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writingwithadinosaur · 1 month ago

Text

God I want this. Just being held.

Save Me

Word Count: 900

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, possible trigger, depression, comfort, fluff

A/N: Request from anonymous, depression is a serious illness, and you are not alone, if you need anyone to talk to, at any time please message me.

Summary: You were fine. Of course you were, because the doctor said you were, because your friends didn't know any better, because you had to be. So you lied to yourself, told yourself to fill the emptiness you felt, lied that you were fine.

But you weren't, and you hadn’t been, not for a very long time.

..................................................................................

You smiled at something Ella had said, smiled because everyone else did, laughed along with them, the very notion of it left you feeling tired.

How many times had you faked a smile? Forced a laugh?

You wanted to go home, sit alone, but you couldn’t cancel your plans, not again. What excuse could you give?

'Sorry I can't come out today, I just can't find the energy to leave my house?'

No, that would just cause concern, would prompt too many questions you didn't have the answers for. At least no one noticed anything amiss, at least no one but Lucifer, who watched you closely. His eyes followed your movements carefully, and he frowned at how quickly your eyes dulled when you thought everyone had looked away.

You spoke when you needed to, talking just enough to look engaged, but you couldn’t mask the far off look in your eyes, not from him. He noticed how you seemed to curl in on yourself and your arms wrapped around yourself in a subtle way. As if you were trying to ground yourself.

"I have an early morning tomorrow, I think I might turn in." You spoke up.

A lie your devilish lover didn't call you out on.

Over lapping voices of protests arose from your friends as you stood. You gave them a smile, such a kind and apologetic smile, but Lucifer noticed, so empty.

"I'll see you guys later, I'll see you when you come to bed."

You bent down giving Lucifer a quick kiss before you walked away. He watched you go, the voices of the others faded away as his eyes followed you until you were in the elevator. You fell back against the wall, grabbing the collar of your shirt as if you couldn't breathe well. The doors slid closed on your pained expression and his heart dropped.

"Excuse me a moment."

They were saying something, but he couldn't hear, too focused on getting to you. He couldn't seem to move fast enough.

You kicked your shoes off, walking towards the bed as you fought back tears. This wasn’t unexpected, you'd been pretending you were fine for weeks. It was more surprising you hadn’t broken yet. You collapsed onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to muffle your cries as you tried desperately not to fall into that hopelessness.

It was a battle you never won, one you felt like giving up on every time. If you didn't have your family, your friends, Lucifer, you would have given up so long ago. They kept you here, kept you trying, you couldn’t leave them. However, that didn't mean that every so often, when you were alone and the darkness was drowning you. You fell just a little further, felt just a little emptier inside.

You began to dissociate, your thoughts consuming you, suffocating you. Tears stained your cheeks, burned your eyes, but you could do nothing to stop them. You couldn't do anything but lay there as your chest tightened in such a painful way.

You didn't even jump when you felt arms pulling you to sit up. You just didn't have the energy to react.

"Are you alright love?"

It took you a moment to gather yourself enough to speak and once you did your voice was hoarse.

"No."

Lucifer cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching your nearly lifeless ones.

"Are you going to be?" His voice was softer now and tears rushed to your eyes once more.

You struggled to speak, choking on the force of the cry you fought back.

"I... I don't know." Your voice cracked and you felt your depression crushing you further.

You grabbed his arms, a broken sob shaking your body.

"I don't know... I can't... it hurts, Lucifer it hurts so much."

He quickly pulled you into his arms, gently rocking you, as you stained his shirt with your tears.

"Why am I like this... why won't it stop..."

He held you a little tighter.

"I don't know darling, but you don't deserve this, and you certainly don't need to be alone for it. Cry if you must, scream if it'll help, I'll be right here, you needn't be alone."

And so you did, you laid in his arms for what seemed like hours, crying until you couldn’t anymore. Until you had grown too tired to shed another tear.

"Lucifer..."

He hummed a little absentmindedly rubbing your back in a soothing fashion.

"I need... I need a few days, just some time away from everyone...not you... but I-"

"Would prefer not to socialize for a bit yes?"

You nodded and he kissed the top of your head.

"Don't fret love, I'll have Maze handle Lux for a bit and the Detective will be just fine without me for a few days. You take all the time you need, hell knows I have plenty of it." He smiled softly down at you.

You managed a faint smile of your own before settling back into his embrace.

"Thank you."

He pulled the blanket around you, smoothing back your hair.

"Sleep now love, I'll make you a wonderful breakfast in the morning, and be sure to sit there until you eat it."

You were already dozing off, but managed to mumble out the words 'I love you'. Hearing him repeat the phrase as you drifted off into a welcome sleep.

..................................................................................

Tag List:@sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @stubby-toe-589331 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 months ago

Note

I’d love to see a lucifer story where the reader notices him doing cute things around her, since they started seeing each other, like softly touching her arm when they’re close or him putting her hair behind her ears without thinking about it, other cures things like that. and she talks about it to him and he acts all tough at first but then softens up? i don’t know i think it would be so cute. 🥺

Little Things

Word Count: 1235

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: none just fluff, to be honest I made a new years resolution to do more fluff but I'm like 99.9% sure I'm going to break that😂

Tag List is open

A/N: Requested from anonymous

Summary: You hadn't noticed them at first, they were to subtle. But one day you'd begun to notice it, they became obvious and you found yourself noticing everything little thing you hadn't before.

........................................................................

It wasn't something you had noticed, not really. You weren't sure how you'd missed it, because looking back now, you realized he'd done it every day. At least since the two of had been together.

He'd wake up before you every morning, turn off your alarm and go about getting ready. Once he was ready, he'd wake you gently, calmly, much better than being jerked awake by your loud alarm. He'd make some joke about you wasting the day away by sleeping, and then he'd leave you to get ready.

"Don't be to long darling, we've got a busy day, so much to do and such little time." Lucifer called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

You sat up, watching him go, before smiling to yourself and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. It didn't take you long to get ready and you were joining him in no time.

"Where are we going first?" You asked.

Lucifer placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you backwards and away from the elevator.

"Nowhere."

You stumbled a little, turning to look at him confused.

"But you said-"

Lucifer continued, cutting you off.

"Nowhere, until you eat breakfast."

You nodded snagging an apple from the bowl on top of his piano.

"Okay, let's go!"

Lucifer laughed shaking his head a little.

"I meant something a little more sustainable, but I suppose as long as you're eating."

You gave him a cheeky smile and took a bite out the apple. He followed after you as you strolled into the elevator. You went to take a bite from the apple as you watched the numbers descend on the elevator, but paused.

Just like this morning, you'd realized yet another thing you hadn't even noticed before. Lucifer would always make sure you at least ate breakfast, no matter how busy the two of you were. He would stop everything and assure that you ate, even a little.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, lowering the apple from your mouth.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"You've got your head in the clouds today don't you my dear? Thinking of anything interesting?"

"Nothing, just tired still."

Lucifer hummed, nodding little and lead you from the elevator with a gentle hand on your arm.

He wasn't lying when he said it would be a busy day. You'd been out for hours, with almost no breaks. You'd finally been able to rest your feet once you'd arrived at the precinct. You sunk into a chair, hair falling into face as you let out a sigh.

"I'll be just a moment darling, just need to have a quick chat with the Detective."

You waved him off, smiling when Ella poked her head out of her lab with giddy expression on her face.

"Take your time, I need a break, and Ella looks like she wants to talk."

Lucifer tucked your hair behind your ear before walking off. Ella sat down in front of you, leaving you no time to dwell on the simple action.

"Y/N, you've missed so much around here!" Ella said.

You listened to her ramble on, always thankful for her keeping you up to date on everything going on when you fell out of touch now and then. Your hair had once again fallen into your eyes once again, but you were to focused on Ella's story to really notice.

"And Dan found..."

She trailed off as Lucifer walked by pausing for a brief moment to drop a bag of chips into your lap and move your hair from your eyes. He continued on his way resuming his conversation with Chloe, as though nothing had happened. You mindlessly opened the bag of chips.

When you didn't hear Ella talking anymore, you looked up to see her grinning ear to ear. You lowered the chip you were about to pop in your mouth. Her grin only widened when you leaned back a little.

"What?" You muttered.

"Does he always do that?" She asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows, shrugging.

"He buys me snacks all the time."

She shook her head, moving her chair closer to you.

"No, well yes, that too, but I meant the stopping mid sentence to tuck your hair behind your ear."

You didn't answer, falling into your mind as you begun to realize that yes, he did do it a lot. In fact, you'd begun to realize every little thing he'd been doing, things you hadn't even noticed before.

"Oh bloody hell, what on earth could you be possibly be thinking about?"

Lucifer watched as you sat on the couch, so absorbed in your thoughts you hadn't heard him calling your name.

Eight times.

"Ow!"

You rubbed your forehead with a disbelieving look.

"Did you just flick me?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes, motioning for you to move your feet, so he could sit beside you.

"It seemed to be the only way to pull you from your mind, now what in dad's name could you have possibly been thinking about?" Lucifer questioned.

He moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, but you moved away from him, frowning.

"Why do you do that?"

He tilted his head, confused.

"Do what?"

"Always move my hair out of my face?"

Lucifer laughed a little, shaking his head.

"You're thinking about it too much." He brushed you off.

You grabbed his arm when he went to stand, pulling him back down beside you.

"No, I'm pretty sure my question is valid. You do things like that all the time."

Lucifer remained quiet eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

"Love, I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

He tried to laugh it off, but you persisted.

"Why do you wake up before my alarm and turn it off? You're always insisting I eat something in the morning, and you'll buy me snacks if you think I haven't eaten enough."

"Well I-"

You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, realizing that avoiding your questions wasn't going to work.

"I know your past relationships haven't been ideal, and I was hoping to make up for the horrible men you had the unfortunate pleasure of being with."

You weren't expecting his answer to be so blunt or so straight to the point. You blinked a few times.

"Oh."

Lucifer rushed to correct his mistake when he realized how harsh that had sounded.

"I just meant I want you to know you're loved darling. I know you forget to eat sometimes because you get so busy, and I think you're stunning, and hiding behind your hair just isn't fair to me." He winked at the last part making you laugh a little.

"I wake up before you, because I'd much rather wake you myself then you have a heart attack from that dreadful alarm tone you set."

Lucifer continued to explain his actions and the more he talked, the more you smiled. When you felt he'd said enough you silenced him with a kiss.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He grinned, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap.

"I believe that's my line, although if you'd like to thank me I can think of a few ways to do that." He muttered suggestively as he kissed your neck.

You laughed, playfully hitting his chest.

"You're awful."

He pulled you closer, smiling at your laughter.

"You love it."

................................................................................

Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @beththedemonhunter @shywriting @emiwrites3reads @gingernarwal @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @sallyp-53 @officalfangirl @cptgryps @mizzezm @measure-in-pain

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 months ago

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You Mean the World

(Lucifer Morningstar x Female Reader)

Synopsis: Lucifer gets a call that there was a murder at your workplace. He's never been more terrified.

Warnings: Mention of murder, suggestive situation (barely), drinking (Reader is 21+)

Word Count: 2071

A/N: It's official, my first fic is up! I hope you enjoy it! I'd love to hear what you think!

You weren’t answering his texts.

Sure, he knew you were busy with your classes, but it never took you more than an hour to respond. Even if it was a quick thumbs up to pacify him, you always got back to him.

“Lucifer,” Chloe said. “We’ve gotta go.”

“A new case, detective?” he asked, trying to give his usual enthusiasm.

“Possible homicide at the university.”

His body felt hot and cold at the same time. His fingers icy and heart pounding as he raced out of the station with Chloe barely keeping up.

Every scenario seemed to pass through his head in the blink of an eye. You stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, bruised. Maybe pushed down a staircase or even out a window. In each vision you had suffered so much pain, and he couldn’t protect you.

He tried to take a calming breath. They knew nothing about the victim yet. It may not be you. Maybe you were holed up in your office or grabbing a coffee with your coworker. Maybe you weren’t aware there had been a murder in the first place. Maybe you were still safe.

Maybe you weren’t.

—

Six months ago, you and your friends had wandered into Lux. You had just made tenure and your coworkers insisted on taking you out to celebrate.

It was your first time in the club, but your closest friend, Gemma, assured you this was the spot for any occasion. Though, she always was one for a good party.

“Alright, Miss Tenure, your assignment tonight is to let loose!” Gemma cheered, holding out a shot for you.

As an answer, you downed the drink, grinning as the rest of your group followed suit.

The night was filled with dancing, more drinking, and a bit of flirting. Thankfully, the two guys that approached you backed off once you said you weren’t interested.

You were pleasantly buzzed by the time Lucifer spotted you. You were smiling and laughing as two of your friends twirled each other. The heels you wore were bothering you, so you were sitting, happy that your coworkers were letting off the stress of the semester.

You hadn’t even noticed him come up beside you until he spoke.

“Is this seat taken?” He gestured with a finger toward the chair beside you.

You recognized him right away. After all, it wasn’t everyday you read an article about a man named Lucifer Moringstar.

“Does the owner really have to ask to have a seat?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “He does when he’s actually interested in who’s in the seat beside him.”

And you weren’t sure if it was his looks or the accent or the confidence he gave off, but you let him.

It was one of the best decisions you ever made.

For the entirety of the night, you talked. He found you captivating and vice versa. He flirted, of course, but he was also clever. And Lord help you when a man was smart and charming, and funny, and sexy, and—

Needless to say, you were smitten by the end of the night. You hadn’t realized your friends had steered clear of your table until Gemma interrupted you asking if you wanted to share a ride with her.

You hoped you hid your disappointment well, but it didn’t matter how attracted you were to Lucifer, talking was as far as you were going tonight.

He was a little deflated when you said you had to leave, but when you pulled a pen from your bag and jotted your number on a napkin, he nearly jumped for joy.

He had kissed you on the cheek, and you left the club a blushing mess. And when you received a text a half hour later that said, “Hope you got home safe,” your heart warmed. Smart, charming, funny, sexy, and sweet.

You started texting everyday, and the following weekend, he asked you out. Soon you were official and sleeping over at each others’ places.

Once, after being thoroughly taken care of by Lucifer, you laid in your bed, his head on your chest, running the tips of your fingers over his scalp.

It was peaceful, the kind that so rarely occurred.

“Can I tell you something,” he whispered, thumb grazing your ribs.

“Anything,” you said, simply.

“I love it here,” he said, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I love being in your home. It’s…It’s warm. It’s completely and utterly you…and I love it.”

You kissed the top of his head. You knew exactly what he meant. His penthouse comforted you. Everything in it was entirely him and when you were within those walls, it was like nothing could ever touch you.

But there was something about him being in your space. He fit so well amongst your plush couch and cream-colored bedspread. It was like the picture you were trying to paint was finally complete.

“I love when you’re here, too,” you said. And because it felt right, because it felt easy, you continued, “I love you.”

You felt his smile against your collarbone. “I love you, too.”

Afterward, you both seemed to say those three little words all the time. And even though Lucifer was ready to shout it from the rooftop, you had asked if he was okay with keeping your relationship private. Between his reputation within LA culture—personal and professional—and your career, you wanted to have one aspect of your life that was completely yours. No outside opinions allowed.

Lucifer agreed, but to say he kept his mouth shut wouldn’t have been true. He couldn’t help it though, he was proud of you. Of everything you’d accomplished, of calling you his, he was practically buzzing to tell Chloe little bits about you and rub it in Dan’s face that you were the most amazing woman in the universe—present company excluded, of course. Though, neither Chloe nor Ella seemed to mind if their amused smirks were anything to go by.

To his credit, Lucifer never revealed anything that would go against your wishes. He mostly raved about your sense of humor, your intelligence, and your appearance.

He was totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with you.

—

When they arrived at the scene, all he could see was a crowd outside the police tape. Students, professors, and staff gathered to get a glimpse of the corpse.

Ella was photographing the victim's face—a woman.

Lucifer’s breath hitched.

What shoes had you put on this morning? He couldn’t remember. Did you own a pair of maroon flats? Why couldn’t he remember what you had been wearing?

For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes away from the victim. It was only when he caught Dan’s voice that his gaze strayed.

Then he could breathe again.

There. Talking to the walking bore, you stood, a blanket draped around your shoulders.

He didn’t register he’d been moving until he was right in front of you, pulling you to him and burying his face in your neck.

—

You sunk into Lucifer’s embrace. It had been a shock to find your coworker lifeless beside the fountain. However, you counted yourself lucky it wasn’t one of the students who discovered her.

Lucifer gripped you tighter as you inhaled shakily. The adrenaline still coursed through you, but you knew when you eventually dropped, he’d be there to steady you.

He reluctantly pulled back, cupping your face.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked, searching your eyes.

“I’m not hurt,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Physically, you were fine.

He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Excuse me, but how do you two know each other?” Detective Espinosa asked, not bothering to mask his surprise.

“We’re dating,” Lucifer said, not taking his eyes off you.

“That’s why you booked it out of the station,” a woman said, having already spoken with the forensic analyst.

You could only imagine what had been running through Lucifer’s head.

“When you didn’t answer my texts, I…well I…” He swallowed, and you intertwined your fingers and nodded. He didn’t have to finish.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “You found the body, didn’t you?”

You nodded, realizing you had been in the middle of giving your statement before Lucifer showed up.

“Do you have any more questions, detective?” you asked.

“No. Go home and rest. If we need anything else, well, at least we know how to contact you,” Detective Espinosa said, glancing at Lucifer.

“I’ll be going with her, detective,” Lucifer said to the woman—Chloe, if you were to guess.

“Of course.” She turned to you. “I’m sorry this is how we had to be introduced.”

“Me too. But at least I know you’ll find who did this,” you said. You had celebrated more closed cases with Lucifer than not. If the murderer was going to be brought to justice, it’d be by this team.

She gave you a small smile. “Take some time for yourself. We’ll update you as soon as we can.”

You thanked her before Lucifer led you toward your office to collect your things and drove you back to his penthouse.

Maze seemed to sense your state because she brought up a bottle of top-shelf bourbon, squeezed your shoulder, and left without a word.

You stayed as close to Lucifer as possible, only separating to slip into comfortable shorts and one of his rarely used t-shirts. You were pretty sure he only bought them and put them on so you’d wear them.

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” he asked, rubbing your arm.

You shook your head as best you could as it rested on his chest.

You weren’t hungry, you weren’t really anything. You thought you’d feel something. There was the initial shock, the flash of fear and worry of the murderer lingering on campus and the students safety, but then nothing.

The victim was your coworker. Not someone in your department, but you saw her almost everyday walking to class. A fixture in your routine.

“I keep waiting to feel something,” you whispered.

His thumb stopped its movement for a second then resumed.

“I just…I know how I’m supposed to feel, but I’m just…not,” you said.

“Everyone processes grief differently. You will go at the pace you need,” he said.

“I know that, I do, but…it feels wrong that I’m not crying or angry or confused.” You sighed. “Of course I’m angry in the general sense—someone was killed—but I don’t feel any anger.” You fisted the shirt Lucifer changed into, acknowledging at that point that you were still shaking. “And yet my body seems to be feeling what it should.”

Lucifer placed his hand over yours.

“I can’t tell you how scared I was when we got the call,” he said. “All I could think about was you, gone, and every way I could get you back even if it was the last thing I did.”

You shifted so you could meet his gaze. Remnants of fear. The what-ifs bounced around in his head.

“I’m right here,” you said, cupping his cheek.

“I know.” He kissed your palm, then continued to rub your shoulder. “I’m always here if you need me. I could even set up an appointment with Linda if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help the small smile. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest? You being a client and having slept with her?”

He shrugged. “Something tells me she’ll be fine with it.”

You chuckled. “Cheeky devil,” you said affectionately.

“Well, of course, darling.” He grinned, pulling you closer.

You sighed and snuggled into him.

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispered, already feeling your body sink into him.

You hummed, and a few minutes later, you were out.

—

Lucifer watched you, afraid to look away after every dark thought that raced through him.

You were safe.

He repeated it. Safe. Safe. Safe.

He focused on your breathing. The softness of your cheek pressing into his chest. The curve of your shoulder. You were in his arms, and you were safe.

He inhaled, took all of that knowledge with him, held it there, and then exhaled. It calmed him. Brought him back to the present.

It had only been six months, but you had become everything to him. His entire world laid beside him, and he’d be damned again if he let anything harm you.

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, how are you. Can I request a Malcolm Bright imagine. Reader is kinda like a female Sherlock Holmes or an member of behavioral analysis unit from criminal minds…… Angst to fluff….

thank you

Little Parts

(Malcolm Bright x Female Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse, death, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 3315

A/N: Thank you for this request! I chose to go the BAU route. Though I didn't necessarily mention Criminal Minds, I do use the lingo. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I definitely did not expect my OC Nancy to have as big of a presence as she does. I do think I need to work on my angst. I love reading it, but writing it is a different story. I hope you enjoy it!

Nancy Whitmore had murdered six people: five women and the husband who came home early and found his wife mid-abduction. Two shots to the chest, the first time Nancy ever used the gun she held to force the women to come with her.

Those two gunshots were what started this all. Nancy had panicked and fled with the wife, not worrying about the scene she left behind.

When the NYPD connected this to the other missing women, they called you. As skillful as Gil and his team were, your expertise would be invaluable.

And it was. So invaluable, in fact, that Nancy Whitmore knew she had to do something.

—

The bullpen was abuzz with every available person preparing for tonight. Nancy had escalated since word got out that a profiler had joined the investigation. And if you were right, there would be another victim before midnight. You had to get her before then.

“We know she stays within this area,” Gil said, tapping a marker in the circle he drew. “And we’ve released a statement telling everyone to stay indoors when it’s dark.”

“Staying home isn’t going to prevent our unsub from kidnapping who she wants,” you said. “We’ve seen her murder outside of her preference when cornered. I doubt that’s changed.”

“Everyone else is just a means to an end,” Malcolm said.

You nodded.

It hadn’t taken long for you to figure out these women represented Nancy’s mother. From what you gathered, Mrs. Whitmore ruled her household with an iron fist. No one, her husband or her children, was safe from the abuse she inflicted.

Nancy’s father protected Nancy from his wife, but once he died, Nancy had to step up and protect her younger brother. The brother's death at the tragic age of twenty-five was the catalyst for all of Nancy’s crimes.

“As long as Nancy feels the need to protect others from her mother, it doesn’t matter who gets in her way. Nothing's going to stop her from reaching that goal,” you said, rubbing your temple.

“What I don’t understand is how she can’t remember that her mother is dead.” JT’s frustration was evident.

“She’s blocked so much out. Her brother’s passing triggered her, and the only explanation she could come up with was that her mother murdered him,” you explained. Nancy’s brother died in a freak accident at his job. A cable snapped at the construction zone, and that’s all it took for his life to be taken. Nancy’s trauma filled in the blanks and then some. She thought her mother had returned or that she didn't actually die, and Nancy had to do the one thing she’s been doing since she was thirteen—survive.

“We need to figure out where she is. We have patrol cars at every address of hers, but not one of them has seen her.” Gil dragged both hands down his face.

“It’s getting late. What if Nancy already has her next victim?” Dani asked.

“It’s possible,” you said. “But even with Nancy's escalations, she follows a pattern. She grabs them once it’s dark, not before, and she keeps them alive for three days. She has to follow that.”

“I hate to say this, but if worse comes to worst, we have seventy-two hours to find her and the vic,” JT said.

You nodded, stifling a yawn.

Gil gave you an empathetic look. “I know we still have a ways to go, but none of us will be any help if we don’t get some sleep.” He paused, scanning the four of you. “We’ll take shifts. Some of us should be here if anything happens.”

“I’ll stay,” Malcolm said.

You weren’t surprised. It didn’t take a profiler to know Malcolm Bright was an insomniac.

“Me too,” Dani said. “Go tuck your kid in.” She nodded to JT, who gave her a grateful smile.

“Alright, you two, go home. I’ll call you if we hear anything.” Gil gestured for you to leave.

You were about to protest when Malcolm cut in.

“We’ll be fine.” He leveled you with a look. “You’ve been going since you landed two weeks ago. A few hours of rest will only help us catch our suspect sooner.”

You sighed, knowing he and Gil were right.

“Fine,” you said. The clock read 8 PM. “But I’ll be back here by midnight.”

A bit more than three hours should be a good enough power nap.

Malcolm gave you a gentle smile. “Wouldn’t have expected anything different.”

—

You and Malcolm had taken to each other like fish to water.

You had arrived at the crime scene and met everyone except Malcolm, who had been running late.

Edrisa had finished her preliminary evaluation when he walked up to you, speaking to anyone who would listen about his theory on how the vic ended up here. Every part was pretty plausible, but one.

“Everything about our killer is tactful. She doesn’t let her anger get the best of her because she can’t afford to. There’s more at stake for her,” you said.

It was like you pulled him back to reality. His brow furrowed, and he finally registered that you were new.

“She?” he asked.

You nodded. “Like I said, I don’t see anger when I look at this woman’s wounds. I don’t even see pleasure. How many male serial killers do you know that you can say that about?”

Malcolm couldn’t help but think about his father. The person who took more pleasure in his work than anyone he knew.

“SSA (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand.

He gave you his name. You didn’t bat an eye. It made him think—hope—you had no idea who he was. It was a day later that hope came crashing down.

“You know who my father is?” His eyes widened, a pang resounding in his heart.

You shrugged. “Course I do. Did you really think I wouldn’t read up on the team I’d be consulting with?”

“Well, no. I just thought maybe you’d focus on the case more.” Malcolm couldn’t look you in the eyes. And your heart went out to him. He’d probably been judged by his father’s actions his entire life.

“We’re not our parents, Malcolm,” you said gently. “If we were, I’d be a cheating accountant or a bitter middle school teacher.”

“Those are two very different professions from dear-old Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, they are, but the point is everyone has a shitty little part of themselves that they keep hidden. And some of us do a better job than others.”

“And what shitty little part are you hiding?” He tried to disguise it as a joke. However, he also desperately wanted to know the truth. He wanted to know if maybe, just maybe, you were a little like him.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

—

The taxi to Dani’s apartment dropped you off a block away. Traffic in the city was no joke, and you weren’t about to pay to sit in line for who knows how long.

You and Dani had attended the academy together. When she found out you’d be consulting with them, she offered you a place to stay. The problem was she only had one key, and you’d typically carpool to and from the precinct.

Pulling out your phone, you clicked on her number.

“Everything okay?” She greeted you, concerned.

“Yeah, but I may have to pick the lock to your door,” you said, trying to remember if you had a bobby pin in your bag.

“Shit. I completely forgot.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve kinda been focusing on more important things,” you said.

“I can run it over to you. We haven’t gotten any calls yet, and it’s not like my place is far,” she said.

“That’d be great. It’s been a minute since I had to break in somewhere,” you joked.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Her voice sounded like she was facing the other direction, but you still caught it. “Everything’s fine. She forgot to take my key.”

There was a brief silence as whoever responded, and then she was back.

“Your boyfriend’s concern is touching, but you should tell him to cool it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My boyfriend?”

“Malcolm.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing.

Unconsciously, you caught the steps of someone jogging behind you and moved to the right out of their way.

“Malcolm and I are just friends,” you said, thankful to be alone as heat surfaced to your cheeks.

“Yeah, and what about the dumb smiles and little glances you give each other,” Dani asked. You could hear her smirk through the phone.

“I don’t give him dumb smi—”

—

The unmistakable crack of metal hitting something bounced through Dani’s head as she rushed back to the precinct. Everyone had returned and convened in the conference room after she had called them.

Malcolm paced as he ran through everything they knew about Nancy.

She abducts women from their homes, taking them away from the place they have power. Three days later, the women are found beside dumpsters, handcuffed. It was Nancy’s way of handing over her mother to the police. Deep down, she believed she was helping.

Malcolm shook his head. That didn’t make sense for you. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you. The only hope Malcolm had was where you were abducted outside of Dani’s apartment—outside of your temporary home.

The clock was ticking, except they didn’t know how long the timer was set for.

They had to find you.

Malcolm had to find you.

—

Nancy paced in front of you. She hadn’t said a word. You weren’t entirely sure she knew you were awake.

By the looks of the beams of light pouring through the slats of wood, it was early morning. You’d been out for a few hours. Hopefully, the team had a decent start on finding you.

Your arms were cuffed behind your back, and the metal chair you sat on dug into your biceps. Nancy had even tied your ankles to the legs.

You had to find a way out. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you—to you or to a potential victim.

She was unraveling, and you had to make it seem like you understood her. You had to stay calm. She had to think you were on her side. If at any point she felt threatened, you’d be done.

“Why did you have to get in the way?” She mumbled it as if to herself, then repeated it louder, frustration baring her teeth.

“I was asked to,” you said, trying to make yourself smaller.

She had to believe she was in control.

She rubbed her face roughly. “You could’ve said no. You should’ve stayed away! But you had to stick your nose into family business! She’s gonna hurt someone because of you!”

Angry tears lined her eyes. You made sure to look down in shame. You had to make her think you were submitting.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

She stepped closer until you could smell her breath.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t see her raise her hand, but you felt the searing heat of the bullet rip through you.

—

“What if she’s already dead, Gil!” Malcolm asked, staring at the man, willing him to see that they had to find you.

“You know you can’t think like that,” Gil responded. “(Y/N) is a seasoned agent. She’s been trained for this. You need to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s not (Y/N) that I don’t trust. Nancy has deviated so far from her usual targets. There’s no telling what she’s done or will do to her.”

“Fine. You’re right, but panicking won't help (Y/N). You need to take a deep breath and work this case with the rest of us. Got it?” Gil was leaning forward, hands on his desk and eyes pleading with Malcolm.

He’d finally nodded after exhaling loudly through his nose.

“Good. Now tell me why Nancy is doing all this," Gil said slowly, urging Malcolm to do what he did best.

—

The pain in your shoulder made it harder to concentrate.

You weren’t sure if she meant to hit you there, and that thought didn’t comfort you. Nancy was spiraling, making your stomach churn at the possibility of not getting you or her out alive.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she had whispered as she wrapped your shoulder. She had said that so many times you were starting to repeat it in your mind. You had begun to believe it, and then she did this. She showed you a little light that maybe she wasn’t that far gone.

Maybe you could still help her.

—

They were so close.

They’d been able to piece together where Nancy was keeping her victims. And they were on their way, sirens off so as not to scare her.

You had to be alive. Malcolm didn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t.

The small shed they arrived at looked ready to collapse.

After Gil announced their presence, you appeared out the door. Nancy followed, gun pressed to your head.

“She needs to be stopped!” Nancy cried.

“Your mother is dead, Nancy! She’s gone. You’re safe,” Malcolm said, keeping his voice calm.

“No! She’s not! She keeps coming back!” Hysteria crept into her tone. You had to do something.

“Nancy,” you said. “I promise, if you let me go and go with them, they will get you help. You’ll never see your mother again.”

She let out a pitiful whine. “You can’t know that. She’s always there. She won’t leave us alone.”

“Nancy.” You tried to make your voice as soothing as possible. “Have I ever lied to you?”

This seemed to stump her. She was quiet for a few moments.

You looked around. Malcolm and the team watched you both, waiting for any sign that she’d take things too far.

Malcolm’s fists were clenched like he wanted nothing more than to rip you away from Nancy and shelter you in his arms. If only it could happen that easily.

“No,” Nancy finally whispered, letting the realization settle in her bones. “No.”

Her hold slowly loosened on you, and the gun lowered until it hit the ground.

You turned to her.

“It’s going to be alright,” you said as JT cuffed her and read her her rights.

You hadn’t noticed Malcolm had come up behind you until your arms were freed. You hissed, the wound in your shoulder flaring up and dizzying you.

He kept a hand on your back as Nancy was led away.

“Come on. We need to get you checked out,” he said, ushering you to the ambulance.

You nodded, his voice coming through fuzzy. Now that you were out of danger, everything hit you all at once. The kidnapping, the pain, the fact that you could’ve died.

Your body was heavy.

The last thing you remembered was Malcolm’s arms around you as you fell.

—

You opened your eyes to the darkness out your window. The smell of the hospital and the beeping of your heart monitor told you where you were.

Slowly, you turned your head to face the other direction and met Malcolm’s exhausted eyes.

“Hey.” He said it softly as if you were still sleeping. “How are you feeling?”

You missed the way his fingers twitched toward your hand.

“Tired,” you said.

He nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll let the doctors know you were up.”

He placed his hands on his thighs to push himself up, but you stopped him.

“Sit with me for a bit? While I’m still awake.” The sight of Malcolm comforted you the longer you were conscious and the more you remembered. You didn’t want to be alone.

“Okay,” he said.

You lifted your fingers as if reaching for him.

“I think you’re supposed to be holding my hand,” you hummed. You could blame your bravery on the morphine later.

He chuckled and ducked his head but pulled his chair closer to your bedside and slipped his hand into yours.

“Better?”

“Much,” you whispered. Your grip was weak, but Malcolm could still tell when you tried to squeeze his hand.

His under eyes seemed darker than usual, and instead of his hands trembling, his index finger grazed your inner wrist in a steady back and forth.

“When did you last sleep?” you asked. You wanted to stay awake. You wanted to live in this bubble with him before reality set in. It didn’t matter how long you’d been out or the questions you’d be asked. All that mattered was being here and having him close.

He shrugged. “A few days ago.” He paused. “I was preoccupied.”

With finding you.

You let out a slow breath. “Sorry to be such a bother.”

He heard the edge of teasing in your tone, but he couldn’t let even a smidge of you think that.

“You could never be a bother. Just don’t go getting kidnapped again, will you? I’d prefer it if you were out of harm's way,” he said.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe you should put out a statement. Make sure all the bad guys know.” This time the teasing was prevalent.

“I think I can put up a few billboards.” He tried to fight the smile forming. “I’ll even have Ainsley do a whole segment.”

You chuckled until the pain in your side made you stop.

“The doctor said you have a concussion,” Malcolm said, brow furrowing in concern.

“Nancy hit me with something.” You steadied your breathing.

“You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Just getting better.”

You weren’t sure if he noticed that he was squeezing your hand, but you didn’t mind. It grounded you. And the way Malcolm was staring at you set your heart fluttering. And the damn heart monitor was giving you away.

Malcolm looked at it, then you. “Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m fine. Promise.”

“If something’s hurting, you need to tell me,” he insisted.

You bit the inside of your lip, debating whether or not what you were about to say was a good idea.

“That’s not why it did that,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes.

“...What do you mean?”

You glanced up at him through your lashes. “I mean…you make me nervous.”

He tilted his head, still not seeming to get it.

“I don’t understand. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He was about to pull his hand away, but you kept your hold.

“You make me nervous because I like you,” you said, giving him a shy smile. “And according to Dani, you like me, too?”

“I…well, of course, I do. I just figured nothing could come out of this since you’d be back to Quantico…” The blush was evident on his cheeks, and it made you all the more smitten.

“After this? A cushy 9-5 sounds incredible,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

He grinned, leaning his elbows on the bed. “Where should our first date be?”

You answered him with a smile of your own. “Go find us some jello, and I’ll say yes to a second.”

He stood, still smiling, and was going to leave until he bent down to kiss your forehead.

“Be right back,” he whispered, thumb coming up to brush your cheek.

For a moment, you leaned into his hand with closed eyes. The subtle motion of his finger lulled you into a sense of peace.

You hummed, sinking further into the bed.

By the time Malcolm returned, you were fast asleep. He took up his position by your side again and started making a mental list of where he should take you for your second date.

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 months ago

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You once saved a Crow from dying as a child. Even now that you are an adult, you still remember the Crow's words after you set it free back to its murder, "We… wiLL… RETurN… ThE… FAVor…"

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 months ago

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The Hurt of the Soul

Hannibal Lecter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Depression. Implied depression.

A/N: Okay, as far as warnings go…I don’t really know if depression is the right term. It’s sort of implied, but there’s more to depression than feeling sad. Tread lightly with this one, folks. Also, I have no idea if Hannibal has a sunroom or not. If you don’t know what a sunroom is, it’s basically like a second living room in a house that is like 90% windows.

Word Count: 2.1k

“Oh, my darling…you’re going to be perfectly fine.”

It had been raining for days. There had hardly been a break in the weather in the three days that it had been raining. The heavy rainfall had collected and brought forth puddles of water in the backyard and your and Hannibal’s shared home. It seemed that a family of ducks had taken a sudden liking to your property. A mother and her dozen of ducklings waddled through the shallow puddles, their tails fluttering as their webbed feet moved through the waterlogged grass. The mother duck was very attentive, making sure that all of her offspring made it across the menial body of water. It was a precious, natural sight that almost made your heart soar with joy.

At least someone was enjoying all this rain.

Your vision zoomed out, focusing on the rain that was still beating against the glass of the window. You watched them slip down and race each other to the bottom of the windowsill, disappearing into nothing only for the next set of raindrops to fall.

Keep reading

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writingwithadinosaur · 7 months ago

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Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.

Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.

I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.

Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.

To Make It Through

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.

Word Count: 1203

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.

I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.

And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.

National Eating Disorders Association

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

The Trevor Project

National Institute of Mental Health

Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.

It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.

You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.

First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.

He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.

It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.

He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.

He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.

After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched.

He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.

He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.

You were also very good at hiding it.

About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He whispered your name. You didn’t move.

He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”

You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.

“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.

The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.

He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.

He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.

“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.

You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.

“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”

You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.

“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.

You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.

Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.

He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.

You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.

You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.

He sat beside you.

Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.

It hadn’t gotten that bad.

He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.

“Why are you friends with me?”

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Because I need you,” he said.

It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.

You shook your head. “You deserve better.”

He wanted to shield you from your own words.

“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”

You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.

“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”

You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.

Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.

You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.

Whatever you needed from him, he would give.

“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.

Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.

“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.

“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.

“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”

It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.

And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.

“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.

Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.

“Okay.”

Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.

The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird

If anyone would like to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me and tell me which character you'd like to receive updates on.

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writingwithadinosaur · 9 months ago

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Together in happiness and depression… (no outbreak!JoelMillerxreader) one shot

Partially inspired by the Joel bot I created, partially by what I feel right now.

Summary: Joel is there for you as you go through another episode of depression.

Warnings: depression, disturbing thoughts, anxiety, low self-esteem, self-degradation, sadness, fears, hurt/comfort

Together in happiness and depression

Now I'm slowly sinking, caving, try to fight it

but I can't breathe

Chest is heavy, hands are numb,

I'm tired but I can't sleep

Choking on my own pride my tongue is tied and now

I find myself reaching out for help

I could really use your help right now

You were lying on the couch and staring blankly at the TV. It didn't really matter what you were watching. It doesn't matter if it was an action movie or a documentary about a desert spider. Everything looked the same to you anyway. Your mind was empty and full of thoughts at the same time. When you heard the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps, your heart trembled. You suddenly realize how much time you had wasted just lying on the couch. Unless Joel came back early, but you knew that was unlikely. You wanted to get up and greet him with a happy smile and a warm dinner, but... You were a failure. At least that's how you felt.

Joel walked over to you and knelt down next to the couch. His large, warm hand rested on your shoulder. This wasn't the first episode of depression you two had gone through together, so he wasn't surprised by your condition.

"Hey, baby girl." He said it so gently and softly that it almost didn't sound like his own voice. "How do you feel?"

You just shrugged because you couldn't find the answer to this question. You just felt empty. Joel simply nodded, trying to understand you.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

His question made you realize that no, you hadn't eaten anything, but you weren't hungry either. But what stuck out to you was that he must have been hungry too, and you had failed him.

"I'm sorry…" You croaked, tears immediately forming in your eyes.

Joel couldn't bear your pain any longer. He pulled you into a sitting position, sitting next to you and pulling you into his strong chest. You buried your face in his shirt and cried.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here. You hear me, I won't leave you."

You squeezed him tighter and began to blurt out everything.

"I'm sorry... I'm a failure... I can't do anything. Why do you care about me? I'm no good for anything..."

Joel sighed softly and hugged you even tighter. You didn't realize how much what you said hurt him.

"Don't say that. Don't. Don't you dare say that." There was desperation in his voice. "I don't know why you doubt yourself. To me, you are the most valuable person in the world. You don't have to be good at anything. Just let me take care of you when you feel like this."

You wanted his words to bring you comfort, but you couldn't stop all the destructive thoughts in your head and you started crying.

"I don't know... I just... feel so... Not feminine enough... All these tradwives on TikTok... They look so perfect, they take care of the house and the kids... and I... sometimes I have trouble washing the dishes... I feel I felt so numb and tired..."

Joel started stroking your hair and gently kissed your temple. Seeing you like this broke his heart. When he saw you so full of doubt and so vulnerable, he wanted to do everything for you. He wanted to show how much he loved you and that you had nothing to worry about because to him you were perfect.

"Y/n…" He placed his lips next to your ear. "Hey, they're not you. I don't want these TikTok tradwives. I want YOU. With all your imperfections and charms. I don't care if you wash the dishes late or don't do it at all. I don't care if my dinner is not ready. I love you too much to pay attention to it. Believe that you are enough for me just as you are."

You closed your eyes for a moment and kissed his neck. You wanted to show him at least a little affection for everything he did for you.

"I don't deserve you..."

"Shhh... Shhh…" Joel took your head in his hands and kissed your forehead. "Don't say that. I don't tolerate such nonsense. I'm telling you, I love you too much."

You took a deep breath and pushed your nose into his neck again. You didn't care that he came home from work dirty and sweaty, his masculine scent slowly calmed you down and soothed your nerves. Even though you knew your improvement was temporary, you wanted to enjoy it.

You sat together in silence for a few minutes. Joel stroked your hair and kissed your head. When he sensed that you were calmer, he gently pushed you away from him.

"Lay down, honey, and I'll quickly prepare dinner. After all, we both need to eat something."

You had neither the strength nor the desire to argue with him. You also didn't want to tell him that you still weren't really hungry. You knew Joel was desperate to take care of you and get you better. So you forced a small smile and nodded.

"Okay."

Joel stood up and kissed your head one more time before going to the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, the delicious smell of fried chicken and mashed potatoes could be smelled from the kitchen. Joel hummed softly to himself as he worked quickly and efficiently. He finally emerged from the kitchen with two plates of food. He placed the plates on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen to get the wine. He opened the wine and returned to you. He sat down on the couch, and when you got up and sat next to him, he gave you a warm smile.

"I hope you're hungry. I made you some fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I also brought some wine. Let's watch something, drink some wine, and eat together..."

You looked nostalgically at everything he had prepared. You tried to suppress the guilt you felt and the malicious voices in your head. A small smile appeared on your lips. No matter how depressed you were, Joel's care and attention created a pleasant, fleeting warmth.

"Thank you, babe."

Joel felt proud that his actions had not been in vain. He kissed your cheek, poured two glasses of wine, and handed you one. He sat down close to you so that your shoulders were touching. He turned on the TV and selected a random action movie.

You didn't want to worry him and started eating dinner. After a few bites, the knot in your stomach began to loosen and you realized that you were hungry after all. Joel didn't say anything, but he was happy to see that you enjoyed the food and wine.

When you finished eating, he didn't even bother taking the plates to the sink. He didn't want to leave you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him, looking at you with love. For the next half hour, you tried to focus on the warmth radiating from his body and the movie he had selected, but your disturbing thoughts always tended to attack you by surprise when you thought you had already achieved mental balance.

You looked at Joel and saw the tiredness on his face. Was he just tired from work or... Depressing thoughts flooded your mind again. Your eyes filled with tears and before you could stop them, they were already rolling down your cheek.

Joel was about to ask you if you needed anything, but he felt your mood suddenly change. He looked at you worriedly and grabbed your hand. He looked you straight in the eye and used that incredibly gentle voice again.

"What happened, sweetie? What changed your mood? You know you can tell me anything."

You shrugged and took a shaky breath.

"I don't know… Sometimes I can't explain it. It's so stupid and frustrating... You did all this for me... Dinner, wine, and I... I have these thoughts again... That I'm just not worthy of this all and one day you'll be tired with it... with my depression..."

Joel gently took your hands and kept his eyes on you. His brown eyes were filled with love and compassion

"You have to fight these thoughts, honey. These are false and stupid thoughts. I can promise you one thing. I will never get tired of you and your depression will never be too much for me. Understand me? I will be with you when you are happy, and I will be with you when depression comes and does not go away for months. I will do everything to help you and get you out of this hole."

You nodded and wiped your tears. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. You wanted to tell him so much how much you loved him and how grateful you were to him, but you couldn't find the words. So you just squeezed his hand, hoping he would understand.

Joel smiled as he felt you squeeze his hand and he kissed your head gently. He pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around you. The feeling of your warm body so close to him and the feeling that you opened up to him and loved him was all he needed.

He kissed your head again and said softly.

"I love you. Please don't ever doubt it. Don't give in to bad thoughts.”

You calmed down a bit and replied:

"I love you too."

You rested your entire body on his chest and closed your eyes. His calm breathing was so comforting to you.

"Sleep, my love... Or cry... Or be silent. It doesn't matter, as long as you are close to me, I will be everything you need and you can be sure that your depression will not defeat me and one day I will put a wedding ring on your finger."

He began humming softly and rocking you in his arms, and you sank into this warm, safe bubble of love he was creating for you. And even though you still struggled with your depression, you were sure that as long as you had Joel, you would never fight alone.

Help, I could really use your help right now

Falling under and I don't know how

Help, I could really use your help right now

Fight or flight, I feel I don't know how

To stand on my own or which way to go

*Anna Clendening - Help

I love these days when nothing bad happens but I just feel depressed and all I want to do is cry and sleep. And I'm frustrated because I can't logically explain why I feel this way. Why does my mind suddenly decide to turn off all positive thoughts and feelings 🥺

I need Joel or Marcus... Or Oberyn... Javier...

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

Text

neurotic mess

poe dameron x reader

this has to be one of the most self indulgent fic I've written so far. I haven't been doing amazing recently, and writing this comforted me a little and was more effective than every time I tried to go to therapy.

summary: poe notices you have trouble focusing during a meeting, and he's ready to do anything to make you feel better.

warnings: mental illness, dissociation, depression and autism. please don't read if you're sensitive to this kind of stuff. also this is purely self indulgent so if you don't experience mental illness/disorders mentionned above the same way, well... that's not my fault that's just how it goes for me

tags: gn!reader, poe being the absolute best boyfriend, fluff

word count: 1.2k

Something was wrong. He could sense it.

Poe frowns slightly as he clears his throat and adjusts his position on his feet.

The sight of you nervously chewing on the skin at the side of your thumb has had him have trouble focusing on Leia’s plans, and he knew he couldn’t function properly when he knew you felt like this. Poe knew you way too well, and therefore he knew there was something wrong and he couldn’t help but empathize and overall feel worried.

You’re across the room and he’s trying to catch your gaze in an attempt to mouth you a ‘you okay ?’ but unfortunately, your eyes are lost and focused watching a specific point at your feet.

Poe knows this, you have spaced out, unable to focus on the meeting.

The meeting finally ends after what seems to be ages for Poe. Multiple people come to him for questions and details about the meeting, but he brushes them off telling them he has more important stuff to do, because it’s true: he has to look out for you.

The sound of his concerned tone tears you out of your thinking, and you feel startled when you see he’s standing right in front you.

“What ?” you ask, feeling light-headed.

“Are you okay ?” Poe repeats, dragging you to a corner of the room, and you nod your head absently before your eyes dart around the room, seeing people move around, assuming the meeting is over.

“Yeah” you sigh, scratching at your forehead. You hate lying to Poe, but it’s for his own good. You know he doesn’t have the time to worry about you, and you don’t want him to worry about you.

His head tilts slightly, and he pinches his lips before talking.

“Sweetheart… You know it’s no use trying to hide it.” he whispers, putting a hand over your shoulder. He rubs his thumb at the juncture between your shoulder and neck and weakly smiles at you even though you’re avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry” you mutter under your breath, and his deep brown eyes soften at your words.

“Don’t apologize. We’ve talked about this. You need to tell me when there’s something wrong so I can try to help you if you let me, mh ?” he asks rhetorically, waiting for your approval.

You finally look up at him and nod. He smiles endearingly at you and grabs either side of your neck, leaning to leave a kiss at your forehead. You close your eyes at the gesture, and when he pulls away his hands slide up to your cheeks.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong ?” he asks softly, still not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.

You stare at his kind, worried eyes and you know you’re safe. Him just establishing physical contact, caring, and talking you through it makes you feel - a bit - better already.

“I’m so tired, Poe.” you admit, and he nods as his thumbs stroke both of your cheeks. “I have trouble focusing and I haven’t heard a word about the mission plan because I was too deep into my head. I don’t think I have the strength to do anything.”

His gaze softens at your words and he nods again before kissing at your temple, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. He closes his eyes in contentment as you wrap your arms around him, happy that you’re letting him in. His lips feel warm against your skin, and the feeling of his thumb delicately tracing your features appeases you a bit.

You stay like this for a bit while the briefing room is gradually emptying. Poe pulls away from your embrace, looking into your eyes as the back of his fingers brush against your face one last time. He licks his lips before taking his hands off of your face.

“I’ll talk to Leia, she’ll withdraw us from the mission, okay ?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“What ? No,” you snap. “They need you, obviously. You’re commander” you chuckle at the absurdity of his offer, and look down as Poe takes your hand in his.

“Finn can replace me. He’s qualified” he nods with a smile. “Don’t worry about this. You’ll get some rest and I’ll stay with you so I can take care of you”

You sigh and as you’re about to speak again to bargain, he stops you with a few tuts.

“You don’t have a choice there love” he notes, a sly smirk drawn on his face.

Poe brings your linked hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles before smiling at you one last time and leaving to talk to Leia.

—

You liked the way Poe just held you close, his body heat radiating against you in a comforting way.

It felt like you were draped in a nice blanket; when it was just him, his chest pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face buried into the back of your neck.

“Do you know what triggered you ?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss just behind your ear.

You blink tiredly before speaking. “Hum… Nothing actually. I don’t think so. Everything felt out of place and uncomfortable the moment I opened my eyes this morning.” you affirm, voice a bit raspy as you have barely been talking since Poe brought you back to your quarters.

“Mh” he hums, shifting slightly so he can be pressed even closer to you. “I should have known something was up when I got out of bed before you did.” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your arm, up and down, in a soothing manner.

“Yeah… It just happens from time to time. This unsettling feeling that you don’t belong and that your body and mind just feel too weak to let you do anything”

Poe smiles weakly at your words. “That’s okay to feel that way sometimes and you shouldn’t feel like it’s not.” he affirms getting a strand of hair out of your face. “If you need to rest then you should rest”

“Yeah but…” you turn around to face him and his hand immediately clings to your cheek. “You’re always moving around, never stopping, and that’s the right thing to do because we’re in the middle of a war.”

“If you need to rest then you should rest.” he repeats, thumb going over your cheekbone. “If you go on field and are too distracted to do anything then you should not go at all because you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“And others” you continue.

“And others.” he affirms, pinching his lips into a small smile. His fingertips ghost over the side of your face, and you weakly smile at him. “It’s okay not to feel okay.” he declares, raising his eyebrows as if he is waiting for your approval. “It happens and it’s normal, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for it.”

You close your eyes and nod, and he cradles the back of your head to lean in and gently kiss your forehead.

“I love you” he whispers, and his words somehow almost feel like a promise.

“Even if I’m a neurotic mess ?” you chuckle as a tear of tiredness rolls down to your temple.

“Even if you’re a neurotic mess.” he affirms smiling, chasing away the single tear before kissing your lips as if to prove his previous words.

—

star wars taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @Leerose42779 @mystinky-butt

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

Text

bittersweet 🖤 a yandere!john wick x fem!reader coffee shop sunshine/grump au

Table of Contents

something sweet

burned

the cougar

the mountain

lamb in the lion's den

avenging angel

the book thief

joyride

pest

drunk text

mondo piccolo

la dolce vita

vino veritas

kitten

walk of shame

bad girl

got u

war and peace

crime and punishment

lost and found

bound for hell

deal with the devil

show me your teeth

bully

knots

breaking point

surprise

haunted

lady of the daisies

say something

tbc...

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

Note

A different request with a character fron your list- Eggsy. He meets (female) reader working at a bar after a long mission with Harry. Days later they meet again on her closing shift and they start flirting with each other. He constantly meets with her when she closes the bar. After a week, he finally asks her out.

Sorry if it's a long request

A/N: Hi sorry, love. The past month was so hectic and I couldn't find a free minute to think about your request. Now that it is finished I would like to thank you for your patience. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have equal fun reading it.

End of the Shift

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x fem!reader

Warning: a lot of flirting, mutual pining, I wrote a character Scottish and I hope no one is offended by it, slow burn-ish

Bartending hours were long. You came home when your neighbour went to work and vice versa. But you liked your job. It paid well, what surprised you at first till you asked your boss why he could pay you this much. He looked at you shook his shoulders and got to cleaning. He never told you your bar was a secret meeting spot for a secret, world wide agency.

You poured another man some Statesman Whiskey on the rocks. He thanked you and walked away from the bar. With quick hands you closed the bottle of expensive liquor again. But not before you took another sniff of the brown liquid. It smelled so otherworldly rich and very, very expensive.

Tristan, your boss caught you once sniffing on one of the bottles. He laughed before shaking his head and walking into his office. The next day a bottle of said Whiskey stood atop of your locker with a post-it note saying ‘So you can smell it at home.’ You smiled at the memory.

As you finished cleaning another beer glass a young, good-looking man stood at the bar. He looked at the wall of alcoholic beverages behind the counter debating what to get. You walked over slowly not to disturb him from his decision making. “Can I help?”

His eyes turned to you and widened slightly. Like he was caught steeling something. He began to stammer some incorrect sentences before he cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine, luv.” His eyes widen again. “I’m so sorry. I forgot my manners at home. Sorry for calling you luv-“ He looked at your name tag before breathing it out softly.

You giggled at his flustered state. Heat rising up your neck. “What can I do for you, sugar?” You playfully through the pet’s name at him. The reaction was priceless. His ears turned bright red and his eyes were even wider than before. You were scared they would fall out.

For a minute you thought you had to call an ambulance for this poor guy before he crashed on the floor. He caught himself and with a breathy voice he ordered a Martini with Gin, stirred. You giggled the whole time you made him his drink. He looked and acted like a woman friendlier version of James Bond. Not all womanize-y as the beloved English spy.

With a big smile you slid the drink over to him. He immediately held out his fee plus a generous tip. You turned to get him his change but as you turn he was gone. You looked for him but he was nowhere to be seen.

This game went on and on for over a month. Slowly the awkwardness subsided and he began to open up. He told you his name was Eggsy and he worked as a tailor. Every week you would wait behind the counter with anticipation. Tristan chuckled as he saw you and the spy he knew all too well, subtly flirt with each other.

One week turned into a month and one month turned into another one. By now you had his phone number in yours and texted him every free minute. He would text you ‘Good Morning, luv.’ And ‘How was your day so far?’ You would reply with ‘So far good but you made it better, sugar.’ It was cheesy but jet oh so sickly sweet.

Your phone vibrated with jet another text from Eggsy. You opened it with a smile but it went away rapidly. ‘I have bad news, luv. I had to fly away for work and don’t know if I could make it today. I hope your mood didn’t sour. I will text you when I landed back in London.’ You smiled sadly. Your heart cracking a little bit. ‘Can’t wait to see you again.’

Your whole shift over your sombre mood was felt by everyone. Tristan pulled you aside and asked what was wrong with you. “I dinnae ken what is wrong with you, lass. But your dour mood is bringing down the pubs one. So stop that. Get out there, bonnie and smile.” You smiled at the old Scotsman. “Tristan, I’m sorry for being glum today. It’s just…” Your sentence drifted off. You looked to the floor while picking at your nails. Your boss understood immediately. “Aye, lass. Your Prince Charming will come around sooner or later. You see. At the end of your shift he will stand before the pub. Dee ye ken?” You nodded shyly. The Scotsman nodded before going out of the break room and serving the waiting patrons in the pub.

Today it was your day to close the doors. You made sure everything was cleaned and turned off before walking out and closing the door. You fished for your keys laying in your purse. From your rummaging your bag fell down. Groaning you wanted to pick it up but a all too familiar hand was faster. “Let me help.”

You looked up and saw the mesmerizing blue eyes of none other than Eggsy. “Hey.” You breathed. Eggsy, who found your keys, held them out to you while smiling brightly. “Hey, luv. Hope you didn’t miss me as much as I missed your beautiful face.”

Heat rose to your face and you kicked your feet a little. “I missed you a little.” You held out your thumb and pointer finger to show him how much you missed him. He chuckled and moved closer. “You should close the door and hurry home. There are strange people out here who could do unspeakable things to a damsel as yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his innuendo. “With people you mean yourself, mister Unwin?” Eggsy chuckled. “I would never take advantage of a lonely woman such as yourself, sugar. I’m a gentleman.” He bowed before you making you laugh out.

You quickly turned to close the front door before turning back to the self-proclaimed gentleman standing before you. “Would this so called gentleman like to escort me back home. So nothing would happen to a damsel such as myself.” Eggsy snorted out a laugh. “With the greatest pleasure. Lead the way, my lady.” He held out his hand for you to take. You bit your lip before taking it and leading you to your apartment.

Wanna read more of Eggsy? Click here Wanna stay updated? Click here Wanna request something? Click here

You liked this story? Please reblog and support my content!

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

Text

I’ll Take Care of You Pt. 2

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Summary: You and Eggsy have continued seeing each other after the incident. The only problem is, Eggsy only sees you when he's injured. Will he find the courage to tell you how he really feels? Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Talk about minor injuries, but overall fluff again.

Word Count: 3824

Part 1

A/N: The second part is finally here! I rewatched "Robin Hood" recently and it got me back into the Taron Egerton headspace. God I love that man. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Eggsy is walking out of a Kingsman meeting and he can feel the fatigue settling into his bones. Without having a mission to focus on, spy work can be rather boring. Especially during meetings like those. He's trudging down the hall when suddenly, he feels a buzz from his phone. He takes it out and instantly a smile appears on his face.

He received a text message from you saying: Did your meeting kill you with boredom? :P

He laughs to himself before responding: It was fucking dreadful, but thankfully I will live to see another day.

Ever since that fateful night where Eggsy got hit by your car, the two of you have stayed in touch. He thinks he’s actually found a friend in you. It feels nice to have someone to talk to about being a spy, other than his fellow Kingsman agents. Maybe Eggsy shouldn’t be telling you the information he does, but he can’t help it. There’s something about you that makes him want to tell you everything and he knows he can trust you. And you already knew he was a spy, so he figured what’s a few more secrets to spill?

Eggsy loves having you in his life. The only thing he doesn’t love is that the two of you don’t really hang out other than when he gets hurt. Yes, Eggsy has continued to visit you, his favourite nurse, whenever he gets injured in the field. Once, he even paid you a visit after fighting practice with Roxy resulted in a nasty black eye. You didn’t appear mad at him for wasting your time, since all you could really do is offer him an ice pack. You just tended to him as you often did and the two of you talked the night away.

It isn’t even a conscious decision anymore to go to you. He just always finds himself making the journey to your place with a new injury. The first time it happened after the car accident, it was because he had gotten injured near your place and thought it would be easier than returning to base or even going home. But after a few visits, he found himself just wanting to be with you, injured or not.

After this realization, he began to feel bad about selfishly wanting you to be the one who fixes him. After all, you already spend all day tending to patients. So he told you:

“Are you sure you don’t mind fixing me up all the time? I’m starting to feel bad for inconveniencing you.”

But instead of agreeing, you smiled at him and said, “Eggsy Unwin, you could never be an inconvenience. Don’t tell anyone, but out of all of my patients, you’re my favourite.”

His heart sped up at that, so he cracked a joke. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all your patients.”

“Only the handsome ones,” you replied with a wink that caused a shade of pink to bloom on his cheeks, but luckily you had returned to your work and didn’t seem to notice.

It was after that encounter that Eggsy had realized he was developing feelings for you that evolved past friendship. He had tried to chalk his feelings up to being platonic, but who was he kidding? He was falling for you, and falling hard. He thought about confessing to you, wondering if you felt the same, but it was too risky. Eggsy didn’t want to ruin one of the best friendships he had over feelings that are most likely one-sided.

“Is that Y/N?” A voice sounds from beside him, causing Eggsy to jump and almost drop his phone. So much for his spy training. “Tell her I say hi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, tucking his phone away and out of Roxy’s nosy stare. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, now walking beside him.

“Cut the shit, Unwin, I saw you smiling down at your phone with that goofy lovestruck smile that is reserved only for Y/N,” she says. Eggsy had never planned on sharing Y/N with Roxy, not wanting to risk you getting into trouble, but unfortunately for him, Roxy and Merlin are no good busybodies. The next day at work after the car accident, Roxy immediately bombarded him with questions about you. Apparently, when Eggsy informed Merlin that he was going to a random civilian’s house, the news was too interesting not to tell Roxy.

He also never planned on giving Roxy your name but having a friend that’s a spy is not convenient when keeping secrets. She had spied on him when Eggsy was texting you, the two of you having exchanged information that fateful day, and saw your contact name before he could stop her.

“I was not smiling, and I do not have a goofy lovestruck smile only for Y/N,” Eggsy tells her, but as soon as he says that, he wonders if he does. If his feelings are really that obvious.

“God, for a spy you really are obvious.” Sometimes he wonders why he’s even friends with Roxy.

“And for the last time, Rox, I am not in love with her,” he insists.

“Is that why you won’t let me meet her? You’re afraid I’ll tell her? Because I can assure you, unlike yourself, I am quite excellent at keeping secrets.”

“For the record, I won’t let the two of you meet because I’m afraid you’ll scare her off,” he says, but he’s also afraid that Roxy might steal you away. Maybe you’d prefer a female spy friend over him. He doesn’t think you’re the type of person to do that, but his insecurities continue to hold him back, just in case.

Roxy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Unwin, just admit that you love her! I already know, and you won’t convince me otherwise.” Eggsy realizes how true that is when he looks over to see his friend’s dead serious expression. Fuck it.

“It’s not love, quite yet,” he admits, and Roxy giddily celebrates. Eggsy looks up and down the hall to make sure no one sees her. “What was that about being too obvious?”

But Roxy doesn’t hear him. “I knew it. I can’t believe I got you to confess, I thought I’d have to bug you at least a few more times about it,” she says with a smile on her face. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, now you know. Satisfied?”

She stays quiet for a moment before asking, “Why don’t you tell her again?”

“It’s not that simple,” he says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know how to explain himself without making him seem like a miserable sod. “She’s my friend. A good friend, and I don’t…” He sighs and stops walking. Roxy stops beside him. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Eggsy Unwin,” Roxy says, and when he looks her she has a serious arms-crossed look that makes Eggsy want to keep walking. “You’re not going to screw this up.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same?” he confesses and then realizes they should have chosen a more private location to be having this conversation. Luckily, there appear to be no other agents around.

“By the looks of your messages, I can almost guarantee she feels the same. On top of that, I’m your best friend and even I would get annoyed at having to fix you up after every fight,” she says.

“Sorry, exactly when did you see such messages?”

“Never mind that,” she says, brushing the topic aside. “The point is, I think she feels the same way. And even if she doesn’t, based on the limited knowledge of her, she sounds like the type of person to handle that well. You don’t have to worry about your friendship.”

What she said makes sense, yet Eggsy can’t shake the queasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of having to confess to you.

“It’s up to you what you do,” Roxy continues. “But would you at least consider it?”

He stares at her unyielding gaze, and relents. “I suppose.”

“Thank god. I don’t know how much more pining I can take,” she says and resumes walking.

“I do not pine!” he says, picking up his pace to catch up with her.

†††

A week later, Eggsy finds himself sitting in one of the Kingsman jets heading back to base after a long, but successful, mission. He’s lounging in one of the chairs, feeling proud that the mission had gone off without a hitch.

His mission had been to retrieve some confidential information that had gone missing, but the retrieval ended up being fairly easy. The people who had stolen the information got lulled into a sense of calm and had lowered their security. Thanks to that, Eggsy had been able to be in and out of the compound, only having to take out a few people along the way.

Eggsy feels the pride and relief he normally would but now he’s also filled with excitement. Typically, at the end of his more recent missions, Eggsy will have acquired a few wounds that need tending to and would drop by your place (if you were available, which most of the time you were.) Only, as Eggsy relaxes into the jet’s seat, his excitement suddenly dwindles. He lifts up his arms and examines his body to check, but this time Eggsy finds himself in perfect condition. No injury to be found. He slumps back into the chair.

This should be a good thing, as Eggsy isn’t always as careful as he should be, but he finds he’s disappointed. After all, now he didn’t have a reason to see you. He bites his lip and gazes out the window. He was really excited to see you and now there is a hole of dissatisfaction left behind.

He continues thinking about you, about what you’re doing right now, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s dialling your number. He only wants to hear the sound of your voice, even if he got your voicemail he would be satisfied.

On the third ring, you pick up. “How’s my favourite spy doing?” you ask as a greeting. He’s almost embarrassed at the butterflies that flutter in his stomach at your voice, and you calling him that.

“I don’t know, how is Bond?” He hears you giggle, brightening his already wide smile.

“Oh hush, no need to be jealous over a fictional character. And you were right, he is a bit posh for my taste.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “Well, your real favourite spy is feeling pretty fucking good right about now.”

“I take it the mission went well?” He had been texting you throughout the mission when he got bored. Merlin used to give him shit for it, but now he’s begrudgingly resigned to it, knowing that Eggsy had no intentions of stopping. As long as it’s only you.

“It went great! Everything went according to plan.”

“Sounds a bit boring.” He laughs, as he silently agrees with you. “Speaking as your nurse, however, I suppose this is good news.”

“What a lovely nurse I have. How did I get so lucky?”

Another laugh. “Right place, right time, right car I suppose.” He laughs. It took a while before you were able to laugh about hitting him with your car, as you still felt extremely guilty. But after reassuring you that he was over it, and constantly teasing you about it, you found the humour in it. “Seriously, I’m happy for you Eggs. You must feel great.”

“I do,” he says, despite the disappointment that lingered due to not seeing you. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“Duh!”

“Could you please try to leave out the classified bits?” Another voice sounds from the jet. Eggsy looks up to see Merlin passing by. He gives Eggsy a tired, worried expression. Eggsy smiles up at him.

“You can count on me, Merlin,” he says with a cheeky smile and a wink. Merlin simply rubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses sit.

“Is that Merlin? Tell him I say hi!”

“Y/N says hi,” Eggsy relays to him. Merlin’s face softens.

“Hello dear,” he says. Despite the nagging and scolding, Eggsy thinks Merlin likes you. The two of you have never met, but Eggsy suspects the older man believes you’re a good influence on him. Truthfully, it’s because you make Eggsy happy.

“He says hi back.”

“When are you going to introduce me to your spy family? Or is that against the rules?”

“I think it’s a little late to be considering the rules.” You laugh.

“Fair enough. Then what is it? Do you just want to keep me all to yourself?” Eggsy’s breath catches as you jokingly hit the nail on the head. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t help the feeling of wanting to be yours. To remain your favourite spy.

“You caught me,” he says with a laugh to avoid the truthfulness from leaking through his tone.

“You can’t keep anything from me, my dear boy.” Again, his heart hammers in his chest. “Now enough chit chat, tell me about your mission.”

†††

Later that night, Eggsy is sitting on his couch, your phone call from earlier echoing in his mind. Even after hearing your voice, it didn’t quite satisfy his need to see you. He considers slightly nicking his hand with a knife when he catches himself. What is he doing? There’s nothing stopping him from going to see you right now except his own nerves. But if the two of you really are friends, then there’s nothing wrong with it, right?

“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself. Summoning up courage he doesn’t have, he stands up from his couch. What’s the worst that can happen? A deep breath, and he’s making his way to the door when suddenly he hears a knock. He pauses, wondering who it could be. It’s the middle of the night.

Eggsy cautiously walks to his front door and opens it, only to stop in shock. There, on his doorstep, is you. You’re here, at his place. Once that registers, concern overwhelms him as he takes in your state.

You’re leaning against his doorframe with a hand pressed against your left side. You also brand a gash on your chin and a split lip. Despite all of this, a smile graces your lips. “Well isn’t this ironic?” you say as way of greeting. Eggsy’s still having a hard time believing he didn’t fall asleep and dreamt this. But your voice shocks him out of his frozen state.

“Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you?” he asks, opening his door. Shock is slowly giving way to worry as he watches you slowly make your way into his place, taking in the view.

“It’s actually a funny story,” you say. You make your way to his couch but pause to examine his living room. “Nice place you have here.”

Eggsy’s mind is going a mile a minute. He didn’t know what to do, but then he remembers that you’re injured. “I-I’ll go see if I have anything to patch you up with.” Before you can argue, Eggsy starts scrambling around his place trying to find what he thinks he would need. He ends up bringing a wet cloth, a bag of frozen peas, a package of bandaids, and some disinfectant cream that you had given him.

He returns to find you sitting on his couch, a pained expression on your face as you take deep breaths. As soon as you see him however, your face hides any trace of pain. He furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. He dumps the stuff on his coffee table.

“Whoa,” you say, taking in his collection. He becomes self-conscious since you’re an expert in medicine.

“I-It’s not much, I know, but it’ll do for now,” he says reassuringly. He takes a seat on the couch beside you. He knows about the injuries on your face but not your stomach. He eyes your side and you know what he’s thinking. “Could you lift up your shirt?”

“How forward of you,” you say with a smirk and he’s acutely aware that your roles have truly changed. He gives you a stern look, and you drop the smirk. You pull your shirt up to reveal your side and Eggsy sucks in a sharp breath.

“Jesus Y/N,” he mutters, examining the massive bruise.

“I’m lucky it’s just a bruise,” you say, a wince on your face. Eggsy looks at you and forces your gaze to meet his own.

“What happened?” he says sternly. He knows you’ve been dodging around the subject since you got here. You blush, realizing that he’s caught onto your game. To distract you, Eggsy begins fixing you up. He gently places the frozen peas on the bruise and you gasp in pain, causing his heart to squeeze.

“I don’t know how you spy types do it,” you comment. He thinks about asking how you medical professionals do it, as seeing you in pain breaks his heart. But Eggsy won’t let you dance around the subject any longer. You let out a sigh as you hold onto the bag while Eggsy examines your other injuries. “So, it’s actually rather embarrassing, but…I was actually on my way to see you.”

His eyes widen. You wanted to see him too? He tries to catch your eye but your gaze is directed at anywhere but him. A deep red is encroaching on your cheeks. You clear your throat. “So anyway, I got in my car and drove over. I…I was a bit rushed so when I got out of my car I wasn’t paying much attention. That’s when this biker rounds the corner and rides right into me.” Eggsy finishes dabbing the wet cloth on your chin and begins to apply the disinfectant, causing a hiss to escape your lips.

“Sorry,” he says. He finally meets your eyes and it feels like he got the wind kicked out of him.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, not breaking away from the stare. A moment passes before you look away and continue your story. “Anyway, he knocked me over and my left side hit the curb while my chin hit the pavement.” Eggsy winces for you.

“Did the wanker at least apologize?” His voice is clipped, withholding his anger for your sake. Tending to you is all that’s keeping him from tracking down this man and inflicting the same pain he forced upon you.

"It wasn’t his fault, Eggs, I wasn’t looking." He nods but still isn’t satisfied. Accident or no, this man hurt you which stirred unpleasant emotions in his head. “He ended up falling over as well, but he had a helmet so ultimately both he and the bike were fine. We both apologized to each other, me for not looking and him for not steering away or stopping quick enough. He was actually really nice about it.”

To distract from the illogical flare of jealousy that rose within him, Eggsy decides to joke around. “Is this a habit of yours? Getting into accidents with nice men? You know, there are other ways of gaining a man’s attention.” His comments make you break out into a smile that instantly winces due to the split lip.

“First of all, shut up,” you say, causing him to laugh. “And second of all, I’ll have you know that I had a clean record before I met you. Perhaps you’ve begun to corrupt me.”

“Perhaps I have.” The two of you smirk and the flirtatious energy soon leaves a sharp tension in the room. Eggsy applies a large enough bandage onto your chin and now begins to dab on the cut on your lip. You’re close enough for your breaths to tangle. But before Eggsy makes a complete ass of himself, he has to know. “Why were you coming to see me?”

This question wipes the smirk from your face and reheats your cheeks. “O-oh, that,” you say, trying to find the words, it seems. “Well, the thing is…okay, after your mission, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was expecting to get a call from you saying you needed to be patched up. I-I had gotten used to it, so I was expecting to see you. But then the mission went fine.”

Eggsy can’t believe what he’s hearing. His heart begins picking up speed as he eagerly waits for you to continue.

“And I know I should have been happy to hear that—I was, I mean I hate seeing you hurt and I’m always the one telling you to be more careful.” You begin to ramble on and in your ramblings, Eggsy’s confidence grows. “I selfishly wanted an excuse to see you, but then I decided fuck it, and made my way over here. I-I just wanted to see you.”

You will no longer look at him. Your flirtatious confidence is gone as you let the unspoken words hang in the air. Looking at you, processing what you said, Eggsy realizes that there’s a chance. There’s a chance that you feel the same way, a strong one. And if there’s a chance, Eggsy’s going to take it.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His continued silence forces you to look at him and he hears you gasp softly at his proximity. He’s looking at you, flicking his gaze down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His eyes hold a question and you glance quickly at his lips before nodding.

Eggsy gently takes your face into his hands and crashes his lips down onto yours. You hiss and he breaks apart, feeling guilty for forgetting your cut, but you grab his collar and force his lips back on yours.

Eggsy sinks into the kiss, letting the passion take over and melt his body. He can’t think of anything else other than your lips, moving together, sweeter than his imagination could have predicted. When the two of you break apart, gasping for air, he breaks into a smile. You giggle, making him want to kiss you all over again to swallow the sound and live off it.

After a moment, you say, “If I’d known this is what it would take for you to finally make a move, I would have got hit by a bike ages ago.” You both laugh before Eggsy can’t hold himself back any longer and captures your lips again. You hungrily accept.

You kiss until you pull back, wincing in pain. “Totally worth it,” you whispers. He sighs as the cut on your lip reopens.

“What am I going to do with you?” he says, shaking his head as he reapplies the cloth.

“Nurse me back to health?” you say with a smile. He smiles back.

“Don’t you worry love, I’ll take care of you.”

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

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a little dream come true (e.u.)

summary ⇾ eggsy remembers just how he met you–be it chance, be it fate–and remembering it every now and then brings a smile to his face (yours too) details ⇾ 1,715 words / eggsy unwin x data-analyst!reader / gn!reader / 🌸 fluff / merlin being the biggest shipper of you two (we do not talk about the golden circle…)

the kingsman headquarters grow quiet in the thick of the night, as it always does. eggsy finds himself down one of the hallways, making his way towards a specific office to find his favorite person. he slows down when he passes by a door that looks familiar. backtracking a couple of steps, he looks through the small window and the sight refreshes his memory. his memory of when he first met you.

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

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Holy shit. I need more! I was t expecting to spend 1/2 my lunch break reading this today, but goddamn this is good! Please let me know when you post more! 🖤

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush.

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.”

“Thanks.”

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?”

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man.

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much. The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

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Curious Polar bear (Ursus maritimus) standing upright and looking through porthole into the kitchen of arctic expedition ship M/S Stockholm in Svalbard, Spitsbergen, Norway by Andy Rouse

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writingwithadinosaur · 1 year ago

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my fellow, my guy

Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.3k] Summary: All his attempts at faking nonchalance about anything are gone out of the window just like that. Four words and Joel's changed. In his bones, the very chemistry of his brain. "'Cause he's my guy." How did he ever manage to not claim you in front of the world? He has no clue, but Joel's changing that. Tonight.

— A/n 📝I wanted to try something different. What if possessive!Reader brought out the possessiveness in Joel? Reblogs and comments make all the difference. — Warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, established relationship, rough sex, possessive!Joel, dirty talking, thigh riding, spanking, soft!Dom!Joel, possessive!Reader, oral (f receiving), penetration, creampie.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

In the middle of what seemed like a sea of infinite, boring nothingness, Joel is hooked by the magnitude of your nature's force — the power in the way you stand; your presence.

His favorite thing ever since he met you. Everything about you.

Since he arrived at Jackson's community with Ellie two years ago, he's been blinded by it.

Your light, heat, glow. Joel might as well be a moth, and it amazed him now that he thought of it, how long he managed to pretend he was anything by mesmerized by your flames. In the middle of the meeting, you utter the words that snap something inside him, and Joel feels his inner workings shifting. Four words and Joel's changed:

"'Cause he's my guy."

All his attempts at faking nonchalance about anything are gone out of the window just like that. In his bones, the very chemistry of his brain — Joel feels a snap, and he sort of... embraces it.

There's silence around the table for only a second.

Nathan had asked: "But why does he get to go if it's that dangerous? I get it when you go by yourself 'cause we know you're different, but I've asked you multiple times, and it's always no. I just — I don't get why he's going."

And you had answered.

Loud and clear.

"Not that you have to get anything, Nathan, since you don't have the ground knowledge to be second-guessing my decisions of any plans, but — it's simple. I'll answer you. 'Cause he's my guy. And I'll take him to wherever I please."

You had paused, lifted both eyebrows in question, and Nathan remained silenced.

Joel freezes at first, too. When you say 'he's my guy' the words shoot like a freezing spell that hits his blood, but even with almost all eyes turning shamelessly to him, Joel can feel his shoulders relaxing further back the more you stare at him. In only a second he sees a lot of words running through your eyes, and all he can think back is a litany of — yes exactly yes—

He leans back on the chair's backrest. Both of his feet slide a few inches further, his legs spreading wider.

He is your guy.

Has been for a while now. A year — almost a year a half, if he was being really accurate. While both of you managed to keep that hidden for the better half of that time, lately the nosy (and delusional) jackasses like Nathan were prodding into your business with jabs here and there. Tauntings about the 'nature' of things between you and him. As if they couldn't see it in both of your eyes. Your postures. The way you walked side by side.

No matter how private you two tried being, you two almost had rings gravitating the bubble created around you, like Saturn in the sky.

Joel knew they frowned upon him. Talked about him on his back — about him and his daughter, about his daughter's personality, and the way Joel Miller seems to 'have only smiles for his Ranger neighbor'.

The silence around the table's broken by his own voice, letting the words slip out of his tongue. "Don't worry, Nathan. 'm not decorative. I've got good aim. If you're worried about her safety, don't be."

What a jackass move. That's what the smile on the corner of your mouth said to him. "See? So helpful. We'll all be fine, and once we're through there and come back, everyone else can be fine too knowing there's nothing to worry about."

With a sigh, you get up before Nathan can finish collecting his patience from the floor, or wipe away the humiliation of being rejected for what is far from the first time since he's unable to accept a refusal without embarrassing himself.

"Are we all clear?"

After a round of verbal agreement from the table — one of which comes through gritted teeth — you nod once, put on a smile, and sigh loudly. "Excellent. You're all free to go."

It was so, so — hot. Enticing, and hypnotizing.

The power you had over people that came not because of something futile, but because of how capable your hands were. Joel was an imbecile if he was being honest with himself.

How did he ever manage to not claim you in front of the world? He has no clue, but Joel's changing that.

Tonight.

He sits back and waits while the room empties out, slowly.

Some people linger back to talk to each other, to him, to you. He answers all of them without ever turning his body away from you, and when there are only a handful of people left, Joel remains seated, with no rush to gather his jacket or things since he's leaving with the person who's closing the whole building.

He's leaving with you.

Tommy, Mercedes, and Max are the last ones hanging around, and while the two latter go exchange a word with you — "good gods, can we do a round table vote to kick fucking Nathan out of here? I know he's a master engineer or whatever, but fuck, man, he's annoying", starts Max — his brother knocks his elbow on his side.

Joel looks up to find the smirk on Tommy's face.

"If you had feathers, you'd be peacocking all over the goddamn room," he whispers for Joel's ears only.

Joel laughs under his breath. "Shut up."

Tommy shakes his head, laughing as well. "Nah, I won't, actually. I happen to like seein' that stupid look on your goddamn face."

"Is that so?" Joel wants to sound a little more sarcastic, but with the huge smile he feels imprinted on his face, it's impossible to do so.

"Damn right it is," Tommy chuckles. "And you know why it's the best seein' that smile puttin' even a glint in your eyes, huh?"

Oh, god, here he goes. "Why?"

"Because this is the best damn I told you so on the planet. Well — one of the best. There's space for more," Tommy pouts, looking up with a musing look. "A couple of really big others." He looks down at Joel again, smiling from ear to ear. "I've gotten really smart in your absence, and I wanna hear the day when you'll admit it."

Joel's amused by the confidence — if Tommy's right about many other things Joel will find out eventually, but this, he owns.

Tommy introducing Joel to you with only a nudge in the right direction was all it took.

"We'll see about those," Joel answers and Tommy huffs good-heartedly in response, an image most familiar to Joel.

Now again, after almost decades without it.

Joel's happy for many reasons, it seems.

He sinks his feet in the feeling, not wanting to track back to things he's unable to change.

Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but Joel catches a cue from across the room:

Keys. Your set of keys when grabbed from the table make a known sound, and it's like an alarm — a triggering sound that connects to routine. He hears them and Tommy turns around, seeing how Max and Mercedes are leaving.

Joel and Tommy move in sync toward you, and everybody — with the exception of Joel and you — bids their goodbyes at the door outside.

As soon as they're out of sight, Joel turns to find your eyes already waiting for his.

He never had this type of relationship before. Never saw in someone's eyes the thoughts running through their mind at that exact moment, and it was exhilarating.

You knew your words had affected them.

The only thing you were probably unaware of was the epiphany that accompanied them — the moment his mind came to a halt.

The inner fight over faking being empty.

It was so silly. Joel was full.

"If I kiss you here, we're not gonna stop," Joel informs you.

A breathless chuckle leaves you, and you take a step, falling gracefully into his hold. "Really?"

Joel loves sultriness in your voice. "Really." He goes back to the words he's been letting your mind soak up. Closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on yours as his arm locks around you. "How could you do that to me, hm?"

His own voice is wrecked. Sounds like something out of a ridiculous sex tape, or one of those Star Wars movies from back in the way.

Seemingly content with what you've done, Joel feels your giggling more than hears it—the huffs of breath on his chin and cheeks tickle. "I wasn't really thinking when I said it? It's just — it was the third time he questioned me choosing you to team up and I know it's stupid to let it get to me, I know Nathan's just — jealous, which is even more ridiculous than anything, but I hate the way he speaks over me sometimes. I hate it! And when I saw... it'd slipped out."

It's the coyness at the end of your ramble that gets him to open his eyes.

"Slipped out," he echoes.

You nod, smiling up at him. A little shy, a little devious. "Yeah."

The worst part is — he believed you. "I believe you." Truth does that. It slips out. It's uncontainable, like sunshine or water or rain.

Then, you're happier, and whenever your smile widened like that, Joel was always taken over by the desire to kiss you. This time, he embraced the hunger with open arms and leaned to capture what he wanted.

None of you discussed the lack of control of doing this only seconds after he just said there was no controlling him, but this was more than a need — or delicious, wet evidence —, it was breathing.

Joel inhales deeply while his tongue tangles with yours, his hands finding their path easily to your hair through your favorite spots and detours on your neck. He kisses them just to breathe.

He went without addiction for so long in this world.

When your throat vibrations with a low moan, Joel knows why.

He'd been weak before. No room in him for addictions if there were no higher parts of him working. No real thinking, feeling, existing.

People turned to things that gave them a thrill because existing demanded too much. A strenuous task with little to no rewards, which made everyone to need an escape.

Thankfully, you were no escape.

And as far as vices went, the taste of you was an infinite, healthy, and powerful source for one.

He pulls back for oxygen, breathing out slowly the warmness you leave in his chest.

"So I'm your guy." Joel needed to hear it again, maybe. He liked how the words sounded on his lips, too.

"You are."

Sweet Jesus.

He needs to get you home before starting this shit. "Fuck," it slips out. You laugh, resting your forehead on his sternum, and Joel nods to you and to himself. "'kay. We need to go. Let's go?"

"Yeah".

"Alright. No distractin' me while I'm drivin', ya hear me?"

Despite having already done everything tonight, you still have the audacity to whine at his request. Joel ought to slap your ass right there in the middle of the street. On the sidewalk outside where both of you work, often.

He takes advantage of the hand on your hair, making a fist with it — as carefully as he can be — and grips just right.

Putting his mouth to your ear, he whispers. "I'll spank ya 'till your ass is red if you whine again before my tongue's buried in your pussy." Joel lives for the way you gasp for him. He presses his whole body flushed with yours, and hears the repressed groan in your throat when you feel it. "I've been half hard since what you said sank in. Calling me yours like that, claiming me for everybody to hear. Had to fuckin' stop myself from thinkin' about fucking you on that table for everyone to see. Don't make me crazier than I already am, I swear to—" his final words end muffled on your lips.

Instead of finishing, he just gets another little taste of you.

One for the road.

For safe keeping.

Joel had such a distance between his mind now and the memories of his young adult years that every time this happened, he felt a little choked up:

nostalgia.

True, genuine nostalgia.

For him, it came in waves.

It smelled of his first trip to the beach, and the taste of gelato sticking sweet on his tongue. Showing him real sweetness for the first time.

That's what driving home to you feels like.

Joel's still not used to your eyes on him. Being looked at with so much hunger scared him at first. Joel thought these days were past him. He imagined luxury, lust, adventure, and the nice, saccharine-type of adrenaline all belonged in his past.

To a Joel that died when Cordyceps wrecked the world.

It turned out that your fingertips on his thigh touched the parts of him that proved his wonderings wrong.

Sure, he had trouble getting hard all by himself if he wanted to jack off on a random weekday, but — put you biting your bottom lip on the passenger seat, and Joel was bulging inside his jeans, stiff as a rock and with no rush to see the end of it.

The silence that blanketed the car comfortably is thrown out of the window when you two enter his room, fully clothed.

You are so good for him.

When Joel kicks his bedroom door closed behind him, you are still. Waiting for it.

Knowing exactly what he needs.

A shiver runs through his whole body, and Joel sits on his armchair to remove his boots. He turns on the soft light on the interrupter behind him, feeling around the wall for it so his eyes can remain on you. When the room's illuminated by yellow, warm light, Joel kicks off his shoes and spreads his legs, making himself comfortable.

"Take off your shoes." He loves this part. "And your pants." Joel's hand comes up to his beard, rubbing the patchy hair. "Then get here," he pats his lap, and watches as you do as he asked.

Slowly. Exactly how he likes it.

Joel keeps smoothing out the hair on his face as he watches you do it. The right word for what awakens inside him every time his eyes land on more and more skin, and more of your body, is adoration.

He'd been attracted to some people since the outbreak happened, it'd be impossible for him not to — Joel pretended for a long while to be devoid of feelings, not being dead.

Attraction and primal, raw desire might belong in the same family, but they lived on almost opposite ends of the spectrum. The first was the beginning of 'Interest' while the second was the furthest point of it.

Joel desired you for things that went far beyond your looks, but gods—

The looks.

He was painfully attracted to you, and he knew it dripped out of him.

When you strip off from all the item he asks for and walks to him, Joel puts his legs together to give you space in his armchair. His arms open up to welcome your body straddling his, then wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible.

As if he wished to trap you.

You wished he would.

For a while, all he does is feel you up.

His hands run over every exposed inch of your skin while his face rubs on your neck and your face, beard leaving the first tingles of what later will be red burns. Meanwhile, your body ignites as if fuel is being added to fire.

The longer Joel touches you, rubs on you, leaves trails of his mouth and his kisses on the skin it passes through, the hotter you burn. It starts as a fire in your brain — Joel started as a single flame somewhere in your mind, one you were unable to pin a finger on and eventually put out, and it grew, and it took over. His heat spreads from a fog around your thoughts to your neck. It descends to your neck, then it warms your chest.

When his tongue and teeth scrape a spot in your jugular, the storm he caused settles in between your legs, causing them to rut against his lap, rocking against the bulge inside his pants.

Joel hums in your neck, pulling back to look at your face. His smile is smug, and you say it you hate it every time you see it. "Stupid cocky smile." The words are ineffective as always — in face of how breathy you sound, the way your hips are moving in circles on top of him, they're empty.

"You love my cocky everything." Stupid cocky bastard.

Your mouth crashes against him, landing in a bruising kiss.

Joel never minded your roughness.

He embraced it however it came, whenever it came. Joel liked it. In all its forms, it was beautiful to him.

It matches the despair inside him. Joel enjoys how he's able to devour you, sometimes whole, because you feast on him as well. You tongue is hot and heavy on his, and your moans awaken the words from the meeting back to him.

Joel kisses even harder.

His hands — one on the nape of your neck and the other grabbing at your back, your boobs, your stomach — both move to your waist and guide your moves to slow it down.

When you pull back to breathe, Joel wants to feel everything.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion, throwing them off somewhere without care. He removes your top as well, then takes a moment to appreciate the view.

"Take my clothes off, baby." He hates to have you off his lap for even a moment, but for this, it's worth it.

Since the first time he slept with you, Joel chooses to let you undress him if he can. If he's not in a rush to have you, if it's not one of those incredible moments when he already wakes up with you naked and him still only in boxers — if he can, Joel picks this—

Your fingers sometimes are desperate. Buttons are your worst enemy when all you want is him naked for you, but most of the time, you take your time. Do it slowly, taking off each item with the care he never seems to have for your clothes because all Joel cares for is your skin.

"I like taking them off."

"Why?"

"Remember how I asked you that first time to do it?"

"Yeah."

"So — I wanted to do it for so long. I—don't laugh at me, or — look at me weird, but. I thought about it. A lot. Thought about... all these layers you're often using. And — I'm crazy about your body. You—I know you complain about the aches and joke about being old and frail, which is — bullshit. Ridiculous, and everyone knows it. It's just... I like that you let me do it. I like that I get to undress you. It's hot. You're hot."

The memory strikes him again — as it does when he's in this position — and Joel feels a little raw.

Now that he knows how you feel, it makes it more real.

How you peel off his shirt by running your palms across his chest all the way through his back. Undoing the zipper of his pants, you palm the outline of his cock, then get down on both knees to pull them all the way off. Joel helps by lifting his hips a little, and seeing the way your eyes snap to his groin makes him burn.

Joel knows exactly what you'll go for — he watches you remove and throw his jeans to the side, hands running up his calves while you stand on both knees to nibble little bites on his thighs.

He hisses, feeling his dick twitch the closer you get to it. He lets you have your fun, no matter how much it feels like torture.

Your tongue touches the muscle of his inner thigh, sucking a bruise in there, and Joel gasps. "You ain't gonna do what you think you are."

You muffle what he images would be another whine by sucking a bruise on his other thigh. "Please?" You blink your gorgeous eyes, gazing straight at him.

Joel cups your face in one hand, smiling again. He refrains from answering because he likes what comes next.

The kisses that inch closer to his cock. The innocent, and yet siren eyes that stay steady on his while you whisper. "I've been good. Why not?"

"'Cause I have other plans for you."

You perk up. "What d'you want?"

Joel pats his lap. "Get back here."

You do as he says in a second, but instead of straddling both of his thighs, Joel guides you to one of his thighs. It's a tight squeeze in the armchair, but he makes it work. He pulls your panties to the side and pulls you down, feeling the wetness of your cunt at the first movement of your hips.

"That's it," he coos, tangling one hand in your hand to pull you in for a kiss. "Wanna see you get off on my thigh, baby," he kisses your neck, and smiles when you moan at his words and grind harder on him. "Just like that. Gonna use me? Hm?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna use your guy?"

"Joel." Your movements back and forth create a path of slickness in his thigh, and for someone who occasionally needs a little hand from you to get fully hard, he would believe the horniness in his mind that says he's just as young as ever. He feels he's never this hard — this desperate; the wet patch in his boxers only amplifies the louder you moan for him, and with your mouth back on his, Joel can imagine he's a mess.

Not as much as you. Nonetheless — a mess.

With a red, plump mouth, you pull back from his kisses to hold onto his face. Your other hand is gripping the back of his head, and Joel loves the look of pure lust on your face.

The look of someone who's in another dimension of feeling good.

He did that. Joel groans low in his throat when he thinks of it, and assaults your neck with kisses. One hand comes down to slap your ass, and you yelp — the look of surprise that flashes across your features is replaced by one of absolute pleasure within a split second, and Joel growls at witnessing it.

He slaps the other side with his other hand, and you cry for him.

"You're gonna cum like this." He knows you can. Joel's tested several different ways he can bring you to the edge, and this is one of his favorites. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue."

"Oh, god." Your cries are accompanied by whimpers at every push of your hips on his thigh, and the slick sounds covering the air are taking away Joel's ability to think of anything other than you.

"Yeah — 'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby, goddamn it."

"Just like — like you want to? On the table?"

"Yes. Fuck—just like that." Joel sees you're teetering on the edge. He recognizes the trembling of your hand fisted in his hand, and the desperate way your hips start moving, almost losing balance. He leans to capture your bottom lip with his teeth, wanting so badly he could eat you. "Cum for me. If I'm yours, then you're mine, right?" Your hips falter at the words, losing their rhythm due to the shiver that runs through you. "That's it. Show me you're my lady. All fuckin' mine. Always so good for me, so fuckin' perfect—god, yeah. Like that — so damn good. Cum, baby. Don't stop. Keep cummin' for me."

Between your first and second orgasm, Joel gets lost in his mind and the moment.

It's rare for that to happen.

For someone who was used to panic rising so fast in his chest that it led to his heart trying to run out of his chest, or at least beat fast enough for it to feel like that, having no other thoughts but the present one and to submerge in what he's feeling.

He had to stop running from it — he feels.

Life never stopped, even if it felt like it did. No broken watch would stop time, and it was you who brought him the realization.

Joel shows his gratitude in one of the few ways he knows to.

One of the few ways he's at least certain he's good at.

By bringing you white bliss, and making you drown in nothing but good, for as long as he can. He carries you to bed and eats you from behind at first. That way Joel can fuck his tongue deeper inside you — he can bend you as far as you'll go and use his tongue until his jaw aches; until it stings and then burns because the reward tastes sweet on his tongue. It washes away all the hurt and gets his humming against your wet and pulsing core.

When he turns you over to do the same thing again but with you on your back, Joel gets lost in the middle of the way.

Your hands make grabby gestures at him.

Legs shaking, your skin covered in sweat, the way you say, "Please get on top of me." It's all too much.

Joel loses his last piece of clothing in one motion, and does something he should know better than to risk.

Grabbing his cock by the base, he drags the head between the lips of your cunt, pulling a moan from both of you. This is where he usually would grab a condom — after teasing you, giving you just the head, making you spread your legs wider or lock your legs behind his ass just to pull him closer.

Not this time. This time, he leans down until his mouth is on your ear and asks. "Can I? I understand if you don't want to—"

"Please. Yes, yes," you interrupt, hooking your legs around him and already pushing his hips closer.

Joel slides deeper, grunting on your neck. "Always so tight," he sounds drunk. "Lemme in, baby... Like that. Breathe deep." Joel's a big man, and the way you slowly relax to take all of him gets to his head every time. "Atta fuckin' girl, jus' like that."

"Joel this feels even better." The whine around the words makes him cry on your shoulder. He knows this is far from being the last time now.

He pulls out and slams it back in. "Fuckin' hell — it does." He thrusts his hips hard, but not fast. He likes to enjoy your sounds.

The filthy ones that fill the room.

If you sense that something shifted in Joel — something in his core, a foundation that he painted a coat of invisible ink over it as if such a thing existed — nothing about you lets that out.

You always held his face in your hands as he buried himself inside you.

The way you look at him — nothing about it is new, either.

Only this time, Joel lets himself feel it all the way through.

He is your guy, after all. He can feel all the good things you bring out in him because you want him to. It matters to you if he's happy or not. If he's safe, and fed, and not in pain. Joel buries himself in you the same way he buried all his hopes long ago — you found it in him, anyway. Years later, somewhere between all the grief and dust, you picked it up and gave it back to him even if he never asked for it.

Joel's usually harsher with you, not because he's trying to be mean, but because you like it when it hurts a little.

"Wanna feel you tomorrow—" are words he's heard a lot coming from you. Today, you say, "You gonna let your cum drip out of me?"

And it fucks with his head. He nods in answer, snapping his hips harder. Joel glues his forehead on yours and nods, grunting with the effort and the delicious drag of your tight cunt squeezing around him.

"'m close, Joel — feels too good."

That's his favorite song. How out of breath you sound, voice higher than ever. "'m gonna cum when you cum. 'm right behind you, baby. 's ok. Take your time. Feels good? Hm? Taking every fuckin' inch of me?"

"Oh god, Joel." Your hips are pushing back on his, and your arms use his shoulders for leverage as you hold onto him.

He laughs, kissing you through gasps and his own sounds. He shares the same air as you, wanting to fuck you so fast and hard that both of your hips will be hurting tomorrow, but he wants this to go on for a long time more than he wants to lose himself in you.

When your begging for "More, please Joel, more—" starts, Joel sits both of you up, pulling you back to his lap. He puts a pillow behind your back, supporting you against the headboard, and sits on his kneels and heels even if tomorrow they'll be aching.

You give him massages when he's hurting.

Joel needs to be as close to you as possible. Like this, your bodies are one.

Like this, you can plant your feet against the bed and fuck him back, as hard and as fast as you want to.

Joel gets a face full of your boobs bouncing up and down and your screams muffling his moans.

He feels it coming — you cling your arm around his shoulder and pull his face to yours again, your mouth hanging open in a perfect O until your eyes close shut.

Joel seems to lose all notion of time as you fall apart on top of him. He feels it all over your body. The orgasm shakes you whole, the trembling only losing for the way your cunt squeezes so hard around him, making it even harder to pull out. He fucks you deep and hard then, and it takes only a few more thrusts before he's moaning in your ear as he fills you up.

Coming down from a high is always difficult.

With you in his arms, it never happens.

Joel plays with his own cum leaking down your thighs, and smiles to himself when you tremble in sensitivity at his minor touches. He'll take a warm cloth and clean you both later, but first, he'll make a mess.

"All mine," he tells you. His fingers graze your clitoris, drenched in the mix of his own release and yours, and something in your eyes tell him you know what he's talking about.

While he may be unable to say some things — and your existence is challenging even that — he can say this much.

He agrees with you.

"All mine," you echo. Your kiss on his lips taste sweeter than before. They taste like I'm yours and you're mine, and for now, that's all he needs.

Joel has you, and you have him. It's all he needs to start.

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