#(its not monday here yet but i need sleep and have work so its monday in my brain) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyosiriscreates · 4 months

Note

hi lady osiris!! thank you for offering to take my soap request 💛

can we get a little something about soap x stressed out reader? where she’s had a super long, difficult week?? how would he help her unwind?

Oh I do love this, as someone who is a permanently exhausted pigeon herself and stressed to the max. Let's explore shall we?

Please forgive me, I've never written an x reader before so I do hope you enjoy lovey!

Soap x Fem!Reader for sweet @soapsgf 4.1k words

Tags: Comfort, Smut, mans is good with his hands and better with his mouth. m on v, unprotected sex, fluff, so much fluff.

It had never been uncommon for John Mactavish to fill the silence with his voice, the lilt of it a familiar sound within your apartment. But he'd noticed little changes through the week, what silence did remain wasn't comforting, the dishes and clutter piling up around you even as your eyes darted anxiously about, making tallies on an ever growing list of things needed to be done.

He noted the way you counted on your fingers, twisting and pinching at the skin of your knuckles as if looking for something to ground yourself. Your hands always seeking in their restlessness, a mind that couldn’t quiet even in your sleep.

“M’eudail… What's eating at you? You know I can help you better if we talk about this…” He beckoned, nearly pleading as he drew you into his arms. “Ye cannae deny it at this point, I’ve watched you circle the kitchen four times holding a glass and doing nothing with it.”

“The dishes-” you gasped, pressing your palm to your forehead and groaning. “That’s right, I have to do the dishes so I can take back the casserole dish to Diane, and then I can clean the counter, and make-”

His lips cut off your words, silencing them as his hands found your cheeks, thumbs massaging at the supple flesh. “Fuck the dishes and fuck Diane, she’s been a right cunt lately anyways, I remember you complaining about her monday. She can wait a day or two more for a damn casserole dish. Now. Do ye work tomorrow?” He asked, forehead gently pressed to yours. It was the first he’d felt you relax in days as you melted beneath his touch, your only reply a soft nod to his question.

The glass was stolen from your hand and placed onto the counter as he turned and ushered you towards your bedroom. A sacred place often shared between the two of you. Though he hadn’t moved in yet, it didn’t stop either of you from sharing a wardrobe, having drawers in each other's dressers, a toothbrush in each other's holders, and more haircare products than two people could ever possibly use. Your room was a haven, draped in soft pink and gray blankets with candles and trinkets brought back from his deployments. His favorite was a large glass jar full of rocks. On every deployment since you’d met, before you even started dating he’d brought back a rock, writing in sharpie the day he had picked it up for you. You each set your favorite rock in front of the jar to always be well and truly displayed- the pair having been chosen on one of your first dates together. You’d gone camping, and at the lakes rocky beach you proposed a game. Find rocks that looks like the others eye colors, closest to matching won. It had been almost too easy a win for you, finding a rock so bright and blue-gray with speckles of quartz that made it glitter. The smug look on your face when you’d found it, the gentle whoop and cheer as you won had been more than enough for him to fall in love right then and there.

Gone was that smile from your face, something that ached at him as he closed his eyes for a moment to picture its light. “Yer gonna rest here, okay? I’ll go wash Diane’s damned casserole dish. Ye can take it to work with you in the morning. S’alright if I stay here with you tonight? Miss my girl.” He teased, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and lifting you up onto the edge of the bed. It never failed to surprise you just how easily he lifted your weight, tossing you around like his own personal ragdoll from time to time.

He set you on the bed, slowly peeling away layers of clothes and tossing them into a nearly full hamper before bringing out one of his tee shirts and pulling it over your frame. “There’s my bonnie little thing.”

“‘M not a thing.” You muttered, biting down on the inside of your cheek indignantly- just to hear his soft laugh.

“Yer right, not a thing. No… M’eudail, yer everything.” He mused, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before drawing his arms about you and nestling your anxious body back to the sheets. “...I know you’re not ready to talk about it now, that you need to sort through the things in your head yourself first before you can explain it… but I’m here, I will be here until the day you no longer let me stand beside you.” He promised, the words flowing forth like water from a spring. It comforted him just as much as he hoped it comforted you when he felt you nuzzle into his chest, eyes closed and breathing beginning to settle.

But for all your stress, the things you wouldn't talk about- you didn't snap. You didn't take it out on him or silence him. He almost wished you would. Anything to hear your voice and coax you back to him. Johnny knew you tended to isolate when your mind climbed to new and stressed heights, so to be allowed this glimpse into your mind, to be walked hand in hand through the turbulence of your soul- it was a greater gift than he knew how to accept. Only to hope that you would allow him to do it for the rest of your lives.

“Ye don’t know it yet…” he whispered against your settling form, kisses pressed to the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair. He was glad you fell asleep quickly, keeping his words soft as not to rouse you. “But you saved me. Took a man with aimless devotion to his work and grounded him. Brought him back from a ledge so many walk off. I used to dread coming home, craved the firefight and relentless rush of fighting for my life. But god damn it all, you’ve given me something real to fight for. Now you’re just the one thing I come home to. I wake up glad for you… I guess, what I’m trying to say- know we haven’t said it yet… but I’m in love with you. The good, the bad, every piece of you that you show to me just gives me more to love. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t wait for you to wake up so I can say it to your face.”

He waited an hour or so more before temporarily untangling your limbs, taking his phone to the living room and sitting down to make a call. A familiar voice made him smile, though it sounded annoyed to be woken so late.

“Tavish, what do y’need?” Price asked, clearing his throat of sleep. “Better be good if yer waking me up for it.”

“Aye, know you need yer beauty sleep, Cap. But I’m hoping to get the next couple of days off.” He exclaimed, knee bouncing as he rested his other arm over his knee.

“Everything okay? Not in trouble are you?” He followed up, clearly more alert. Because while not as bad as Simon, getting Johnny to take time off from work was like pulling teeth. “No one died?”

This caused a small laugh to escape him, unable to contain his own humored emotion. “No, Sir. No one died… i… ah.” he cleared his throat. “My girl needs me. She’s having a tough time, and always makes herself available f’r me… ‘bout time I returned the favor. ‘M gonna tell her I love her.”

The silence that spread between them was thick, nearly audible surprise in Price’s voice when he spoke again. “How long-”

“Eight months. Last time you sent me on leave for a month, I met her picking up some books for my ma and sis. I didn’t want to say ‘nything till I knew it was… serious. But it’s serious… I think this is it for me Cap. She is it for me.” He exclaimed, eyes warm as he stared at the coffee table before him. “She feels like home just as much if not more than the 141 does. She’s patient with me, accepts that she may never understand what I do but will never stop me from doing it… I want you all to meet her soon.”

Price’s voice was notably softer now, pride swelling within him. It was all he’d ever hoped for his boys, to find something just as important to him as the work. To open themselves up in ways he hadn’t yet been able to. “Is a week enough?”

“Cap- I was only asking for a few days-” Johnny began.

“A week. If she’s having a hard time, give ‘er the world… show her the meaning behind your feelings and your words, Tav. Do Simon and Kyle know?” He asked.

“They’ve had inklings… but you’re the first person I’ve confirmed anything to.” Johnny admitted, turning over a book that rested on the edge of the coffee table, the phone resting comfortably in his other hand. “Thank you, Cap. I… can’t wait for you guys to meet her. She’s absolutely brilliant… and mine. ‘M not sharin…” He exclaimed.

Their conversation ended with pleasantries and the agreed upon reasoning that would be put on his paperwork before he returned to bed, pulling you back into his arms to keep you there till morning came.

He pretended to remain sleepy and nestled in after you kissed his forehead goodbye, only jumping from the bed when he heard the door lock behind you. So much to do and so little time to do it. Eight hours and counting as he cracked his knuckles, putting on some dance-y pop music to get the day going. There was nothing like hearing a scottish lilted rendition of Dirty Mind by 3OH!3 and Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. And he made sure to record little bouts of it between chores, saving the videos to show you later.

His start was the rest of the dishes, picking them up from all over the apartment, handwashing what needed a bit of extra help before loading the rest into the dishwasher and running it. Next, he took your laundry, sorting it and starting the largest load he could. All of this was about you, for you… his love. To ease the burden resting on your shoulders, the weight that threatened to bend you till you broke.

While the dishes and laundry ran, he swept and vacuumed, rearranging the furniture to make sure no spot was missed. Your books were stacked on the coffee table, his sketchbook and pencils set beside it. It was your best friend he called next, asking for the recipe for her chicken and gnocchi that you loved so dearly, making a quick run to the grocery store to pick up ingredients. There he also picked up an assortment of desserts, cannolis, ice cream, and cheesecake, a lactose intolerant persons nightmare… or daydream, knowing how willing to ignore their intolerance most were. When you texted to say that work was making you stay a couple hours extra, he only sighed in relief. While it annoyed him that they were keeping you from coming home to him, he was glad for more time to better set up his surprise.

Some people would think perhaps it was strange to buy three of the same candle, but now that he was back in your apartment, he put one on the coffee table, one on your desk, and the third in the kitchen. Sweet Mint and Grapefruit. Something comforting and uplifting, just like how he hoped to have you. On the chair closest to the door, he laid out soft pajamas, intent to have you out of your work clothes and leaving that world behind you, if even only for the weekend. Clothes were folded and put away from the laundry, your bed made as a pot simmered on the stove. The realization that he loved you had hit him like a freight train, making his heart soar and sing, so to see you so stressed and pained… he felt it at his core.

The door unlocking had him perked like a dog, vaulting the back of your couch to meet you at the door, his hands on your forearms with an earsplitting smile. “Mo ghràdh…” He swallowed, watching as the startled confusion faded to recognition, a tired and strained smile pressing to your lips.

“Johnny, sunshine… lemme get my shoes and stuff off- WHATAREYOUDOING JOHN AIDAN MACTAVISH-”

But your shriek only spurned him further, soft laughter tearing from his throat as he lifted you easily past the threshold and taking your bag to set it on the ground. “Turn your brain off, Mo ghràdh. Just let me handle… everything.” He cooed, catching your eyes as they wandered about your freshly spotless apartment.

“Johnny… when did you…” but your words stalled again as he sank to his knees before you, eyes light with hunger and reverence.

“Called into work. I’m yours for the whole next week… Cap pulled some strings for me.” He explained, watching your eyes widen and water. Any words of dissent fell away as his hands smoothed over your hips, bringing his face to your abdomen as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your clothes. “Ya had a long day, hen… tha’s not lost on me… and the weeks been so hard for ya… just let me take care of it, let me take care of you. Can ye be a good girl and let me do that for you?” Johnny hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Only when he felt you melt into his touch, your eyes closing a nod consenting to his actions, did he continue. His hands left your hips to remove your shoes and socks, a kiss pressed to your clothed knee as he did. “My pretty bird… so sweet for me… working so hard to make everyone happy, you just forget about yourself do ye? Not a soul in this world deserves your kindness, your smile… hell, let alone me. The fact that I get it at all?” He sighed contently, tugging the waistband of your pants down, and your underwear with it. “Perhaps that’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven… and I couldn’t be more glad for it. Glad for you to have waltzed your way into my life and made a home in my heart.”

The flush that had grown on your cheeks, the warmth that spread through your body as his touch wandered over beautifully scarred skin, kissing freckles and dimples, anything that could be considered an imperfection by a society that had forgotten what love and devotion truly were. His hands caressed from thigh to waist, bringing your shirt up over your arms, guiding you forward just enough that he could pull it over your head and press his lips to your forehead once more. “Yer perfect f’me… so perfect.” He breathed, pushing up on his knees to wrap his arms around you, chin resting just at the lowest part of your sternum as he flicked his fingers, your bra coming undone and falling slack off your shoulders.

He relished in the sigh that left your lips, enjoying that bras existed only so he could remove them from your beautifully painted body. “My cliodna, my venus, my very own aphrodite. Not a single thing in this world is more precious than my girl…”

“Johnny…” You groaned, turning your head away to hide the ever growing flush at your cheeks.

“Please look at me…” He bid, eyes wide and almost puppyish as he pressed ticklish kisses to your naval, facial hair gently scratching at the skin to make you jump into him. When he saw your gaze back upon him, a boyish grin crossed his face, wedging your legs apart as he walked you back to the door to lean against it. “Oh, Mo ghràdh, don’t look at me like that, makes it hard to think.” Johnny teased, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. “Hold on if you need to, but I promise I’ve got you.”

And when he looked at you like that, as if he were a man gazing upon salvation, how could you not believe him?

Any thoughts were quickly interrupted by his kisses as they trailed lower before pressing against the sensitive apex at the top of your heat. Unbeknownst to you, his devotion had already taken affect as he felt wetness against his tongue, savoring the ragged gasp that left your lips like a starved man.

Fingers dug at the fleshy part of your hips, his chin inclining as his lashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he began a sweet and unyielding pace. He was yours, so deeply and entirely yours as he doted upon your body, seeking only to hear those familiar and sweet moans that showed just how you were feeling. Because while your mind may betray you, your voice and body never could, not when he was between your legs.

Your hands fell to the longer, thickened and somewhat curly hair of his mohawk, fingers curling into it as you momentarily debated whether to push him back or- no, no, you pulled him closer, hips canting against his lips with a breathy cry as his other hand slipped down between your legs, two fingers finding their way inside to curl and thrust against the spongy heat that craved to be full. As you whispered a soft apology for pulling his hair so roughly, you were silenced by his own moan, your eyes meeting for only a moment as you caught sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils. It was a romantics painting in its own right, the visual opposition of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel, this angel full of endearing passion and idolization.

Your eyes rolled back as his tongue delved deeper, circling your clit as he traced letters over it, something only for him as he savored your sweetness upon his tongue.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U. Over and over until he felt your hips begin to tremble, leg buckling as you grew nearer and nearer to release. On different terms, he would have stopped, wanting to draw out and prolong your pleasure as long as he could, torturing you with your release- but not today. Not now, no. That was for a day where his focus was on not only you.

“Sunshine-” you whispered, the breath stuttered along with your hips when his fingers curled against that spot deep inside you, stars bursting in front of your open eyes as your vision went white. Did you scream? Did you moan? You briefly felt a bit of pain on your tongue, a metallic taste spreading across it as you subconsciously bit down, weak whimpers sending your body trembling and tumbling forward into your Johnny.

He was all too happy to sustain you, holding you up and pinning your hips to the door as he lapped up the thick and creamy juices that spilled onto his tongue, face glistening when he finally pulled away with a rough gasp. “All that f’me, princess?” he hummed, rubbing his chin across the inside of your thigh, just to feel your sensitive and overstimulated body jump beneath his touch.

Johnny stood then, carrying you to the bathroom and turning on the shower. It was easy to ignore- well, not easy, but he was more than willing to ignore the aching strain in his pants as he guided you through a shower, your sweet, starstruck gaze on his as you kissed the taste of yourself off his tongue. He didn’t care as his clothes got wet, making sure to take his time as he ran the loufa over your body, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the day before cleaning each part of you more gently and tenderly. Your hair was washed, your scalp massaged as he hummed softly to you, crooning sweet words of praise and pride. “My pretty girl… so perfect f’me… look at you… jus’ look at you… so gorgeous.”

When the shower ended you were wrapped in a still warm towel and whisked back to the living room, your feet barely touching the ground long enough for you to register it. So this was what it meant to be loved? The words hadn’t been shared between you two, not yet, but it was undeniable now. These acts of service were hardly acts at all, only the truest form of love and devotion as he dressed you just as slowly and tenderly as he’d undressed you.

“Wait…” you slurred, lashes fluttering as you glanced around. “What’s that…”

A cheeky smile crossed his face as he pulled your nightshirt over your body. “Might’ve called your friend for a bit of help…” he exclaimed, taking you to the kitchen and grabbing two bowls. “Think you can eat fer me? I know it’s hard when yer stressed so… thought I might tempt you.” Johnny laughed.

Bowls of food were brought to the table, and when you hesitated to take a bite, he ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth and lifted the spoon to it, feeding you slowly. “There we go… tha’s a good girl… don’t gotta eat it all, just gotta eat enough for me. I’m here, I’m with you… won’t make you talk about it…” He stated, watching as your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the love and devotion shown to you.

“I love you.” You blurted, the words causing your eyes to widen. Stress had melted away as his hands had earlier explored your body, but now it was back, tension coiling in your chest. “I mean-”

“I love you, too.” Johnny exclaimed softly, a slow smile gracing his face- like the sun cresting the horizon after a rainy night. “I love you. Tha gaol agam ort. You and I… this… it’s everything to me. You’re everything to me, and I wanted to show you, really show you just what you mean to me. Not in grand gestures, but… just like this… I want it to always be like this, or better. I want us to keep working towards better, as long as it’s… together.” He stated, setting down the spoon and pressing your foreheads together.

Tears fell as the floodgates burst, your head bowed and elbows resting on the table. It had been too much before, your work life, family life, even health feeling like it was all working against you- and in a moment of anger, you’d convinced yourself you were alone.

But how could that have been true when you had the literal sun before you? You understood now, Icarus and Apollo, Achilles and Patroclus, Odysseus and Penelope. The all encompassing love that drove people to war and compassion.

“I love you.” You wept, the words more freeing than you had ever known them to be.

Dishes were forgotten on the table as he swept you into his arms, an increasingly common action as of late and led you back to your bedroom, laying you down upon soft and silken sheets. “I love you, M’eudail… every piece of you that you had long since abandoned, the parts you didn’t think were capable or worthy of being loved, I love all of it, and if you’ll give it to me, I’ll show you… I promise, and promises are meant to be kept.” He whispered, caging your body in with his own as he acted like a weighted blanket pinning you to the bed.

Your chest screamed for air, as laughter bubbled out between your tears, one hand threading into the back of his mohawk, the other rubbing small circles into his back. “How did I get so lucky?” you whispered, the words a betrayal of your mind.

“You didn’t do anything, Mo ghràdh, just by existing you are worthy of love. Worthy of living a life lighter of stress. Just by existing you have earned and deserved kindness… I am sorry that I am the first one to show you that, especially now.” He whispered, the words soft upon your skin.

“I’ll call into work next week…” You whispered, hiccuping softly as his hands slipped beneath your shirt.

“I didn’t plan to leave you for a moment anyways.” He mused in return. “I love you, M’eudail… my perfect, bonnie love…”

“I love you too, Sunshine. If there’s a place for me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#cod mw2 #fanfiction #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader

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sin-djarin · 9 months

Text

Video Nasty II: Restricted Viewing (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 18+. MDNI.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You found out what Joel likes, or did like, now he wonders the same.

Warnings: SMUT, porn with some plot, unspecified era, no mention of age (reader is in late 20s), mutual masturbation. No use of y/n.

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself. This was not meant to turn into anything more than a one shot. But it has haunted me since the weekend. I'm sorry if this is incoherent, and forgive me for any typos. Don't look at me.

For context, you should probably read part one first:

Part I

Masterlist

Please, I beg, put your ages in your bios. Ageless and empty blogs will be blocked!

Joel sleeps hot. It’s welcome in the winter months when he cradles you against him, keeping you safe from the cold. During the summer period though, the warmth from his body makes it difficult to drift off.

You and Joel don’t have the typical "couple" sleeping arrangements. There are no go to positions to fall asleep in. Sleep finds you when you’re both most comfortable. Sometimes you might wake up with your head nuzzled into his shoulder or his arm might find your waist during the night.

But now, in June, comfort means a decent amount of space separating you, the AC on full and in almost total darkness. The only sliver of light allowed to enter the bedroom comes from a small gap where the curtains meet the floorboards.

So, he doesn’t take offense when you turn your back on him, curl up into yourself and shut your eyes while he stays sprawled on his back beside you.

When Joel can’t sleep, he shifts his limbs around in the bed and fidgets. Even the weight of him lifting a leg and putting it back down again is enough to rattle the mattress on its frame. His breathing becomes more audible and to you – a little annoying. Tonight is one of those nights.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothin’”

“If something’s on your mind. Tell me”

“It’s nothin’” he repeats.

It is something, though because he’s restless. You can hear the scratching noises his fingers make through the hairs on his chin and the little puffs of air that escape through his nose.

“What do you watch?” he whispers. There’s only two of you in the entire house but he still speaks as if someone else might be listening.

“What?”

“When I’m not here, y’know?”

Oh.

You didn’t speak about it after that night. It was weeks ago. But the DVD got sorted like everything else in the basement. It was on top of the rest of the trash the following evening. It and the rest of the garbage gotten taken out by Joel before he went to work on Monday.

“Been wonderin’” he clears his throat.

“I don’t” you tell him, honestly.

It’s never been your thing. Sure, you’ve watched it a handful of times. But it’s always been too much – too fake, too noisy, too overindulgent. You’ve never been able to find something exactly to your liking. It’s someone else’s fantasy – not yours.

“No?” Joel wonders.

“No. Just…imagination”

He falls silent for a beat. You sounds a little disappointed with your answer, like he wanted you to tell him you were into something niche or filthy, something that might take him by surprise after sitting on the question that had been plaguing him for weeks. Or maybe he’s impressed at your lack of need for a visual aide.

“You just think about…whatever it is?”

“I guess so, yeah”

“And what is it?” he probes.

“Joel” you say rolling on your back. “Are you asking me to tell you what I get off to?”

“I showed you” he argues. He’s right. He did.

Yet somehow the idea of you describing your desires to him was dirtier than the five minutes of lack lustre porn that he put in the DVD player that night.

“You wanna know?” you sigh, hoping that if you tell him, he’ll stop prodding.

“Uh huh” he confirms.

You don’t imagine the same scenario over and over again. Sometimes they’re things you wished would have happened. Sometimes they’re more exaggerated ideas of what has already happened. Some of them are soft and delicate, some are a little rougher, depending on what you needed. All of them are rooted in reality. But you decide to tell him the one that works every single time.

You take a deep breath and turn your body away from him, back towards the window like it had been, bracing yourself. Preparing to bare yourself to him in a new way.

“So, um” you start with a definite shake in your voice. “Do you know that t-shirt you wear to work? The dark brown one. It was black but we’ve put it through the washer so many times it’s not brown anymore? And it’s smaller now too because-“

“Wait. Stop” he cuts you off to clarify what he’s hearing. “Me?” his voice is a pitch higher than it had been.

“Well. Yeah. Why? What’s wrong?” you worry.

“No, no. It’s just…didn’t expect details. Carry on, please”

“Anyway, you’re wearing that. And you’ve got your work jeans on as well. But you forgot your belt. So they’re kinda…just hanging onto your hips. The waist is worn on them...”

Then you stop, squeezing your thighs together at the thought, trying unsuccessfully to quell the urge that you’ve brought upon yourself with an image you’ve seen hundreds of times. An image that has never failed to get you going has once again done its job. He turns to mold himself around your body and you feel him throbbing at your lower back. His physical reaction is surprising - might actually be into this.

“You’re grumpy. Someone, something has pissed you off” you continue quietly. “Tommy, probably. It’s summer too, so it’s been really hot all day. You’re a little sweaty”

Joel rolls away from you and reaches over to pull at your hip, motioning for you to lie on your back with him. Your hand settles on the thin band of your underwear almost subconsciously.

“What are you doin’?” he asks.

“Depends. Usually cooking dinner when you come through the door and-”

“No. Right now, I mean” he drawls, his breath scorching your cheek as you lay side by side.

But your focus still lies on the curtain.

“Nothing” you whisper, though the want is becoming almost painful.

One of his hands searches for yours that still rests motionless on your belly. With his foot, he kicks the sheet that covers you both further down the bed. The cool air from the AC is a brief relief from the heat that has started to sneak across your skin.

Finding your hand, he slips his under your palm and guides them both beneath the fabric of your underwear, the heat of it alone is enough to send another rush of wetness to your core.

“Show me how. Like you would if I wasn’t here” he pleas.

Without thinking, you drape one of your legs over his, allowing him greater access. Splaying your fingers out over his, you steer his fingers further down until his middle finger locates your clit and you press down on it, breath hitching at the touch if it. Pausing for a second to collect yourself – this is actually happening - before you direct it to start moving in circular motions. When you feel like he’s mastered the way you’d touch yourself when you’re alone, you take your hand away.

“Just like that”

“Keep going. What happens next?” he encourages.

“I-it’s not ready yet…the dinner and…”

A deep hum coming from his chest makes you lose your train of thought. The pleased sound of it and the motions of his finger make the simple act of speaking difficult, like every word rolling off your tongue is heavy and burdensome. He’s enjoying this, you think.

“But you’re hungry because you’ve been gone…all day” you say, struggling not to make the same noises you do when you’re writhing under your own touch. Because somehow, they still seem forbidden.

“Mmhm” he soothes you further into your racy thoughts with another hum.

There are more details when you’re by yourself. You don’t tell him that gives you a kiss on the forehead and turns off the stove. Or that he still carries the smell of sawdust and WD-40 around on him. That when he stretches you can see the trail of hair on his belly because his t-shirt has shrunk. Nor that he tells you that you can eat dinner later, he’s hungry for something else now and brings you through to the couch, quickly dropping to his knees and spreading your legs open. But you skip all these parts when he applies more pressure with his fingertip.

“Then…you, um…just” you breathe through a moan.

“What?”

“You know…go down on me. L-look at me the whole time”

Pushing your head back into the pillow, you picture it – his brown eyes closing in satisfaction at your taste. You can almost feel the pointy hairs of his moustache against your mound, hungrily sucking at your bud and his fingernails digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs as they tighten around his neck and shoulders, drawing him into you. Eyes locked with yours the entire time and your back curving off the couch.

“You don’t let me cum though” you pant now, wishing your lungs would work harder to capture some air.

Your head rolls back into the center of the pillow. It’s then you realize you just how much you can’t see one another – you can’t see much of anything. If you had to guess, there’s a smirk pulling at his upper lip as you walk him through the sordid corners of your mind.

His fingers stop their ministrations for a second – half of you grateful for a breather, the other half fearful he might make your daydream come true and not let you see it through to how it usually ends. The wooden bedframe creaks as he moves his hips. His free hand finds yours to stretch it over his body to meet his hard cock he’s freed from his briefs. He wraps his hand around yours on top of it and starts to move them up and down.

“This okay?” he rasps, asking permission to engage with your secrets.

“Hmm” you mumble back.

You’re both on this journey now, there’s no going back.

Once he’s happy with the pace he’s set for you, his fingers that have laid dormant on you for what feels like forever, pick up their rhythm again.

“Keep goin’, baby” he tells you, taking his hand off yours on his length, trusting your touch like you’ve trusted his so far.

There’s not much left of your story, you think, and he’s only just begun.

“Then…bend me over the couch” you manage over the rising sound of your heartbeat between your ears.

“From behind?”

“Yeah”

“Fuck” he hisses when your grip tightens around his head to catch and swipe a bead of precum over the wide head before continuing to work him up and down.

That’s the last full sentence you string together. It’s enough to let you wander off to separate places where your minds can run wild with images of each other but your bodies are still joined together in the sanctity of your bed.

The only noises present in the room now are the echoes of your labored breathing and the slick sounds of flesh upon flesh. There’s no need for more talking.

In fact, it leaves you free to get back to the details of this particular fantasy - right as Joel spins you around in a swift motion onto your knees on the couch with your upper body resting on the back of it. Then you throw yourself back into the sound of his zip of his jeans opening and the spit falling from his mouth onto his cock before he enters your dripping cunt.

The noise he makes in your head when he bottoms out vibrates at the exact same frequency as the one he grunts into your ear next to you as your hand continues to pump around him with the energy you have left, trying match the speed of his hips slamming into you on the couch. The blistering heat of his breath against your neck is identical to the one when he leans over you to tell you "I needed you all day darlin’. Starvin’" for the hundredth time. And finally, the motions of his fingers in real life mirror the ones when he straightens up, pulling your back against his chest with one strong hand and the other to travel down to rub circles on your aching clit that’s been crying out for attention since his mouth left it.

You knew your own body and how it worked - how to touch and when. You never had to think about it too much so the only thing separating fact from fiction was the feel of him, stiff and silky in your hand, concentrating on your strokes and turning of your wrist.

“Close” you warn him, feeling your body tense up and back arch off the mattress in preparation for what was about to be a deadly orgasm in the wake of your own fantasy nearing its end.

“Mmm” he groans through gritted teeth. “Where do I-“ another guttural groan steals his words. “How-“

“Inside” you utter.

That's how it always ends - you completely full of him.

Other familiar sensations soon make themselves know to you; your eyes clench shut and that distinctive ringing in your ears takes over your ability to understand anything else.

You can’t guide him through this anymore.

And then it hits you, warm then fiery, across your stomach and spreads out through every nerve in your body, completely wrecking breathing. The sparks that ignited in your fantasy translate to an all consuming fire in the here and now. Similar to the one you’ve imagined yourself having every time you’ve been on that couch.

He lets you revel in the ripples of it before covering your hand with his for one final downward stroke. A rough growl escapes through his lips as his own release tears through him. You wish you could see it – see the muscles in his arms flex and relax, the roll of his stomach, the flare of his nostrils, the heave of his broad chest and the pattern it painted over him. But the darkness only lets you feel him spill wet and hot over your knuckles.

Finally, the sounds of your combined breaths are interrupted when he confirms “I like how your mind works”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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accihoe · 3 months

Text

Under the Bridge

I'm writing in a moment of despair, forgive me.

Pairing: rockstar!Bucky x rockstar!reader

Summary: The rivalry bands drummers don't have such a rivaling relationship.

Warnings: rivalry

A/u: 90s Rockstar

A/n: I had my main character breakdown in the shower to the RHCP 🤭. As per usual, PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. God bless! :)

xxx

"We lost the petition to The Avengers (Bucky's band)." Her bassist delivered the blood boiling news to her on Monday.

"He doesn't have much time left, and it's no use visiting him. He has no recollection of anyone or anything." Her mother broke the news to her on a Tuesday evening about a dear family friend.

"You need to pull up your socks if you want to stay in the band, Y/L/N." The band manager threatened her on Wednesday.

Thursday had its own struggles involving the lugs repeatedly coming loose during practice.

And then Friday. Friday went surprisingly well. Everyone was pleased with her drumming during rehearsal. The band's manager even patted her back. She'd also been nominated as the best female drummer of the decade. It was just before the show that the very tense dam walls broke. Y/N's housesitter, Jane, informed her via a call on the landline that her cat Rosemary had run away.

Rosemary was Y/N's backbone. When even her family doubted her success as a female drummer in the music industry, Rosemary was there with her chirpy meows to inspire Y/N. When she got rejected by agencies, Rosemary was quick to curl up on her chest and purr. When she was ill, Rosemary never left her side. Rosemary grounded her amidst all the chaos. Rosemary went with her from sleeping in a run-down apartment to the house of their dreams.

That night, Y/N played her heart out on stage. Her band mates turned to watch her several times during the set. Their manager was beyond pleased with her. The Avengers were beyond displeased with her, said for their drummer, the Winter Soldier. Yet nobody knew about the secret love between the two rivalling drummers.

Nobody got a chance to congratulate Y/N after the show. She disappeared into the night in her dark leather coat, as did James. "Honey, you were amazing tonight!" Bucky whispered, emerging from the parking lot. "Thank you. Let's get away from here, please." Y/N whispered back. They got into the car, and Bucky drove them off. "What inspired ya?" Bucky asked as they drove into the night.

"Rosemary's gone..." Y/N whispered, looking at her leather-clad knees. "What? Darling, how? What happened?" Bucky asked, eyes laced with concern. "I dunno. Jane called. Said Rosemary hit the road." She said. "Mind if I play a song?" She rushed out before Bucky could answer. "Of course not." Bucky said gently.

Ironically, as they pulled in under a bridge, Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers started to play. "Did you plan that?" Bucky chuckled. "Yes." Y/N was quick to admit with a small smile. "I love you, you know that?" Bucky sighed, taking the car keys out of the ignition. "I think I do. But hearing you say it warms my heart. I love you too, drummer boy." Y/N smiled at her lover. The lovers sat on the hood of the car as Under the Bridge blared through the speakers, watching the moon reflect in the water.

"I'm sorry about Rosemary. I really am." He said, taking her hand into his. "It's alright, love." Y/N smiled gently, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll help you look for her." Bucky promised. "Thank you. And once we've found her, the three of us will snuggle up and watch Scooby-Doo together." Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder as she spoke. Bucky laughed heartily and agreed.

"Would you be mad if I wrote a song about you?" Bucky asked, bringing her knuckles up to his lips and kissing them. "No. But only if I'm allowed to write one about you too." Y/N said. "The bands will fire us if they hear we wrote songs about each other. Let alone find out about us." Bucky said half jokingly, and half truthfully sad. "Then we'll start a band together." Y/N said softly, taking his left hand and kissing his knuckles.

xxx

Fin. Hope you liked it.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes series #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #rockstar!bucky barnes x reader #rockstar bucky #rockstar girlfriend #marvel cinematic universe #the avengers #Spotify

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badgirl411 · 1 year

Text

A Work Of Art PART 2: (Modern!Nikolai Lantsov x Reader AU) FANFIC

Pairings: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Sturmhond x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is busy finalising things for the gala, life is busy and she is exhausted. Readying herself for another busy day at the gallery she hears news the infamous Sturmhond has struck again. The mysterious Cole shows up at Esthetica again and tensions rise between the two.

Warnings: strong language, alcohol, sexual harassment, crime, Vasily (again mf needs his own warning), raised voices, sexual tension

Authors Note: OMG you lot are amazing honestly thank you so much for the response to this its been unbelievable. I am having so much fun writing this and I genuinely hope you guys are liking it. I am aiming to get the next chapter up sometime on Sunday but possibly Monday as I am going to the local farmers market tomorrow, I havent left the house since my surgery at the start of the week so I am looking forward to getting some spring air in my lungs. I was listening to Nineteen by DYLAN while writing this so check it out its very good. IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST PLEASE DONT HESITATE TO DROP ME A MESSAGE.

ENJOY MY LOVES <3

Since that day at the gallery you had been working non stop you were truly exhausted so sat here on your sofa in your apartment you nursed a glass of white wine hoping, no praying, it would allow you to have a restful sleep. Tomorrow would be spent schmoozing silent partners and delegating funds to vendors and catering, you must remember to get in contact with the security company to confirm the plans for the gala. Since hearing about Sturmhond’s most recent heist at the Tate Modern for your own sanity and peace of mind you thought it best to hire a hefty security team.

A deep sigh fills the air of your silent still apartment, your hand rests in the crook of your elbow that is thrown in the top of the sofa the glass of wine carefully still in your hand. Your eyes seem to focus on nothing as your mind drifts back to that day at the gallery in front of the painting, you try to remember his name as it seems to have slipped your mind. You could not forget those eyes or his boyishly charming smile or the feel of his much larger hand in yours.

As the tiredness seeps its way into every vessel in your body you decide it’s best to fall into bed and start again tomorrow.

The blaring of your alarm interrupts your blissful rest, eyes still closed and body still motionless you clamour blindly in an attempt to shut off the noise. Climbing out of bed you stretch your arms above your head and shake your body, arms and legs flailing trying to dissipate the sleep still in your bones. The clock reads 06:05am when you turn the shower on and ask Alexa to play the radio as you go about your routine in the shower, the radio alerts you to the upcoming news broadcast as you glide the razor over your calf from ankle to knee.

This is Drew Drummond with the latest news this morning.

Breaking news flooding in this morning listeners it seems Sturmhond has struck again, reports suggest that the art thief struck the Acropolis Museum in Athens yesterday morning making off with several terracotta warriors and another Ravkan painting. Police say that there is no evidence of tampering with the security footage and no alarms were triggered leaving the authorities and locals baffled. This marks the third incident from the elusive thief who last week hit the Tate Modern gallery in London, authorities globally have yet to identify them and reports suggest there are no viable suspects. More on this as it develops I’ve been Drew Drummond hoping you have a great start to your day.

You laugh shaking your head, Tatiana and Vasily don’t think the security team are necessary. You seem to be the only one who possesses any brain cells out of the three of you, because why would a world famous art thief possibly want to hit one of the most publicised charity galas this year where several family pieces and multiple collections are being displayed.

Reaching into your closet you pull out a simple cream dress, it’s length reaches just below the knee with a small slit on the side. Dressing yourself, styling your hair and applying a light layer of makeup you are ready for the day ahead. Gathering your handbag, keys and ID card you make your way down to the foyer of your apartment complex to hail a cab.

The gala is drawing closer, much to your own surprise everything seems to be in hand with little left to confirm a knock on your office door startles you from your thoughts. Looking to find the source of the noise you recoil internally seeing Vasily standing in the doorway, a smarmy smirk painting his face.

“Vasily hello, how can I help you.” A false smile makes its way across your face, my god you really should win an Oscar because your performance every time you are in the presence of this man is award winning.

“Oh nothing sweetheart I just wanted to come and see you. How goes the planning for the gala?” He draws closer to you leaning both palms on the edge of your desk, instinctively you lean back distancing yourself from the man in front of you.

“Vasily whatever it is you have planned I don’t have time for this, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I am much to busy running your gallery. Well my gallery now.” You bite back not looking up from the paperwork in front of you.

“ (Y/N) have I ever told you how sexy you are when you are pissed off?” An animal like growl is added to the mention of your name as he prowls at the foot of your desk like a predator hunting it’s prey.

You slam your own down in front of you but before you can even dare to look up he speaks once again causing you to roll your eyes.

“Alright sweetheart I will leave you alone this one time only because I have an appointment of sorts to attend.” He raises a brow at the mention of appointment and you know he means he’s got another model to screw or dealer to meet.

Your shoulders relax as he retreats from your office, you need to stop the crawling of your skin. You know just the thing. The painting.

Heading to the gallery floor you greet the people admiring the beautiful pieces hanging in the walls rounding the corner to your favourite spot. You should install a bench you think for the amount of times you visit this small space.

Standing in front of the piece titled The Fold you find yourself lost in the mar of dark brush strokes, eyes settling on the flecks of gold that adorn the piece. The piece is by an artist called Aleksander, his work is dark and moody but devastatingly beautiful.

“ Beautiful isn’t she?” The voice behind you knocks you from your daze.

“Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me.” You laugh nervously as you turn to find the source of the voice, oh my god it’s him. From last week, shit what’s his name. Kevin? Cameron? No Cole yes Cole that’s it.

“Cole hello sorry I was in a world of my own, what did you say?” You laugh nervously stepping closer to him arms folded across themselves still.

He steps closer pushing a stray hair that’s fallen over your eyes back into place.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” Your brow creases with confusion as you study his face, his prominent cheekbones and striking eyes. He’s slightly more tanned than the last time you seen him accentuating the blue of his eyes and the blond of his hair. “The painting, beautiful isn’t she.” He gestures to the piece you so often spend time in front of.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts you turn back to the piece.

“Yes, she’s remarkable.” You laugh nervously.

“Tell me (Y/N) what is it about this piece you love so much?” He is exceedingly close to you now but somehow you don’t mind.

“ The darkness of it I suppose.” He looks at you puzzled a brow raised in questioning.

“You see those beautiful gold flecks that adorn the canvas…” you gesture and he nods listening intently “ without the contrast of the dark brush strokes in the piece you wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the striking beauty of the gold. I suppose for me I think that without the darkness the bad the bits you hate about yourself and everyone else you would never be able to appreciate all the gold the good bits the bits that make you who you are. The beautiful bits I suppose. It’s like that for everything people, places, objects… without the darkness how could we ever appreciate the light.”

He nods but shakes his head letting out a small chuckle, you are utterly confused as to what is funny.

“What? What’s so funny about that?” You are on the defensive.

“Nothing (Y/N) it’s cute you’re an optimist.” Again he shakes his head laughing.

“What’s so wrong with that?” You face him your hands are gesturing in a defensive manner.

“ It’s just a little naive that’s all no offence. You really think that everyone is good” he’s cocky this one you think. No offence, wasn’t he the one who asked my opinion?

“I think everyone has the potential to be good, I don’t believe a person can be whole heartedly bad or inherently good I think people have the potential to be a mix of both.” You try to reason.

He scoffs “When you’ve seen the things have I have seen you might have a different opinion.” His tone has a bite to it, maybe you were right to begin with when you sensed trouble but you can’t be sure.

“ Cole you asked me. I’m sorry but I have a gallery to run and a gala to plan I’m very busy.” You turn to retreat to your office to sulk.

A hand laces round your wrist spinning you around.

“I’m sorry, I’m an arsehole. I’m just saying when you have witnessed the things that I have it’s difficult to believe that people have the potential to be good.” You are confused, he stares at you breathless searching your face for signs of doubt.

“I was just saying I don’t think it’s impossible.” You counteract.

“ You know darling when people say impossible they usually mean improbable” he smiles pointer finger resting under your jaw moving your face which was facing downward to face him.

“ I just think there is something to say about the duality of everything. You know without the darkness of the night we would never appreciate the sun during the day. I truly think there’s beauty in everyone and everything. At least there is to me, like the way a strawberry coated in sugar tastes as it settles on your tongue. Or the way the sun sets below the skyline or the way a breeze kisses your skin. Without those little dark moments in my life I would never appreciate all those beautiful things.” You begin to ramble nervously as his finger still rests below your chin.

“You know Cole you might not see the beauty or the good in anyone but I can see that in you there’s a darkness but most of all there’s an abundance of beauty.” Your palm cups his jaw and your thumb gently strokes a few lines.

You begin to walk away to go back to your day filling out paperwork when he shouts your name.

“ Impossible” he hollers his face straight and still.

“Improbable Cole” you shout back when you hear him shout in the distance again.

“ God (Y/N) I love it when you quote me!”

Taglist: @xceafh @sweet0pia-uwu @spencersfish

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader fanfic #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x reader fanfic #modern!nikolai lantsov x reader #modern!sturmhond x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone

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anteroom-of-death · 4 months

Text

Teacher's Pet part 2

Synopsis: its the Monday after, what will the meeting involve for the Doctor and y/n?

a/n: uhm idk how sustainable my current writing rampage is. But tadah. We're writing to make ourselves happy. Set in the pov of the reader. Thank you to all who reads.

The Thursday after your meeting with Professor Smith, you felt like you didn’t even want to work. You could have sat on that bench until the evening chill came and claimed you.

Much more agreeable than one of your appointments canceling on you. You really needed the extra 150 quid.

Friday came and went. Nothing but dead air on the phones. The bookings girl was apologetic and let you have half a puff off her joint.

Such was life.

You were itching to get the weekend over. There was a footie match on, so you expected the bare minimum and weren’t let down.

Guess you were shopping at Aldi again, and figuring out how much of your savings you could really chip away at.

Monday was cold and dreary, it slapped you awake with your alarm. Your financial worries were keeping your sleep restless.

Not that you already wouldn’t have been kept up.

Your first class of the morning was somber. It wasn’t as dazzling at Professor Smith’s. The lecturer lacked chutzpah. Showmanship. Just droned on about hum-drum statistics and their relationships on graphs. You felt yourself slipping into a stupor.

By the time the class ended, you had lost most of your fingernails and had bitten a sizable swell on your tongue.

You dragged yourself into the toilets and started fixing yourself up. You were so nervous and every time you saw that man you fought the urge to drown yourself in the Avon. The man was beyond entrancing. Everything he said drew you in. And his flourishes?

Hypnotic.

You fixed your make up, glitter you had from your usual rota had built itself up in the corner of your eyes , no matter how much hard scrubbing you’d do, it would be there until it was time to get back to work on Thursday evening. You only had one class on Fridays so you could easily take two shifts.

You applied some chap stick to soothe a newly-chewed hole in your lip.

You muffled a scream into the sleeves of your jumper. You really didn’t know what was getting into you. It felt like your entire brain was sliding both downwards and to the left out of your skull. Through your ear. You were beyond close to failing this term. The term had barely started, but you knew it wasn’t going well!

And right now, you couldn’t afford to mess up.

You cursed yourself for following his order of “So long as it’s your last.” With your cigarettes. You threw away the entire, barely depleted pack into the trash can near the bus stop immediately after your meeting.

That entire ten minutes left you giddy and thrown off.

You sprayed some perfume on you and took a deep breath before trudging your way down to his office.

You knocked tentatively.

“Ah, come in (y/n)!” He announced.

His office was warm. Dynamic. He had an electric guitar perched on the wall. Overcrowded. There was so much to take it

Warm.

When so much of the university was drafty and got worse on days with bad weather. His office felt safe. Like somewhere there was an invisible fireplace roaring. It was more than comfortable. It was cozy.

You plunked your bag across the shoulder of the chair that faced the desk and started trying to drag out your notebook for his class.

He waved you down.

“No need for that, just yet.” He smiled easy. His holey sweater layered with a tee-shirt and hoodie matched it. The usual blazer he donned for lecture slung across his chair.

“How was your weekend?”

“I just worked. It was so slow.” You confessed.

“What about those appointments?”

You let out a nervous, yet angry laugh. “Oh, one canceled on me.” You tugged on your jumper. It was warm in here and you got nervous when anyone asked anything regarding work. You didn’t want anyone to know. Especially a professor at your school! What would the consequences be? The two worlds of you and your work never should meet. You tapped on your thigh.

“And yours?”

“Not much to report, just also work.”

“Ahh.” You replied. You felt awkward.

“Uhhmm, I have accommodations put in by the university for my stuff. But right now, I don’t think they’re working? And the office who deals with that is totally backed up and can’t see me right now.” You drummed on your thigh a bit more and pleaded with your eyes. You were way out of your depth. You were just hoping maybe he’d have some pity. Some empathy. His class was engaging. He talked so well about everything. It was labeled as a philosophy class, but it felt more like some advanced physics class at time. He was poetical and waned on about too many a topic.

It challenged you, and you did like that.

You went back to trying to claw your notebook out. He tenderly grabbed it out and placed it on the desk.

“Thanks!” You replied to the gesture…

He produced a plate of chocolate chip cookies out of seemingly nowhere. They seemed freshly baked.

“Since I’ll be keeping you from lunch…” He shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind. We have to go over everything.”

You took one, it was big and gooey. Delicious. Had a hint of something else in it that you couldn’t place.

“Now, love, what are we looking at?” He muttered rifling through the pages.

“Fuck if I know.” You blurted out. “Sorry for my language.” You slapped your hand across your mouth, as if to stop anymore profanity from escaping your lips.

“It’s fine, heard worse. You should hear my wife. Mouth like a sailor! She once went in for twenty minutes at some dignitaries that wouldn’t let her scarper off with an artifact!” He laughed.

The minute he mentioned a wife, something in your chest fell down deep inside your gut.

Of course he’s married! He fit the entire profile. You should have known that from a mere glance. His age, married. White collar job. This place was probably his passion. The one good outlet that stopped him from visiting other places…

You stopped yourself from putting him in a neat little box. That was for work. Not for school. You mentally shook yourself.

“She sounds a riot! What does she do?”

“Oh, she was an archeologist! And a professor! Total bad girl.” He reminisced.

The ‘was’ put that sunken feeling back in your chest.

“Your notes are amazing. Very detailed. Really appreciate the scribbles and the note of ‘if you can’t focus today-> you’re wasting £76.21 today’”. He pointed out your mathematical equation you did breaking down the cost of tuition, the fees and the exact price each class cost per day.

“Am I wrong though?” You grimaced.

“You’ve got the wrong perspective, but I can see where you’d go with that. Capitalism has ruined what should be a shaping experience for you!”

You scratched your neck and shook your head.

“Yeah.”

You both poured yourselves over the topics covered and the remarks you made about it in your ongoing scribbled in reminders to yourself about class.

You felt him leave his seat and move over to the one beside you, probably meant for another student. The way his hands (large, sinuous, seemingly decently manicured, thin and well-jointed, you noticed appreciatively.) Combed the paper and tapped on words was enthralling.

The conversation expanded. He was letting you go off and follow your own conclusions about the subjects at hand. He commented and helped you link one thought to the other. Like a well-oiled duo. The office lights warmly reflected off the steely blue eyes that seemed to glow and shimmer when you made your own conclusions that fell in line with the lesson he was trying to give one so and so day in so and so page of note. You felt yourself relax and curl into the chair, sat cross-legged.

“So that means that time isn’t effectively real It’s a construct as much as a hobby?” You reported your findings from the deep trudged corners of your mind.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted. Echoing your sudden use of profanity earlier…

It was oddly endearing.

He caught your gaze and you saw yourself in those haunting blue eyes. There were things brewing in those eyes. His mind was working faster and more erratically than yours was. And you were the expert on racing thoughts and flying minds.

Or so you thought…

You quickly dropped your gaze.

A red, hot flush ripped through your body. It was like he stripped you bare. And not in the way so many others have seen you bare. It was like he was inside your head. He was inside you, your very soul.

You became all to aware of your body again, the sudden ricochet into personhood was oddly violating. You uncrossed your legs and tore at what remained of your one middle finger’s nail. Really gouging into the skin around it. Doing the ultimate amount of damage. The casual, open phase of this meeting had ended.

He noticed your change and smoothed himself out.

You hated that you were the catalyst for this tone shift.

“I’ve kept you too long, (y/n). Why don’t you go. I’ll email you if I can see you next Monday.”

The thing in your chest from earlier sunk deep again. Further than the last time.

You gathered your things and made your apologies with your eyes. Walking out, you noticed your middle finger was bleeding. Profusely.

The campus felt colder than ever.

You could have shot yourself.

#personal #doctor who #i wrote this #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #reader x 12th doctor #self insert #self indulgent #teacher student #peter capaldi #its my party and ill cry if i want to #slow burn #you x 12th doctor #12th doctor x you #help me

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towriteloveontheirarms · 1 year

Note

Can I request Xavier taking care of sick fem reader please

Here you go anon. I hope you enjoy <3

You look like someone ran you over

pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis: You come down with a cold, so Xavier takes care of you.

warnings: none, literally just fluff

word count: 0.7k

You had felt it coming for days. Creeping up on you until had you in its clutch. The revenge for underestimating what a sick roommate could do to you and yet you couldn´t so anything to fight it off. Not all the tea and sleep in the world could have possibly helped to prevent the runny yet at the same time stuffy nose, the coughing and the resulting sore throat, it did nothing against the ache that spread throughout your whole body. What was worst of all though was the general feeling of sensitivity, physically and mentally. It was just the worst. You had made it your mission to get better over the weekend, but all the effort was to no avail. Come Monday morning you were feeling worse than ever. As a consequence of all the suffering you also didn´t answer your phone to any incoming texts or calls. Your friends knew you were sick anyway so who could possibly want anything from you.

Well despite all your friends knowing about the state your health was in at the moment, one person didn´t know and you neither showing up to the lessons you shared on Monday nor answering any of his messages worried him out of his mind to say the least. So in the afternoon Xavier made his way over to Ophelia hall to see if you were still alive. Knocking on the wooden door he heard shuffling and your weak voice cursing under your breath before you greeted him.

“What happened to you? You look like someone ran you over.”, he ignores your warning to better stay away from you right now and steps in the room.

“Thank you… Truly. Remind me to never take care of anyone sick ever again if I ever have that idea like ever.”, you pulled the blanket around your shoulders and over your head tighter when a shiver runs through your body.

“Will do. Now come on, you need to lay down again.”

“I´m sorry I didn´t answer my phone. I just couldn´t bring myself to.”

“No need to apologize. I no you are alright now. Well relatively.”, that stupid half smile on his lips makes a small smile spread on your face too. “Now you´ll stay here and don´t move. I´ll be back soon.”

Xavier pulled another blanket over your shivering figure, before he stands up to leave. What was his plan now?

As it turned out you wouldn´t need to ask yourself that for long. In record time he made his way to wherever he was going and back to you. This time it was your roomie who opened the door to him as he made his way over to put all the stuff he brought on the little bedside table, almost knocking the cup of tea over with the plastic bag.

“What is all that?”

“First of all tea with honey.”, he hands you the warm cup. “And then about all the pain killers I could find.”

You take all the pills he gives you and set the now almost empty cup aside. He even stays with you until you fall asleep from the medicine working, overhearing the weak protest as he gets into bed with you skillfully.

That´s all you do in the following week. Drink tea, sleep and occasionally protest your loving boyfriend spending too much time around you. You were convinced he was gonna get infected next, but whatever you said fell on deaf ears.

Secretly you were a little glad about it. Cuddling Xavier always helped you feel better. There was just something about being spooned by him, his arms wrapped so tightly around you… All of it had you back on your legs by the end of the week.

Your nurse however couldn´t say as much. Just like you had predicted Xavier now was the one coming down with the worst case of a cold you had seen him suffer from ever since you gotten to know him. Of course you nursed him back to health like he had done with you, but not without giving him a little shit, because “I told you so, Xavi. Now drink your tea and stop whining.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix one shot

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craftylittlenerd · 10 months

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Snippet Sunday

Tagged by @westernlarch for another snippet Sunday, or more like snippet Monday as I got to spend the day with the family yesterday 😁 Tagging @kalliesa @luciferbecons @partofmycharm @misseffect @serendipitys-teapot @hauntedjellyfishtraveler to participate if you are so inclined.

So I have a few projects in the works and I debated on weather I post a snippet from one of my fanfiction or from one of my original works. After some debate I figured I post a snippet from my oldest fic that I’ve been taking a break on as I’ve hit a bit of a road block with it.

Working Title: New Life “So, you’ve been staying here with the Commander?” Castis asks outright; he was never a man to beat around the bush.“ Until she wakes up, I don’t...we’re in this together... I...” Castis nods understandingly, “Towards the end of your mother's illness, I never left her side.” His voice grows soft as he remembers Laurus, how Corpalis Syndrome robbed her of being able to do the simplest of tasks. The subtle shake of her hands, the smallest stutter or slurring of words in her otherwise eloquent speech, the weakness she felt in her body. It was too late before either of them realized that these were all early symptoms and not just signs of old age. The disease took its time, taking Laurus away from him slowly over two and a half years, the preventive medication barely doing anything but prolonging the inevitable. Robbing them of their golden years together. Garrus remembered how his dad hovered over his mother every chance he got while he and Sol had to coax their dad into simple tasks like eating or sleeping. Now the tables were turned, and it was his father’s turn to do the same to his son. Castis could see the weariness on his son’s face, how his clothes fit loosely around his frame. “I cannot fault you for wanting to do the same, but I will fault you for the smell. When was the last time you showered? Garrus felt like he was thirteen all over again with that question and the look, spirits his father knew how to make him feel like a child. His father grined, knowing he’d gotten Garrus right where he wanted him. “Wash up; your sister will be a bit longer with the doctor. Then we can go grab a bite to eat.” Garrus looks around, unsure of what to do or even if he could use the shower in Shepard’s hospital room. He didn’t have a clean change of clothes either, not having returned to the Normandy in the last few days. Miranda and Dr. Chakwas were always able to shoo him away when Shepard was heading into another surgery. Even primarch Victus was able to persuade Garrus out of the Commander's hospital room while one of the other crew members visited. Usually, he returned to the Normandy to shower, if not quickly buff his plates before changing his clothes. Sometimes he was able to get some sleep; other times, Garrus had enough of an appetite to eat a small meal. When someone couldn’t visit, or no surgery was needed, Garrus stayed by Shepard’s side no matter how much the staff grumbled. He didn’t want her to wake up alone thinking she was resurrected again; it was her biggest fear. Something Shepard had confided in Garrus early on if not Cerberus, then the Alliance, or worse, some other fringe group would try it again. It made her uncomfortable in hospitals — even the med bay on her own ship made her skin crawl. Yet she pushed that down anytime any of her crew was injured, or doctors at Huerta needed supplies they wouldn’t otherwise be able to get in Reaper-controlled territory. It's why Garrus never left because he knew Shepard would never leave any of them. Even when Ashley was in the hospital and the two women were at odds, Shepard still looked out for her friend. “I can’t; there’s no one...I don’t have...” Garrus stammers as his father tossed him a small travel tote. “I made a call, was able to pull a favor and get you an overnight bag, and your pilot friend Joker said he’d be by momentarily.” One of these days, Garrus told himself he’d stop being surprised by his father. Today wasn’t one of those days, and tomorrow wasn’t looking any better. Garrus looked at the bag he had just caught mid-air like it was some puzzle to be solved. Upon opening it, he found a change of clothing, some toiletries, a sanding stone and buffing brush, and a few other needed items. “I’ll watch over her until you’re done washing up. She won’t be alone, son I promise.” Garrus nodded and went into the small bathroom with a mundane shower hoping to get enough hot water to drown the ache in his muscles. Once Castis heard the bathroom door latch, he pulled a necklace out of his pocket. The slim golden chain of turian design had a simple locket holding an image of his beloved. “Laurus, what do I do? You were always better at these things than me.” Sighing, Castis sat in the all too familiar uncomfortable hospital chair, watching over the woman who captured his son’s intrigue. Castis wasn’t ready to call it love yet. He’d only heard Garrus’s side of things. Made the connections during those long conversations when Garrus first arrived back home. He even approved of the human commander; she was more turian than the two of them combined. Castis knew the feelings were mutual, Victus had told him as much when they talked that morning. There were rumors of a taboo hand-holding incident with a high-ranking Reaper Advisor and the famous Commander on Menae. Though here she was frail and in a hospital bed — Commander Jane Shepard of the Normandy, first human Spectre, hero of the Citadel, conqueror of the Collectors, Savior of the Galaxy. Her image on the extranet and vids didn’t do Shepard justice, painting her as a larger-than-life figure for humanity to live up to. Something Castis was sure even she couldn’t live up to. Maybe it would have been better if she had died in battle — to die for the cause, be the legend she had been built up to be. An honor for any family. What more could the Alliance ask for? Yet what kind of world would she be waking up to? What impossible pedestal would she be put upon? All of that didn’t matter to Castis, what mattered was his son, as selfish as that was — but he knew Garrus. No matter where Shepard went, he knew Garrus would follow. “I’m not good at these things. Garrus's mother was the delegate and worked in the diplomatic corps back on Palaven. She turned down a council position after the kids were born, wanted to give them some form of stability. Something Citadel life doesn’t always allow. I know my work didn’t allow that even after joining C-Sec. Duty always came first. It’s the turian way, but Laurus could always find the balance.”

Castis sighed again as he looked down at the locket in his hand. “You two would have gotten along. From what I’ve been told, you're a strong, confident woman, eloquently spoken, and have a wicked sense of humor — all things my Laurus was.”A hitch in Casti's voice. “If not for you, I have a feeling I would have buried a child and my wife. It’s a debt I can never repay, yet I owe you my thanks, Commander. You brought my son back to our family. He was able to say goodbye to his mother, but if you could just do one more impossible thing and wake up.” Castis leaned over Shepard’s bed and placed the locket next to her head, pinning it to the pillow so it wouldn’t get lost.“Laurus, watch over our son’s mate. Help the commander find her way back to the world of the living. I’ll watch over our boy — make sure he keeps both feet on the ground.” Garrus had exited the bathroom, washed and dressed in the items his father had brought him. The clothing hung looser than Castis liked, his brave child wasting to nothing. Still, he didn’t blame Garrus; he knew too well what it was like to wait in this hell. How it aged your soul and left you a shell of who you once were.

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eriquin · 2 months

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The Trolley Problem, part 31

Steve is not the only one worried about Eddie.

(master post)

Sometimes Eddie stayed out late on Sunday night and didn’t make it home on Monday morning. It wasn’t a great habit, but it wasn’t his worst one, either. So, Wayne wasn’t immediately alarmed when he didn’t see the van in its spot by the trailer after his Sunday night shift. He hoped that Eddie would at least see fit to go to school from wherever he’d ended up, but he didn’t have high hopes for that, either.

Sure enough, he was awakened around eleven AM with the shrill ring of the phone. It was the high school, calling to tell him that Eddie had missed class, again. Wayne thanked them and went back to sleep. He’d try to have a talk with him about not missing school when he got home.

But Eddie still wasn’t home when he got up that evening. His room was just the same as it had been that morning. Wayne picked up some stray dishes from it and brought them to the kitchen, all the while wondering where his nephew had gotten to this time. A quick check of the fridge showed that the leftovers he’d put there for Eddie to eat on Sunday were still there. The boy didn’t often turn down food, which meant that he hadn’t been home at all Sunday night. He decided that it would keep for another night, and he left Eddie a note for when he got home. It said that Wayne missed him, and asked him to stick around until morning.

Rather than make himself another dinner, Wayne dropped by the diner on his way out to his shift. Some of his coworkers were there, too, and he sat with them and had a nice plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Benny was busy with something in the back, so he asked the fellas if any of them had seen Eddie around town. None of them had, but they reassured him that he’d turn up. Teenagers were like that sometimes, they said. Wayne knew, but he still couldn’t quite rest easy. Something felt off.

When he got home the next morning, the note hadn’t moved, the food was still untouched, and the bedroom was exactly the same. Wayne kept his boots on and went right back out to his truck. He needed to start looking.

The first thing he did was drive around a bit to Eddie’s regular hideaways. He wasn’t going to bother getting out of his truck if he didn’t spot Eddie’s big ugly van first. It wasn’t at Rick’s and it wasn’t in the lot at the Hideout. It was six in the morning and all the bars were closed, not that he expected to find Eddie at any of those. He knew the boy had a fake ID but he wasn’t much for the Hawkins bar scene if there wasn’t music involved. The record store wasn’t open yet, either.

His next best guess would be that Eddie had holed up at a friend’s house, worried about something that he couldn’t bring to Wayne. Either that, or he’d left town, which was an option he wouldn’t consider. Eddie wouldn’t leave without telling him, but more importantly, Wayne had no idea how to start looking for him if he had. He also didn’t know where any of Eddie’s friends lived, but Hawkins wasn’t that big a town. He could drive up and down streets until he saw that van.

It took Wayne about an hour of driving around to spot it. It was parked on the side of the road, and he pulled up behind it. There was a dry spot underneath it, so it had been there through the night’s rain at least. He tried the door, and found it locked. Inside, he could see Eddie’s bag on the passenger seat. He frowned at it and stepped back to think.

One of the houses nearby had a woman coming out, dressed for work and headed to her car. She peered over at Wayne with a tiny frown on her face.

Wayne pulled his cap off and nodded to her. “I’m not in your way, am I ma’am?” he asked, gesturing to his truck. It was parked on the curb near her driveway.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I just... Is that your van?”

“It’s my nephew’s,” he said. “Has it been here long?”

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked down to the end of the driveway so they wouldn’t be shouting across her yard. “Since Sunday, I think,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

Wayne scratched his head. “I sure hope so,” he said. “You haven’t seen him around, have you? Teenager, about yay tall, dark curly hair in desperate need of a trim. Dresses like some kinda modern greaser, but don’t let him know I said that.”

She smiled a little bit. “No, I haven’t seen him, but I’ll keep my eye out.” She fished a notebook out of her purse and flipped it open. “What’s your number? I’ll give you a call if he comes back, or if anyone comes for the van.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you, ma’am,” he said. He told all his details. She introduced herself as Claudia Henderson, and then excused herself so she could get off to work.

Without any more leads, Wayne got back in his truck. He left Eddie’s van there, hoping that his nephew would come back for it and come home. The fact that it hadn’t been touched since Sunday made him even more worried, and he decided it was time to call in some help.

The police station was abuzz with activity, and it took a while for Jim Hopper to have a minute to see him. There was some serious crime that had taken place, and Hopper was yelling at his officers about it. When he finally saw Wayne there, he calmed down a bit. They got a couple of cups of coffee from Flo and sat down in his office.

“What’s going on, Wayne?” Hopper asked. “What brings you by?”

“Well, I came by hoping to find my nephew sitting in one of your cells, Hop,” Wayne said. “I’m guessing he’s not, though.”

Hopper raised his eyebrows. “No, haven’t had any trouble from Eddie in a while,” he said. “Why? What’s happened?”

“I don’t rightly know.” Wayne sipped his coffee. “All I know is that he’s ain’t been home in two days. His van’s out on Cornwallis and it’s been there since Sunday night, too. I think something’s happened to him.”

“Sunday, huh?” Hopper asked. “Wayne, I hate to say it, but are you sure he hasn’t taken off somewhere?”

“Without his van?” Wayne asked. Hopper shrugged, but Wayne shook his head. “I know what he seems like, and yeah, he’ll probably leave someday. Cut and run from Hawkins, I expect that eventually. But he wouldn’t leave without telling me. He just wouldn’t.”

Hopper frowned and stared down at his desk. “I don’t know what to tell you, Wayne.” He got up and ran his hands through his hair. “I hate to say it, but you’re gonna have to fill out a missing person’s report and we’ll...” He sighted and shook his head. “We’ll have to prioritize it.”

Wayne scowled at his friend. “Are you serious? I’ve got a missing kid here. He ain’t of age yet, Hop. You know that.”

“I know,” Hopper said. He went to his door and quietly shut it, then closed the blinds. “Look, I’m gonna tell you something because we go back a ways, Wayne. You know Benny Hammond?”

Wayne scoffed. “‘Course. I get food at his diner often enough.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday,” Wayne said.

Hopper twitched a little, and Wayne thought he almost smiled beneath his mustache. “Well, all right then. Now I can call this part of the investigation. Last night, how did he seem to you?”

“How did Benny seem?” Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? What’s happened to him?”

Hopper cleared his throat and sat back down. “Strictly off the record, you hear?” he said. Wayne nodded. “We found his body this morning in the diner, shot in the head. Looked self-inflicted.”

Wayne gaped. “What in the hell?” He kept his voice low. “There’s no damn way Benny Hammond killed himself, Hop. No way.”

The look on Hopper’s face made Wayne think he agreed. “So you wouldn’t say he seemed distraught at all last night?” he asked. “Or perhaps resolved in some way? Like he’d made a big decision?”

“Not in the least,” Wayne said. He sat back in his chair and gave it some thought. “I’d say he was preoccupied, actually. He kept going back into the kitchen to check on something.”

“Anyone else there with you? Or anyone who stayed after you left?”

Wayne thought some more. “Check with Earl,” he said. “He came in just before the group for my shift left. He might know.”

“I’ll do that,” Hopper said. He wrote something down in his little notebook. “Now, back to Eddie. Do you think he would’ve gone to Benny’s? Or been anywhere near there?”

Wayne shook his head. “It’s pretty far from where I found his van. And I asked around. No one’s seen him.” He scratched his chin and a dark thought occurred to him. “You know he wouldn’t’ve done something to Benny, Hop, don’t you? You can’t think—”

“No, no,” Hopper said. “Your boy? Not a chance.” He still looked tense. “Honestly, I’m more worried that he saw something and decided to hide. Do you think he’d do that, if he saw something violent? I know he’d come to you, but if he didn’t think he could?”

“Yeah, he’d hide. No question. Just... Hell if I know where.”

“We’ll look for him. There are some places kids go, sometimes. I’ll put the word out, tell the boys to keep an eye out for him.” He closed his notebook and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “In the meantime, I need to go talk to Earl. Why don’t you go fill out that report to make it official and head home, in case he calls? And let us know if you hear anything.”

Wayne did head home, but only until it got close to the end of the school day. He called around to find someone to cover his shift for the night, then drove out to the school. He might now know where Eddie’s friends lived, but he knew what they looked like. If he could catch them at school, he could ask them when they last saw him or who else he’d been hanging out with.

There were a trio of seniors that made up the rest of Eddie’s band, and they recognized Wayne’s truck when he pulled up to them in the school parking lot. They hadn’t seen him, though. The two boys didn’t seem real concerned, but the girl asked if he was okay. She pointed out some other kids to check in with. They were younger, but they were part of one of Eddie’s clubs, and might know something.

The three boys from Eddie’s club looked a bit startled when he approached them. The littlest one tried to say that Eddie was fine, and that he hadn’t done anything. Wayne sighed and shook his head as the biggest one smacked the little one with the back of his hand.

“Gareth, come on,” the big one said. “That’s his uncle, not some teacher.” He turned back to Wayne. “We haven’t seen him since Friday, sir. Sorry.”

Wayne hummed in frustration. “Well, do you know where he might’ve gone?” he asked. “Anything new happening to him? Anyone new he’s hanging out with?”

The three of them looked at each other. “Well, kind of,” said the third one, the one who hadn’t said anything yet. “He wouldn’t tell us any details, but we know he was talking to Harrington.”

Wayne blinked a few times. “Harrington. Where do I know that name from?”

“He’s kind of a big deal in school,” the little one, Gareth, said. “Basketball team, swim team, kind of rich. Drives a beamer.” He scratched his head. “He’s been out, too. People are talking about it.”

“Doesn’t sound like the sort that Eddie’d take to,” Wayne muttered.

“Sell to, maybe,” said the big guy. He grimaced. “I mean—”

“I know what he does, son,” Wayne said. “I don’t approve of it, but it ain’t like I can stop him.”

“You already checked Rick’s?” the big guy asked.

“Rick and me don’t really get along.”

“We can talk to him,” said the middle sized kid. He gestured at the big guy. “Me and Grant, anyway. Gareth, you stay home.”

“Yeah, I figured,” said little Gareth.

“We’ll call you if we find out anything,” Grant said. “I know your number.”

“Thanks, boys.” Wayne put his cap back on and patted Grant on the shoulder. “If you hear anything about him, you let me know. Doesn’t have to be from Rick. Anything.”

They nodded, all three of them looking serious and a little worried. He waved them off and left the school behind. Then he waited at home all evening, hoping that Eddie would call or come home. By the time the sun set, he was exhausted. He fell asleep in his armchair, waiting by the phone.

#the trolley problem #time travel #wayne munson #stranger things #steddie #my writing

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1d1195 · 4 months

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hiiiii...totally okay if its not done yet, but since tomorrow is monday, do you think you will be able to give us a dolcezza update...im honestly dying to know what happens next...but no pressure....hehe 🤭

I'm rereading it now to check to make sure it makes a little more sense and my timeline works but it will be posted tomorrow around 2ish pm EST.

Here's a snippet 😉

xoxo

“I can’t stay over though,” she pouted. He frowned this time because of actual disappointment. Still not disappointed in her, just the situation. Sleeping without her seemed criminal, now. He had spent almost thirty years of life without sleeping with her. But now it seemed wrong and awful to do anything but wake up to her soft hair tickling his nose and her warm body pressed up against him. It wouldn’t be ideal, but he would manage.

“Do y’need help?” He asked coming from the kitchen to lean in front of her against the bar. It was a bit chaotic back there. But Niall could hold it down for a minute while he chatted with her. He grabbed a glass of water while he stood before her.

Honestly, he knew better than to ask if she needed help, he should have just done something for her. Of course, she would brush him off. It was lucky her car had broken down that day. She had no choice but to take Harry up on his offer to drive her around. He was grateful to the car gods. Her car dying was the best thing that could have happened to their relationship.

“Just... you’re very distracting,” she admitted, her cheeks pinking under his gaze. He gave a half smirk.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “You know that...” she grumbled and looked away from him briefly before returning her gaze to him again. “I just...” she sighed. “I need to get a few things done without distraction,” she sucked her lip into her mouth. “Does that make you mad?” She wondered.

Oh fuck. She was going to break his heart. Or cause a heart attack. That was the sweetest thing she could have said. But it broke his faith in the people in her life to hear her ask her question so shyly. Like not hanging out with him would make him love her any less. “No, Principessa. Not even a little. You’re entitled t’ your own time. Course, I’ll miss you, kitten. But y’can have all the time y’want t’yourself.”

“Oh...I don’t want to be by myself. But I need to. If you’re around I’ll just want to kiss and snuggle and stuff,” she looked at the bar and tapped her fingers on the flat surface. Harry thought his heart might pop as he chuckled to himself.

#dolcezza

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kaiannae · 4 months

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Life update (in lack of Starling update)

So, I think I would like to avoid another "going dark" episode like the one from the last two-three months. That one was because of war, and war is still very much present, but at the moment, my lack of writing is mostly due to other matters. CW Cat Medical Stuff: I have a cat. My mother is his human, but I take care of him and I love him very much. Unfortunately, he started feeling unwell two weeks ago on monday morning. He hid all sunday night, he wouldn't eat all day, he was not moving from his hidey hole, I was worried. I called the vet monday evening after confirming he was feeling worse and worse, and was instructed to give first aid painkillers and bring him the next morning. Since then, its been an ordeal of unclear diagnosis. Obvious infection without a source. My vet is very professional, but even after hospitalizing him for close care, going through multiple in-depth tests and giving him broad antibiotics, he wouldn't eat, while the tests were showing nothing but a sourceeless infection. Eventually I was sent with him to a vet hospital to do a specialized ultrasound. That too showed inconclusive results but there were enough findings to make my vet press for an abdominal operation. Its very lucky that they did, and very lucky that they insisted on doing it that same eveing. Turns out the poor thing had a gall bladder infection, which did not show in blood tests or ultrasound, and somewhere in the few hours between the last ultrasound and the operation the gall ate a hole in his stomach and it was leaking into his abdoman. The operation saved him in the nick of time, though it was touch and go for a couple of days. It is now the third day of him being back at home, he has a feeding tube and has to be tube fed 6 times a day. He also gets 9 types of meds, some of which need to be taken with food, some away from food, so I am his home nurse for the next two weeks at least, that assuming he'll keep improving. END CW Cat Medical Stuff. And as if to add insult to injury, I've been feeling ill since the begining of this week, and after testing negative at first, I am now positive for COVID and feeling it heavily. In fact, my mother now has COVID too and she needs care as well. So to summarise, I hardly have time to sleep, so investing myself in the angsty Bren and Fairy PoV enough to write is not really working right now. I must focus on taking care of parent and cat, and though I don't know how much the vet bill is yet (still pending on that) I do know its going to be in the several thousands, so I must focus on that as well. (Sadly, if you don't have pet insurance, any intensive care or test costs a fortune here.) So, please stay tuned as I try to restore some order to my life and calm things down a bit. The wizards are still very much on my mind, in fact, they are one of the things keeping me sane at the moment. If you like my writing and would like to tip me on Ko-fi, there's a link in the header of my page, or you can just search Kaiannae. (sadly I hardly uderstand Kofi, but I know the page works. I intended to make an actual content page there but never got the time with everything that's happened in the last few months.) It would all go towards bills and would be very much appreciated. Also, if you'd like to see or have an idea for a short oneshot you always wanted to see with the wizards, Starling AU or just Shadowgast, feel free to toss them in my direction. I might not be able to invest myself in my main writing right now, but I might be able to do a short thing as I wait for feeding times to post seperately for ya'll, especially night feeding times... Again, I apologize for the wait. Please stay tuned.

#starling #fanfic #critical role #shadowgast #writing #status #life #real life

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tortoisebore · 1 year

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now we need a scene of sirius first birthday after remus and him started dating, maybe also a morning when they've just woken up pleasee

this is decidedly less fluffy than its counterpart but still very sweet 🥺

tw: references to past abuse, symptoms of ptsd

Sirius woke on the morning of November 3rd with a heavy pit in his stomach.

It had been a strange week, as far as the lead up to his birthday normally went. They’d done Halloween as usual, thrown the (slightly smaller) party at James and Lily’s place in Brooklyn and invited everyone they knew within a hundred miles of New York. It had served its purpose as a distraction a little too well—somehow Sirius had managed to forget his birthday was coming at all between James’ annual signature drink (a concerning neon green, this year) and Marlene and Dorcas driving up from Boston, and, after lots of bribing and begging, finally getting Remus to cave and agree to his proposed Laszlo and Nadja bit.

Having Remus there was new and exciting, as most things were these days. They’d spent the night attached at the hip, flitting between the kitchen for drinks and the fire escape outside the bedroom window for sneaky moments to be alone. Sometime around two they’d stumbled to the street and caught a ride back to Remus’, giggling in the backseat like lovesick goons and only just managing to make it to Remus’ door before any articles of clothing found the floor.

But the next morning Sirius woke up with a scary kind of tightness in his throat, a black hole of near decade-old anger and bone-deep fear threatening to choke him and consuming his mind before he could think to control it. He’d spent the next two days at home, called out sick at work on Monday with plans to do it again on Tuesday, ignored texts from James and calls from Remus and paced the length of his living room until he was certain his downstairs neighbors thought he was going insane.

And then sometime around eight on Monday night Remus showed up at his door, straight from class, all wide, concerned eyes and ruffled hair from the wind, and Sirius debated slamming it in his face.

It was embarrassment, really. Humiliation that something as innocent as a birthday had been so viciously skewed and twisted in his mind that it fucked with his head all these years later, and worse—he didn’t know how to give words to it. Remus was there at his door, sweet and kind and so gentle with his worry that it brought a lump to Sirius’ throat, and Sirius had no explanation.

Part of him had expected Remus to be angry, had wanted him to demand answers and throw insults because if there was one thing Sirius could do, it was fight. He could argue about this, had before—could scream and yell until Remus either gave up or left, but he had no idea how to be soft with this particular bruise-turned-open-wound on his heart.

But Remus had been soft for him—had straightened up his disaster of an apartment while Sirius paced, had ordered in dinner and made him eat it, had tugged him to bed after and pulled him close and lulled him into the best sleep he’d gotten in a week.

So he woke up on the morning of November 3rd with a heavy pit in his stomach, but with an arm curled under him and wrapped tight around his middle, delicate fingers tracing patterns on the back of his arm, and lips pressed to the line of his shoulder.

He stole the hand on his arm and pulled it forward, kissed Remus’ knuckles and left them pressed to his mouth for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice muffled against his skin. "For not answering when you called."

He felt Remus shake his head, hold him tighter and shift to leave one, then two kisses behind his ear. “Don’t be,” he muttered against the back of his neck.

“It’s just��“

“I know, baby,” Remus said, tracing circles into his side. "It's okay."

And Sirius’ chest nearly caved in because he did know. He knew completely, knew entirely, and yet he was still here. Still holding him, still being soft with him.

Still loving him.

Of all the things Remus had given him over the course of the last year, this was his favorite. This warmth—this closeness pulsing somewhere deep in his chest that he recognized now as the sense of belonging he’d been searching for his entire life. Even on November 3rd, when his mind felt stuck and stubborn and insisted on remembering, when his body spiraled without warning back into the rigid, default fight mode he’d been trapped in for the first sixteen years of his life—even then, Sirius was loved. Cherished and held, adored and understood.

Safe.

November 3rd was not a day that allowed Sirius to feel content, but in that moment he felt the closest thing to peace he might ever be able to achieve on these kinds of days.

#u ask tortoise answers #anon #I am #crying #they're so sweet and soft with each other I can't handle them anymore #hey sharpshooter rambles

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melancholysway · 2 years

Text

Serendipity (2007!Raphael x Fem!Reader 4

CHAPTER IV: There’s Something About Raphael

Chapter Key:

——— = a flashback is happening or ending ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ or ====

= perspective change

~ = small time skip

You sighed to yourself as you looked in your empty camera bag. Another missed opportunity to take a beautiful picture of Stella perched up on the window sill staring into the sunset that loomed over New York City.

Sunset. A moment of peace and clarity, before street lights come on to illuminate illegal activity, crime, bad decisions, and deviancy. The moment before the moon comes in and takes over the sun with its bright light. It stays in the sky for hours before the sun claims its spot, and the cycle repeats.

It was almost time for the moment all of NYC waits for: Nighttime.

The time when every other city sleeps, yet the people of New York City fail to follow this stigma and are forever awake and alive.

Crime seems to not take a break either, and that was the downfall of this city’s tendency to stay awake. However, that’s exactly what The Nightwatcher is for, to stop the crimes that policemen are too tired to pick up or are too slow to get to.

About five weeks went by since the attack and when you last saw The Nightwatcher. Your wound had healed up fine with no complications, so there was no reason to tell Casey about anything that required Raph’s presence to fix.

Aside from this, you’ve been holding up fine.

You had the strength to go to Monday’s classes, and once your 1-2:15 pm class was done, you had the rest of the day to yourself and didn't have classes until Wednesday. You and Jade took this opportunity and had all of that Tuesday in between to hang out and grab a bite at a nearby Asian Fusion restaurant to finish off the day. Aside from not walking anywhere deserted or empty such as alleys or quiet towns far from the city, you felt perfectly safe walking around on your own. Raphael was right about the Purple Dragons moving on from you to someone else because, in the days that followed, you heard word on campus that they had mugged an older couple.

Other than that, you’ve been untouched. However, you know to not let your guard down, and to really watch what you say to some New Yorkers.

And now, five weeks later, here you are. In your room upset still about your camera.

You wondered when Raphael would grace his presence again. You were hung up on the fact that he said he was going to try to get it fixed, and were confident that you would see him again.

You just didn’t know how long it would take.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“‘Ey, Don!” Raph’s voice made Donny jolt from surprise and halt his clock in for his shift as tech support.

“What’s up, Raph?” Donnie absolutely hated when that happened. He especially hated when Mikey would creep up on him and scare him on purpose, he was the easiest to scare out of the four. However, he wouldn’t dare confront his older brother about it.

Raph smirked, “Nuthin’ much, sorry I scared ya.” He looked down at his younger brother sitting tensely in his worn-out office chair.

Donnie spun around in his chair, “It’s cool, do you need something?” the spinning element of his chair is part of the reason Donatello loved it in the first place. He banned Mikey from sitting in it because of this very reason. He just wouldn’t stop spinning, until one day, Mikey spun so much that he winded up flying out of Donnie’s chair and sprained his ankle.

“Nah, just wonderin’ if you eva finished fixin’ that camera.”

Donnie placed his feet on the ground and abruptly stopped his spinning. “I did, actually. Thanks, it got rid of my boredom.” Getting up from his chair, he walked toward the large table that was for his various trinkets and gadgets. Some were completed, and some were left unfinished. He picks up the polaroid camera that he spent in his free time fixing for Raphael. He didn’t ask questions about why he needed it fixed, he just saw an opportunity to put his mind to work and took it.

---

“Can you fix dis?” Raphael’s amber-colored eyes stared at Donnie’s brown ones through his magnifying goggles.

Donnie looked at the broken item in Raph’s hands and couldn’t quite comprehend what it was. “And what exactly is ‘dis,’ Raph?” He mimicked his brother’s accent, earning an eye roll from him.

“A camera, or more like what's left of it. I don’ know, just thought it’d give ya sumthin’ ta do.”

“Something to do…”

Raph places the remnants of the girl's camera on Donnie's table in his lab, as he backs away to let his younger brother take a look at it.

“...Give me three weeks max.”

---

“Thanks, lil bro.” Raph nudges Donnie’s head and picks up the camera, admiring his intelligent brother’s work. He notices a tiny slot on the left side, and that’s when Donnie clears his throat to get his attention.

“Before you take it, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

Donatello reaches into a nearby drawer and takes out a very, very tiny black card.

“I know whose camera you brought back.”

Donatello is smart. There isn’t a dumb bone in his mutant turtle body.

When it came to things that weren’t about science or math, he wasn’t as smart, but still was.

He was slightly clueless sometimes, yet other times could find small inconsistencies in what people said like he was a DA during trial.

That’s why Donatello was such a strong member of the team.

With that being said, he had a hunch about this.

---

Donatello wasn’t one to be nosy like Michaelangelo. So, when Raphael brought a random broken camera home and asked him to fix it, he brushed any skepticism aside and tended to the task at hand.

However, one night as he was still getting familiar with all the parts he had and some were missing, he noticed the tiny slot on the left that was still able to pop in and out.

And by pressing it, out popped the micro SD card inside. The more surprising part was that it was still intact.

It might’ve been a bit extreme on Donnie’s part, but he quickly turned on his computer and put it in a holder to insert into his PC.

He prayed to whatever higher up that there wasn’t anything invasive or…rated R on it.

He clicked through the many folders on his personal computer until he found the one he was looking for in his recent.

Taking a deep breath, he clicked on the newest folder and waited for it to load onto his computer. Donnie watched as an array of different tiny squares scattered across his screen, and he picked the first one to easily navigate through the others without missing any.

Donatello seemed to remember this face, it was of Casey and April's neighbor, Y/n.

‘This is the girl Casey and April know, is it not?’ He pondered. Donatello remembered a few times he and his brothers would have to go upstairs to hide so they wouldn’t reveal themselves to their friend's neighbor. Donatello was able to get a good look at her at times, and there was no doubt that she was the owner of the camera Raph found.

He clicked through and landed on a clear shot of her, as she stood next to someone Donnie could think of as being her friend. Donnie studied the photo. The background looked like someone's bedroom, and they both put peace signs up at the camera. Y/n’s e/c eyes seemed to shine from the flash, and they were staring back at him.

After going through a few other photos, Donnie stopped and took the SD card out of his computer.

He enjoyed this. Donatello found it interesting what humans did and what their life was like. To be fair, he and his brother's first taste of what the human world was like was seeing Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” on a big screen in Times Square through a sewage gate at around 8 years old. He could never forget that day, and although he’s grown now and constantly sees how humans talk and interact through TV and patrol (before Leo left for training,) he still enjoys seeing what their lives are like and how they live on the surface. It comes bittersweet, though, he can witness it, but never be able to experience it for himself. And this, dear readers, was the downside of Donatello’s continuous curiosity.

---

“How’d you get her camera?” Donny asked a visibly confused Raphael.

“Didn’t know it was ‘ers. Casey found it and gave it ‘ta me to give to you; thought you would be able ‘ta fix it.” Lie.

What else could Raph say?

‘Oh yeah found it while me and Casey were out beating up Purple Dragons, we saved her, and I stitched her up. But don’t worry, she doesn’t know who I am because I wore my Nightwatcher suit and got her to close her eyes while I did it.’ Yeah, like that would fly with Donny. He cannot let any of his brothers figure out he’s the Nightwatcher. The fact that he’s already defying Splinter’s orders to not fight while Leo’s gone is bad enough. Not only that, but he revealed a part of himself to a complete stranger.

“From what you gave me in the beginning, it seemed like it was smashed forcefully. I mean, there’s no way she may have dropped it.” Ah. Raph was understanding where Donnie was going with this. The purple-banded turtle didn’t have anything to go off of conspiracy-wise due to lack of evidence, but he still had a funny feeling that it wasn’t Y/n who broke it.

“Do you know where Casey found it?”

“On the street, near an alley somewhere.” Raph really felt like he was being interrogated.

“An alley? Why would it be there? Instead of dumping it, she probably would want it to be fixed, righ-” “Look, Don. I don’t know.” Donatello was a little too smart for his brother's liking. Either that or he’s a terrible liar. Or both.

Donatello walks back over and takes a seat in his chair. He successfully clocks in and waits for someone to call.

“Tell Casey to check up on Y/n, because who else resides in an alley?”

Raphael rolls his eyes for what seemed like the 367th time at his brother.

“Tha bad guys, Don.”

“Exactly. Now, shoo.” Donnie motions for Raph to get out of his lab so he can work in peace, much like how he always has to kick Mikey out while he’s on the clock. Getting the hint, Raph thanks his sibling again before shutting the door behind him.

“How about I check up on ‘er instead, Don?” Raph suggests to himself.

---

Now, Raphael was not one to forcefully insert himself into anyone’s life. I mean, how could he, anyway? He’s the complete opposite of Mikey. He remembered a few years back when Mikey found someone’s cat on the roof and went to return it, only to be called a “mutant freak” by the owner. He’d rather save himself the heartbreak of not being accepted by people and keep it pushing. April and Casey accepted him, that’s all that mattered.

He was though, once accepted and was involved with a girl before Leo had left: Sabrina.

Sabrina had been Raphael’s first crush. He didn’t know what to do around her. Sabrina’s friendship was a total mistake, remember earlier when it was mentioned that Mikey inserts himself in others' lives and not Raph? Yeah, this happened here.

All 4 brothers had rescued a girl from being robbed by the PDs, and Mikey had gotten excited because he noticed that her school bag had a pin from his favorite show. He stepped out of the shadows on accident but didn’t get screaming or fainting in return. Instead, they had a 10-minute conversation geeking out about the show until Leonardo put a stop to it. Unknowingly, they had befriended a short, brunette wavy-haired 18-year-old girl.

From then on, Sabrina had been a good friend of theirs, and somehow found a way to Raphael’s heart without even trying.

It was expected mostly from Donnie, because (although he begs them not to bring it up anymore,) he was the first one who had feelings for the only human girl they had met prior to Sabrina: April. Although Donnie got over it with time, it was also because he knew he had no chance once Casey came along.

Raph wasn’t sure why he fell for Sabrina. She was a mix between Donnie and Mikey- nerdy, crazy, you name it, but in a good way. Her clear, mocha skin and hourglass figure are something that especially caught him, as well as her forest-green eyes. She was the complete opposite of Raph, which is probably what attracted him to her in the first place. He wasn’t one to spill his feelings, so he dropped subtle hints here and there. He was a flirt, and that was what enticed Sabrina.

They became close, closer than he’d ever imagined.

He would come by almost every night, and they would talk for hours until she fell asleep. One night though, Sabrina had found the courage to flirt back, and this was the night of Raphael’s first kiss. He found that he loved it, and he might’ve even maybe loved her.

This lasted for about a year and a half until she packed up and went to college, never to come back since she was moving as well. It wasn’t like Sabrina broke his heart or anything, she just was moving on in her life, and he wouldn’t be a part of it. It became reality when her number wasn’t working, as she got a new one. There was no way to contact her or rekindle anything they had. It was a hard pill to swallow for him but Raphael eventually got over it. So, he doesn’t bring it up. It’s simply a memory of what once was.

---

Raphael seemed to like the idea of coming to see you.

He of course wasn’t comfortable with revealing himself to you, but at the same time, he wondered what you would think about him.

You already knew that he has 3 fingers, so fuck it. Raphael didn’t like change, but he also didn’t like platonic routines. He needed something to spice up his life. After all, he has so many years to live, why not live it up and do new things?

So, he decided on paying you a visit. Besides, your camera had to be returned.

Making his way to his room, Raph takes his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder. Without being noticed by Splinter or his baby brother, he leaves the lair and opens the makeshift garage that held his bike. It was right next to Mikey’s Cowabunga Carl van, how it usually is.

Raph changes into his nighttime persona and places his helmet on as the final touch. Finally.

Revving up his bike, the red-clad turtle decides to take a spin around the city as the sun sets before stopping by at your house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a chilly Thursday evening, and you were cooped up in your studio apartment. After Skyping your mom to say hello and catch up, you decided to get started on some dinner. You scattered through your fridge to find something good to make, but nothing good. You were leaning toward a homecooked meal rather than something frozen.

After thinking of recipes to make, you were reminded of something that Jade’s mom made one time you came over for dinner. Although you never asked for the recipe, you could very clearly remember how it tasted with the different spices and herbs. Not only that, but you could put your slow cooker to use and have the possibility of making leftovers.

You gathered the food items and ingredients you thought you needed: Rice, an array of spices and seasonings, chicken breasts, and…

Ah.

You were out of asparagus.

Jade’s mom had pan-seared them with some minced garlic, butter, and pepper. They tasted heavenly. Even Jade- who’s known to be picky when it comes to vegetables, loved the way they tasted.

No biggie, the local grocery store was no longer than a 5-minute walk. The sun was still setting, being that it was around 7 pm. Getting on a pair of sneakers and a sweater, you left your home and toward the elevator that took you down to the lobby.

You walked the streets of New York. The air was brisk, with the occasional gust of wind tickling your skin. You passed countless people, none that you’ve ever seen before. The random drug dealers on the corner, small stand-owners that were selling trinkets or food to get by, homeless men and women asking for money, hookers that stood on the corner and tried to swoon men into buying their services, and so on.

New York City, you either love it, or you hate it. There is no in-between.

You just so happened to love it.

Despite the crime and terrible things that may happen, NYC is truly a beautiful place, a melting pot of different cultures, and people that come from all walks of life.

Making your way across the street when the light changed, you’re introduced to the small grocery store you’re very familiar with going to. The gorgeous array of fresh fruits and veggies, the deli meats that were cut to perfection, it was a nice staple in the area you were in. It also just so happened to be the closest to you.

You grabbed a plastic baggie and ripped it from the other small ones attached to the rack, and walked past the few people standing in front of the fresh veggie section. You looked toward the asparagus next to the crowns of broccoli and picked a bundle that looked the most vibrant in green.

Placing it in your baggie and tying a knot to close it, you walk toward the register to pay. A mere $2.51, is not bad at all! You hand the cashier a $5 bill after he puts it in a yellow bag for you to carry. You tell him to keep the receipt. Nodding, you’re handed your change and put it in your pocket, “Have a good evening.”

The young man smiles at you, “You do the same.”

Exiting the store, you start on your way home. The sun is getting to the point where it’ll be replaced by the moon, and the nighttime will officially be here.

“Stella, no.” For what seemed like the 30th time in the span of a few minutes while you prepared the chicken, Stella was clawing at your sweats because she was interested in eating whatever you were making.

You were pretty excited about a nice calm dinner tonight, you were putting the chicken in the slow cooker with the rice and decided to wait until that was done to make the asparagus. It shouldn’t take long, anyway.

While you waited, you connected your phone to the speaker in your room and allowed it to play loud enough to hear in the living area with the TV. During the wait, you caught up on some of your studies. It was mostly Physics. There was an exam coming up in less than two weeks, and you wanted to be more than prepared to take it. You seemed to breeze right through it, and before you knew it, about forty-five minutes went by.

You were sitting on the couch petting Stella with one hand and writing with the other until you heard a knock on your window that came from the bedroom. It sounded strikingly similar to the one you heard the last time you saw Raph. Despite knowing nothing about him, you felt an excitement bubble inside you, and anxiety beginning to form simultaneously. You hoped it was Raphael because it meant your camera might be fixed. Not only that, but this was your chance to convince him to stay awhile and chat.

Placing your Physics textbook on the coffee table, you walked briskly to your window to investigate the sound.

Looking at the window, you couldn’t help but smile at what you saw.

It was Raphael, in his full metal armor, Camera in hand.

You unlocked the window and opened it up, the gust of cool night wind entering your bedroom. It was finally nighttime, and the New York City lights replaced the sun in the darkness.

“Raph?” You were confused as to why he didn’t just knock on your door. It was extremely odd that he came through the fire escape, but after thinking about it for a moment, you would probably feel giddy and anxious if The Nightwatcher passed by you in your own apartment building.

“I uh…I have sumthin’ for ya.” His muffled voice through his helmet states. You noticed the slight stuttering with his words, almost as if he was nervous to be in your presence.

“You actually fixed it?” Taking it from his hands, you look all around your camera. It’s just like how you remembered it, old but still fully functional.

“Nah, not me. I got one of my bros to fix it.” You noticed a sense of pride in his tone, almost as if he was proud of his own brother's work.

“Tell them to thank you for me, seriously. This camera…means a lot to me.” Popping open the little slot on the side, you see the memory card there, and you pop it back in place, relief cascading over your entire body. A few weeks in you thought you had misplaced your SD card, but remembered that you left it inside the camera that day. Up until now, you had assumed your memories had been wiped, there was a slim chance the micro SD card would be preserved after what happened. But, it did.

A complete stranger had gone out of their way to fix your beloved device with no questions asked. No favor in return expected.

Without second-guessing it, you hugged Raph. Your arms going around his waist instead of his neck. You felt something rock hard on his back that felt abnormal.

It was possible that his suit could have a storage compartment back there. But at the same time, it didn’t make sense on why he would have one in the first place.

You immediately felt him tense up, and his arms didn’t wrap around you as yours did him. However, you didn’t expect them to. You were just happy someone took the time to help you.

You pull away after a few moments, and Raph clears his throat.

“How are ya holdin’ up?” He asks. It’s hard to tell what his facial expressions are because you can’t see his face through his helmet, but his tone seemed to match what his face might show.

You were about to answer until suddenly a particularly colder gust of wind shoots through the window, and you shiver in response.

“Would you want to come inside, Raphael?”

You couldn’t believe Raph was in your apartment. He still kept his suit on despite now being indoors, but you knew he wouldn’t take it off from your interaction last time you suggested it. He seemed uneasy at first, but after some persuasion with dinner, he complied. You allowed Raph to make himself comfortable, and he found your couch extremely comfortable. It looked as though Stella found him comfortable because she immediately jumped on his lap once he sat down.

The chicken and rice were finished, and while you made the asparagus in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but laugh at how Raph interacted with Stella on the couch. It was cute. Raphael seemed to like cats because he knew just the right spots to scratch that made Stella purr and meow with glee. You wondered if he had any pets of his own.

You and Raphael made small talk while you were finishing up cooking the last part of the meal, and it was pleasant. You informed him that your wound was healing up fine, and you were getting back to moving normally slowly but surely. You answered all his questions about cleaning it and dressing it with many confident “yes’s.” It felt like Raph appreciated you taking care of your own wound, and you lifted up your sweatshirt to show him the progress. Lifting it down, you thanked him again for patching you up, and for getting your camera fixed.

“What’s it mean to ya?” He asked. You continued plating the food for both of you and pondered.

“Well,” You grabbed a portion of asparagus with a pair of tongs to put on both plates. “My mom got it for me. I moved here alone for college, and it was a good luck gift.”

Finishing, made your way to the couch. Sitting down beside Raph, you handed a plate to him. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“U-Um, do you want me to like, turn around?” You realized eating required Raph to lift his helmet, and he seemed to realize that too.

“Nah, that’d be weird. You shouldn’t be able to see much anyway.” He was right. It was dark outside, and that meant the only source of light you would get is from the TV that was on in your living space in front of you both.

Raphael took a gamble and assumed you wouldn’t see.

Which you didn’t.

It surely wasn’t ideal for him, having to lift it to take a bite of his food; nonetheless, he enjoyed each time he did. You both sat beside each other on your couch (slightly awkwardly,) while the noise from the TV echoed through your apartment.

Despite the distraction of the TV, you had decided to spike up another conversation with Raphael. He winded up complementing your cooking, and you couldn’t help but smile at his words.

You firstly started by asking where he learned to fight. You couldn’t forget the type of fighting style he had, but couldn’t put your finger on the name of it. He explained that he was raised by his Japanese father that taught him ninjitsu, which he practiced in his free time (this was quite often, he mentions.) Not only that, but you also learned that he followed Bushido, which is something you didn’t expect. It seemed hard for him to open up, but at the same time, that’s all Raphael wanted to do sometimes. He winded up going on a slight tangent about his fighting skills, and he told you he had polished them to be damn near perfect. You had heard pride seer through his words and his tone.

The conversation seemed to bounce between him and you.

He wondered why you chose a college in NYC.

“Why not, you know? It’s a beautiful city with so many opportunities.” To this, he agreed.

You explained your current living situation, and how you managed to stay here and go to college at the same time. He seemed to admire the fact that you had a job and went to school. He asked you about your job, and you pointed out being a waitress at a local diner.

You asked Raph some more questions about his life, like if he went to college or anything. He explained he didn’t go to any real school but learned at home. He wasn’t planning on going to college.

How could he, anyway?

For now, his duty as a vigilante was what he was focused on.

“Someone has ‘ta keep the streets safe. These lousy cops sure ain’t,” He stated. Raphael seemed to be extremely passionate about what he did and why. Judging from his accent, he sounded like he was from Brooklyn. His accent was one you’ve heard plenty of times off the street, but he was one in particular that you enjoyed hearing. He winded up telling you why exactly he became The Nightwatcher. Not only was it to keep the city safe, but it was because of that day he heard about the Purple Dragons violating and killing a woman. Raphael’s tone was uneasy since the thought of it made him physically ill. He couldn’t believe some people existed who did such things, but this world isn’t rainbows and butterflies, he explained.

You didn’t want to pry, but you wanted to know some more about his life. Other than being a vigilante, what else was there for Raphael? There was something about Raphael that made you extremely curious.

“You mentioned brothers once, right?” You scrape your plate, gathering the scattered pieces of rice for one last delightful bite.

“Yeah, I got three.” He was able to come clean about his family and siblings. He mentioned that one of them is an I.T tech support online, the other was a host for kids' parties, and another was in a different country since last year, and some change. He seemed to like talking about his father and two brothers that were currently at home but had some sort of animosity against the one who was abroad from the way he described him.

He went (pretty vaguely) on about how they lived. Other than all learning ninjitsu and how they were all the same age (you learned he was the same age as you,) and just minutes apart, you had no clue which part of NYC he or his brothers resided in. You had assumed he was born in NYC because his accent was a dead giveaway of where he was from and where he lived. Not only that, but you didn’t know how he knew Casey.

“Ah, he’s a family friend.” Was all he said. It seemed he and Casey were pretty close, but he provided no backstory on how they met. He went into slight detail about knowing April before Casey, and she eventually brought Casey around to meet him and his brothers.

You told him about your small friend group, too. When it only consisted of your good friend Jade. Because you were still fairly new and only just close to completing your first year in college, you were still low in the friend department. You told him briefly about how you befriended Casey and April, and you went to thinking. You thought about a potential friendship between you and Raph. You already knew the same people, and Raphael saw firsthand how Casey cared about you as if he was your older brother. So, you were able to be trusted somewhat.

Raphael wasn’t about to risk it all and reveal himself to you with just over a small ounce of trust.

He couldn’t be selfish to his family and potentially put them in danger. But, he knew deep down Mikey and Donatello and even Splinter would want someone new to talk to. Someone trustworthy like April and Casey yet came from a different walk of life than they had. God knows when Leo is coming back, anyway.

So, here you were.

---

“Here I am!” The loudmouth mutant states as he skillfully flips from the stairs and onto the living room couch. The orange-banded turtle had just gotten back from another day of getting beat by kids, but his tips for the day are what put him in such a good mood in addition to the other news.

Today was the day, Leonardo was coming back.

“Hey, Mikey.” Donny put his hand out like he usually does when his younger brother gets home from work, and got a wad of cash in his hand as a response.

“Probably be the last of it, Leo’s coming back!” Mikey was extremely hyper about today. It had been a full year since Leonardo went away for training, and he was finally coming home.

Although Raphael was still upset about Leo leaving from the beginning, he was also slightly excited and relieved his older brother was coming back. Crime wasn’t taking a break just because Leo did, and the streets were getting worse.

“I am also happy Leonardo will be returning, Michelangelo.” Splinter came from the shadow of his room, gathering with his 3 sons in the living room. Leo should be home in the next hour or two, so they all sat in anticipation ready.

There had been a sound from one of the pipes outside the lair, indicating someone was entering.

Mikey couldn’t seem to contain his excitement, and he stood right in front of the wall that would soon reveal his oldest brother.

Only, it wasn’t Leo.

It was April and Casey. April held a slightly worn-out envelope that was labeled with a South American stamp.

“We got mail from Leonardo again, I thought he was coming today?” Casey asked, April handed the envelope over to their rat sensei, and he tore the top open with his nail.

“What’s it say, Masta Splintah?” Raphael asked, getting restless.

“Leonardo has decided to continue his training beyond the time I originally sent him for.” Mikey’s seemingly permanent smile faltered for the first time today, and he slouched on the couch.

Raphael looked toward Mikey, sulking now. Donnie had a disappointing look on his face, and Master Splinter sighed deeply at the news.

Leonardo had become so immersed in his training, that he forgot to take into consideration what his family thought.

“Great. Just great. Now we havta sit here without Fearless for God knows how long now!” Raph exclaimed. He hated seeing his little brother so upset. Mikey was the most excited to see Leo, and he didn’t show. Raph was especially angry because, despite Leo’s training period ending and him not showing, it still meant they had to refrain from fighting on the surface. Which also meant crime would continue to plague the city.

‘Fuck. That.’ Raph thought. He was on the brink of defying Splinter’s orders, but not yet. Raphael knew he would be the first to crack, he was never one to follow rules very well, anyway. He just didn’t know when.

---

As the night went on, you and Raph caught a glimpse into each other's lives. He seemed to like listening to you speak, and vice versa. You noticed that Raph would go on tangents and sometimes it was hard to follow, but he always went back full circle to his first point. He just had a lot to say, and this was the first time in a long time that someone was listening.

You realized you had spent 2 whole hours together in your apartment. When you and he were finished eating, you got up and motioned for him to give you his plate so you could wash it. Instead, he gets up and takes yours and insists he washes them since “It’s only right, ya fed me.” To which you complied and sat back down on the couch.

Whilst drying the dishes, the police chatter suddenly came on Raph’s radio. There was a robbery occurring at a nearby drugstore.

“How’d you get that?” You asked, Raphael, stretched his limbs slightly as if he was getting ready for something.

“I have my ways Y/n. I like ta beat ‘em to tha punch.”

“So…you’re leaving?” You asked. He nodded his head, almost reluctantly

“Thanks, fa dinna,’ I haven’t had sumthin’ that good in a while.” Raph complimented your cooking once again, and you blushed at the fact that he appreciated your amateur cooking skills.

“It’s the least I could do. After all, you help so many people every night in this city, and you went out of your way and helped me.” You watched as he walked towards the window of your bedroom from where he came in earlier, and you frowned.

“Wait, Raph.” The suited man stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you.

“I know you came back to return my camera but, when will I see you again?” You looked at his visor and hoped that you were staring directly at his eyes. Raphael wondered, too.

He wasn’t able to come around during the day, only at night. Besides, he usually caught up on sleep during the day, anyway.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously while asking your next question before he could respond to the first one. “And I was thinking…we could be friends?”

“Friends, huh?” Raphael didn’t have any friends other than Casey and April. Sure, there was Sabrina, but she was no longer in his life. He pondered about it for a minute.

“I’m determined to learn more about you. There has to be more to you than just The Nightwatcher.”

You didn’t realize it.

You didn't realize that what you just said made Raphael’s heart skip a beat.

It’s funny, he’s only known you for a little bit, and vice versa. Yet, you have this persistence to get to know him. The real Raph.

“I’ll swing by sometime, promise.” With that, he waved you goodbye and uttered “Have a good night.” To which you replied that he does the same, as well as to be safe out there.

Opening your window and standing on the fire escape, he let himself out.

As you closed the window and sat on your bed, you were confused as to what his response meant.

Were you friends, were you not?

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either.

However, he did promise he would come by again, and he emphasized the word ‘promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After jumping up onto the roof, Raphael took his helmet off for some fresh air, and a moment before setting out to find the crime as he sighed.

Despite not knowing his face, you trusted him enough to let him in and sit in your apartment, as well as know where you lived. He could’ve been one of those sleazy guys he and his brothers used to protect women from on patrol, but he wasn’t. You had some type of trust.

He felt a funny feeling brew inside him, where the all-too-familiar imaginary butterflies flew around his midsection.

He thought back to what you said before he left.

“There has to be more to you than just The Nightwatcher.”

Putting his helmet back on, he jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

As he made his presence known on the street beside a drugstore where the alleged crime was taking place and tripped the thief to stop him, Raphael concluded that he wanted to get to know you more than he already did.

What your likes and dislikes were, your little quirks, your opinion on certain viewpoints, and your thought process.

And he couldn't wait to do just that.

In contrast, you were excited for him to share the same.

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

Text

Heart Shaped Wound

Chapter 36

Author’s note: you get to meet your possible father in law.

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Katsumi felt his face go pale when he saw the large bouquet of coral, peach and red roses on (your name)’s door step. It was as if the giant bouquet was mocking him with its expensive undertones.

Katsumi crooned his head behind him to make sure (your name) nor Zaria were behind him so he could look at who they were from. The karateka sighing in relief once he realized no one was awake quite yet.

Katsumi lifted up the card, his eyes widening at the note on the card.

‘You belong to me.’ And it was signed by Hanayama Kaoru… what did Hanayama want with (your name)? Was he harassing her too? Did he need the beat him up too?

“Katsumi?” Katsumi placed the card back and went back into the house to see a sleepy (your name) standing in her room’s doorway. “Here’s one of my shirts.”

Katsumi smiled when she handed him a cream colored top that smelled just like her. Katsumi was absolutely smitten with her… he just didn’t want to share her with anyone.

Katsumi reached forward and pulled her into his arms. The young man burying his nose into her shoulder as he inhaled. Couldn’t she just move in with him already? They already spent the night with each other a lot… maybe he’ll invite her over to his place again on Monday?

“I’ll see you around, Katsumi.” (Your name) smiled up at the karateka.

Katsumi bit his lip before deciding to speak. “Are you seeing Hanayama Kaoru?”

(Your name) furrowed her brows at Katsumi. Had he snooped through her things while she was sleeping or… Hanayama left a bouquet on her door step didn’t he?

(Your name) made her way towards the front door, Katsumi quickly following her.

“I didn’t mean to pry-“ Katsumi’s eyes widened when (your name) glared at the note. Her eyes glancing up at Katsumi.

“I’m not so sure I am now.” (Your name) set the flowers on the table before shredding the note. “I don’t like when people think I belong to them. I’m not an object.”

Katsumi gulped. He didn’t want to fall out of her grace so he would pry anymore than he already has. He just didn’t think he’d have competition… he just thought Retsu was his rival…

“Katsumi?” Katsumi hadn’t realized he was clenching her shirt so roughly, he quickly bowed his head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… I’m jealous.” Katsumi answered truthfully. He wanted to beat up Hanayama too. He wanted to beat up every guy who even dared to look at (your name). And if they touched her? They were as good as dead.

(Your name) placed a hand on Katsumi’s cheek and pressed her lips to his. The young man wrapping his arms around her with a smile. He just hoped he was her favorite…

“I need to get around for work. I’ll see you around, okay?” Katsumi nodded but he hesitated leaving her warm embrace. He didn’t want to leave… he hated when he wasn’t by her side. Couldn’t they get married already? Katsumi was ready to commit.

“I hate leaving you.” Katsumi whined as he pulled away. “It’s always so hard to go.”

“We’ll see each other soon though.” Katsumi gave her a soft kiss as he gently pressed her body up against the table. His forehead against hers as he sighed in contentment.

“I’ll see you Friday then.” Katsumi smiled at her as he made his way out of her house.

(Your name) sighed once he was out of sight. It seems even Katsumi was getting a bit impatient about her making a decision. What should she do? And what should she do about Hanayama’s increased possessive behavior?

“Have a good rest of the day! Don’t forget to do your homework!” (Your name) waved at her students who all cheered about being out of school.

She would have to hurry up here and then go meet Kureha at the coffee shop. Maybe she should freshen up in the bathroom at work?

(Your name) made her way towards the end of the classroom, her heart stopping when she saw a muscular man with medium length red hair sitting in the chair at her desk.

“Hello?” (Your name) could feel how powerful this man was from the door. He was terrifying whenever he was. “Can I help you, sir?”

He didn’t look like any of the parents of her kindergarteners… just who could this man be?

The man stood up at his full height. His form towering slightly over hers. He was massive.

“My sons have a lot of interests in you.” The man stated with a soft grin. “I think you should be with one of them. I like you a lot.”

(Your name) felt a chill go down her spine when the man held her chin and tilted her face up to look at him.

“You could even pick both of them for all I care. I just would prefer you allow one of them to be the sire for your children.” The man tilted her head from side to side with a click of his tongue. “Shame I’m not as young as I used to be or you could’ve had children directly from the source.”

(Your name) dared not to speak. She didn’t know who this man was or what he was capable of but she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“I can tell from your face you have no idea who I am. Lucky for you, I’m aware you’re from a third world country.” Okay that was an insult and not one she wanted to hear. But she wasn’t going to upset this man. “My name is Yujiro Hanma. Your future father in law.”

This man… was Jack’s father? The one who raped his mother and ruined his life… oh god.

“Seems one of them mentioned me. Was it the blonde one?” Yujiro gave her a menacing grin, his red eyes looking like fire under the light. “I hit the nail on the head didn’t I? I’m so happy one of my sons mentioned me. Although I’d prefer if you set your sights on Baki.”

Yujiro released her face with a satisfied grin. The red head putting his hands in his pockets as he began to walk away.

“We’ll meet again. Just don’t forget that you have my approval.”

Once Yujiro was out of sight, (your name) fell to her knees. She felt as if she lost all her strength just being in the general vicinity of that man. Was he even human? How could someone be so menacing?

(Your name) slowly rose up and continued cleaning up her classroom. She didn’t have time to think too much about Yujiro. She had a date with Kureha and she might call Jack after…

Jack clenched his teeth when he saw his father standing before him. What on earth could that bastard want?

“I paid your girlfriend a visit this afternoon.” Yujiro smirked at the glare he received from Jack.

“What did you do?” Jack felt his whole body tremble in anger. Yujiro didn’t hurt (your name) did he? God… Jack didn’t know what he would do if Yujiro so much as touched a hair on her head.

“Relax, lover boy. I just told her I approve of her.” Yujiro laughed at the blonde who’s jaw was still clenched. “Shouldn’t she get along with her future father in law?”

Yujiro gave Jack a slap on the back with a grin.

“You have fantastic taste. She’ll have strong children-“ Yujiro easily dodge a swing from Jack’s fist with an amused smile. “Can’t even joke with my son?”

Jack just glared at Yujiro who clicked his tongue.

“You’re no fun. Maybe that’s why she has so many admirers.” Yujiro smirked at the shift in Jack’s expression. Was his son insecure? How funny. “You should just take what you want. You’re a Hanma whether you want to accept that fact or not. Act like one.”

Yujiro then turned on his heel and walked away from Jack. The blonde thinking about his father’s words.

As much as he hated his father, Yujiro was right. There were too many flies around (your name)… and she clearly showed an interest in him… would it be wrong for Jack to act out on his feelings? To be selfish for once?

Jack shook his head. He shouldn’t do that… maybe he should just ask her to spend time with him later today. Then he’d see where it goes from there…

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Authors note: thanks for reading!

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