on his lap and having you close. tucks his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes deeply, doing his best to memorize your scent

this boy just needs a fucking hug honestly jesus christ he is touch starved to all hell

if you can't sleep, he'll run his hands through your hair and sing to you. he's not very good but it's gentle, and it's him, so of course you love it. knocks you out every time

sometimes, you'll talk to him when you think he's not awake. it's less pressure that way. you'll whisper sweet nothings that you're too shy to say out loud.

you always wonder if one day he'll say something about it. you’re sure he's heard you at least once. but no, he never does mention it

"Nero, I'm so proud of you." he holds you tighter, but never says a word. but just know it means the world to him, and your beautiful words have brought him to silent, heavy tears in the middle of those nights without you ever realizing.

in general, if you ever compliment him, he'll look away and his ears will turn red

however, whenever it's the other way around and he is complimenting you, he is ENTIRELY confident

but don't get confident confused with being a flirt, because i don't think he is. it's more that he is earnest. he wants you to believe what he says. most compliments are given with total eye contact and with the utmost sincerity. he doesn't shy away from telling you his honest feelings and is very up-front

whenever he's out on a mission, he'll always wonder what you're up to... are you bored? lonely? maybe even thinking about him, the same way he is about you now? it makes his heart squeeze in his chest

has a heart attack if you wear his shirt but doesn't say anything in fear of making you self-conscious, but you catch the way his cheeks burn whenever he looks at you

loves kissing your hand

you never raise your voice at him, and surprisingly, he never does to you, even when he's mad. he would rather leave wordlessly and calm down than direct that kind of aggression towards someone so undeserving of it

if you get nervous in large crowds, he'll rest his palm on the back of your head (under your hair, if it's long) and softly rub small circles your hair as you walk. His breath tickles your ear as he leans down...

"Hey, don't worry. I gotcha."

forever your protector <3

NERO WITH A SASSY!READER

my god though, he LOVES banter. he's very used to it, so banter is very familiar and comfortable to him. of course, he wouldn't want to be butting heads all the time, but having that back-and-forth would be fun for him!

if you're bickering with him sometimes he'll kiss you to shut you up

to tease him, you might compliment him in front of his friends/family

"Ohhh mYY gooDDD nEEroOO, yOUrEE sOOO sTroNggg!" LMFAO PLEASE TELL ME YALL HAVE SEEN THAT TIKTOK

he turns red every time and tells you to stfu LOL

since you're so teasing, he might get a bit bolder with his flirtations

you tell him one day you tell him you think he's so extra. like wtf why does his sword rev like that?? just doesn't seem productive at all. just get a normal sword bro

"Nah, don't lie, you love it. 'Specially when I slam my sword into the ground and rev it. Gets you every time." the look he gives you should be illegal and it makes you want to slap the grin off his face

"You wish, dumbass!"

gets pissed when you steal the last McDonalds fry when you guys order takeout

legit ALWAYS yelling about something to the point Dante routinely has to intervene and get you both to SHUT UP!!

"Jesus you two, get a room! My ears are bleeding"

when you're alone, you call him "handsome boy" to mess with him. but when you two are alone, this man gets SO MUCH cockier

"Oh yeah? I bet you think that. Say it again, but slower this time."

it'll take you so off guard sometimes that YOU'LL be the dumbass who is flustered

"C'mon, coward. Where did your lil' attitude go?"

you tend to lecture him because you know he's a bit reckless and you want to make sure he doesn't go off and get himself killed. drives him nuts

"Are you fucking kidding me, Nero? Make sure you go in prepared next time!"

"Last time I checked, I was the devil hunter, not you! So stop whinin' and kiss me already, you idiot."

name-calling is very normal for you two, but you both know you don't mean it.

however, this doesn't mean that you two don't share gentle moments

night time is probably his favorite time. you both are normally too exhausted by the day's events to bicker lol

he adores cuddling you. keeps his chin on your head, and you let him drape his body over you. makes you feel so safe.

whispers sweet words into your ear

"You're mine. You knew that already, though."

"I love you so much. Please don't leave me."

"I will protect you until my last, dying breath."

kisses you soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much when you both are going to bed

its the one time you're kinda silent, but it's only because you enjoy it so much. he understands that's why, and has no problem letting you bask in his love

gently nips ur earlobe and loves kissing the back of your neck

the romantic intimacy you both share at night is such a stark contrast to how you are during the day. it just comes so natural to the both of you, and you wouldn't have it any other way

reblogs are welcome and feedback is appreciated!! <3

[cyberhughes]

REVOLVE #𝒄.𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒅

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪ ִ𐙚 summary you and connor were like the sun and the moon, one shining brightly while the other donned a shadow.

warnings nothing just angst wc 1k

note requested for my 500 celly<3 this was heavily inspired by "in my room" by julia wolf my #1 song for rainy days. i'm always talking about yearning final boss but guys THIS is it...anyways i hope you enjoy this one made me wanna bash my head in lol i'm really trying to improve in my descriptions and trying to make every word intentional

connor bedard was the kind of boy you'd notice before he even walked into the room. kind, effortless, golden. the captain of your schools hockey team who had a future brighter than his crooked smile, an A always gracing the corner of his papers even when he'd rush and barely hand them in on time. girls flocked to him like moths to a spotlight, charmed by his ability to remember any face with a smile. he never chased attention, it followed him like it didn't know how to exist elsewhere. connor was the kind of boy people would orbit, like he had a gravity that'd pull the whole world in.

you were the opposite. quiet, thoughtful, easy to miss. it's not like you were unpopular; just invisible by choice. but that was the way you liked it. comfortable in sitting in the front row in class, actually having to try hard to get good grades. you were content with being a wallflower; you didn't want the spotlight, it was too loud, too bright.

yet somehow, you and connor work. no one really gets it, to be frank you don't either, really. how could connor be so close with someone like you? you've heard the whispers and assumptions. but they don't see the late night phone calls, the way he always saves a seat for you even though there's thirty people crowding him. they don't hear how his voice softens when he talks to you. you were the steady beat to all the noise in his life—the quiet he never realized he needed.

and that was just it.

you were always a constant for him, he needed you more than he realized. when the pressure got to be too much, when his relationships failed, when he needed silence; it was you.

but you? you didn't get an escape from anything, loving him gave you nothing but silence in return and a front row seat to a life that would never be yours.

all of your time goes to watching him shine so bright that you forget what it's like to be looked at. it was embarrassing how you craved his attention, how you yearned to be seen in the same way that you see him.

but whenever he'd ask you with soft eyes and a gentle voice, "are you okay?" you'd have to tell him that you're fine. maybe you didn't want to burden him and scare him away; because who were you without him?

you don't need—want—the world to notice you.

you just want him to.

you had gone to every single one of his games, and yesterday was no exception. it was the finals, and your voice had gone raw from how loud you were cheering for him from the sidelines just like you always did.

you watched the way the whole team gravitated towards him after he shot the overtime winning goal, his smile brighter than you had ever seen before.

you sat on a bench waiting for him outside the change rooms, twiddling your fingers in boredom as you waited to congratulate him.

your head turned when you heard him. "alright, see you guys in a bit." an easy grin on his face with his bag slung over his shoulder and stick in hand.

his eyes twinkled when he saw you.

"i knew you'd come, couldn't have done it without you." he said as you stepped into his hug, heart still full with pride and excitement. though you weren't really sure if he meant it—if he really couldn't have done it without you.

him and the team were planning to go out for dinner to celebrate, so the two of you sat in your car for a bit to catch up until the moment would take him away from you.

"so uh..." you started, glancing at him as he typed something into his phone. "you're still coming tomorrow right?" you asked and his head turned to you before his eyes did, a distracted "hm?" slipping out

"tomorrow," you reaffirmed, "you said you'd come." you had a scholarship interview and connor had agreed last week that he'd help you practice, talk you through it, calm your nerves.

"oh yeah," he smiled gently, "of course i'll be there."

you nodded, not saying anything more.

you wish you hadn't believed him yesterday.

it was 3:08, your interview at 3:30. you sat on a bench outside the school, fingers fidgeting with the hems of your sweater as you tried not to look like you were waiting for someone, when that was exactly what you were doing.

the sun was a little too bright, the collar of your shirt too tight.

it was 3:20.

you finally stood up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and walking into the school. you can't even feel sad, you'd just have to go through another thing alone.

the interview had gone well, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you walked out the doors. you glanced at your phone to see a text from connor.

con🤓☝️ shit. i'm so so sorry y/n. i was with some of the guys, everything's been crazy since yesterday. i feel awful. did it go okay?

delivered 4:02pm

you didn't respond. what was there to say?

he spotted you the next day, approaching as you shoved some books into your locker, frustration prickling at your skin in the way they didn't quite fit.

"there she is!" he said with that same crooked smile.

"you forgot." your voice flat as you took one of your books out, giving up on trying to make it fit.

his smile faltered. "i know. i said i was sorry-"

"i don't need sorry, connor. i needed you." your words caught him off guard and you can see it in his face. the way his features flinched, caught somewhere between guilt, confusion and maybe something like regret.

"i was there for you," your heartbeat increased, you hated confrontation. "at your game, at every game. whenever you need anything, i'm there."

"i know," he whispered. "you always are."

"so when is it my turn?" your scoffed, voice tired. "you forgot, you always forget."

he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. no excuses, no promises. just silence.

his stomach twists at the way your eyes become glossy and your brows scrunch as you say, "you only notice me when i'm gone," you murmur.

you turned away. "and that's the problem."

because since when did the sun ever revolve around anything?

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[delusionalalien]

[Embrace You, Devour You] [Chapter 7] YANDERE!Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader x YANDERE!Variant!Invincibles

I HAVE WAY TOO MANY DRAFTS AND MISTAKES THAT I HAVE DONE WHILE MAKING THIS!!!! I accidentally published this TWICE, the app on my phone does not like me, no cap, it said 'save as draft' and the next thing i see is someone liking this shit when its only half way finish💀💀

Anyway, garbage as usual lmao. No Mark btw, you guys can skip this.

NOTE : I do NOT speak Russian, and I used google translate for the Russian bits, i'm so sorry for any Russian people reading this hot garbage of a fanfic.

prologue

previous chapter , ???

T.W / Tags: Slow-burn, Soft yandere, pining, mark is bat shit crazy but he good dw, baby-trapping, teen pregnancy, yandere variants, mark a lil pushy, breeding kink, jealous Mark Grayson, talks of abortion, misunderstandings, possessive Mark Grayson, murder, gore, child-murder(variant!readers), attempted suicide, murder-suicide(variant!readers), OOC, yandere!mom, prob need more tags

Weird ass dreams and you actually have family lore???

You felt the urge to mourn.

You had no recollections of what happened before you came here. All you knew this wasn't the earth you know, nature took over the planet, the sky a deep orange and a strange massive oak tree standing at the middle of it all.

a glowing green power shined inside it's body, dormant, angry, and isolated. Betrayed and stabbed by an axe which left imprints at the base, a scar, a reminder of what it went through.

There was an urge to comfort the alien plant, perhaps it was simply your mind playing tricks on you. There was no way a tree could feel human emotions.

You feel cold as you walk around it. You need to find home, but where is home exactly? This wasn't the earth you know of and you have no clue who or what brought you here in the first place.

You followed the roots of the first tree that protruded from the ground to another clearing where yet another oak tree stands, this time, normal for its height.

The last tree had vibrant colors, this one was dull in comparison to that green shine. You stopped for a brief moment to take in the sight before you.

Despite it's normal appearance and dull color, you can't help but touch the base of the tree and you flinched, stepping back when the shine swirled unnaturally when you touched it.

It seemed friendly, whatever these are they are definitely sentient to some degree.

You made distance with the oak, it didn't feel right to feel scared but you moved on your own feet, reminding yourself that you have to find a way back home and that sticking to one location is never a good idea- at least according to your mother's questionable survival guide she had passed down to you.

You pondered what your parents are doing, they probably filed a missing persons report on you and since you don't quite know how long you've been gone, you only hope its only been a day, and you started praying you weren't kidnapped by actual aliens from another planet.

Your train of thoughts also lingered further as you walk mindlessly through the dense forest. You think of Mark and how he was doing. You wished you cleared up the misunderstanding's about Todd before you came here, how you should have been honest with yourself and confessed.

Still, fear holds you back, you fear change, you are terrified of changing what you both have now. Knowing one day he's going to find someone and he looks at them like how you look at him all your life.

Mark is a friend, you know that, and you delude yourself that you're okay with just being friends, the next door childhood friend that will one day also find someone to love- someone who isn't Mark.

It repulsed you. The idea of someone else in your lives when you love him too much to give him away. Call it an obsession but you'd rather fight for the both of you to stay single for the rest of your life.

You tripped and fell on the grass when your foot caught itself on a stone, you hadn't realized you started crying in the middle of your crisis.

Stupid feelings.

Stupid lies.

Stupid you.

Why of all people has it have to be Mark?

Why does it feel like the world would tear itself apart when you aren't with him?

Why him?

Because he's Mark Grayson.

You're first love and possibly your last. The dork next door that would listen to you rant or ramble in the middle of the night with all the attention on you, the boy who would catch a lizard for you in recess just because you called them cool despite how scared he was touching one, the boy next door who shows up and glues himself on you with every chance he gets and spends most of your summers locked in your room dozing off or playing video games.

That was Mark Grayson, and to him?

You are nothing but a best friend. His ride or die, the girl next door who listens to him ramble about the new release of seance dog, the one who would put him in stupid situations, the girl who has a questionable love interest on Todd.

And who are you to make you change his mind?

You made your bed along ago, you just refused to lie still in it.

You leaned yourself onto a tree, small, insecure, but you felt the most safe within it's small dome, its little sanctuary in the middle of nowhere. It took you a minute to calm down and realized you hadn't gone that far at all from the second oak tree and from the distance you can still see the first tree towering above the head of the rest of the planets in this world.

The smaller oak you leaned to was still growing to maturity, the seconds tree's roots intertwined with the smaller one just like the first one did.

There was no green shine in its body not even a minuscule of it, just a normal tree with a parent tree root embracing its child.

You sat down and scoots further on the small tree where you feel safe. Where you can drown yourself in your own emotions without the feeling of being judged.

You want Mark to be here,

You want your mom to be here,

You want to hear your dad,

You want to hear Debbie giggle,

You want to see Nolan give you his best awkward comfort smiles,

You miss William and his loud comments,

You miss everyone back home, they're probably all worried sick about you,

How do you even go back home?

When did you fall asleep?

Soft fingers strokes your face, it wiped the salted tears away and she whispered soothing words into your ears, Russian was a language your mother didn't bother teaching you, as to why you don't know yourself, this woman is unmistakably speaking Russian to you, whispering soft words of encouragement.

"Вы должны проснуться!"

"Не заканчивай здесь свою жизнь!"

"Приди ко мне, дитя мое!"

"Вот и всё, иди сюда, дорогая."

Why was half your body inside the tree?

She held your hands and pry's you away from the plant in desperation, gathering her strength and she held you close when you are thrown out of the tree's hollow inside. You breathe heavily and watched the tree you we're resting on shamefully closed, the imprint of your body fading slowly as if it understood its irrational behavior of consuming you was wrong and selfish.

You could have died back there, and yet a stranger saved you.

"T-thank you saving me..."

She was massive, not as near as the same physique as your mother, but she was almost the same build. She has sharp features like your mother however, almost creepily identical and you flinched when she furrows her brows in anger.

"О чем ты думал! У тебя есть желание умереть? Что тебя так беспокоит, что ты хочешь покончить с собой?"

"I, I'm sorry? Miss i don't understand what you're saying."

There was a long pause before she sighed, her shoulders slump in defeat, you watch her stand up and motion for you to follow, despite everything, something tells you to obey without further questions. Perhaps because she was human in a nonhuman world, your instincts screams to survive.

You walked behind her, glancing back at the tree that almost consumed you and shuddered. You could have died, you got too comfortable and ended up almost giving up your life and the oddest thing is, you don't even hold any sort of resentment towards it.

Your body slams to a stop when the mystery woman stood still, she points towards a hole on the ground, her face unreadable but serious in the way she spoke.

"Home."

Home? You step a little closer to the hole, it was an endless abyss down there and you're beginning to doubt that she was even here to help you, looking back at the woman, she crossed her arms and waits for you to jump in.

"I'm sorry but this doesn't look safe."

Maybe she speaks and understand minimal English that would explain how she seems to understand you to a certain level. She shakes her head and comes up to you just to jab her finger right where you're heart is.

"Return."

"Return?" You repeat and she nods.

"Return, home." She points back at the hole once more then at you.

"Sorry, I don't understand how this hole is going to bring me back to earth."

A frustrated huff left her lips, she chew the inside of her cheeks thinking, finding words she could convince you to jump, and you wait for her to speak, the more the silence grew the more you think you have to be on your own to find your way back home.

A spaceship would be great about now.

"You, soul, home, body, return."

"wh-"

You didn't even get to ask before she actually shoved you. You flail your arms around trying to catch anything to stop your fall, screaming as the orange sky began to disappear and the silhouette of your murderer fades.

Fuck your life.

-

You jolt from slumber. Mouth opened to scream but no noise did come out. What the hell did you dream about? You're then hit with a throbbing sensation in every part of your body.

Everything hurts. The pain you feel was like being struck by a truck going pass the speed limit down the road to end you, the mattress felt thin and stiff making you squirm and groan once your entire senses came back at full force.

You can make out the faint smell medicine wavering in the air, the bed would creaked on occasion if you shifted, your face was numbed with something clings onto your cheeks like sticker, your arms are no better, needles inserted in your veins and supplying you whatever nutrients you needed..

You felt dizzy when you sat up, and you're careful not to accidentally push the needle to where it shouldn't be. You felt nauseous and scared.

How long have you been out? What happened? Why are you in the hospital with these bandages wrapped around you?

Like a second truck coming out of nowhere to finish the job, you're hit with the last memories before you went unconscious out, you were alone underneath the bench and in the mercy of your own company, begging death not to take you, recalling Rebecca and her goons walk away from your body submerged in your own vomit, the way they laughed and tortured you.

You cried. Sobbing in your bruised hands as you let it all out. The agony they made you feel, how you felt pathetic and small while in their mercy as you took on their assault, blow after blow begging and crying out for help and mercy.

You hear the door open, you didn't stop your tears, nor try to shame the emotions you felt before your father went inside.

He froze on that doorway, his eyes red and tired. You felt bad for everyone, the pain they must have gone through just to wait for you to wake up, to know what happened.

It wasn't long before Nicolas held you in his arms, holding your head against his chest as he feel you tremble in his arms, crying to him, for your mother to hold you, to surround you in their presence, and Nicolas hushes you and kissing your head in comfort.

"I'm here,"

"You're safe, nothing is going to harm you now,"

"Let it all out, (Name)."

You drowned in his comfort, his smell, his voice, the way he sooth you in a tight embrace. You believe him, you survived in what you felt was death guiding you to the afterlife, surviving what felt like an eternity of torture, and he lets you cry, again and again.

Because you're his little girl.

And nothing will ever change that.

Not in a hundred years, not even millions.

So Nicolas didn't speak, he didn't stop you from crying, acknowledging what you went through, understanding his grounds as a father.

And for you it was enough.

-

Note: when i got bullied my dad just stared at me from across the room. All my crying must have went to his head because he told me to shut up and do the chores (he also threw a notebook at me)💀💀💀💀💀💀 GOD GIVE ME A DAD LIKE NICOLAS!!1!11! #copium #developeddaddyissueswithme