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for-a-longlongtime · 5 months ago

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Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF.

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door.

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway.

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ.

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house.

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really?

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer.

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel’s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress.

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue.

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out.

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again.

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him.

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad.

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #hotdilfsummerchallenge #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #tlou au

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bumblequinn · 1 year ago

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hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

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aennasan · 5 months ago

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There is a reason why Kenji Sato stays hole up in his room whenever he is sick.

It wasn't because he is too sick to move around and take care of himself. If that happens, Mina would have taken care of him in a pod, where he could rest for the whole day, and feel better the next day.

It wasn't because he hates being seen as weak either. The idea of being seen at his most vulnerable may have brought a pink hue on his cheeks but it didn't bother him as much. He is sick after all. There is nothing wrong with that.

What bothers him is the fact that he could be a bit….er….. clingy. When he is feeling under the weather, the constant warmth of someone is very comforting to him.

Actually, a bit clingy may be an understatement.

When Mina informed you that Kenji cannot meet you for the day because he is not feeling well, it worried you so much, especially, when Mina insisted that he would be alright and she would take care of him.

Although Mina is an amazing help, how could you just sit back, and wait for him to get better without checking up on him, or lending a hand to take care of your own boyfriend.

Mina was insistent that you shouldn't. But you refused to back down, so against her better judgment, she let you in, with a reminder and an ominous warning; “I wish you goodluck.”

The moment you stepped foot out of work, you made your way to his house, and it broke your heart to see him bundled up, and sleeping under the covers. His shivers were so intense, that even if he is hiding beneath a bunch of fluff, you can see the tremors above.

“Kenji, I am here. Do you need anything?” You softly called out to him, and patted the area, where you thought he would have his head.

After hearing your voice, his tremors stopped… for a moment. He whipped his head out of the covers with renewed vigor, eyes wide, nose red, his whole face is pale with sickness.

You almost fell backwards when he suddenly hugged your torso and nestled his head on your stomach. You shivered at the sudden shift of temperature, feeling the heat boiling out of his skin, goosebumps forming on the part of your body he touched.

“How are you? Feeling better?” You asked. Voice laced with concern and worry. He didn't reply, instead he just shook his head like a kid. You put your hand on his forehead to check his fever, and you don't need a thermometer to know that even if it was midday now, his fever hasn't gone down.

“I’ve brought some porridge. Let me put them in a bowl so you could eat. Mina told me that you refused to eat anything. That is not good, you need food to have energy, and for the medicine to work.”

Removing his arms tightly hugging you, you scold him softly, and leave a kiss on his forehead before putting a plaster of kool fever, to help with his high temperature. You heard him cooed at the coolness, and watch as he closes his eyes, as you help him tucked back on his bed. His head resting comfortably on his pillows. You left his room, and made sure to close his door softly, before heading towards his kitchen, and put the food you bought in the microwave to heat it up.

Even outside his room, the air is thickened with the heady smell of sickness. Usually, Kenji would play even if he was sick. However, with the gloomy atmosphere of his house, and the minimal lights opened. You are sure that he never even set foot out of his room, for anything. You tapped your finger on the counter, as you watched the red blinking number countdown. You were in deep thought worrying over Kenji, that you didn't see the shadow looming behind you, the quiet steps he took as he approached you.

You let out a scream of bloody murders when an army suddenly snaked around your waist. His face resting at the crook of your neck. His arms tighten up, whenever you try to move or do anything, refusing to let you go.

“Kenji? Oh god! You scared me! What are you doing here?

“You're taking too long.” He replied. Voice muffled because he still refuses to remove his face, nestling on your neck.

“Too long? I'm just heating up your food for five minutes. I will be back soon.” You convince him, as you try to remove his arms around you. Feeling uncomfortable with his high body heat, racked with fever. He is still way too strong for someone who is sick.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He repeated. And you admit a bunch of question marks were forming on your head.

What exactly is going on? Also…Where is Mina? She is awfully quiet. She didn't even inform you about Kenji walking towards you.

Kenji Sato. Your boyfriend. Refuses to leave or move or let go of you, no matter how much you begged him too. He would even tsk or let out noises of disapproval whenever you try to do something to outsmart him.

So in the end, you just make yourself comfortable while he snuggle and hug your arm. His head resting on your chest.

“Kenji, what if I get sick too because you are way too close to me.”

“I’ll take care of you. And snuggle with you too.”

You are trying your best not to let out an exasperated sigh. No one told you that Kenji could be so clingy whenever he feels sick and vulnerable.

It got to the point that even if you excuse yourself going to the bathroom, he would throw a tantrum and cry, if you don't allow him in and allow him to hold your hand to do your business. The second time he refuses to let you go, you scolded him for a bit, which made him let you go alone, although reluctantly. You watch as he just sits there by the door, looking so sad and lonely, that guilt gnaws in your chest.

He looks like a kicked puppy, more than his usual wolfish demeanor and persona, which seeks to be always on the top.

After some time, Kenji finally slept like a log. The fever finally went down. You let out a sigh of relief and did your best not to make a sound so as to not wake him up.

You have learned your lesson when you woke him up earlier. You were greeted by a disgruntled Kenji, scowling, and full of distrust. He would close his eyes but the moment he realizes he did, he will shoot awake and scowl at you with a pout. Asking if you moved. Even if you say no, he will just glare at you.

It was like playing a game you will never ever win so you just sat there, holding his hand tightly, patting his side, humming a melody, to make him feel relaxed and finally sleep.

You thank all the gods when you pull your hand from his hold, and all he does is grumbles a bit before turning, and continues sleeping.

You tiptoed walking towards outside his room, making sure that you will not make any noise, as you slowly close his door. You were in bated breath as you carefully walked backwards away from his door, counted to ten, and cried tears of joy when no angry Kenji went out to lash out at your disappearance.

You almost had a heart attack when the moment you turned, Mina was in front of you.

“Mina, you-”

“I wished you good luck. I even told you not to go.” The AI replied with a sound followed by a shrug.

You're probably just so tired and drained that you have no energy to argue, and you even thanked her for preparing a meal and a hot bath for you as an apology.

Although, a sick Kenji is a pain in the ass, you admit he looks kind of cute and adorable, pouting and clingy like that. You just hope that when he does that next time, it wasn't because he was sick.

You can't take cute photos of a sick Kenji Sato, right?

#back again from the dead *evil laugh*#kenji sato ultraman rising #jealous kenji sato #kenji sato fic #kenji sato imagine #kenji sato ultraman #clingy Kenji Sato #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x you #ken sato x y/n #ken sato x reader #ken sato #aenna imagines #aenna headcannons

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samuelsdean · 6 months ago

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Stitch Me Up

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: for dean, every scrape, every gash, was a twisted plea for your touch.

genre: angst

word count: 0.5k

author's notes: i wrote this at 3 am on my notes app while simultaneously rewatching spn because i'm insane and i'm a huge advocate of touch-starved!dean.

THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD WAS DEAN'S CONSTANT UNPLEASANT FOREWARNING THAT DEAN HAD RETURNED—HE WAS HOME. Sprawled on the floor, another injury marring his flesh, and he sees you right there in front of him. He could see the anger in your eyes, could feel the fury that bubbles in your gut is ceaseless, a familiar dance with the ever-present terror.

For Dean, every scrape, every gash, was a twisted plea for your touch.

Dean loves it when you touch him, when you lay your hands gently on his skin, careful not to cause him more pain than what he is dealing with at the moment. He loves it when you clean his wounds while going off on another tangent as to how he should be more cautious—threatening him that next time, you would not be there to treat him; yet, every time, not one did you miss his homecoming, when he comes home bloodied, the first thing you do is come running and restoring him to full health. He craved your tirades, the harsh scoffs, and thinly veiled threats that were your flimsy shield against worry. Each rant was a desperate battle cry, a plea for him to be careful.

Yet, Dean could not help himself. He reveled in your ministrations, the gentle contrast to the fire of your anger.

Dean loves it when you tend to him because it is proof that you care.

And he craves it—craves you—your presence, your touch—everything. He thinks it is sickening how much he has grown to crave you. Because he thinks he does not deserve you, and he knows that the universe always tries to play a sick joke on him.

It was a warped version of his affection born from a life spent in the shadows. Love, for him, was a dangerous dance, a promise of heartbreak waiting to happen. People he cared about had a knack for disappearing, leaving him with the cold comfort of solitude. Hunting was a drifter's existence. A life with no room for roots or dreams. Letting someone in, and building a family, was a recipe for disaster.

It is a lonely life being a hunter. One could never have the chance to put down roots because there is always a monster to hunt, a demon to exorcise, and a case to solve. Loving someone and having a family is just a foolproof way of getting yourself hurt. Yet, here he was, craving the very thing he swore to avoid. It was a sickness, a yearning that gnawed at his soul.

Because the truth, the terrifying truth, was that Dean could not bear the thought of being truly alone.

The sting of disinfectant was a cruel reminder of his twisted reality. As you patched him up, his eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a touch of vulnerability. At that moment, Dean gave you a glimpse of his plea for something more than just mending—a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a place in a world that felt increasingly fragile, right beside you.

But the question remained, a silent echo in the tense air: could you give him what he craved without sacrificing your own heart in the process?

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x oc

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girlokwhatever · 7 months ago

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i have an emily idea cooking … ok so they played together at louisville (maybe reader is a year or two younger than em) and dated. they broke up and emily left for the wnba. reader transferred to uconn bc louisville reminded her too much of emily. two years later reader is drafted and ends up on the mystics with emily 🙈

(guys i’m switching up the draft picks a little bit to fit the plot ok i know washington wasn’t second pick)

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚ end of beginning,,

part two

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

“i am happy for you emily, truly i am.”

“then why are you breaking up with me? you don’t know that long distance won’t work.”

tears stream down both of your faces, a consequence of your decision to end things with emily. she committed to the draft that was only days away and was projected to rank very high. she was leaving louisville, which meant she was leaving you and the life you built together.

you weren’t mad at her at all. you really were happy for her and her accomplishments. it was going to break you to watch her leave and not come back, which is why you made the decision you did. selfishly, you needed to focus on your career. you needed to let her go so that the two of you could grow on your own.

“emily..”

“please don’t do this. we can try. i’ll try. please.”

you meant the world to emily, encouraged her to do great things and be a better person. she felt as if she owed the entire past year to you and your motivation that kept her going even through the darkest moments. you’d been a great comfort to her. there would be late nights when nothing else mattered but the feeling of you in her arms. she’d do anything for you.

she’d do anything for you.

“i can’t,”

your voice is barely above a whisper. you’re trying to hold back the sob threatening to spill over. sometimes the best choices were the hardest ones to make.

emily drags her hands down her face and peers over at you. you’re not looking at her anymore, head turned and eyes squeezed shut. she reaches out for you and cups her hand around the side of your face. when you lean into her touch she feels sick, finally letting the reality of having to let you go sink in.

“it’s okay. i get it, i know. i love you.”

she kisses your forehead as she stands, letting her hand drop back down to her side. you relish in the feeling before it’s gone because you know this will probably be the last time you feel it. that same feeling that still gives you butterflies.

“i love you too, em.”

that was two years ago.

you went to watch her get drafted, eyes teary and gleaming as you followed her figure walking to the stage after getting picked forth overall. you cheered and cried for her as if nothing had changed.

a few days after that you entered the transfer portal. everything reminded you too much of her. her name was still plastered on the cubby next to yours in the locker room, her scent still lingered in your sheets, her spot on the couch was left untouched, her absence in the home court was noted heavily.

you ended up signing with uconn. the last two years of your collegiate career were spent there, growing and expanding as not only a player but a person. the friends you made were phenomenal and helped you grieve with the ones you lost.

due to the extra work you were putting into your dream, you grew exponentially in popularity on social media along with your fellow teammate paige bueckers. you were close to everyone on the team, especially her. it led to people shipping the two of you much to your surprise.

you hadn’t dated anyone since emily.

but now it was your turn to be drafted. you committed to the draft alongside your two teammates nika and aaliyah. life was good. after two years of struggling and trying to find yourself, things were finally falling into place.

you’d gotten second overall pick in the first round. the washington mystics selected you and you were beyond grateful for the opportunity. you turned to give your coach a hug, noticing paige and azzi recording in the back with wide smiles on their faces.

it felt like a fever dream honestly. the rest of the night flew by, interviews and interactions seemingly only lasting seconds before you were pulled off to the next person. through the haze, you forgot what would be waiting for you once you arrived in washington.

or who.

emily watched the draft, nervous with anticipation to see where you’d end up. when she heard your name and washington mystics in the same sentence, her heart started pounding in her chest.

she never got over you. it made starting the league hard for her considering she lost her main pillar of love and support. her year with the indiana fever was full of intense moments and anger, always feeling like she wasn’t giving enough and kept having to prove herself.

the next year was even harder. she suffered a rough shoulder injury, leading to countless days of physical therapy and doctor visits. all without you.

to know that she’d see you again in only a short number of days was terrifying. you’d both be in training camp together which lasted weeks, spending day after day seeing each other. though it made her anxious, emily was also excited. she would get to see you again in all your glory, hopefully being able to smile and laugh together like you used to.

emily walked into the mystics gym, setting her bag down and standing to observe the room. there were a few people there already, you being one of them. her eyes immediately found you and your figure, so recognizable to emily.

you seemed to have this glowing aura around you. a smile was plastered on your face as you talked to ariel. you dribbled a basketball between your hands effortlessly, adjusting to the weight and getting used to your new surroundings. your eyes also wandered after you broke away from ariel, finding emily across the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss her. two years without her was a major struggle for you. sometimes, late at night, you wondered what it would’ve been like if you had never broken up with her. there were countless times when you regretted your choice. you never considered the fact that you could possibly be teammates again one day. certainly not so soon.

you wandered onto the court, leaving all your aimless thoughts behind. the rest of the trainees gathered with you and started a simple drill where you and a partner would take turns shooting and guarding one another.

by second nature you and emily found each other, shyly muttering a quick, “do you wanna be my partner?”

“yeah, i’d love to.” her heart was pounding at your words, imagining that maybe, just maybe, you missed her too. she smiled at your shyness, finding it ironic how your relationship had devolved.

emily was considerably taller than you, so shooting over her was not easy feat. at some moments you felt like she was letting you drain shots purposefully, even if she swore she wasn’t. you were even able to block a few of her shots, mostly when she kept her feet planted though.

after awhile and a few rotations, the coach offered a different drill. he split the group in two and let you scrimmage, you and emily somehow ending up on the same team.

it was giving you deja vu. anytime you’d get the ball emily was there either setting a screen or opening a path for you. it felt like she never left, like you never split, like you two were still the dynamic duo you were known to be at one point. like she was still your emily.

being here with her made you feel like your old self. the you from louisville, playing with the emily from louisville. in a time where you were both still in love and happy. another version of yourself was here, the best version of yourself.

after hours of sweating and nearly collapsing from being breathless, the day’s training was coming to an end. you drained one more three point shot, finally feeling satisfied with your performance. everyone cheered for you playfully as you collected your bag, quickly heading back to your car. you made it all the way to the parking lot before hearing a voice.

“you did really good today.”

you turned to see emily standing behind you, slightly disheveled and out of breath. she was smiling softly at you the same way she used to. it still made you flutter to this day, especially when you remember all the memories the two of you share.

“thank you, you too! your defense is still so good.”

“thank you,”

you both stood there in silence, not quite ready to break away. being around her offered you some sense of comfort in such an unfamiliar place.

“how’s paige?”

“paige? i mean, she’s good.”

“are you two, like.. together?”

“what- no. we’re just friends.”

emily nods, satisfied at the information. she’s slightly embarrassed for even asking, but she had to know. she had to know if you moved on with someone else.

“so then, is it okay if i take you out to dinner?”

“like, right now?”

“just tonight. you can shower and stuff of course.”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. you’d been wanting a moment like this for over a year. you missed her so much, too much. it was starting to affect you mentally. you’d wonder about her too often, having to fight some of the strongest urges to reach out to her and ask how she was doing.

“yeah, yeah. i’d really like that.”

she’s smiling, allowing it to reach her eyes as she waves you off. she felt like she was home again, even though she was still thousands of miles away. you were here, and that’s all she needed. any moment with you felt so right.

she took the time apart from you to grow as her own person, but now she was ready to grow again with you.

hopefully, you’d be ready too.

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚

guys hopefully the song makes sense for this fic

should i make a part two idk?!!?!

also i will spell check this tomorrow.

#emily engstler i love you #rea loves em #emily engstler fic #emily engstler smut #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #masc lesbian #lesbian #bisexual #wlw slay #wlw angst #wlw yearning #wlw post #i love my moots #lgbtqia #lgbtq

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owlcomics101 · 8 months ago

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task force 141 x fox hybrid!Reader head cannons

Warnings: bit of blood, mentions of animal abuse/hunting (I do NOT condone), SFW (I am a minor), wholesome fox cuddles, reader is an Arctic fox hybrid

Context/backstory:

Soap was the one that found you originally. You were caught in a snare. A nose tied around your neck attached to a pole in the ground. Panting and running around in circles aimlessly. Blood drew from your poor already raw and red neck from the tight nose digging into your neck fur. Soap couldn’t just leave you there. He couldn’t leave you to become just another victim to a Man’s trap. Cut to the task force getting ready to leave in the chopper when they see Soap entering with you curled up in his arms. Trembling as you buried yourself as deep as you could into his chest in hopes of hiding away from the cruel world.

Soap:

Soap sometimes spooks you despite him being your savior, he can get very loud from time to time and it often causes you to go run and hide. It always breaks his heart seeing you run away from him. He tries his best to lower and soften his voice for you, but sometimes he forgets. You often only come to him for affection in private because that is when he is the calmest to your liking. You prefer to lay and sit right by Soap’s legs in his bunk. Not because you don’t trust him but…he tends to shift around a lot in his sleep…Soap tends to get a lot of nightmares about you. When he found you in the snare. Your frail and sickly face and body. His nightmares would alway consist of someone chasing your down and skinning you as some sick trophy. Soap would wake up in a cold sweat, always checking to see if you were by his legs or in anyone’s bunk. He would scoop you up and give you kisses as tears filled his eyes thinking of what could’ve happened to you if he’d had never found you. A lot of times he cried himself to sleep thinking about it, but whenever he cried you were there to give him kisses and cuddles.

Ghost:

Ghost took the longest to warm up to you, and you took the longest to warm up to him. His mask always frightened you and it didn’t help that he was always towering over you just to add more intimidation. His mask reminded you of the masked hunters you’d always face in the bitter tundra and all those near death experiences always left you with a bitter snarl when Ghost was in the same room as you. Price would have Ghost start feeding you so you would at least feel comfortable with him being in the same room as you, which worked. You would still watch his every move in case he tried to pull something when he fed you. And you would always check the food to see if it was safe to eat before eating it. One time, when you were busy eating Ghost was watching you out of the corner of your eye. Ghost looked around to check if anyone was around before slowly walking over to you and crouching next to you while you ate. He watched you for an awhile before putting his head out to stroke your head, he hesitated for a moment though. Thinking of how you would react but he had already had his hand on your head. He gently stroke your head while you ate and scratched behind your ears. When you finished eating you hadn’t even realized ghost was there and touching you. You immediately pulled away, tilting your head to the side at him before quickly running out of the room.

Gaz:

Gaz loves taking you for walks! Every time you see him get up your ears immediately perk up thinking he was about to take you on a walk. You couldn’t help but go berserk when he mentions going ‘outside’ or ‘walkies’. Whenever Gaz took you on a walk, you would always walk in front of him. When he manages to get in front of you, you would always race him to be in front. Because in your mind you’re walking him. Not the other way around. Sometimes when you walk by other soldiers or even military dogs you’d always run behind Gaz or want him to pick you up so you’d be out of the dog’s reach. Gaz didn’t mind, you weren’t that much of a hassle to carry. In the colder months, his favorite thing is to watch you go dive head first into the snow. It makes him laugh every time. Though one time…you came back to him with a dead mouse. Plopped it in front of him for him to see your work. You were so proud of yourself. Gaz was….disgusted a bit but still thought it was sweet when you brought stuff to him. (He does throw it away because it stinks up the base)

Price:

Price was your favorite. You always waited for him to come back every mission. Your tail would wag like crazy when you see him downstairs from the window. When you heard him walking close to the door you’d start running around the barracks excitedly as your ‘zoomies’ kick in. Cuddle time is EVERYTIME! It doesn’t matter what Price is doing, you will butt your head into whatever he is doing and made it a point to sit in his lap while he worked. You would snarl or bark at him whenever he tried getting up. And you would not let him wake up early in the mornings. Price didn’t want you at first. Telling Soap you should be at a shelter or back in the wild. Soldiers can’t have pets. Let alone a fox hybrid like you! But he quickly grew a soft spot for you. He made sure you got the best food and spoiled you when he could. Whenever Gaz took you on your walks Price would interrogate Gaz when he was out with you for too long. Even by a second too long. He was the one to always remind Soap to quiet down. Especially when you were sleeping. He’d always give you kisses on the head and hold you whenever he could. Even during briefings or meetings you were always there in his arms or in his lap.

#task force 141 #task force x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #price x reader #captain john price #cod #cod mw2 #modern warfare #call of duty #fox #foxes

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tori111777 · 1 month ago

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FRIGHT AND FURY

Part 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: You confront your husband, the emperor of Rome, of his sickness.

You leaned back in your chair. The bracelets on your arm clanging loudly as you moved, showing off your riches with just such noise.

Your husband was right in front of you, yet his mind miles away. It was always away when the people in the coliseum roared as they saw a persons eye get gutted out of his head. He would howl with them as well.

You did not care so much for this marriage was not out of love but Marcus. Dare not ever call him that, Caracalla has been different these past moons.

So there you were, starring intensely at your husband back trying to figure him out.

…

“More food, my lady?” A servant came up with a tray of grapes, all laid out neatly with additional touches of green that was obviously there for decoration purposes.

You didn’t say anything and put up your hand and shooed him away, you were occupied anyways as Caracalla finally sat back down next to you.

He smacked his chair and gave a chuckle, “did you see that?” “I did.” You said plainly, looking straight ahead. He frowned, “you don’t seem excited by that?” You turned your head to him finally, looking into his eyes. You tried to seem something there but there wasn’t.

“No, I have just seen better battles.”

He scooted back more into his chair, trying to get comfortable in his seat. “You’re right.” He agreed with you, “It has only just begun though, don’t fret my dear.”

Your eyes drew back to the sandy arena floor, dust flying up as people tried to dodge other attacks. The clink of metal on metal and the blood dowsing in the sun, it gave you no entertainment as it did to him. It happened so often, how are they not bored of it?

Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against the armrest, the cold clink of your bracelets and rings brought you back.

“You seem bored.” Caracalla frowned at you. You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between each other. Shifted in your seat, eyeing him once more, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes gleamed with a hunger you never quite understood.

“I suppose I am.” Playing with your rings as you let out a sigh. “Caracalla's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gave a short laugh. "You always were different. I suppose as well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't care for the blood, do you?"

Your head turned as well to meet him again. You two were very close now and his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin.

The crowd went up again and his brother, Geta started to shout ferociously, almost as if he was fighting them down there as well. The sound broke you two apart.

His smile didn’t falter as he straightened in his chair, but there was something in his gaze—something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "You don't like the blood," he repeated, quieter now, as if testing something. Noticing him slowly disappearing more and more into his mind.

"You know, it's not the blood," you replied, your voice low and deliberate, "It's what comes after it."

He definitely heard you but decided not to pay attention to you anymore and decided to lean against the railing watching the show below unfold.

———

You did not see your husband, Caracalla until later that night, long after the sun had set and the games were done for the day. The moon shining bright and cooling everyone of the hot day in Rome.

Back in your chamber with the windows open. The wind blowing through your silk gown right in the moonlight’s direction. Looking out into the beautiful streets and hearing bells ring and children laughing. It was the only peaceful part of the day you would get.

It reminded you of home.

Nor did you care when you heard footsteps enter into the room. "Are you still angry?" Caracalla voice was low, tinged with amusement, though you could tell he was testing the waters.

Your head tilted a bit and your eyes lingered on the marble floor. “I never was.” Keeping your voice quiet and steady. For a moment, he said nothing, only watching you. His usual presence was like a shadow, but tonight it felt like he wasn’t even there.

"You always do this," Caracalla’s voice broke the stillness, soft but tinged with something darker. He had moved closer now, though still keeping a careful distance, as if measuring the space between you both. "You retreat into silence like a stranger in your own home. You’ve always been so... aloof. Cold, even."

You wanted to scoff at him. To throw the vase on the table at him. You knew better than this though, you’ve played this game your whole life. You had played it with your father. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. "I don’t retreat, Caracalla," you replied, your voice calm, though it held a trace of something sharper beneath it. “Something seems off with you these days, I fear.” You held your hands close to your chest for some comfort.

He breath became fast and he narrowed his eyebrows for a second. “Is this why you can’t look at me?” He raised his voice higher yet you did not flinch one bit.

“No.” You said.

He stepped closer to you to talk quietly yet anger was still in his body, it has always been there, a whisper in the night air. "Then what is it? What do you see when you look at me?"

You shifted slightly, the silk of your gown rippling with the motion, "I see a man who has everything, yet still wants more," you said softly, the words as sharp as the cold marble beneath your feet.

Caracalla paused, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the silence between you both growing heavy. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out, the fury in him barely contained. Yet, he remained still, his lips pressed tight together as he absorbed your words.

"You always were good with words," he muttered, you stood unmoving, your back to the open window, the cool night air sweeping through the room as the distant sounds of Rome's nightlife echoed faintly in the background. The weight of his gaze was palpable, as though it was trying to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built between you and him.

"What do you want, Caracalla?" You said those words very loudly. You weren’t afraid speaking out against him. “You are not yourself these days, you are restless in your sleep and crave blood more than ever…”

He looked down at the ground and almost began to shout. “It is my brother! He blames me for everything I’ve ever done!” His voice pleased and aching. You’ve seen him like this before, but never this serious. Yet, you don’t believe he’s telling the full truth, or at least he knows the full truth.

You drop your hands to your side and step close to him, your silhouette leaving the silver moonlight that touched you. You brush your hand into his hair and look at him, holding his head. Your rings felt cold against his skin but he did not mind it.

“You are the emperor.” You spoke softly, trying to calm him down. He had always been out there but you’ve always yet had a soft heart and it aches for him right now.

His eyes were stinging from holding back tears yet he did not shed any. He did not speak for he did not seem weak but he has a sickness of the mind and you knew it, Geta knew it, the senate knew it and damn that monkey probably knew it as well. You just kept denying it and he does not see it.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” He whispered and turned his head to break away from your hands. Leaving the cold air to touch them again. Maybe you should’ve kept that window closed.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ll #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #emperor carcalla x reader #one shot #rome #ancient rome #fanfic

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mavsstar · 2 years ago

Text

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?”

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you.

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life.

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.”

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock.

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes.

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge.

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs.

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground.

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge.

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise.

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door.

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.”

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door.

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world.

“I said I’ll give you a ride.”

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!”

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.”

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it.

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car.

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time.

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented.

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips.

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.”

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.”

“Her father was not present in her life.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?”

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-”

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!”

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.”

“Ari?”

“Yes Rob?”

“Mind your business.”

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you.

Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear.

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.”

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!”

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.”

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.”

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended.

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!”

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you.

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!”

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire.

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road.

“Oh no,” you internally whined.

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.”

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him.

“You’re not taking her.”

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?”

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag.

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard.

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.”

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?”

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.”

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked.

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.”

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?”

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.”

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters.

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you.

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body.

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek.

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.”

“Are you sure?” he asked you again.

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off.

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague.

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated.

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.”

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized.

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.”

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.”

“I will.”

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look.

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.”

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.”

“Yes you are.”

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.”

“Did you thank him?”

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you.

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you.

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new.

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you.

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.”

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.”

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside.

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch.

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat.

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him.

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you.

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.”

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.”

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.”

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused.

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.”

“I really can’t—”

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes.

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel.

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes.

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down.

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.”

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.”

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out.

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.”

“Why’s that?”

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more.

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts.

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you.

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him.

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.”

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place.

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?”

“Oh shut your trap.”

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked.

“No it’s not!” Ari protested.

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied.

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.”

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted.

“Yeah in jail.”

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor.

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants.

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief.

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again.

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out.

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock.

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out.

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes.

“Yes,” he admits.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand.

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out.

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good.

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you.

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth.

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

3K notes · View notes

seonghwaddict · 1 year ago

Text

one more minute — choi san

in which you indulge in some midnight snacks and kisses in the kitchen.

bf!choi san x fem!reader. genre. established relationship. fluff. warnings. a little, tiny make out sesh but nothing else. wc. 0.6k.

lilo's notes. i’m a little sick so updates on both the event and nsn will be a bit slow. but anyways, here’s a little san drabble i wrote at 3 am :>

listening to. rises the moon, liana flores.

masterlist.

your eyes fluttered open to be met with darkness, the first thing you noticed was the arm draped around your waist. turning your head to look behind you, you caught sight of your dear boyfriend, san, sleeping soundly, his face lit by the dim moonlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

silent snores left his mouth and you smiled, wondering how on earth you were lucky enough to call this perfect man yours. but the silent moment of admiring him was ruined when your stomach grumbled quietly, reminding you what you woke up for. after taking one last look at san and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, you wiggled yourself out of his grip without waking him up and walked down to the kitchen for some food.

you grabbed a paper plate and put a slice of pizza from the night before on it, placing it in the microwave. then you grabbed a mug, filled it with water and set it next to the paper plate before closing the microwave's door, pressing some buttons and starting it up.

a familiar arm wrapped around your waist from the back as san’s other arm brushed your hair away from your neck, nuzzling his face into it as he dropped the hand to wrap it around your waist as well. he placed gentle pecks on your neck and shoulder, nudging the fabric of your neckline to the side to access as much of your soft skin as possible.

you chuckled and turned your face to the side, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. without averting your eyes, you turned in his grip and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. he smelled faintly of peppermint and the shampoo you keep in your bathroom.

you pulled away from each other and he moved his fingertips under your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your sides. his touch sent sparks and goosebumps travelling through your whole body, a feeling you were well acquainted with.

“i love you," he whispered, lips brushing against yours.

you smiled, muttering a heartfelt, "i love you, too."

he leaned his face in and your lips connected in a kiss, moving in a slow and synchronised rhythm, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. instinctively, your hands travelled up and tangled themselves in his already messy chestnut locks of hair. his grip on your waist tightened, trying to close every remaining millimetre of space between your bodies.

he bit down on your bottom lip, his hands simultaneously gliding up and down your waist, fingertips brushing just beneath your breasts before dropping to your hips and squeezing twice. knowing what that meant with him, you jumped up and warped your legs around his torso, his firm hands supporting you under your thighs. as if you had done this multiple times before—which you have—he turned and set you on the empty counter behind him, standing between your legs.

you continued, your kisses turning desperate and bruising. but before he could take it any further, the microwave's timer rang and you pulled away with a mischievous smile and flushed cheeks. your boyfriend groaned as you inched your way around him and got off the counter to grab your food.

"baby," he whined, drawing out the last syllable, "just… one more minute?"

"i don't want my food to get cold," you laughed and took a bite of the pizza, a playful pout on your lips. "you’re very needy when you're tired."

"at least give me some of the pizza?"

you considered it for a moment before turning and walking to the living room with a broad grin. "i’m not your mom, you can get it yourself, love," you called over her shoulder, resisting the urge to giggly at his dumbfounded expression.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

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cherry-jamm · 10 months ago

Text

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

#the boys x reader #homelander x reader #homelander #request #pterodactyl hater

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aneveningsword · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 '𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn! reader warnings: not proofread words: 832 summary: 3 different ways Spencer shows he loves you

masterlist

one Spencer often went away for long periods of time, it came with having a job at the BAU. Despite missing him and disliking how quiet your home becomes, you knew what you were getting into. You would never stop him from going on a case, no matter how little time you get to spend with him in between.

The longing for your partner was not onesided. There were times Spencer hated to be away for so long, to come home for a few days before leaving you again. He disliked how lonely he felt at night, the bed in the hotel felt too large without someone else there.

It's why he was out and about in whatever city he was in at the time. He would send you photos of things that remind him of you. Maybe some blooming flowers out front of a store. A dog that vaguely looks like you. A couple of birds sitting on a branch together.

Sometimes they would be accompanied by messages. 'thinking of you'. 'doesn't it kinda look like you?'. 'did you know these birds mate for life'. Just small facts or messages that always bring a smile to your face.

It helped ease the loneliness when he was away, knowing he was thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him.

two While you weren't as much of a book addict as Spencer, you enjoyed reading. You often asked the man to recommend one for you to read. It always brought a smile to his face as he rambled on about the plot and characters, ensuring he did not give anything away. You read at a much more leisurely pace than your partner who could read large chapter books like it was a small letter.

Sometimes you were a bit jealous of his ability to read so fast, not wishing to wade through a large part of the text before getting to the exciting part. But you could not help but enjoy curling up in a chair with a cup of tea and a good book.

Persuasion by Jane Austen was the book you were currently reading, being recommended after expressing a desire for a romance book. But as you read you began to notice small annotations hastily scribbled in Spencer's handwriting. Somewhere about the characters or the thoughts on the themes. But some were drawing parallels to your relationship.

The more you read the less the annotations became about the book and more about your relationship. You found it endearing, more reading the book to get to the next annotation than the next chapter. A stupid love-sick smile graced your face as your eyes skimmed over the writing squeezed in between paragraphs.

The sound of footsteps graced your ears as you quickly began finishing the page you were on. "Enjoying the book?" Spencer's voice rang out, wanting to ensure his recommendation was right. Glazing up at him from the book your smile only grew. "Yes, I am. But I find myself liking the annotations better."

It took a moment for Spencer to understand before the tip of his ears flushed red as well as his cheeks. His eyes flicked downwards as he grappled with what to say. Deciding to give him a break you speak again. "I find them very cute. Shows how much you love me."

three It wasn't often that Spencer had time to sleep in, not getting up at the crack of dawn to get an early start on his work. So, you wanted to do something sweet for him, and what was better than breakfast in bed? What you didn't account for was him waking up before you were finished.

Humming a tune to yourself, you failed to hear the patter of sock-clad feet on the floor. Too busy making sure you didn't overcook the eggs in the frying pan. When two lanky arms wrapped around your middle, it caused a squeak of surprise to be pulled from you. The spatula in your hand dropped onto the counter in surprise.

Soft, muffled laughter filled the room, a mop of brown curls invading your vision as Spencer buried his face into your shoulder. A small huff leaves you, realising your surprise is ruined. "You're meant to be asleep." You whined though a small smile played on your lips, enjoying the sleepy back hug you were receiving.

"Sorry, darling. I just missed you in bed." His voice was rough with sleep, clearly having only woken up moments ago to an empty bed and set out to find you. Reaching one hand up you ran your fingers through his messy hair pulling a small hum of pleasure from him.

"Why don't you go back to bed? I'll bring breakfast and we can spend the morning there?" You offer softly, it takes a moment before you feel a soft nod. Spencer untangling himself from you before trudging off to bed once more, a small lovesick smile on his face.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines

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padfootagain · 2 months ago

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Love in Verses (XXIV)

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cute moments for you all :)

I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3096

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Tea

Five times a day, I make tea. I do this because I like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self-directed kindness. I’m not used to it— warmth and kindness, both—so I create my own when I can. It’s easy. You just pour water into a kettle and turn the knob and listen for the scream. I do this five times a day. Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing. I must remind myself I am here, and do so by noticing myself: my feet are cold inside my socks, they touch the ground, my stomach churns, my heart stutters, in my hands I hold a warmth I make. I come from a people who pray five times a day and make tea. I admire the way they do both. How they drop to the ground wherever they are. Drop pine nuts and mint sprigs in a glass. I think to care for the self is a kind of prayer. It is a gesture of devotion toward what is not always beloved or believed. I do not always believe in myself, or love myself, I am sure there are times I am bad or gone or lying. In another’s mouth, tea often means gossip, but sometimes means truth. Despite the trope, in my experience my people do not lie for pleasure, or when they should, even when it might be a gesture of kindness. But they are kind. If you were to visit, a woman would bring you a tray of tea. At any time of day. My people love tea so much it was once considered a sickness. Their colonizers tried, as with any joy, to snuff it out. They feared a love so strong one might sell or kill their other loves for leaves and sugar. Teaism sounds like a kind of faith I’d buy into, a god I wouldn’t fear. I think now I truly believe I wouldn’t kill anyone for love, not even myself—most days I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy, which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Leila Chatti

Your conversation with Andrew was exhilarating.

Of course, you were aware that he was smart, you knew him well enough by now to be very aware of that. And of course, as he studied literature for a living, you knew that he was extremely knowledgeable in that field. Still, it was just so… exciting, to talk with him. About anything, really.

You were in his home to watch the documentary you had spotted about the male gaze in cinema, the film was just over. There were remnants of tea and biscuits on his coffee table, and Andrew’s dog was curled at his feet, on the carpet. Outside, the weather was moody but dry, there was a lot of wind though, and it made a strange sound as the air hit the windows. And now, even if the documentary was over, you kept on discussing the subject, bouncing ideas and examples. And he was listening to you, paying attention to what you were saying, he was even interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t contradicting you, more like asking deeper questions, debating in a productive way. You had already been commenting during the film, but it had been half an hour now since the documentary had ended, and he still seemed perfectly content with talking about it more with you.

You couldn’t help yourself as you drew a parallel with Frank, how you knew he was faking interest when you talked about your work. You thought he was making an effort back then, but perhaps you were being too kind to him. As you listened to Andrew agreeing with you, offering more arguments, his hands moving as he spoke with an obvious interest that was almost passion… you couldn’t help but question yourself. If Andrew was so enthralled by something you were passionate about, perhaps Frank should have been too… or… perhaps he could have at least properly listened to you.

You were interrupted by Elwood though. Andrew was cut mid-sentence as his dog woke up from his nap, and immediately rose and put his front paws on Andrew’s knees, looking at him with an impatient look in his eyes while waiting to get attention. Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he scratched the dogs head, making the animal happily wiggle his tail.

“Your dog is so cute,” you chuckled fondly at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, he’s a very good boy,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, God! I almost forgot, wait! I brought you something!”

Andrew frowned hard, staring at you while you stood up from the couch and hurried towards your bag.

“Y/N, there was no need… you shouldn’t have brought anything…”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Andrew merely frowned again, and you couldn’t help but find his puzzled look adorable.

“For… Elwood, you mean?”

You nodded proudly, taking a toy out of your purse.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to buy him anything…”

“I wanted to!”

It was just a little something, much like a ball, but it was shaped like a frog. You had seen it in the supermarket the day prior while buying groceries, and thought of Andrew immediately. So, you bought it, thinking his dog could like it.

You handed it to Andrew, who chuckled happily at the sight. His fingers brushed yours as he took the toy, his fingertips calloused because of years spent playing the guitar. You shuddered, your heart skipping a beat. You watched how ridiculously small the toy looked in his large hand…

You shook yourself out of these thoughts, cleared your throat.

“I just saw it yesterday in the store, and just… had to buy it! It was so cute!”

“Christ… thank you so much, Y/N. This is adorable.”

He pressed on the toy, a little squeaky noise coming out of it that immediately caught Elwood’s attention.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Andrew admonished, but you brushed off his remark.

“I was happy to buy it for him.”

Andrew let the toy drop to the floor and Elwood immediately hurried after it as it rolled away, happily chewing on it too to make it squeak. Andrew smiled fondly at the sight.

“Thanks Y/N.”

There was something else in his eyes too, something fond and almost tender as he looked up at you. You tried not to think about it too much, rekindled the conversation so your brain would focus on something else than the green in his eyes…

“I’ve never asked you… when did you get Elwood?”

“Oh, way back! I was in college. I found him on the road with my parents when he was just a puppy. He didn’t have a tag or anything, it was pretty obvious he had been abandoned. We tried to find out if anyone was claiming him, but no one was, so we kept him. He moved back with me when I got my job at Trinity, instead of staying with my parents.”

“That’s kind of you to have kept him.”

“We always had a dog around at home. I really love dogs a lot. It wasn’t an effort, really. I was hoping no one would claim him, to be honest.”

“Why ‘Elwood’ though?”

Andrew laughed, watched as you crouched by his dog to pet his head. Elwood dismissed his new toy in favour of getting more scratches, making you giggle happily.

“My father thought that he had a spot on his neck that looked like a tie. So, it made him think of the Blues Brothers. So, Elwood it was.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched that film.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Wow… and I thought you were a respectable person.”

You laughed at that, bright and happy, and you noticed that Andrew smiled because of it.

“We all have our flaws, I guess. I would love to watch it with you though, if you want to.”

His smile turned into an excited grin.

“Yeah, totally. Like… that would be grand!”

You checked the time, it was late already. Almost 7pm, you ought to go home and have dinner. You had spent most of your afternoon at Andrew’s already.

He saw your gesture, but you didn’t say anything. Truth was, you didn’t want to go home. You were happy with Andrew. You had not thought of Frank this afternoon, except when you noticed that he should have done better. It was a drastic change, to have someone who was nice, funny, and actually interested in things you adored. The fact that he looked gorgeous in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a black cardigan, with his hair up in a casual bun, didn’t help you will yourself out of his flat. But you reckoned that you had bothered him enough for one day, you ought to go home…

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, silently questioning him while you kept on giving his dog some well-deserved love.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I mean… like… unless you have something planned, of course. It’s just… it’s late, and… I was going to order some take-out anyway, so… if you want, we could order something. But if you’d prefer to go home, like… that’s totally fine.”

You noticed how he nervously rubbed at his palm, his shy side coming back to the surface.

You broke into a grin.

“I’d love to stay, Andy. But only if we split the bill!”

He grinned, stopped rubbing at his hand, and you noticed that he was blushing a little.

“Grand!”

You were about to ask about what he wanted to eat when his phone buzzed, and he took a look at who was calling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to take this. I won’t be long though.”

You nodded with a smile, while Andrew was picking up his phone and hurrying out of the room. He closed the door of his second bedroom behind him, and you heard his voice only as muffled sounds you couldn’t decipher.

You waited for him to come back, playing with Elwood and his new toy. He seemed to really like you, and you couldn’t refrain a sense of pride at the thought. He kept on coming back for scratches and attention, even after getting side-tracked because of the toy.

A few minutes later, Andrew was opening the door again, but he hadn’t ended his call. He walked to his kitchen to look at the tiny calendar hanging next to the fridge.

“Yeah… okay. No, I can do that in four weeks. So, a reading, then? Okay. No, no, I don’t mind if there are questions at all, on the contrary. What about the journal then? Four poems! Wow… I thought they just wanted to publish one! How many? Okay. No, no, it’s okay, I’ve got some that are ready to be published, maybe I’ll add a couple new ones… we’ll see. Yeah, I know… okay. Alright. Thanks so much, Caroline. Yeah, have a nice one too. Bye.”

He wrote something on his calendar, then came back to the living room to join you.

“Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but… you talked about poetry?” you asked, and Andrew visibly blushed.

He nervously ran his fingers through his beard.

“Yeah… erm…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

“No, no… that’s… I just…”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he answered anyway.

“I write poetry.”

Your eyes grew a little round, but you didn’t try to hide your excitement. And Andrew seemed surprised by it.

“That’s amazing! Have you ever been published?”

“Erm… yeah, like… I have a couple of collections published. I publish regularly in journals too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing particularly good or anything…”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re downplaying your art a lot. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I… I’m quite proud of that, to be honest.”

“Why do you look all shy, then?” you asked, wondering if you were a little too direct as Andrew stared at you in surprise.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. But then he shrugged.

“I don’t know… you’re right, it’s silly. It was my agent… on the phone, I mean. I’m booked for a reading of some of my poems next month.”

“That sounds grand!”

“Yeah… I get a little nervous with those, but I really like doing that too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I didn’t tell you before.”

“I’m supposed to be an expert in literature,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Not in contemporary Irish poetry though. That’s my jam, back off! Soon, you’ll take my job as well as my dog’s love.”

You laughed at that.

“Nah, I’m just bribing him so he will tolerate me in his home,” you argued, right when Elwood was reaching to lick your cheek.

“Yeah, of course… he clearly hates you,” Andrew replied, “look at him, he’s this close from biting your head off.”

You giggled, tickled by Elwood’s tongue, and you almost fell over as Elwood rested his paws on your chest.

You laughed loudly, and Andrew did the same.

“Alright, Elwood, that’s enough. Come here, boy. Come here,” he ordered, and Elwood obeyed in an instant, earning some scratches and praises as he reached Andrew.

You walked back to the couch to join Andrew.

“Andy?” you asked, trying to think of the right words to ask your next question.

“Hmm?”

“Would you find it weird if I read your poetry? Or can I?”

He froze, his hand stopping all movement on Elwood’s head, who looked up at his owner with a questioning look.

“Like… I don’t know… poetry can be really personal, so… If you don’t want me to read it, I’d understand. But, I’d really like to read it.”

He looked at you then, blinking, like he was trying to process your words. He looked adorable like this, with a confused look on his face that made his lips part and his eyebrows knit together.

“You… you want to read it?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

He blinked again.

“Oh… okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No, I… I don’t mind. You can read it if you want.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

He clenched his jaw, but kept on looking at you.

“I don’t know… it’s just… Sam never really cared about that. Like she… she didn’t get it, you know? She didn’t really like what I wrote. It’s… it’s quite political, most of the time. Or about love. Or… I don’t know… she didn’t like it. She wasn’t interested in it.”

“I’m not Samantha, though.”

He stared at you then, intense and a little stunned. His voice was so soft when he spoke.

“No… no, you’re definitely not Samantha.”

If the phrasing was rather emotionless, his tone made it sound like it was a compliment. As if he was acknowledging the fact, your differences, and that he was happy to find them. You gave him a smile, a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

You saw that he was struggling to swallow, that he looked impossibly nervous again.

“You… you could come to the reading, if you want,” he offered in a breath. “Like… if you’re not busy and you want to, of course.”

But you grinned.

“That would be amazing! Yes! Of course, I’d like to come!”

He grinned back at you, looking excited too now.

“Grand!”

“Should I have read your poetry first, or is it better if I discover it then?”

“Ermmm… I don’t know. I like listening to poetry readings a lot, it’s not the same. There’s something very… melodic, about poetry, that you don’t really have when it’s only on paper. So… you can definitely discover it at the reading. You’ll have to sit through it even if you don’t like it though.”

You took his last remark as a joke and laughed, but his surprise showed you that he was being serious.

“Andy, I’m sure I’m going to love it! Why wouldn’t I? God, I can’t wait now! Can you send me the details then?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you everything.”

“Thank you!”

He chuckled.

“Thank you, for being interested in that.”

“We’re friends! Of course, I’m interested!”

He grinned again, slowly nodding.

“Well… what do you want to eat?” he changed the subject.

“Pizza?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Andrew got you some pizza, and you spent a long time chatting, drinking beer while you ate. Soon, it was already 11 pm, but you didn’t want to go home. Instead, you had moved back from the kitchen to the couch, and you admired him like this, relaxed and babbling away about Breath of the Wild and the last movie he had watched.

He took off his cardigan at one point, and before he could readjust his t-shirt, you noticed dark traces on his upper-arm.

“What’s that?” you asked, making Andrew laugh.

“My tattoo.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Nothing special though.”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on! Let me see!”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s only two words, that a friend of mine tattooed on me when we were in College.”

“You know a tattoo artist?”

“No, he did it like… prison style, you know,” Andrew joked. “Just… with a pen and a needle and just…”

He mimicked the gesture of repeatedly stinging somebody with a needle. You blinked at him.

“Wow… you will never cease to surprise me, Andy.”

He laughed at that.

“You’re actually a delinquent,” you joked, making him laugh even harder.

“Of the worst kind, I’m afraid.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated for a second, and then he pushed his short sleeve up, until you could read the words painted there on his arm.

Noli Timere

“It means ‘never be afraid’,” he explained, blushing.

“Why that phrase?”

He blushed some more.

“It was Heaney’s last words to his wife.”

He seemed to expect you to mock him, but you didn’t.

“I should have known, a fan till the end,” you smiled, and he nodded. “It’s a nice reminder to have. Very meaningful.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so too.”

You stared at him to speak again, diving into his hazel eyes. At such an hour, Andrew was growing tired, and so his eyes wore a vivid shade of green, like leaves in the summer sun.

“Besides, tattoos are sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away despite his obvious blush. He slightly tilted his head to the side, and his tone was flirtatious when he answered.

“Are they now?”

You merely nodded and hummed along.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you flirting with Andrew? Your colleague?! Your friend?!

“Even if they’re made with a pen and needle by a drunk friend?”

“Especially if they’re made like that, yeah. That sounds very bad boy of you.”

He winced at that, making you laugh.

“Christ, I hope not…”

“The reference to a poet and the incredibly romantic meaning behind it kind of balances it out but…”

“I’m a sap, I know.”

“Unsalvageable, I’m afraid…”

“Who’s saying I want to be saved from that?”

You exchanged a smile, and as you sat there, on Andrew’s sofa, staring at him and how gorgeous he was, and how tender his gaze was and… you just…

You would have let him kiss you if he had tried to. You would have let him…

“It’s quite late, I should go home,” you let out in a breath, unable to hide your reluctance to actually do what you said.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t get up though. Instead, you leant forward to kiss his cheek, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and you could have sworn that under your palm his heart was pounding.

“Good night, Andy,” you whispered against his ear, and you heard how his breath caught in his throat.

You were pulling away when he stopped you, hand reaching to cradle the back of your head. He turned his face to kiss your cheek as well, but his kiss landed on the corner of your lips, almost on your mouth.

“Good night, Y/N. Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer, his fingers still in your hair, your hand still on his chest.

You would have let him…

You pulled away, got up and finally walked out of his flat.

The skin he had touched with his lips was burning still when you got home.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier series #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #fanfiction #fanfic #series #writing

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daizedndconfused · 1 month ago

Note

You wouldn't happen to be open to doing a cole x reader where they are asked by wu to train the ninja (because there extremely flexible and skilled) and they end up beating all of them without using many weapons would you??? Mehehehe I love your writing and cole is so Under Appreciated (people should give him so more love!!) and you portray his character so well thank you thank you :3

new girl

a/n - hi lovely!! tysm for the request and kind words hello?!! also loved this request we love us a strong girl hahaha i kinda drew some inspo from our icon ty lee. this lowkey ended up being longer than i thought but SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG SOME RANDOM SICKNESS WAS KICKING MY ASS ALL WEEK??? but we’re getting better now hahaha (also totally agree give my boy cole some love he deserves it) anyways enjoy i hope i did your vision some justice honestly if you want me to make a pt 2 i sooo can with some more one on one moments

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff!!

warnings - just some mild violence in the form of sparring

synopsis - the ninja a relying too much on their elemental powers and master wu needs some help reminding them of what’s really important who better to teach them than you??

“Breathe,” your mother reminded you gently.

Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one suspended in a middle-split between two rocks over a stream. Regardless, you did as she asked, feeling the air move in and out of your lungs and the sweat forming on your temple.

“The key is concentration–balance,” her voice came from the bank to your right.

Most of what she said you already knew having been doing this for years, but you didn’t mind.

In and out your breaths went, eyes closed, relying only on your hearing until you felt your mother’s presence hovering next to you.

Peaking your eyes open, she stood on a nearby rock smiling down at you.

“Very good,” she nodded, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, stretching out your legs a bit after so long in your previous position.

Your mother smoothed your hair back before leading you across the stream and back onto the land where you promptly shoved on your shoes.

The two of you chatted beneath the warm sun and cool breeze all the way back to your house. Though even before entering, you heard voices coming from within.

You shared a look of confusion with your mother.

That was odd, your father should be the only one home at the moment.

You gently pushed the door open and followed the voices to your living room where you saw your father in a deep conversation with an older man.

“Wu!” Your mother chirped, rounding you to greet the stranger.

The old’s eyes crinkled as he smiled beneath his long wispy white beard. Your mother bowed slightly as a sign of respect, and you thought it only best to do the same.

Eventually, you all sat around the living room, each nursing a steaming cup of tea.

“What do we owe this visit?” Your mother asked kindly. Apparently your parents and Master Wu went way back. They learned all they knew from the man himself, which then trickled down to you.

Wu took a sip of tea before answering. “I wish to offer your daughter a job.”

All eyes moved to you.

A job? What kind of job?

Your back straightened slightly at all the attention. “Sir?”

Wu sighed wearily, “I have realized I may need more help than I currently have. Upon opening a tea shop, I have less and less time to teach my students.” He swirled his tea twice before his eyes set upon you. “Would you be open to helping out?”

“Oh, uh… your students are?” You trailed off.

“The ninja, dear,” your mother filled in gently.

Oh. The ninja? What could you possibly teach the ninja? Sure, martial arts was nothing new, and yeah you were trained in combat thanks to your father, but they had elemental powers for heaven's sake.

“I’m not sure how much help I could be,” you answered sheepishly.

“You do not need special abilities to teach,” Wu smiled. “And I fear the elements are why I am seeking this help in the first place. It appears my students are disregarding their training for their elemental powers.”

That made sense. Whenever you got frustrated while training with your father he always reminded you you didn’t need flashy powers to be strong. Because while they may be useful, there’s always a chance they can vanish, and then what?

Eventually you made up your mind. “Okay, I’ll do it.” You quickly looked to your parents, “If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” your mother wrapped her arms around you. “We know you’re in safe hands with Wu. Just promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” you assured her as your father also joined in on saying goodbye.

Before long you were packed with enough things to last a few weeks. You might have to repeat some outfits for a while since the duration of your stay wasn’t specified. But you always had money you could spend on clothes.

“How do we get there?” You asked Master Wu after he informed you he and his students were residing at his tea shop, Steep Wisdom.

He glanced at you out the corner of his, and you just caught the glint of a smirk beneath his beard before golden particles started to form in front of you.

From those particles, something even greater arose. A dragon.

Your mouth gaped open. Wu laughed before tossing your luggage on top of the large white and gold dragon that had just materialized in front of you.

The dragon flight was frightening at first, but as you relaxed it wasn’t so bad. You got to see things from an all new perspective. Dragon-eye view style.

Eventually, through the clearing of teas you flew over, you spotted a cozy tea house nestled between the woods.

The dragon dipped lower and lower before let out a warning, “The dragon dissolves, can you stick the landing?”

“Of course,” you smiled. A drop from this height? Easy.

You prepared yourself, but the disappearance of the dragon beneath you still caught you off guard a bit. However, that didn’t stop you from landing perfectly on your feet.

Flawless, you thought as your luggage somehow landed just as gracefully next to you.

The space around you truly was beautiful. A wall surrounded the tea shop and courtyard, and you heard rushing water faintly in the distance, telling you there was some type of natural water nearby.

What you didn’t notice was the five boys lingering outside upon your arrival.

“Uh, anyone gonna introduce us?” A slightly high pitched voice asked.

You snapped your gaze away from the scenery and towards the voice. Five boys around your own age and dressed in colorful gis regarded you curiously.

Before you could introduce yourself, Wu cut in. “This is your new strength trainer. She’ll be taking over lessons when I’m busy. I expect each of you to treat her with respect.”

A course of “Yes, Sensei’s” were said before the bowed in unison.

Then, an older woman with a long braid falling down her back summoned Wu. Something about an inventory issue.

“Excuse me,” he said to you, and then to his students, “someone will need to show her to her new quarters.”

With that he was gone. And you were left with five teenage boys staring at you.

“Um, hi I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.” You stuck with a polite introduction.

“Hey there,” a brunette boy with somewhat spiky hair said. “You know we don’t usually get many new people, may you and I could–”

“Kai,” a tall boy with black hair, cut him off. “Don’t be weird. She just got here.”

“What?” Kai gaped. “I was just going to ask if–”

“I apologize for my brother.” This time the voice came from… a titanium robot? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.

Clearly the surprise was written all over your face at the unanimous chuckle that came from each boy.

“I am Zane,” the robot didn’t seem phased by your surprise. “This is Kai, Jay, Cole, and Lloyd. Kai’s sister also resides with us, but I’m afraid she is busy helping Misako and Master Wu.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” you responded. “Do one of you know where I’m staying? If I don’t unpack now I’ll never get it done.” You admitted with a laugh.

“I got it,” said the boy with black hair you now knew to be Cole. He walked over, and grabbed each of your bags as though they weighed nothing.

“You don’t have to do that, I can take some of them. I know they’re a little heavy but no one told me how long I’d be staying.”

“Please,” Cole smirked, “it’s nothing. I can lift more than ten times this weight.”

“Show off,” Kai coughed.

“You okay?” Lloyd asked him.

“Yeah just something caught in my throat,” Kai shook his head before coughing the phrase again.

Cole rolled his eyes at Lloyd and Jay laughed. Zane didn’t seem to get it. You even found yourself smiling at the joke before following Cole to your room.

“Don’t mind them,” he said. “They can be a lot sometimes.”

“Something tells me you also fit into that category,” you teased. You are who you hangout with afterall. Though it wasn’t always true, it seemed fitting for this situation.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out won’t you?” Cole joked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Eventually the two of you climbed a set of stairs hidden in the back of the tea shop. Upstairs was a small apartment looking room with multiple sets of doors, one of them being your own room.

It was a decent size, about the same as the one you had back home, with plenty of closet space.

“It’s not much I know,” Cole said, “but there’s been worse places we’ve stayed trust me.”

“No it’s perfect,” you insisted. “I don’t need a whole lot to get by.”

Cole nodded, setting your stuff down. “There’s two bathrooms, the boys and I share the one on the left, and you’ll be sharing with Nya on the right.”

You nodded, looking around your new room, thinking of all the ways you could make it look homier. Cole didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t leave either. He simply stood in your doorframe, looking at you, looking at your bare room.

“What?” You asked him, smiling.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin. “Sorry, I’ll let you get settled in.”

You wanted to tell him it was no problem, but he vanished before you could. Out of all the boys you had just met, was the best looking in your eyes.

Shiny black hair, tall, and built like the mountains he commanded. Your new job was off to a good start already.

It was well into the evening when you finally met Nya. She sighed thankfully at the sight of you. She loved her brother, and she didn’t have any problems with the boys. They were all equally respectful, but other than Misako she had no other girls to talk to.

You too were happy for another girl to talk to. There was only so much testosterone someone could be around.

The two of you got along quickly as you offered to stock some shelves with her. Even though you were technically here to train the ninja, you weren’t due to start until the next day.

Your alarm woke you up at six thirty sharp. You know you weren’t supposed to start with the boys until eight that morning, but you wanted to get an early start on your first day before you got lazy.

Passing your way to the bathroom, you ran through your morning routine groggily before you headed downstairs to make yourself a cup of tea to wake you up.

Scanning the shelves for something that looked appetizing for the early morning, you didn’t even hear someone approach you from behind.

“I personally like this one,” a familiar voice said from behind you before a hand shot out and grabbed a case off one of the shelves just a hair too high for you to reach.

You jump slightly, startled by the person’s presence.

Spinning around, you saw the voice and arm belonged to Cole. He was smiling softly at you, a case of green tea in his hands. He too held the appearance of just waking up–tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and the lack of a shirt with black plaid pajama pants.

You quickly averted your eyes from his bare chest and instead found refuge in his earth eyes.

“Why green?” You blurted. It was the only question you could think of at this moment. And maybe it would distract him from the fact you were ogling him just a bit.

“Helps with energy,” he shrugged, tossing the case up in one hand. “I’ll start the kettle.”

It took you an embarrassingly long time to follow him to the back of the tea shop where a small kitchen resided.

He filled the kettle up with water and placed it on the stove before taking a seat at the island next.

“I’d make you some breakfast, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be edible and that’s not the first impression I want you to have of me.” Cole laughed sheepishly.

You laughed with him before you took it upon yourself to scope out the fridge.

“How do you feel about omelets?” You asked after finding multiple cases of eggs. With this many ingredients you would be able to feed the whole team.

“I’m down,” he nodded.

You closed the fridge slightly before you saw a slip of paper taped to the front. It seemed to be a list of written chores, and at the bottom written in all capital letters next to a star were the words, ‘COLE IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN UNSUPERVISED.’

“Jeez, what’d you do?” You giggled, gesturing to the paper.

The boy flushed slightly, shrugging his broad shoulders before saying, “You set fire to the oven one time and suddenly you’re untrustworthy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Funny how that works.”

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned.

“Well since you can’t help with the food why don’t you just grab anything you want to add to the eggs, help me find the pans, and I’ll take care of the cooking part.” You suggested.

“That I can do,” he slipped off the stool.

Even though he wasn’t helping with the actual breakfast, the two of you worked in harmony together. He’d hand you the spatula, chop some vegetables, and give you some spices upon request. However, when you thought you could trust him with cracking an egg and he ended up getting it all over his bare torso you took it upon yourself to tie a black apron around him.

“Seriously?” He laughed as you tied the knot around his waist.

“Yup,” you nodded. “Damn. I’d need a magnifying glass to find your waist.”

He tipped his head back and laughed as you returned to flipping omelets with a smirk.

At this point you had successfully made two cups of tea, and three omelets. On the fourth, you were starting to grow more confident.

“Think I could flip it without a spatula?” You asked.

“No,” Cole shook his head, now seated on the island behind you.

“No faith,” you gasped, offended.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he shrugged, leaning back on his palms.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged before grasping the pan handle with both hands. You’d never done this before, but how hard could it be really? The answer was not very as you successfully tossed up an omelet and caught it gently on the other side.

You cheered, victorious as Cole also encouraged you, both laughing all the way.

Eventually, more and more people started waking up, and the more competent ones (Zane) began to help you with breakfast.

By the time eight in the morning rolled around, breakfast had been done, dishes were washed, and you were gathered in the courtyard with each of the ninja. Wu had given you the rundown of what he’d like you to work on with his students, and that’s exactly what you’d do.

“So,” you said, shaking the jitters out of your hands. “I’m thinking I’ll just spar one on one with each of you to see what you need to work on. Okay?”

The boys traded uneasy glances. “Are you sure?” Jay asked.

You smiled a little at their apprehension. “Yes, I’m positive. We’re just sparring, remember. But don’t hold back, otherwise it’s just a waste of time.”

“Yeah, you get your ass handed to you by Nya all the time, this shouldn’t be different.” Cole patted Jay on the back.

The others laughed at Jay’s blush and he grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“Okay Jay, since you’re so worried you’re up first.” You waved him over. “Sensei said no powers.”

“Right,” Jay nodded as he approached you slowly.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Jay.”

“I know that!” He defended as the boys behind him howled with laughter.

You couldn’t help but tease him as the two of you got into a fighting stance.

You dug your feet into the ground and steadied your breathing. The key to combat was focus, controlled breathing, and anticipation. At least that’s what your father told you.

It was no surprise to you that Jay attacked quickly. He was the master of lightning afterall. However, that was what made him so predictable.

He’d throw a series of quick jabs that you avoided with grace. With each attack you’d be just an inch out of reach. Jay was quick–but you were quicker.

You didn’t notice it, but the chatter was nonexistent, and Jay was wholly focused on sparring. Though the sweat building on his forehead, and his attacks slowing were also becoming more prominent.

He threw a high kick in there this time, which was just what you were waiting for. The second his foot came off the ground, you moved to the side, grabbed his ankle, and with your own leg, swept his balancing leg off the ground causing him to fall straight onto his back.

Jay landed with a wheeze, but you helped him up just as quickly. “Your attacks are precise, but they’re sloppy. You try to cram in a lot of combined attacks and hope for the best. If you slow them down a bit you’re more likely to land a few.”

Kai ‘Ohed’ from the sidelines. “You didn’t even get one hit dude.”

Jay glared at him as he took a seat beside Lloyd.

“And you won’t either, your turn.” You pointed to Kai.

The others laughed, but Kai rose, determination clear on his face.

You got into position again, but this time you’d change up your evasion techniques. Since he spent the previous match observing you he no doubt knew some of your moves.

Kai fought more aggressively than Jay, but with less accuracy making him easier to avoid. You twirled around him after a hard punch threw him off balance slightly. With your backs to each other, you only had a moment to grab his arm, crouch, shift your weight, and flip his body over yours.

Kai landed as hard as Jay.

After explaining his problem to him, you called up Zane next. You wanted to get the analyzing robot out of the way before you completely ran out of cards to play.

You had to admit, Zane almost got you, but you quickly threw yourself from his reach with a well timed aerial over his shoulder. Just as you landed he threw a punch, but you were ready for that. You crouched the moment you landed, and swept both his legs.

Standing quickly, you had just enough time to catch the front of his gi, suspending him above the floor ever so slightly. You felt a bit bad–you didn’t want to dent him after all.

Lloyd whistled, impressed, as he was finally called to the stand.

Lloyd, the green ninja. You knew he would also be pretty difficult, but it was like you were in a trance at the moment. You weren’t about to lose your winning streak, were you?

Being as flexible as you were didn’t hurt either. Sure the ninja were pretty flexible, but you could contort yourself into the most uncomfortable positions making it easy to avoid each of the ninja's blows.

All you had to do was wait until they tired themselves out, and then deliver the final blow. It was almost as if they were fighting themselves.

Lloyd looked concentrated, but his stance was off slightly. You feinted one way, and he fell for it easily, shifting all his weight onto one side of his body to prepare for the hit he thought was coming. Instead, you spun and shoved your shoulder hard into the opposite side of his body.

Lloyd crumbled like a house of cards.

When the green ninja retreated with a defeated look on his face, you were left with only one ninja now.

You suspected because of his height, Cole would be slow and off balance, but you were wrong. He was sturdy, and his height only added to his balance if anything. You’ve fought people bigger and stronger than you all the time, bad unlucky for him they only went down one way.

After a while of going through your song and dance of avoidance once again, Cole laughed.

“You’re slippery, huh?” He joked.

You winked before sliding between his legs, kicking the back of his knees and then once more between his shoulder blades to send him tumbling down to the ground.

“Wu was right,” you huffed, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “You guys rely way too much on your powers.”

“Alright, cough it up, where’d you learn that?” Jay asked.

“Learn what?” You laughed, helping a grumpy Cole from the floor.

“You flip around so much I got sick from just looking at you!” Jay whined.

“Lots of practice and some time in the cirque,” she shrugged.

“Like the circus?” Cole asked, looking down at you.

“Not the stuff with the tent and the animals,” you clarified. “More like the Cirque Du Soleil shows, you know? Anyway, I did a lot of acro as a kid. Made it easy to learn combat.”

“That’s awesome,” Kai said. “Have you ever juggled fire?”

“I told you, it’s not the tent type of circus,” you laughed. “It’s classier than that. That’s besides the point, you all have work to do. Lucky for all of you we’re going to start with yoga today! Just as a warm up.”

You giggled behind your hand at the unanimous groan coming from all five boys.

#ninjago #cole brookstone x reader #fluff #ninja x reader #ninjago cole #ninjago x reader #oneshot #reader insert #reader x character #request #lloyd garmadon #zane julien #jay walker #kai smith #fanfic

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cillianhead · 1 year ago

Note

Hey hey, I just found your blog and I really like your writing - especially Sitting Pretty since I'm a sucker for those Crane fics. :3

Would you maybe be up for some kind of comfort/fluff fic with Crane?

I am always up for some comfort/fluff when it comes to Dr Jonathan Crane. He's so babygirl <3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.... thank you so much for your request!

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby || Jonathan Crane x Reader

warnings: none really, some brief mentions of violence, crying, angsty but also fluffy and comforting at the end, not really anything that bad to be honest, sort of non-canonical to anything that actually happened in the films.

It had been around a week since you had seen your boyfriend of three years. This was the longest you had gone without seeing Jonathan, without even hearing a peep from him. You even went to his work, he hadn't been there either. You knew what sort of dangerous work he did outside of Arkham and also within it, you knew the dangers and the risks he faced every time he left your apartment. You were still hopelessly devoted to him, despite the bad things that he has done and continues to do. You knew he would never hurt you. Him being gone felt like someone had ripped your heart out... like your soul was slowly being eaten away. Where was he? Was he even still alive? No. You mustn't think like that.

It was only a week, maybe he just needed some time away. Though he would've at least taken time off work, surely? His work told you he hadn't called in sick but he was supposed to be there. But he wasn't.

You hadn't cried. You found yourself growing more and more numb to the absence of Jonathan. It was like your body trying to reject a foreign object, trying to spit him out of your heart. It was painful and agonizingly slow, you knew you could never get over him, especially if you never got to say goodbye. His things lying around your apartment were a painful reminder of the fact he was gone. And he probably was never coming back.

You hadn't slept, at least not very well, in four days. You'd barely been eating either, maybe a stale cracker or two every now and then but you couldn't bring yourself to eat any proper meals. The best you could do was stare at the tiled wall as you stood in the scalding hot shower, trying to burn away the grief.

With the growing hunger and the fact you barely slept, paranoia was also sprouting within you, like some sort of sickly weed. You were worried that if Jonathan had been captured, whatever got him, was coming for you next. Every tiny little noise, every rumble, or car horn outside sent you running to the comfort of your shared bed. The one that smelt like him. You really couldn't sleep. Every shadow looked like some sort of evil horned figure ready to devour you whole, your eyes wide and frozen, helplessly full of fear. You thought about how Jonathan would assess this situation, how nerdy he got when you were afraid, in its own way you found it comforting the way he explained the body's reaction to fear and the way he explained the mind's power over the body.

The sleep you did get would be full of nightmares or vividly heartbreaking dreams. There was one you couldn't get over, a dream so sweet, more like a memory than anything else. Jonathan coming home from work, taking off his clothes and crawling into bed with you. His hands caressed your back softly, arms cradling you like you could shatter at any moment if he held you too tight. It felt so painfully real, that even when you began to wake up you could still feel him there. Still feeling his arms around you.

"Jonathan..." You whispered a sigh of relief, his arms pulled away from you as your heart raced with joy. Sitting up and looking around to find yourself just as alone as you had been for the past week. That's when you began to cry. "Jonathan..." You sobbed into your hands, you couldn't fall asleep after that. It was four in the morning, and the room was pretty much pitch black as you cried to yourself like a baby needing its mother.

Even more time passed. You were hysterical, you didn't pick up your phone when your friends called, you didn't leave the house, you didn't eat, and you most definitely didn't sleep. You were in bad shape, to say the least. It was that time of the year when the rain began to pour, your glass walls showed the bruised sky and the lightning it unleashed upon Gotham. You didn't work, Jonathan insisted on you staying at home, for him to provide for you. You were pretty happy staying at home and doing as you pleased. But now... it felt so different, there was no one to come home to you. You were pretty certain that the love of your life had died and you were going to spend the rest of your time alone. You knew you could never love again.

As if the sky knew how you felt, it only rained harder, it rained for days and it never stopped. You sat on the couch with a blanket draped over you as you lifelessly stared out at the dark sky. It was the middle of the night, and you thought about sweet nothings you and Jonathan shared. You thought about how lucky you were to see that side of him, so lucky you weren't on the other end, seeing the scarecrow, full of fear toxin. You thought about Jonathan humming while he made you pancakes, thought about the way he wrote you love letters almost every morning before he left for work, thought about the way you both were ready to get married soon. You remembered him holding your stomach while you brushed your teeth before bed and saying in that beautiful voice of his; "One day, you and I, are gonna have a bunch of beautiful babies and we'll live far far away from here. Everything will be perfect."

You sobbed and nothing brought you out of it. The pain in your chest was unbearable, no stupid fucking sad song or badly written poem could ever express it. There was no comprehensible word in any language that could truly explain away the agony you were in. You were no longer paranoid that something was going to come and hurt you, in fact, if there was someone or something out there coming to get you, you'd happily let it come in and put you out of your goddamn misery.

It was two soft raps on your bedroom window from the fire escape that caught your attention. You froze and stopped your crying, listening for it again, wondering if maybe you were just hearing things.

It's when you hear them again that you manage to stand up on shaky legs and wander into your bedroom that you see a shadow, leaning its weight against the window tiredly. It was him. With all the energy you could muster up, you ran to the window and slid it open before grabbing ahold of him and pulling him into your bedroom. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack.

"Y/N," Jonathan whispered. You didn't say a word, just turned on the lamp to light up the room. If this was a dream, you were going to try and enjoy every second of it. If this was the only way you could see your Jonny then you would take in every moment. "I... I missed you." And when you turned around, ready to scold him, ready to scream your lungs out at him for being gone, your heart broke all over again. His clothes were torn and covered in dried-up blood. Jonathan's neck was covered in bruises in the shape of handprints and his eyes were tired and void of any life. "Jonathan..." You whimpered, approaching him, he winced a bit as you placed your hands softly on his face. "Where have you been? What happened to you?" You were going to be angry at him before but now you understood... it wasn't his fault. He was soaking wet and you could see he had been crying too.

"I... I can't... really remember... I was drugged..." He mumbled, Jonathan's fingers curled around your waist and pulled you into a bone-crunching hug. He breathed you in, embracing you again was the only medicine he needed. Holding you was the only thing that could tell him was truly okay. "The Batman got me... I don't know how I managed to escape... just ended up here... I've been walking for days."

"Jonny..." You were crying as you sat him gently down on the bed. "I thought you..." You whispered. The strength was not in you to say it. "I thought you were..."

"Dead?" Jonathan croaked out, his voice was hoarse in a way that told you he had spent days on end screaming, from the torture he had been put through. "Yeah, me too." He said dryly.

You helped him undress. The clothes were pretty much useless so you tossed them on the floor in a pile to throw away later. "Let me clean you up..."

"No." He said. "Not right now..." Jonathan shook his head as he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest as you laid down in the bed with him again. "I just need to feel you..." His voice broke and in the process, your heart broke too. You could hear how defeated he was. "Need to feel you there." You understood, not saying another word as you clung to him. You listened to the sound of his heart, ear pressed right against his bare and bruised chest. You heard him sniffle, immediately causing you to pull away. "Oh, baby..." You cooed sadly, brushing a tear off his wounded cheek. The dam gates were open now as he began to cry, wincing at the salty tears mixing in with his busted face. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry that happened to you... I was so worried... you're here now... you're here with me... my baby."

"I thought about you every second," He sobbed. Jonathan looked like a helpless little child at that moment, his blue eyes were pitiful. "I thought I was going to die... thought I was never gonna get the chance to say goodbye to you..."

Together you sat crying, both with relief and sorrow as the rain poured outside, the heaven's crying with you. Everything felt okay again, for the both of you, now that you were with one another. "It's okay, Jonny." You tried to console him. Things had happened to him before, he'd been beaten up or caught in dangerous situations but he usually came home shrugging it off, this time you could tell he was severely traumatized, you could tell this was going to take a while for him to get over. Jonathan had that thousand-yard stare, that mischievous fire that usually lit up his eyes had been extinguished and now reflected the dreary weather outside. "I love you, baby, it's okay... nothing's ever going to hurt you again." You whispered, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him as gently as you could, knowing his lip was swollen and split open, you could taste the metallic blood from his mouth and the saltiness of his tears.

"Y/N..." Jonathan wept, his face now buried in between your neck and your jaw. "It hurts." The tone of his voice was the most heart-shattering thing you'd ever heard.

"I know, my baby," You hushed as you laid back down again, caressing his hair that was still wet from the rain. "Nothing will ever hurt you again." You reassured once again. "Nothing's going to take you from my side."

You cried your own tears of sadness, relieved he was back in your arms, relieved that you were there to take care of him and nurse him back to health. The morning sun had begun to rise by the time you two had properly nestled into your bed, skin pressed together, legs intertwined. Jonathan slept in your arms, you held him like a baby, you couldn't sleep, too happy to have him in your arms again.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine..." You whispered softly into his hair.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #batman #batman begins #batman dark knight #batman the dark knight #the dark knight rises #the dark knight trilogy #christopher nolan #christian bale

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