ravenclaw-daydreams

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

Hey bestie shawty baes ❤️

So I moved over to a new account, it isn’t five star but I have some Henry stuff in the works. Hopefully this isn’t a big inconvenience, but everything on here is still staying up. I just won’t be posting on this blog anymore. So thank you for all the support. My new acc is @mushie-rooms so check in every now and again for more Henry content and mayhaps some Cillian content when season 6 of Peaky comes out

(Also look up masterlist in my search bar for the masterlist)

Much love <3

Liz

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 | 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Warnings: August is dead lol, violence, avenging your husband by violence, angst angst angst.

Summary: Ethan is the reason you lost your muse, so you plan to make him suffer.

A/n: I felt depressing, this is the result. Much love but if I'm salty about August's death, you are too. It's short so-

.

"I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KILL THE FUCK WHO DID THIS!" the siren scream echoed off the marble walls as feminine cries of agony released themselves out of a now sore throat.

The woman held the corpse of her lover to her chest, not caring about the gore that got on her dress due to his marred flesh. His eyes were closed, his body lifeless.

There, Y/N Walker held her husband's corpse close to her chest, rocking herself back and forth as she screamed to the heavens profanities and promises of revenge. Anger wasn't even a word to describe what she was experiencing. Her blood boiled and her heart bled, emotions pouring out like a geyser.

"WHO DID THIS? WHO FUCKING DID THIS?" she screamed at the people who brought her the corpse.

Their gazes were full of pity for her loss as they hung their head down low, "His name is Ethan. Ethan Hunt."

Her soft hands gently took his left hand in hers, her dainty fingers pulling the wedding ring off his, holding it to her chest as the tears continued to flow.

"Take him out of here. Treat him with the utmost respect and get him to a morgue. We'll give him a proper send-off. Also, get me absolutely everything you know on Ethan Hunt."

.

When Ethan came too, the first thing that he noticed was that he couldn't move his hands. He couldn't move anything, in fact, his brain taking in his surroundings. He was no doubt in a warehouse of some kind, in a metal chair, his hands not tied back with rope, but with steel cuffs.

The next thing, he noticed, however, was the melody that seemed to find his ear, a lovely mixture of notes. He recognized the song, Polkadots, and Moonbeams with Frank Sinatra. He shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up more, convinced this was a dream.

"This was our song, you know," a silky voice announced from a dark corner of the warehouse, directly behind a currently inebriated Ethan.

"Every Sunday evening, he would insist we slow danced to it once. A tradition that never seemed to get old," the owner of the voice came into sight, clad in a black dress, a necklace around her neck.

Ethan began to put the pieces together, his eyes narrowing at her as he began to recognize her face.

"You're-"

"His wife."

Her words were filled with venom. The heels on her feet clacked across the concrete floor, making a haunting echo ring through the seemingly empty space.

Ethan then realized she had a hand behind her back, and he was sure it was nothing good.

"They say that love can make people do crazy things. Unluckily for you, August was the one person that I loved most in the world, and it took way too long to find you, you're good at hiding," she began to explain, having to swallow the lump in her throat when mentioning her dead lover's name.

"That's what this is about? He was a madman set on killing thousands upon thousands of innocent people! I did what had to be done," Ethan bit, making her raise a brow.

"Since the death of my husband, I've had this deep... pain in my stomach. He was such a large part of me, you know," she began to approach her prey, a blade being revealed, but before he could react, she gave a firm, hard stab into his abdomen.

He gasped and grunted in pain as he looked her directly in the eyes, horrified when he saw a look of glee spread on her face.

"Now we share the same pain," she insisted, before yanking the blade out of his flesh, "And Ethan, I have so much to tell you about the pain you caused me..."

She paused, before snapping her fingers, two men emerging from another dark corner, his time with a sloo of dangerous, bladed weapon.

"I plan on making you feel every second of it," she confessed.

And as Ethan's eyes widened in terror, her hand drifted to August's ring strung around her neck, her fingers stroking it gently. At that moment, she knew, she would avenge her husband.

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

Warnings: Smut smut smut, porn with a plot, 18+ please

Summary: Geralt gets angry with you, which leads to some fantastic make-up sex.

A/N: white-haired big man make brain go brrrrrr

“You foolish girl!” The white wolf roared, his teeth gritted together in a terrifying snarl, throwing the girl in his arms to the cottage floor.

“I told you to stay behind! That barghest would have slaughtered you without blinking an eye! What were you thinking?!”

Your eyes met his furious glowing golden ones as he looked down at you as if he were to eat you alive.

“I-I sorry, just-,” your voice was small, cut off by Geralt’s booming, fuming tone.

“Sorry isn’t good enough! Not if I had lost you!"

Your gaze fell to the floor in shame as you imagined the pain you would put him through if he did lose you.

“I’m going to the tavern. If you dare follow me, I won’t bother coming back.” He hissed, slamming the door behind him without a second glance.

And he left you there on the floor, shaken, crying, and wishing curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of you.

.

Geralt growled in distaste as Jaskier plopped down next to him, the Witcher’s grip tightening around the handle of the cup that held a particularly strong ale.

“Your long face looks longer than usual,” the bard inquired, motioning to the bartender to give him whatever his friend was sipping on.

Geralt gave an annoyed, unamused grunt, before taking a long swig of his drink. He was going to need it.

“Where’s you lover? Or is she the reason your here?” Jaskier said half as a joke, but Geralt’s sudden silence was loud.

He gasped, “Geralt has lady problems? What a shocker! You’re the most unargumentative person I know. Thought women liked that…,”

“Piss off, Jaskier.”

“Well, I hope that’s not the attitude you had with her. If I were you, I’d go home and apologize,” Jaskier huffed, standing up with a newly acquired pitcher of ale, and disappearing into the crowd of other tavern patrons.

Geralt finally looked up from his ale, his expression morphing into one of understanding, knowing now what he had to do.

The clinking of the coins on the wood of the bar was the last thing heard from the Witcher before he left, sinking into the cold night.

.

Your eyes were swollen and tinted red with all the tears you ended up shedding in his absence. Laying down in your bed, you curled yourself into a ball, part of you wishing you could sink into the straw-filled mattress, the other hoping your mind could find the sweet release of sleep.

The sound of your cottage door opening and closing went ignored as you sunk under the covers deeper, hoping that he would think you were asleep.

You heard the creaking of the floorboards under his monstrous weight, the clunks of his gear slipping onto the ground making you tense up.

The gentle tug of the covers made you aware of just how close he was now, most likely in nothing but his wool breeches, his chest bare.

You felt the heat of his body against your back and you curled up tighter. His arm slowly draped over your waist, his breaths gently blowing against the back of your neck.

A sudden surge of anger powered through your body towards the large man lying next to you. How dare he think he could touch you like this when he spoke to you like that?

You flipped over, straddling him quickly before smashing your lips against his, firey and full of lust as he grunted in surprise.

Your nails began to claw at his nude chest as his hands flew to your waist, grinding you harshly on his growing member, a deep rumble sounding from his mouth into yours.

You sat up and ripped through his pants to get to your prize, humming seductively when his cock was freed, slapping up against his broad chest.

His member looked angry, the tip a violent red as the rest flushed pink, the veins pumping and throbbing.

"I have half I mind to leave you here like this," you hissed, "angry, horny, and in desperate need of release..."

Geralt released a disapproving growl, the rumble in his chest a warning, making the corner of your lip curl upward.

Two giant hands suddenly flung up, grabbing both of your wrists before flipping you two over, hovering over you with a wicked look in his eyes, his gaze on your now flabbergasted face.

He leaned down, his tone low and dangerous, his words slipping in your ear, "I think you've seem to have forgotten who is in charge here, petal."

A whimper crawled its way up your throat before you swallowed, feeling one of his large hand trail down your body and under your nightdress, smirking when he felt the absence of underwear. He guided his cock up to your slick entrance, softly rubbing up and down your sensitive slit, a pathetic whine escaping your throat.

Suddenly, without warning, he plunged into you to the hilt, making you yelp out in shock. Your hands went to his biceps, your nails digging into his skin and leaving small crescent-shaped marks in its wake.

Your head flew back as you felt the sensation of him beginning to draw his angry cock in and out of your tight heat, your core tightening when you heard him grunt and groan. You lived for the sounds that your pussy could make him emmit.

After a few minutes of his slow, hard pace, you looked him in the eyes, your gaze demanding, "Geralt," you hissed, "harder."

That's when his golden eyes were set ablaze with desire, the falsetto of his voice vibrating through his chest, "Be careful what you wish for..."

His pace became suddenly punishing, your beautiful noises of euphoria sounding out against the bedroom walls, your dangerous cat-like claws marking his back with vigor. You felt a coil tighten in your core, your body now chasing release.

Geralt almost finished right then and there when you began to buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, your teeth gritted as you tried to keep up with that bear of a man.

"M' close!" you finally whimpered out.

Two giant fingers suddenly began to circle your clit, rubbing quick and small circles. Pleasure overwhelmed you as you felt your mouth drop in a silent scream, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

White-hot rapture vibrated through your body as you felt the could deep inside you crack like a whip, your whole body tensing as you experienced what you had been longing to since your lover stormed out of the door to the tavern.

Like a domino effect, Geralt felt your tight heat suffocate his cock, making him tense. He felt himself flood your waiting canal, watching the bulge from his cock grow with the addition of his cum. He couldn't help but place his large hand over it.

You, on the other hand, were too fucked out to comprehend anything, your body shaking and buzzing from its recent release of so much pent-up emotion.

He slowly pulled out, making you whine, before shoving himself to the side, pulling you into his chest, his hand immediately staring to stoke your hair, the other ruffling his own.

"You understand why I was upset, Petal?" Geralt question, looking down at your panting form.

You could do nothing but nod your head, your throat sore and voice hoarse from all the sounds of pleasure you had made. And yet you managed to say this:

"If you ever yell at me like that again, I'll take your sword and slay you myself,"

Geralt laughed, actually laughed, before saying, "Alright, Petal."

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

Would you ever write more Jackson Rippner things? I love the one you have written

I would but my inspiration is dead rn, but if you have a request, I could probably work off of that. 😳

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

Hear me out: Jonathan Crane, yandere style.

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, some NSFW under the cut, adult themes, obsessive behavior, some non-con mentioned.

Masterlist

Summary: A compilation of what Dr. Jonathan Crane would be like as a yandere, using this template.

A/N: Oh my god, anon, you dirty bean, I love you. This was a really good idea and got the wheels turning, especially working on my Antidote series. Thank you <3

- Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Knowing Crane, he's a normally unemotional person, his face normally housing a cold, unreadable expression. But with his darling, all that melts away, the rare sight of a smile crossing his lips when he finally has them alone. Being a very touch starved man, it would be hard for him to keep his hands off them. Cuddling becomes the norm.

- Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Jonathan will do anything, and I mean anything, to keep his darling safe and happy, (even if happiness is secondary). Working for who he's worked for in the past, he has connections to just about everything in Gotham. Their bike goes missing? A new one is delivered to them the next day from an anonymous buyer. Barista rude to them while they order? They disappear the next day. He would kill and die for them. Not to mention, he always loves new test subjects.

- Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Even if Crane can get affectionate, he doesn't tolerate disobedience. If they don't act accordingly, at first he'll find it amusing. He can get quite mean when he mocks you for your pleas of release. But soon, it really starts to piss him off. Why are they asking about their family? They shouldn't have to worry about them. Why are they trying to negotiate release? Can't they see that this is what's best?

- Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

As stated before, Crane truly is a touch-starved man. After his mother, deep down he craves nothing more than the affectionate touch of someone he believes loves him. He'll try and hold them, no matter how much they squirm and protest. It's an easy fix with rope and ducktape. He'll just hold their head to his chest until darling finally gets tired of fighting and eventually starts to fall asleep in his hold. He would never have sex with darling without consent. But that won't stop him from waking them up with head every once and a while just to hear the sweet noises that fall from their lips. He lives off them.

- Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He won't expose anything without being asked about it. Eventually, one evening, while holding them, the darling will start to ask about him. (Seeing as there's not much else to talk about). In that case, if darling wants to know about his past, they'll have to ask the right questions. But he'll answer them without fail. After all, if he expects trust from his darling, he has to give that trust back.

- Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Crane is at first amused, as with most things, but it gets old quickly. Of course, these issues can always be solved with tape and rope (as stated before) but he would rather not. He wouldn't retaliate with violence, but rather reprimand. He doesn't see it as violence. A slap across the face and a harsh talking to should set them straight.

- Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Crane would feel betrayed if their darling actually got close to escaping. They never would, he made sure of that, but actions speak louder than words. He would be like ??? you were just sleeping in my lap and now you're trying to leave out the barred window??? He knows eventually the attempts will stop, but it still hurts.

- Hell: What would be their darling’s worse experience with them?

Punishment. Let me explain. Remember how I said that he would get tired of disobedience? This is one of the causes of the darling taking it just a little too far. Sometimes he'll withhold food and water. But the worse is when he gives his darling microdoses of the fear gas. Nothing enough to damage them, but just enough to manipulate them. He'll put them in a closed space, dose them up, then he'll swoop in with antidote and basically 'save' the darling, telling them that this is what happens when he isn't there to help them.

- Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He sees them with a normal life away from Gotham. He's a professor and darling is working from home. They're married and have a pet if darling so wishes. They live in a large house, and an extremely comfortable life, living the rest of their days in peace and tranquility, something that Crane has always secretly yearned for.

- Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

On one of the rare nights he lets them watch something on the television, he might see a change in demeanor when they look at a certain actor or actress, and maybe try and divert their attention by kissing gently on their weak spots until the scene is over or until he claims to get bored and change the movie altogether.

- Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He never wants darling to see him the way he is while he's 'working'. He only wants them to see him when he can give them comfort and be as kind as they were before they were kidnapped. He wants them to see that they aren't so different and that they can trust him.

- Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He'll see how kind his darling is and act accordingly during the first time meeting. He'll occasionally "run into them", but it's all planned. He'll make friendly conversation but never for too long. That's when he gets the idea to take them.

- Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He puts on a cocky, cold, know-it-all persona in front of people, and in truth, that's how he really is. But with darling, he does his best to put the most appealing traits at the forefront. Rarely does he act the way he does with others in front of darling. In his eyes, everyone else is inferior, but darling is an equal.

- Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

(please see letter H for explanation)

- Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Depending on how darling was acting. Food and water aren't always on the table but that's a possibility. He'll limit the amount of media they have and how much they get to touch him. (He teaches them that being able to be in his arms is a privilege and the only way they'll truly feel at peace.)

- Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can only have so much. It wanes quicker than he would like to admit, but he considers himself modestly levelheaded for the most part. If the darling is truly having trouble understanding something, he'll be there as long as it takes for them to finally understand.

- Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

The only way Crane's darling would ever escape is if they died. And in that case, he would completely shut down. If someone killed darling, he would kill the perpetrator slowly and without mercy, driving them insane, chopping them up while their conscious, that kinda thing. Then he would proceed to kill everything that even met the one who took his darling away, but he would make the killer watch. If the darling opted out on their own, he wouldn't be able to bear it, resulting in him doing the same. He just couldn't imagine a world without his little doll in it.

- Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Crane is confident in his decision to kidnap his darling. And if they start to understand more, the more they'll be able to have. They might even be able to attend events with Crane or be left home alone. But only when he sees fit, until then, they aren't getting a moment of alone time.

- Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Crane just wanted someone to love him. That's all he's ever wanted. His mother was a stale, mean old mule, causing him to put on a facade of carelessness when it came to showing emotion. But with darling, he can finally get what he always wanted.

- Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry and/or isolate themselves?

It pulls at his heart and makes him feel like he failed. He'll desperately try to console them, (with limits), and he'll do anything to see a pretty smile cross their lips. He hates seeing them in such a state. It kills him.

- Unique: Would they ever do anything different from the classic yandere?

It may seem strange, but Crane always wants his darling to look their best. He'll dress them up in expensive garments. If the darling is feminine, he'll dress them up in a pretty white slip that makes them look like an angel. His own little perfect angel. If the darling is masculine, he'll dress them up in sweatpants and one of his shirts. He adores seeing his darling in his clothes.

- Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If the darling can somehow get their hands on fear gas, that would be the only way they could escape. Crane's fear disorientates him, obviously, and he'll retreat in on himself, letting himself sink into his mind. But truth be told, he will find them, and when he does, it won't be enjoyable for either of them.

- Wit’s End: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He wouldn't consider it hurting them, he would consider it helping. Discipline. Like an adult would a child. He knows he could never hurt the darling, but is it really hurting them if it's helping them?

- Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The moment that darling starts to give in (especially sexually), he worships their body. He'll take his time making them feel loved and listened to. He'll pay attention to their weak spots and what spots make them make what sounds. He takes great pleasure in finally being able to ruin them, and at first, sex with him is soft and passionate, but it quickly turns hot and desperate, and let me tell you, he'd never cum that hard in his entire life.

- Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Much longer than anyone would expect. Usually, Crane has a tendency to act with his gut, especially when it comes to darling. My guess is maybe half a year because he has to map out every possible escape route so then he doesn't lose them.

- Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Eventually, he would make them understand that there's no other way they'll live their life. That this is the way that it will always be, so they might as well accept it. He'll make sure that once the darling comes to the 'realization', he'll give them all the love they deserve, finally happy to have his little doll.

.

.

(Not spell checked or edited)

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞

Warnings: smut, adult content, vaginal sex, creampie, oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: You ask Joe what he's been doing while he's been out for the past few nights, and you don't say it, but he knows what you're insinuating. You end up having him sleep on the couch, but in the morning, you wake up to a lovely surprise.

Masterlist

A/n: Needed something to satiate my joe cole yearning so here's some smut or whateva

It had been the third night in a row. The third night in a row where you sat in the exact same chair, trying to finish the exact same book, waiting for your fiancé to get home.

He had been busy the past few nights, that you could understand. But a triple offence of staying out past 3 in the morning didn't sit right with you. You even talked about it with your sister, and you already knew what she was insinuating.

But you continued to give him the benefit of the doubt. You trusted him with everything in you. You had to. You loved him so much, and you trusted that he would always feel the same, regardless of how long he decided to stay out.

But the thought still lingered. It ate at you like a termite to wood. The sudden opening of the front door snapped you out of your intrusive thoughts, your eyes flicking up off the words on the page you weren't even reading.

Joe came around the corner and muttered a small 'fuck' when he saw you sitting in your chair, the lamp next to you illuminating the worry on your face. You gently closed the book after marking the page and set it on the table next to you.

"I think you already know what I'm going to ask you, Joe," you were the first to break the ice, Joe taking his coat off and setting it on the arm of the couch, exposing his maroon cable-knit sweater.

"I just got caught up with my mates, darlin'," he tried to explain, his arms now crossed in defense.

"People don't come back from the pub at three in the morning looking almost completely sober," you were now crossing your own arms, not wanting to jump to conclusions this quickly.

"You know how they can get, I just want to make sure they get home alright."

"And I get that, Joe, I do. But this is the third night in a row you've been out so late," you pointed out, making the man across from you sigh.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I just get carried away sometimes."

You then approached him, letting out a sigh in defeat, now wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his shirt. That's when you tensed.

Before he could properly hug you back, you were pulling away, your brows furrowed, a look of betrayal flashing across your face.

"What is that?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes in spite of yourself, "That perfume isn't mine, Joe, and I know it isn't your cologne, Joe, what is that?"

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused, "Darlin, I have no idea what you're talking about," a look of realization plastered itself on his features, "What are you getting at?" his eyes narrowed.

"Well think about it, Joe! You spend 3 nights taking your sweet time getting home and when you do get home, you smell like someone else!"

"You really don't think I would do that to you...?" he looked hurt, but you looked worse.

"I don't want to. I really, really don't want to, Joe, trust me, but... god I just," you took a second to wipe your tears, "I think it would be best if you slept on the couch tonight, yeah?"

Joe stayed silent as he nodded his head. And with that, he left your line of sight, off to fetch blankets and pillows. That's when you slipped away up the stairs and into the bedroom.

That's when the dam broke and you began to sob, tears you tried so hard to keep in finally being released, your form hunched over as you sat on the edge of the bed, still messy and unmade from your... activities earlier the past morning.

You ended up just changing into panties and one of Joe's band t-shirts, curling up under the covers, dreading the talk that you and your fiance were most likely going to be having when you woke up.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡　　　ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

The first thing you felt was warmth. A heat stirring in your core as you tried to brush it off as nothing more than a little morning arousal. But it wasn't until you felt the hand that wrapped around your thigh that your eyes started to force themselves open.

Once you opened your eyes, the sunlight that streamed through the curtains was the first thing that you saw. But then, you felt it fully, and you turned your head, met with the sight of Joe with his head buried between your legs, devouring you know that he knew that you were awake.

Your noises that were once gasps and heavy breaths were now multiplied into moans and whimpers as your fingers went down, gripping his locks as he continued to lick and suck everything he could reach with his mouth, his nose bumping up against your clit.

"Fuck, Joe," you whimpered out, your eyes rolling back as your body felt as if it were going to explode. The coil in your stomach was tightening without letting up, and Joe knew you were close.

To push you over the edge, you felt two of his fingers find their way inside your tight cunt, already wet from his current licking, and you moaned out loudly at the sensation of his fingers opening you up.

"Cum for me," his words were muffled, but the vibrations from his baritone voice sealed your fate, tipping you over the edge as your body tensed up and you whined out, your eyes clenched shut as you felt waves of pleasure crash violently over you.

He helped you ride out your high as your sleepy brain tried to focus itself. You finally were down to earth enough to look down at him, a lazy smile crossing your lips.

"Good morning, love," he started, before making his way up your body and kissing your lips gently, the taste of yourself on his tongue.

"Morning," you lazily smiled.

"You know, about last night,"

"I'm stopping you right there," you started, "Let's just... have our morning, then talk about this later."

Joe smirked and nodded, watching as you shifted yourself downwards, you and him finally realizing how hard he really was after eating you out.

His tip was bright pink and flushed, throbbing as precum leaked from it. You gently wrapped your hand around it. He let out a shuddered breath as he felt you grasp it, swallowing when one of your hands cupped his balls.

Suddenly, he gasped, your lips going around the tip, some tension released as he felt your soft skin against him. Your lips started to slip up and down his shaft, his lips parting as his eyebrows furrowed. His hands found their way to your scalp as you continued your movements.

Abruptly, you pushed yourself all the way down, taking him all the way in, relaxing your throat the best you could as you felt him stretch it out.

"Fuck, love, your mouth is so- fuck" he gasped when you pulled yourself back up, tears welled up in your eyes from trying to suppress your gag reflex.

Your hand continued to stroke him as you did your best to catch your breath, but Joe suddenly stopped you.

"Stop, stop," he panted, "Don't want to cum yet. Want to cum inside you, is that alright?" he asked politely.

Seeing as you were on the pill and he knew that as well, you smiled and nodded, moving swiftly up his frame as you were now face to face.

"Beautiful," he muttered as he raised his hand to caress your cheek as you began to hover yourself over his shaft.

You positioned yourself then slowly descended down, both of you gasping at the sensation of his cock seemingly splitting you open. You couldn't contain your moans as your eyes closed in ecstasy, trying your hardest to adjust yourself.

You struggled with your composure as you continued to bottom yourself out, hushed gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as you felt your tight heat completely cover his hard shaft.

At last, your body finally got used to the familiar feeling of him inside you, causing you to begin smooth and slow movements across his pelvis, making him groan out at the sensation of your heat dragging across his cock.

Up and down you went, doing your best to keep with a rhythm, Joe's groans of bliss driving you to go faster, harder.

Soon enough, you were disregarding the man underneath you, now using him to pleasure yourself as you lost yourself in your own ecstasy. You bounced on him with no motive other than to make yourself cum.

"Come on, love, use that cock," he gasped, "Use that cock to make yourself cum, come on."

His words of encouragement went straight to your core as you felt yourself get closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. You couldn't help but keen for more, looking like an angel on top of him, sweat sparkling on your chest, your breathless expression enough to make Joe cum right then and there.

Finally, you felt the coil inside you crack like a whip, waves of heat and euphoria crashing over your body, making you tense and shake as you let go, your cunt clenching around your partner's cock like a vice, starting a chain reaction, the feeling of him cumming inside you while you orgasmed almost enough to make you build up again.

You panted as you dismounted him, slipping away to his side on your back, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He helped ground you, wrapping his arms around your blissed-out form, whispering sweet nothings of praise into your ear, telling how amazing you did and how lucky he was to call you his.

"Fuck," you managed to get out through labored breaths, your body still buzzing from your orgasm.

"Fuck is right, love," he smirked, letting his hand mindlessly drift up and down the bare skin of your arms.

After a prolonged silence, you finally spoke, "I trust you."

He looked down at you, grateful that you truly did trust him, trusting that he wouldn't ever do anything like what you thought.

"I love you," he muttered, now holding your face in his hands.

"I love you too."

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

”I hate to talk as myself on camera. I hate it. I don’t feel like my job is to entertain you as Cillian. My job is to entertain you as whatever character I’m embodying. I don’t feel the need to be entertaining or humorous or give the funniest jape of the junket. That’s not my role. And maybe I’m just not very good at it. I have a lot of very close friends and when I’m with them that’s when feel I can relax and be myself. For me this is something to be endured. Not this. I’m enjoying this. Just generally, the nature of promotion. The nature of being a celebrity.”

Cillian Murphy photographed by Mike Massaro for 52 Insights Magazine [x]

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 (𝟑/?)

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: Threats, implied violence, language, adult themes.

Summary of Chapter: Y/N has a couple of questions for her oh-so-mighty professor who doesn't seemed to be phased by what they had experienced the night before.

A/N: Smut in future chapters, but for now, you guys will need to be patient.

Antidote Masterlist

She didn't want to get up. Y/N really did not want to get up. To leave her cozy cocoon of blankets and pillows, and face the scary world waiting for her just outside her apartment door.

She didn't know how long she cried the night before, letting her trauma sink in. Out of instinct, her brain began trying to approach the day ahead of her in a strategic way. To use logic.

Imagine all the assignments that will pile up if you miss class today.

That seemed to be enough incentive. She felt that she had to push on. Besides, she had a couple of questions for her professor.

When Dr. Crane waltzed into the lecture hall, he seemed to have an unnecessary pep in his step, a stark contrast to his face which seemed to hold no emotion at all.

The class was already on edge after hearing about what happened in the little Italian restaurant, but then again, this was Gotham. The rent was cheap. The crime was high.

Even Arthur seemed to have a hard time talking about anything with Y/N, his chatterbox persona gone as he took in her appearance. She looked like shit, to put it plainly. She was wearing a GSU sweatshirt and sweatpants, her eyes droopy, in no way complimenting the dark spots under her eyes.

Dr. Crane when straight into his lecture. Looking at him now, no one would have ever guessed what he went through the previous night, unlike the girl he saved. Y/N reluctantly started up her laptop, typing away as she looked at the notes on the board.

Y/n desperately tried to avoid eye contact with the doctor, trying her hardest to focus and understand what she was typing up, but her focus deterred.

She didn't miss the feeling of the stares he gave her, his crystal blue eyes seemingly never leaving her as he explained his slides, his baritone voice going in one ear and out the other.

After what felt like centuries, the class had finally ended, students filtering out of the small double doors, hoping to catch up with friends and have a well-deserved lunch break at last.

Meanwhile, Dr. Crane had taken a seat at his desk, scribbling away at a notepad that he had seemed to carry around with him. He was a doctor, after all.

Y/n stood and packed her things, haphazardly throwing them in her bag as she kept her eyes glued to the professor as if he would disappear if she were to blink.

"So," Arthur's voice was heard, but not acknowledged, "I was thinking we could get lunch together or something."

"Um..., maybe later, I need to speak with Dr. Crane," she said, her eyes never moving away from her target.

"Oh, yeah, sure, uh, I'll text you," he managed to force out in the embarrassment of the seemingly timely rejection.

Her bag was slung over her back before she made her way to the desk. She came to a stop in front of it, Dr. Crane seemingly ignoring her entire existence.

“It seems like I didn’t ask you enough questions last time we met, Dr. Crane,” she finally spoke, catching the man behind the desk’s attention.

He raised a brow, “You were in a state of shock.”

His simple answer did nothing to console the sudden anger and irritability she felt bubble in her chest.

"How did you get to me? Why did you not get me to a hospital?"

"Curious one aren't you?" he seemingly mocked, making her want to scoff.

"Yes. Because I was attacked and my best friend is missing off the face of the earth, and you're the only thing that seems to be a plausible lead."

"A lead?" he chuckled incredulously.

"I don't think you're telling me everything you should." she snapped back.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your professor who was going to ask you to be part of an experiment?" he smirked.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to know," she quickly responded.

"I'd kill for a look inside your head...," he said suddenly, "But luckily I have my patience for such things."

"Whatever, have fun repeating everything you just said to me to the cops." she quipped, and Dr. Crane's smirk dropped, his face now stone cold.

"I know where your friend is."

"Excuse me?"

"I do. But it seems as if I'll need to play a little hard to get. You see, all I ask for is dinner and a little experiment. You make it, I'll set your friend free. Call the cops, and they'll kill her before you even hang up the phone."

The threat was blindsiding, Y/N's skin prickling in a flurry of goosebumps.

All she did was nod.

"Great," the smirk he gave her was bone-chilling, "I'll text you."

. . .

taglist:

@stardust-and-starlight @noctvrnalmoth @missymurphy1985 whorebruh haileyybird janelongxox white-chan-blr shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝟐/?)

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: language, mature themes, missing persons, an insane asylum, build-up for the next chapter

Summary of Chapter: Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar place, and is met with the face of Dr. Crane, where he explains everything.

A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter but it's a build-up for the next one.

Antidote Masterlist

The smell is what she noticed first. Cinnamon, tea leaves, and pine. The smell of her home, her mother. It was like she was home. The small cottage where she lived before. She could even hear her mother singing in the kitchen.

Y/N seemingly approached her, her mother stirring something on the stove, humming a sweet nostalgic tune as she did. Y/N almost felt bad disturbing her peace, almost not saying anything.

Y/N decided on putting a hand on her mother's shoulders, and the woman's motions stopped. Even her humming, everything going dead silent.

And then her mother turned around.

That's when Y/N screamed.

. . .

She woke up with a start, gasping for air as she placed a hand on her chest as she did her best to catch her breath. Tear streaks decorated her face. The smell of her old home was no longer there, replaced by the smells of the large room she was in.

Wait.

Large room?

That's when the memories from the previous encounter began to rush in her mind and hit her like a tidal wave. Scarecrow, the mist, Maggie, and the terrors she had witnessed.

Her mind felt rushed and crowded as she tried to put pieces and parts together.

In her heavy breathing, she didn't notice the brilliant blue eyes starring her down in the dark corner of the room. But this time, the villainous 'Scarecrow' was missing his mask.

He took a step forward, some random discarded glass on the ground crunching under his feet, alerting the girl on the table that she wasn't alone. She whipped around just in time to watch her captor step where she could see him.

"Dr. Crane??" she whispered out, the feeling of betrayal evident in her words.

Granted, they had only just met the previous day, but one's professor was supposed to be someone that their students could count on. But she supposed in this instance, she was sorely mistaken.

"You're awake," he observed, his eyes searching her face for any semblance of the fear that was just stuck across it only seconds earlier.

The room fell silent again, Dr. Crane now moving to where she didn't have to turn her head to see him.

"Listen carefully, you and I are some of the sole survivors of Scarecrow's lunatic rampage on that little restaurant," he paused, watching her face go through the emotions of realization, "I saved your life."

"What?" she softly spoke, "B-But he was holding me and h-he was there, but I saw you, and-"

"Your memory must have been tampered with. He used a certain gas, I fear, and sent you into a panic-based psychosis. You passed out. He tried to kill you all, and I saved you," he swore.

"Where am I now?" she questioned, looking at the large room around her, taking note that she was sitting on a hospital bed-like structure.

"Arkham Asylum," he answered simply, "It was the only secure place I know of in Gotham that I know we won't get killed. I'm authorized here."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, "I'm in an asylum?" she looked as if she were about to pass out again.

"We're safe, we're in a secluded part of the hospital, we're safe," he insisted, handing her a glass of clear liquid, "It's water. You're probably thirsty, the gas that went through your system tends to dehydrate its victims."

"How would you know?"

"You're not the first one I've seen who's been gassed. Most of those who survive end up in here," he clipped back, sitting back down in his chair, leaning back.

"Who else is here. Wait," she stopped, "Where's Maggie??"

"Who?"

"Maggie! The girl that was with me! Where is she, have you seen her? Is she here?"

"I'm sorry, but I didn't see anyone with you. You were alone when I was there." he furrowed his brows in concern, not liking the way her tone of voice made him react.

"Oh... oh fuck... the police, we have to file her as a missing person," she rushed, moving to get up.

"They won't be much help. Half of them are down signing reports at the restaurant, and second, she has to be missing for at least 48 hours before considered missing. The attack only happened 4 hours ago.

"Fuck," she whimpered, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt herself begin to cry.

"Don't. Don't do that."

His command caught her off guard, "What?"

"You're going to start crying. Don't."

Y/N violently blinked her eyelids in an attempt to ward off her tears. Embarrassing that she thought she could cry in front of her professor. She would still have to see him the next day in class.

"Sorry, Dr. Crane," she whipped her eyes, "Thank you for saving me, I'm in your debt."

"You're my student. I would never forgive myself if I didn't."

So that's what it was. She wasn't special. It was just the simple dynamic between teacher and student. Nothing more.

"I... I'm gonna go home."

"Please, I'll escort you out. It's easy to get lost in here."

. . .

She felt pathetic, halfway expecting her roommate to pounce on her as she walked through the door of her apartment. But it was completely dark and desolate, just as they had left it.

She kicked off her shoes and hung her keys on the hook, taking her coat off and making her way to her bedroom. That's when the dam finally broke.

And she sobbed, in the effect of so many things. Her missing friends, her situation, even her dream of her mother. What she had experienced in the past several hours lingered. She had almost died.

She fell asleep crying that night, dreading the days that lied ahead.

.

.

taglist:

@stardust-and-starlight @noctvrnalmoth @missymurphy1985

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰 (𝟏/?)

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of mature content, language, college life, creepy boys, a hot professor, fear toxin, mature themes

Summary of Chapter: After the tragic passing of Y/N's former psychology professor, she is introduced to Jonathan Crane, the newest doctor now embarking on a path to education. She also happens to have a frightening encounter with the fearsome Scarecrow.

A/N: I'm so excited for you guys to read and I hope that you enjoy it! Jonathan Crane is one of my favorite characters in the DC universe, I hope this will convince you to like him too!

Finally, at last, Y/N seemingly collapsed in her chair, exhausted from the early morning commute from her apartment to GSU's lecture hall, the morning being hectic anyways because her roommate Maggie decided to do a late-night cleaning session, successfully hiding Y/N's keys and hairbrush, the two demolishing Mag's hard work searching for them.

Not to mention the buzz around the new professor that was going to be teaching your course, your last professor passing tragically in yet another instance of Gotham crime. Mugging gone wrong was the verdict. They had yet to find the person who did it.

But the buzz was rather about who was taking the poor dead professor's place. A man with a doctrine and held in high regard in the ranks of Gotham's political and economic jungle.

Y/N couldn't help but listen in on the two girls behind her, going on about how cute they heard he was. A quick google search was enough to get them going, his pictures being taken for Gotham's most popular news sources for his achievements in this field.

The sudden thunk of a book landing on the table right next to her was enough to make Y/N snap out of it, jolting in her chair out of surprise, her gaze whipping up to the culprit.

"So. What do you think the new professor's going to be like?"

"Well, good morning to you too, Arthur," Y/N tiredly grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose, her friend's new hobby in book slamming not helping her splitting headache.

"Heard he's a doctor. Spends a lot of time at Arkham Asylum. What is he doing around college students then?" Arthur quipped, sitting down as Y/N took out her laptop.

"Well, if you think about it, us college kids aren't that different from the crazies they got locked up in there," she tried to joke, her motor running low, but for Arthur, she would put in an effort.

"I guess we'll just have to see," he shrugged before setting up his own notes.

The sudden slam of the lecture hall's door brought everyone's attention to the figure now sauntering through it, a briefcase in tow, dressed in a sharp black suit and a dusty blue tie, glasses resting on his nose as he walked up to the front of the lecture hall, immediately looking at the class who had all eyes on him.

"Hello, everyone. I'm your new professor, Dr. Crane," his voice was unbelievably coaxing, a pleasure to listen to, making it easier to listen to rather than a monotone voice other professors tended to use.

Turning on his heels, he made his way to the chalkboard, the whole student body having their eyes glued on him as he picked up a piece of powdery white chalk, scrawling his name in neat cursive letters across the board.

"Now, I assume all of you have received the email sent to you by the school itself, in that you will find a link to my syllabus, but I won't bore you with the details. Just skim over it is all I ask."

Arthur found himself glancing at the girl next to him, and couldn't help but roll his eyes at the concentration her eyes now held. Where was all that focus when he was talking to her just seconds prior?

"So, with that all being said, let's begin."

. . .

At least 45 minutes had gone by since Jonathan Crane turned on the projector and began flipping through slides in his newest unit, 'the psychology of phobias', explaining how the fear transmitters were created through specific chemicals in your brain along with the brains response to triggers of those phobias.

Meanwhile, Y/N was caught up in taking as many notes as she could. Something about his voice was so convincing, so intriguing, he could honestly make anything sound interesting. But he spoke with so much passion behind his voice, she could truly see that he was a man dedicated to his work.

With a flick of his wrist, Dr. Crane took a glance at his watch, his eyebrows raising as he looked back up at the class.

"Alright, I trust you all took notes on what you found to be important, so I would like a paper on this simple outline," he instructed, pointing a clicker up to the screen that changed the side, "According to research, individuals with a social phobia have a distorted view of themselves; discuss arguments for and against this."

Y/N sat up slightly as she read the prompt several times over, processing his request.

"You have two days to write the paper, and I would like to see the paper on my desk before Wednesday evening. You're all excused," he waved off the class, dismissing them as he turns his focus to his desk, sitting down as a silent confirmation he was done with them, other students taking the hint and packing up their things.

He gave dismissive smiles to everyone as they passed his desk to exit, his habit of pushing up with glasses coming into play as they started to slide ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose.

At that moment, Y/N felt like she needed to say something to her new professor, to at least make him feel slightly more welcome, seeing as nobody else did.

She suddenly paused right before his desk, his glance reaching her eyes, his own electric blue ones almost stunning her in the process.

“It was nice meeting you professor,” she managed to spit out, anxiety whisking her away before she could draw out a response, Arthur dragging her away from the new, (now speechless), psychology professor.

“Well, I guess we know why he’s known for working in the asylum. Maybe he’s the nut,” Arthur’s mood was sour as he ranted on about every flaw he saw in the poor Dr. Crane, but Y/N wasn’t listening to a bit of it.

She was too busy thinking about his eyes… those damn eyes…

. . .

Maggie was waiting for Y/N to get home like a dog waiting for it’s owner, and right as she made it through the door, the law student was already on her newest tangent on her classes and stupid things she saw on the train on her way home from commuting to school.

“Umm, hello? Earth to you, are you even listening?” Maggie waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face, snapping her out of trance she didn’t even know she was in.

“What?” She muttered, turning her attention to her roommate.

“Alright. I know that look, spill it,” Maggie pressed, giving her friend a knowing look.

“The new professor,” Y/N admitted, Maggie’s eyes immediately lighting up.

“That was today?? Oh my god, I’ve been so selfish, I should have totally asked you the second you walked through the door!” Maggie scolded herself as Y/N let out a playful scoff, “so what was he like??”

“Well, he-,”

“Wait! We can totally talk about this over dinner! I heard there was a new restaurant around here, I’ve been dying to try! Hold off on telling me, build suspense!” Maggie rushed to get her shoes off and her purse, and Y/N (who never got a chance to take off her shoes in the first place) were whisked out into the night.

. . .

“Oh my god, these breadsticks are heavenly,” Y/N moaned with a stuffed mouthful of the new Italian joint’s bread, Maggie conquering.

“So. What’s going on with you, teacher’s pet?” She jabbed, stuffing her face with her 3rd bread stick.

“Well, he’s just… nice to listen to. He has a nice voice. Easy to listen to, doesn’t make me wanna bash my head into the table. Can’t say that for the last guy.”

She wasn’t lying. The last professor had a monotone voice that could put anyone to sleep, needless to say not many people did to well in his class on account of the whole class period being practically a nap period.

“Ooo, is he hot?” Maggie quipped, taking a sip of her Rosé, leaning in, obviously enthralled at the idea of a teacher/student style romance.

“I would think so,” Y/N sheepishly admitted, “I just can’t stop thinking about his eyes… it’s like he has the most interesting secrets behind them.”

“What a romantic,” Maggie laughed.

Suddenly, the door to the restaurant burst open, men in masks filing in at the rapid pace, all holding guns, scared patrons letting out screams and noises of distress.

“Everyone sit the fuck down!” A tall thug yelled out, small terrified whispers being let out into the otherwise tense air surrounding them.

A new figure walked in, something that stood no taller than 5’7, something that looked like a burlap sack placed over their face, covering and hiding their identity.

Y/N didn’t waist any time, kicking Maggie to get her attention and sink down under the table without the thugs around them noticing, hiding underneath, the table cloth working as a decent covering from the outside world.

A sudden hissing filled the women’s ears, the sound of coughs and screams sounding afterwards. A mist filtered throughout the room, both of the women harbored underneath the table instinctively covering their mouths.

Y/N held a terrified and shaking Maggie in her arms as the haze made its way under the table, the two breathing it in through the fabric covering their mouths.

They suddenly felt as if they were going through a panic attack, their stomachs dropping as if they were going straight down on a roller coaster, whimpering in fear.

Their vision became distorted, vertigo kicking in as they let out panicked screams, hyperventilating. The table cloth was suddenly yanked up as the freakish villain with the sack on his head came into view, much more terrifying than before, his voice distorted.

“There’s nothing to fear,” he spoke, pulling a screaming Maggie out of Y/N’s grasp, “But fear itself.”

A thug grasped onto her terrified roommate, the monster keeping his hold on Y/N as she squirmed, tears spilling out of her eyes as she let out cries of protest.

“Take her back to the lab. I have this one.”

For a split second, the two made eye contact, the holes in the mask seemingly revealing the windows to his soul. A needle was suddenly stuck into the side of her neck, a sedative, their eyes locked in a dangerous starring contest, before she uttered a name before her world swirled in black.

“Dr. Crane?”

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 | 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭

Welcome! This is a quick little thing to help you get to know the characters of my new series: antidote, starring Cillian Murphy! I hope you get to know the characters and like them as much as I do. Happy reading!

Antidote Masterlist

𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐄 | 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐉

A professor at GSU with a doctrine in psychology and acute interest with the concept of fear. This 30 year old teacher has symptoms that lead people to suspect he has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), his sense of superiority clouding his judgment at the most inconvenient times. He has no issues with being direct and blatant. Just because he had a bad past with his family doesn't mean he'll let it effect him. His fear toxin is the crown jewel of his studies, and he'll be damned if he'll let anyone stand between him and his success... but that doesn't mean he can't mess around a little, right?

(played by Cillian Murphy)

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𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 | 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐏

A student who's thirsty for knowledge is an unstoppable force. Much like our reader. A young woman who wants to use her brilliant mind to the best of her ability. And Dr. Crane might be just the person to help her achieve her goal. She has no problem prioritizing other people's emotions, a curious and observant student who has a brilliantly bright future.

(played by the reader, no description of race)

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𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐘 | 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐉

A talented writer for the GSU Newspaper, Arthur likes to consider himself closed off, a quick learner who's thristy for knowledge much like our reader, an exalent observer. A career outrovert and a personal introvert, he has no problem doing anything to get what he wants.

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𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍 | 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐏

Maggie is the readers roommate who is trying for a degree in law, an organized control freak with rampant ideas on how to make Gotham a better place, everywhere but the campus being known as a dump. She's a fan of debating new ideas and seeing possibilities everywhere, not to mention an experienced sweet-talker.

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

✧ = smut/mature content

♥ = fluff

● = angst

.

Summary: A young student moves to Gotham in hopes for a better education, and meets the one and only Dr. Jonathan Crane, who takes a liking to her off the bat. There she is sent down a spiral of lust and danger as she enters the criminal world, a world she had hoped to never see in the first place.

.

Cast List and Descriptions

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰 ●

» in which a fine young psychology student is introduced to her dashing professor.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ●

» in which the student wakes up in an unfamiliar place with her professor, and he explains.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐏𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 ●

» in which Y/N has a couple of questions for her oh-so-mighty professor who doesn't seemed to be phased by what they had experienced the night before.

.

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[ravenclaw-daydreams]

M A S T E R L I S T

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Henry Cavill & Characters

Henry Cavill

- Opera House ((COMING SOON))

Geralt of Rivia

- Toss a Coin

- Deepest Apologies

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Cillian Murphy & Characters

Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)

- Antidote Masterlist

- Yandere Alphabet

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

- Like Real People Do

Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

Cillian Murphy

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Joe Cole & Characters

Joe Cole

- Ultimatum

*♡∞:｡.｡𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!｡.｡:∞♡*

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧 | 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

Warnings: Smut!! (18+ pretty please), language, adult themes.

Summary: Toss a coin to your witcher...

A/n: I would let this man do absolutely anything he wanted to me. :)

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 small feet patted across the chamber, your feet molding to the cobblestone underneath your skin with every gentle step. Your slip gently caressed your body, the extra fabric flowing after you like a veil.

When he finally came into view, you had to do everything to restrain your throat from releasing a small 'aww' at the sight. There, slightly stirring, was your witcher, cuddled up under blankets to keep warm from the biting weather outside.

Bottles of rum and other liquor rested on the small table beside the bed, signaling that he was enjoying his time off before having to march off in the early hours of the morning to fight whatever monstrosity there was left to fight.

But for now, he was yours until he left again, all of him, every part. It might sound selfish if you said it out loud, but you wanted him all to yourself. To keep him in the confines of your chamber. All yours.

Alas, the Witcher could never be a caged bird, no matter how hard you wished he could be, but the nights like these made the time he was away from you all the more worth it.

You wreaked of elegance. Something that your Witcher strictly was not. Your slip looked like it was spun out of moonlight, the pure white tone almost glowing. Your hair was untamed, but neat all the same. You smelled like roses and chamomile. A goddess... perhaps that was why Geralt would continue to come back to you.

Silently, you approached his bed, gently uncovering his bear-like body, hoping he wouldn't stir because of the sudden temperature change. You simply crawled onto the bed, gently straddling his nude hips, letting your evening gown slip its way down your shoulder, exposing your upper half, your breasts now fully exposed, nipples now pebbled due to the chilled air that circulated the room.

You were in a playful mood, leaning over slightly, feeling your breasts lightly graze against his collarbone, only proving how much bigger he was than you in size, your lips placing soft butterfly-like kisses across his face. You scattered your lips over his scars, his eyelids, and lastly his forehead.

When you finally pulled back, blazing golden eyes met your own.

You gasped lowly in surprise, your hopes of him not waking yet shattered.

"You missed your queue," you smirked, your smile almost like a drug to the man underneath you.

"Forgive me. Although, I would be more than delighted to start from the beginning," he growled playfully, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

You giggled like a small child, before letting him flip you over, his hulking body now hovering over yours as he leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, full of flame and desire.

Letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, your lips went pliant as you let him take what he wanted— what he needed. His hands roamed your body shamelessly, feeling every curve up like he was experiencing you for the first time.

His lips traveled to your neck and you wrapped your arms around what you could, one hand traveling up to his hair and grasping onto it as he sucked a brand new purple mark onto your flesh.

"You body," he grumbled in a thunderous and deep tone against the skin of your neck, "It never gets old."

You whined at his praise, the heat between your thighs warming up your body as you tried to rub your thighs together for friction, which didn't go unnoticed by Geralt.

"Aww, hush," he smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes, "Patience is a virtue that looks good on you."

You gave a small huff, but your attitude was promptly cut of by the sound of tearing fabric, your evening gown now nothing but sheds of cloth as the man above you tossed them to the side.

Just as you were about to protest, he pressed your lips to his eagerly, his hands exploring your breasts as you felt his skin fully pressed to yours, his height pinning you down as your eyes closed. The kiss was stealing your breath away.

You did your best to take back your stolen air when he pulled away, looking down at you with so much admiration, you thought you might burst.

“Take me, Witcher. Make me yours,” you pleaded, but unbeknownst to you, you already were his. Completely and undeniably.

But it became apparent that he needed to prove it. A love such as his needed to be described by not only words but also by touch. His one true love. A purpose. Something he longed for to couple with his chaotic, dutiful lifestyle.

“My dear. You already are,” the snow-whites of his teeth caught the firelight, his lips pulling back, a smile gracing his gruff features, “my perfect little dove.”

His hand gently grazed your cheek before you felt him line himself up with your aching, soaked core, and he huffed in amusement when he heard your breath hitch.

A beautiful flower all to himself. To please his cock, to keep him warm, to love him like no other could.

Slowly, you felt his tip pierce your veil. No matter how many times he had been inside you, it always felt like he was opening you up for the first time. You hissed, Geralt placing a comforting kiss to the tip of your nose.

Little by little, he pushed his large length into you, muttering praise and kissing you gently every time you made even the slightest noise of distress.

Finally; finally he was pushed in as far as he could go, your cunt gripping onto him like a vice as he took a moment to let you breathe and adjust, something he rarely did.

“Your so radiant. How could I have ever thought to pass up something like you?” You heard him say, which lead you to wonder if he truly meant to say it out loud.

Leaning over, his lips attached to your neck once again, licking and nibbling the dark spots littered across your skin. New, old, it didn’t matter.

“My perfect girl,” you felt him smile against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt him begin to unsheathe himself from your core, all the way to his tip, before slipping himself back in just as slowly as he took himself out.

You mewled at his actions, your nails digging into his back as he started a slow, calculated rhythm, taking you in the most delicious way possible.

All the while he muttered words of tenderness into your skin, “You always feel so perfect around me. Like you were made for me, my favorite body to lose myself in.”

This which was true. After the things he’s seen and done in his life, you were his faultless escape, a reminder of how beautiful life really could be.

Unhurriedly, (and almost unnoticeably), his pace began to pick up, his grunts and groans of pleasure mingling with your higher pitched moans and whines melodically, an ideal song of pleasure and passion.

Soon enough, he began to pound into you, and that was the point your brain went haywire, your moans increasing in volume as he took you selfishly. You scratched harshly into his back.

This only drove him to continue. The mixture of pleasure and pain was a perfect combination of everything he seemed to seek after.

Your fingers moved up his back, now into his tangled platinum mane, and he growled, his thrusts becoming harsher, driving himself into you vice like it was the last thing he would ever do.

"G-Geralt!" you moaned, your voice stuttering due to the brute force of his frantic, unrelenting, and punishing thrusts, "I- I lo-ve you!" your weak voice yipped, and everything stopped dead.

When you opened your eyes, you found his, his yellow eyes like a tiger's as he stared at you with a look you couldn't read. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. But maybe that wasn't all that was.

"My dear, you have no idea how long I've longed to hear those words fall from your lips." he sighed, leaning down and capturing your soft lips with his.

Without warning, his thrusts resumed, and your world fell back into a spiral of pleasure once again.

"Say it again," he groaned into your ear, his deep voice like thunder, sending chills down your spine.

"I love you," you said with more confidence, a look of determination and lust crossing your features, Geralt watching as it did.

With renewed vigor, his pace resumed, the tip of his shaft banging into your g-spot with every brutish hit, your arms wrapped desperately around his large frame, nails digging into his scars and breath becoming ragged.

Suddenly, you felt the coil inside you tighten to the point it was almost painful, knowing that you were about to let go. Geralt understood the signs, sometimes you were convinced that he knew more about your own body than you did.

"Cum for me, petal, I want to feel you," he grunted, wiggling his hand down where both of your sweaty torsos conjoined until his large thumb found your dainty pearl.

He rubbed it in tight, quick circles as your eyes finally rolled back, your body shaking violently as you felt your sight turn a bright white. You fell into a state of ecstasy as he continued to rock you through it, the tightening of your slick cunt driving him over the edge, his balls constricting as he came deep inside of you.

You mewled at the warmth that bloomed in your core, Geralt's lips going into the crease of your neck, leaving soft kisses everywhere he could reach as you slowly found yourself coming back down to Earth.

Soon, all that could be heard were the soft breaths of the two lovers that laid exhausted on the bed. You loved the feeling of him in your arms as he did everything not to crush you, the white of his hair mingling with the tangles of yours.

Finally, he lifted himself out of you and you let out a whimper as he tried to ease the discomfort with a kiss to the nose. He flopped to the side of you, immediately pulling you in.

He held you tightly as you rested your head on his chest, his fingers gently trailing up and down your exposed arm. And you both sat in silence, reveling in the love you shared for one another.

"I missed you," you finally muttered, feeling your lover let out a low 'hmm' above you.

"As have I."

You opened your mouth to say something, but you stopped yourself, not knowing how he would react; if he would get offended.

"No, speak your mind, girl."

His commanding tone sent you straight to submission as you felt his fingers tilt your chin up to look at him.

"I'm just... afraid you won't be here when I wake up in the morning. The bed gets so cold, and I-"

You were cut off with a quick kiss to your lips, "Everything I do, I do for you. I used to only do what I did for coin, nothing more. But for you, I use the coin to take care of both you and I, the future that you and I both want."

"Truly?" you questioned.

"Truly," the witcher replied, sincerity lacing his voice, "After all, you said you loved me. Couldn't give that up, could I?" he smirked.

You tuned red, "No, it would be a shame if you did."

Geralt let out a chuckle at this, "You're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."