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missmonsters2 · 1 year

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Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

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Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

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You heard the news through Bruce.

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else.

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone.

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone.

Steve was gone.

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it.

Vision was gone.

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound.

Natasha was gone.

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days.

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it.

Natasha was back.

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed.

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

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You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to.

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world.

It made you sick to your stomach.

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were.

She was in good hands.

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

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The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him.

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong.

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

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June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies.

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile.

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh.

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully.

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?"

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

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April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed.

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you.

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

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June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again.

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical.

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

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September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door.

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils.

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

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June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to.

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face.

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around.

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back.

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her.

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Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted.

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell.

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way.

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this.

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through.

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs.

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them.

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you.

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing.

"Nat?"

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you.

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage.

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"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head.

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl.

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him.

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks.

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before.

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

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It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet.

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this.

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility.

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest.

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod.

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from.

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?"

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield.

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing.

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"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular.

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you."

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom.

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in.

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer.

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water.

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked.

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way.

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly.

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll.

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned.

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor.

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water.

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately.

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful.

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away.

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet.

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private.

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands.

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out.

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed.

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair.

So delicate.

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside.

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself.

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid.

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively.

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn.

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling.

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears.

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled.

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha.

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer.

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel.

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say.

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

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Note

r u taking requests 🥲? if u are can I ask for headcannons on muichiro, obanai, giyuu and shinobu x reader on what they would do if the reader is really tired and a huge sleepy head in general it would be so cute <333

Giyuu | Muichiro | Obanai | Shinobu [X Reader]

In which their s/o is always exhausted and has a hard time staying awake.

Giyuu

He himself was never a very high energy or high demand individual

But next to you, he looked like a kid during their first sugar rush

You were always either leaning him or tucked away on the most comfortable surface nearby, dozing off

No, you weren't apart of the corps, so he didn't have any reason to force you up

You had your own job and you did it when you had to, and when he was away he would always come back to a clean house with all the chores done, along with you napping in bed

To be fair, Giyuu just assumes this is normal

I mean, he would do the same if he could, but he had a lot of duties and training to tend to

He loves cuddling up with you though, you keep the bed nice and warm for him

Muichiro

Muichiro isn't really sleepy, but he does gaze off extremely often

You are both totally lost together, because he just found out the wind makes noise and you were half asleep on the floor

If you were in the corps, you'd never be sent on missions together because somehow together the effects are worse on one another

You do get your missions done when together, it just means less details are remembered and those can be extremely vital

When home, Muichiro makes you lay your head in his lap wherever he goes- usually outside- while he stares at something of interest and just thinks

One thing he does often is speak his thoughts out loud around you, because he knows you won't take it too seriously or make fun of the nonsensical things he comes up with

Sometimes he just stares at you, and wonders what you're dreaming about

When you wake up he tries to guess, he is only getting more accurate!

Obanai

It's not that he is very energetic, but Obanai likes to do small, menial tasks to keep himself occupied

It might be tending to Kaburamaru, small exercises, or renewing his bandages

He refuses to sit down, and even if he does, he will be working on polishing his blade, or eating a meal

For this, he makes you move a lot to wherever he is if he is home

Sleeping is something you do a lot, he knows you're always tired if you don't, so he doesn't want to force you awake or make you feel bad for it

Instead he just wants you to follow him when he moved to another area, and you can sleep there until he moves on again

It keeps you somewhat active, but also brings him comfort in knowing you'll still be there, even if silent and often unmoving

Shinobu

You were very comfortable to be around considering you were mostly silent or spoke in a melancholic tone

Since she was always studying or tending to others, it helped her plenty having someone like that around

Someone who would watch over her and encourage her to be productive while not distracting her from her work too much

But as a doctor, she also understood that if you stayed still in the comfort of the mansion too often, you might become deficient in important vitamins

" You have to go outside once a day, dear! It's not good for you to stay like this all day! "

She says it like it's fact, and she's probably right

So long as you go out once a day for a small walk she is happy

Set up a hammock on the porch of the butterfly mansion where you can sleep in the sun rays, so you get all the vitamins you need even while asleep

If she has a young slayer alone in any of the healing wards, she will ask you to sleep there so they feel better with company

Even if you are tired, she knows you'll get up to help someone who might need something or is becoming ill

Authors Note - Me too reader I love sleepin,,, I hope I was able to right up to your wishes, and thank you so much for requesting! This was pretty much all my most favourite hashira lol

#giyuu #giyuu x reader #muichiro #muichiro x reader #obanai #obanai x reader #shinobu #shinobu x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #headcanons #kny headcanons #kny x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #x reader #reader insert

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pt2change · 9 months

Text

lovesick emergency ; jeon jungkook

[gif source]

pairing: surgeon!jungkook x surgeon! y/n

genre: medical au, jk is head over heels for y/n, he’s also kinda bad at communication, insecure and jealous jk hehehe, fluff, y/n is oblivious, few mentions of sex

word count: 2,376

a/n: my first jk drabble 😣😣 any feedback is appreciated thank u for reading!!!!

↣ bts masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

of course, when you work at an extremely busy level 1 trauma center hospital, it is very. difficult to get time to yourself

but you and jungkook have 15 minutes to yourself

………..….

what other way to spend those 15 minutes than in an empty on-call room?

okay so… the two of you have been fooling around for months

it’s not always that too

sometimes you go over to each other’s apartments and hang out

or you have dinner together after a long day at work

there’s been plenty of times where the two of you are just enjoying each other’s company without hooking up

but the both of you are not…. officially dating

and the only reason is because the two of you have accepted that you have feelings for the other

but both you and jungkook won’t confess to each other.

so you stick to touching each other and kissing and having sex whenever you both want

but neither of you do that with someone else

so you’re both in the small bed that sits in the on-call room

he’s hovering over your body, kissing you

both of your lab coats are on the edge of bed frame, while the dark blue scrubs have been tossed somewhere in the walkway between the door and the bed

jungkook intertwines his hands with yours, laying it just above your head

and the two of you spend the little break you have quietly moaning each other’s name

and in between it all, someone tries to open the door

probably a nurse, or a doctor, or either one of your interns

but neither of you noticed as you’re lost in each other

after finishing, jungkook lays next to you on the bed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek

“how does sex get better with you everytime we do it?”

you laugh, playfully hitting him

one of the pagers goes off suddenly, and he reaches over to the bedside table they were on

“it’s yours.” he says handing it to you,

you groan softly, “that’s perfect” you say sarcastically

getting up, you begin to pick the scrubs from the floor, placing jungkook’s on the edge of the bed

and he watches as you slip your clothes back on

he sits up quickly and reaches to hand you your coat

“gotta go, i’ll see you later?” you turn to face him before leaving

“yeah” jungkook nods with a small smile

“okay” you nod and head towards the door

but you quickly turn around and walk back over to the bed

bending down slightly, you kiss jungkook one last time, “see you later”

you smile and walk back over to the door, unlocking it, and walking out

jungkook sighs happily and closes his eyes hoping to get some sleep

….

he doesn’t…

….

his pager went off approximately 36 seconds after you left

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“oh thank god i found you, dr. y/n!-“ an out of breath intern, your out of breath intern-

who btw you’re not sure which one of them it is because you don’t bother to know their names unless they give you a (good) reason to

- stops you as soon as you walk out of the on-call room

“you’re needed in operating room three” she finishes, trying to catch her breath

“i was just paged, i’m on my way there now!” you say, walking right past her.

“oh! nurse min is looking for doctor jeon, is he in there?”

that makes you stop dead in your tracks

“and why would he be in there?” you look at the intern, raising your eyebrow at her

“oh… no reason, i-it was just a random question” she says quickly, clearing her throat

you glare at her one more time before walking over to the elevator to head to the surgery floor

while you wait for the elevator, you look back for your intern and see she’s knocking on the same door of the on-call room where jungkook is

hmm…

you could’ve sworn you and jungkook were more discreet than that

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

when jungkook’s done with his surgery, he begins to think about you

wondering where you are, he goes and looks for you

even though the two of you were together a few hours ago

he just can’t help but miss you

after asking nurse min, he tells jungkook you’re on the 7th floor, checking on your patients

jungkook makes his way to the elevator and heads to the 7th floor

after walking down the hallway, he sees you in a room with your heart transplant patient that you talked to him about a few days prior

then jungkook started thinking…

maybe he should just get back to work?

he knows he’ll hear from you at some point later in the day or evening

and you’ll probably have your next meal together

or with other staff members

like nurse min :) who you and jungkook get along with very well even though he intimated you both when he started to work at the hospital

anyways

he makes up his mind but then he hears something that makes him linger around the door

he’s hidden just enough to wear you or the patient can’t see him but he can most definitely hear the conversation

“tell me dr. y/l/n, as someone as gorgeous as you, you must get hit on all the time.”

and it sends shivers down jungkook’s spine when he hears your patient tell you

and jungkook scoffs quietly

you’re a hard ass cardiac surgeon who is feared by all the interns and intimidated by some of the other fellow surgeons

and no one had the guts to hit on you for those reasons

well…

except jungkook.

and he’s happy that he did.

because even though he’s unsure as to where your relationship with each other stands, it’s one of the most beautiful things that has happened to him.

and he just hasn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time

his thoughts are interrupted by your laugh

“what’s your pain on a scale from 1-10?”

“maybe like a 2, don’t try to change the subject now, doctor!”

jungkook sees you nod your head and chuckle at the patient

“i’ll look at your stitches, and if everything looks fine, you’ll be discharged either this evening or tomorrow early morning”

even though your back is facing him, jungkook can definitely envision your contagious smile

his own smile quickly fades as he hears your patient starts talking again

“then i’ll be back to take you to a nice romantic candle lit dinner?”

you chuckle once again, “i don’t go out with my patients”

“and i can’t be the only exception?-”

and jungkook frowns slightly when he hears that

“-you’ve taken really good care of me since i got here, i think it would only be fair if someone did the same for you”

he frowns again

jungkook has seen this patient many times because he’s been at the hospital for quite awhile

and well jungkook thinks your patient is definitely attractive enough to where he feels almost….

threatened….

but jungkook doesn’t wait to hear what you say to your patient

instead he walks away

and he’s upset and just kinda filled with jealousy

but???

at the same time, he feels like he can’t get upset

because even if you did turn down the patient, somewhere along the line, someone else would hit on you and ask you out to another romantic candle lit dinner

and the worst part is you could say yes

i mean technically you are single

and jungkook hasn’t had the time or courage to officially ask what was going on between the two of you

and so he rushes into the stairwell where he can calm down before his insecure thoughts become overwhelming

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“no!” you say quietly to your patient, laughing

you grab your set of gloves and begin putting them on, “i need to look at your stitches”

and your patient looks at you, “just tell me, are you seeing someone?” he raises his eyebrows

you open your patients gown and begin examining the stitches that were on his chest

“i’m not really supposed to talk about my personal life, you know?”

you look back up at your patient

“but i am, and he’s really really wonderful… and he takes care of me.”

you pause, and your mind just begins to envision jungkook

you could go on and on about him

instead you smile to yourself, “he’s my best friend”

your patient nods his head, understanding what you're saying

“but you know… there is a really gorgeous woman just down the hall, maybe she wouldn't mind some company” you raise your eyebrows at your patient and close his gown

“hmmm….. what’s she like?”

you nod your head and take your gloves off

then you sit in the small chair next to the bed and begin telling him about the beautiful blonde woman that’s recovering just down the hallway

you told the woman about your patient as well when you checked on her

and well..

turns out they were perfect for each other.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

okay….

so you haven’t seen jungkook in almost 5 days

you were surprisingly off these last 2 days without getting paged for an emergency surgery

but jungkook never called or texted you

which was really weird because even on his busiest days, he still send you at least a few messages before you tell him to get back to work

and the other 3 days you worked, your paths just never crossed

it was really weird…

you also walked through his department but never saw him

and when you texted him asking where he was but there was no response

AND you even told him to meet up in an on-call room and nothing!!!

and jungkook was never one to turn that down

this was the longest you had gone without seeing him and it was really starting to irritate you

you even began to think that maybe you had done something wrong without knowing it

and that also bothers you because the last thing you want to do is make him upset :(

you just like him so so much and don't want to ruin your relationship with him

now you haven’t eaten in the hospital cafeteria since your last intern year

but today you decide to take a look in there

okay………

you were probably in the cafeteria for 10 seconds before making direct eye contact with jungkook

but you’re taken back when he just stands up and leaves through the back doors as soon as your eyes meet

………

what???

you put your hands in the pocket of your lab coat and walk out as well

but you make your way to the nurse’s station

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

jungkook runs to room 618 after getting paged a 9-1-1 when the elevator door opens

he scurries inside to the middle of the room

only to find nurse min standing there and no patient

“what’s going on? where’s the patient?” he exclaims, trying to catch his breath

nurse min steps aside, when the restroom door opens and you walk out

“shit…” you hear jungkook mutter

“what… that’s all you have to say?” you walk in front of him crossing your arms

meanwhile nurse min walks out the room and slowly closes the door

and when he steps out he sees a few other staff members watching you and jungkook through the blinds

“y/n, you know you can't page me if it’s not actually an emergency”

you scoff, “jungkook, don’t give me that-”

when it looks like he wants to walk towards the door

you beat him to it and stand in front of it

“why have you been ignoring me? did i do something?”

you look up at jungkook

but he avoids looking into your eyes

“i just.. i’ve been really busy”

“don’t lie to me either.” you tell him softly

jungkook sighs and rubs his hand across his mouth

“what are we, y/n?”

this catches you off guard

it certainly wasn't what you thought this conversation was going to be about

“what?

jungkook shrugs

“i don't know-” he pauses

now he’s looking at you

“i’m just wondering if we’re a couple or not.”

“jungkook-”

and he cuts you off

“i know we hang out alot and we have sex, but i like you so much. and i’ve felt more with you than anyone else. i want more with you, y/n.”

he sighs, “i don't want us to be nothing.”

and he looks at you, waiting for you to respond

“we’re not nothing, jungkook” you shake your head

“then what? because i want you to be mine-”

jungkook doesn’t get to finish rambling on with his sentence

you bring him in for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulder

jungkook holds onto your waist

and you feel yourself backing into the door and he deepens the kiss

when he pulls away first, he opens his mouth to talk more but you stop him

“of course we’re a couple jungkook”

and he lets out a sigh of relief

“we are?”

and you nod your head

jungkook bends down to give you another kiss

and from the other side of the door you hear:

“finally, it was about time”

you pull away from jungkook and open the door

on the other side of the door, you see other nurses and surgeons listening and watching the interaction between you and jungkook

“don’t just stand here! you all have patients to see!” you yell

anddd there’s the surgeon everyone is afraid of

suddenly everyone moves to different rooms or they head towards the elevator

jungkook laughs behind you

he pulls you back in and shuts the door

and he closes the blinds completely

“can you believe that?”

“mmhmm…”

when you turn back to see jungkook, he’s in the middle of taking his coat off

“this isn’t the on-call room, jungkook.”

you cross your arms as he sets it down on the bed

you watch as he pulls the curtain around the hospital bed

when he’s done, he walks back over to you

“i don’t care” he says grabbing your arms and guiding you towards the bed

#jungkook #jungkook fic recs #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts au #jungkook au #medical au #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #surgeon!jk

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odinsblog · 10 months

Text

One About The Atmosphere: Want to change minds? Stop trying. Change the atmosphere instead.

Donald Trump in 2016 greets a screaming horde of ecstatic white christian nationalists

Minivan was a nice enough guy. He was easygoing; a happy guy with a frequently deployed smile. I don’t recall much anger from him, nor many strongly held opinions. I wouldn’t call him a philosophical type. No deep late night talks with Stove Minivan is my recollection.

This is the sort of dude I’d hang out with at a party, if there were a party we were both at, but not one with whom I’d maintain a relationship if we both graduated and then moved to different places—which I know for a fact, because that’s what happened. We drifted.

So then what happened is twelve years or so later I got on The Facebook, and Stove Minivan was there, too, and before long, we were friends again, he and I, and so were me and my other college friends, and them with him, and … look, you know the drill. It was The Facebook.

Minivan was no longer a pre-med student at a small northern liberal arts college. He was a doctor—a general care practitioner, if memory serves—in a smallish plains state town, very much like many other towns in the great plains or elsewhere in the country, I imagine.

Anyway, before long I noticed something about Minivan. Even though his feed was full of pictures of him and his lovely family, and he was smiling in them just the same as he always had in college, he was angry.

He was *enraged*

What was he angry about? The Demonrats.

Minivan was absolutely enraged about everything the Demonrats did. He also was out of his mind angry about Killary, and Obummer, the leaders of the Demonrats—or at least they were the front for the real leader of the Demonrats, who even back then I believe was George Soros.

What did the Demonrats do? Oh my heck, what *didn’t* they do? Mostly they hated America and American security and American economic strength, it seems. They engaged in corruption and bowed to foreign powers a lot. They shredded the dignity of the presidency, that’s for sure.

Minivan’s worldview wasn’t particularly coherent, if you want to know the truth.

I couldn’t help to notice that the Demonrats weren’t actually doing many of the things that Minivan thought they were doing.

And I noticed other things.

For example, I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of the policies Minivan supported were directly *causing* the sorts problems that made Minivan so angry.

And I couldn’t help but notice that well-sourced information enraged him more than pretty much anything else.

There was a lot of linking to sites I’d never heard of, like Breitbart and Newsmax, and of course plenty of Fox News. There were a lot of memes. There were a lot of conspiracy theories (a big birther, was Minivan).

Some of his posts contained subtle bigotry. Most of the rest contained not-subtle bigotry. Several of them contained slogans and statements that were, very simply, neo Nazi and white supremacist memes and shibboleths.

There was a lot of commentary accompanying these posts from Minivan, who was saying shocking stuff for a small-town family doctor … the sorts of things that it seemed to me would make people not want to use this person as a doctor, or or sit next to that person on a bus.

I hadn’t heard of Alex Jones, yet, but Minivan sounded a lot like Alex Jones, word for word and beat for beat. He’d even start his posts like a right-wing radio host: Sorry folks, but you can’t even make stuff like this up—ironically, accompanying things that had been made up.

This was all pretty distressing to those of us who had known Minivan back in the day, before he had become so obsessed with Demonrats.

So, a lot of us, myself included, did exactly what The Facebook wants.

We engaged with him.

At the time my belief was, you defeated bad ideas with better ideas, by confronting the bad ideas directly with the better ideas. Debate was for changing minds. You presented your ideas, they presented theirs, you countered, they countered, eventually everybody saw the truth.

But the intention was that I’d change his mind, with facts presented logically, delivered calmly and patiently.

This was my belief.

What happened confounded me, but perhaps you can predict it.

Minivan escalated any correction, however calmly stated or bloodlessly presented, into scorched earth territory. He rejected all proofs by rejecting the source outright as irrevocably tainted by bias, or he’d spiral into non sequitur, spamming our feeds with more misinformation.

He would claim he never said things he had just said, even though the statements were still there for anybody to read, one comment earlier in the thread.

He’d claim that I said things I'd never said, as anyone foolish enough to read through our conversations could discover.

He demonstrated a complete dedication to his ignorance and anger, and a total disinterest in anything like observable truth that contradicted his grievance.

It was confounding and unfamiliar behavior to me, at the time.

At the time.

All of it was larded with grievance, a sense that people like him had never wronged anybody, and everybody else had done nothing but wrong people like him.

The bigotry and authoritarianism grew.

And all the time, on Facebook, he and his family kept smiling their perfect smiles.

I’ll admit that over time my interactions stopped being polite and bloodless, and I’m not particularly sorry for it. I told him some things about himself he seemed not to know, but which I thought really ought to be said.

I have a bit of a penchant for sarcasm, which you may have noticed.

I employed this skill, and you can feel how you want to about sarcasm, but I think it helped convey the correct posture to take toward someone who says the sorts of things Minivan was saying.

The correct posture being "you have proved yourself to be a person who should not be taken seriously, and your positions do not deserve even a modicum of respect."

I found this a more healthy message to convey about Minivan to anybody watching, and I still do.

Eventually he blocked me, and he was out of my life forever. It was the right choice, and I'm very glad he did that.

I’ve pondered the incident since, as it’s become more and more relevant to “the way things are.”

A few things had become clear over time.

Minivan was not somebody whose intentions could be trusted. He was not operating in good faith, and I believe he well knew it, because many of his favorite sources of information have written instruction books on how to engage with people in bad faith.

Minivan was not debating; he was using debate to inject his counterfactual beliefs into the discourse, which were designed to further marginalize already marginalized people while simultaneously cloaking himself in self-exonerating grievance.

More, he was exerting an active effort to not know things that could be easily known, and to demand to be convinced out of deliberate ignorance, not because he was interested in having his ideas challenged, but because he demanded a world in which he got to decide what was real.

Further still: Minivan *learned* from me. The effect of telling him he was using one or another logical fallacy was not to sharpen his reasoning, but to teach him about the existence of logical fallacies, which let him (incorrectly) accuse others of those same logical fallacies.

So Minivan was deploying the language of logic, in ways that betrayed a total lack of understanding about what those fallacies were, granted, but in ways that likely made him seem more knowledgeable and reasonable to a casual or sympathetic observer.

He learned to ape our phrases and arguments, in much the way he’d learned to ape the style of Alex Jones and all the various Breitbart and Newsmax contributors he used to inform himself.

And these days it occurs to me: I hear a lot about "groomers."

We were not changing him by engaging with him thoughtfully.

We certainly weren’t changing him by engaging with him in kind.

Rather: we were making him better at what he was doing, and we were validating his world view—to himself and others—as one that merited engagement.

And week after week on Facebook, Minivan kept smiling and smiling and getting angrier and angrier, at us and Obummer and all the other Demonrats and liberals and every member of every minority group who dared to fail to ceaselessly assure him that he was right about everything.

I don’t miss Minivan's black-hole-sun smile. I think of it as my first hint of MAGA: politically overrepresented, socially coddled people, often living outwardly happy privileged lives, while seething inwardly that other people might be getting anything, anything at all.

Indeed, soon enough, another figure would come on the scene, whose behavior matched that of Minivan almost exactly, a perfect avatar for this spirit of aggrieved bigotry and supremacy that seemed to be moving through my former friend.

And sure enough, as I saw, there were millions and millions of smiling seething people who loved him.

And that guy became president.

Nobody believed he would. And then he did.

Because Stove Minivan, it turns out, wasn’t some weird outlier.

He was part of a growing new normal, a group of people who had been offered a chance to immigrate from observable reality and enter a dark world of constant hostility, misinformation, and self-loving grievance.

It's an invitation they leapt at, to which they cling even now.

It's a constituency immune to proof, angered by equality, cheered by cruelty, who blame others for the foulness of the shallow puddle of reasoning within which they have demand to be seated, even though we can all see them fouling it themselves, every day.

And afterward, a huge number of those shocked by this development decided the proper reaction was to accommodate it, in the name of unity—a belief, it seems, grounded in the idea that what you choose to get along with isn’t as important as getting along no matter what.

I’ll finish with the question that all of Minivan’s former friends would eventually ask, whenever they gathered together long enough for the subject to arise.

"What the hell happened to Minivan?"

Here’s the answer, I think: nothing.

Nothing happened to Minivan. Nothing at all.

He was always that guy, and he always thought the things he thought.

What changed was that he was given a lot of language with which to express those ideas, and access to enough other people who thought that way too, that it created a critical mass of permission.

The permission allowed him to change his attitudes and actions, and created a lot of other people willing to accommodate and normalize his antisocial anti-reality behavior, rather than reject it out of hand.

In college you could be pretty conservative, honestly. It was a pretty conservative place. But you couldn't behave like Minivan later would.

You’d be understood to be a far-right extremist, and people would then treat you like a far-right extremist.

Which is what you'd be.

I think it just wasn't possible for Minivan to be what he later became, because the atmosphere wasn't conducive to the possibility.

But then the atmosphere changed.

If we want to change it back, it's worth thinking about how atmospheres change.

(source)

#politics #republicans #donald trump #overton window #stove minivan #authoritarianism #deplorables #trumpublicans #maga

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specialagentlokitty · 6 months

Text

Shaun x sister!reader - the best day

No. 2 with Shaun Murphy and sister Reader who's excited? - Anon💜

2: “Why are you here?” “Because it’s Christmas Eve.” “So you came to the hospital?” “Well, you’re here, so of course I did.”

Walking through the doors, you rubbed your hands together as you made your way straight to the cafe.

It was your first stop, you were in no rush and you had plenty of time for what you wanted to do.

Grabbing yourself a hot drink, you sat at a table, setting your bag next to you as you looked around the decorated cafe with a smile.

You spent a while there, trying to warm up a little bit before you carried on to your destination.

Standing next to the desk, you set your drink down, checking your phone before looking around, waving at a woman who was passing.

“Hey sorry, do you know where Doctor Murphy is?”

“I don’t I’m sorry, if you wait here I can tell him you’re looking for. Can I ask you for your name?”

You smiled at her.

“Of course, I’m (Y/N).”

“If I see him I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

With that she left.

You knew she knew where he was, and she was going to ask him about you.

After all, she couldn’t just go around giving out details of everybody or where they are, she had to see if he knew you or if you were safe.

It wasn’t long until you saw the man you were waiting for walk over, hands in front of him as he smiled a little bit.

“Hello.”

“Hey Shaun, how’re you?”

“I’m good, I am working. How are you?”

“I’m good as well, a little cold though.”

He nodded a little bit.

“Why are you here?”

You grinned brightly at him.

“Because it’s Christmas Eve.”

He glanced at you before he looked away.

“So you came to the hospital?”

Laughing softly, you nodded and set your bag on the nurses desk.

“Well, you’re here, so of course I did.”

“Did you come all this way to see me?”

“Well obviously, I’ve got to spend Christmas with my brother!”

Opening your bag, you went through it and pulled out a messily wrapped box, holding it out to him.

“I know you’re busy, but open it when you can. I’ll be here or getting another drink or food.”

“Can I open it now?”

“Absolutely!”

You were practically bouncing with excitement as you watched him inspect the box before he set it down to start unwrapping.

“You’re bad at wrapping presents.”

“Come on I tried!”

He looked at you before he finished unwrapping it.

Picking up the book, he read the title before reading the back.

“It’s an old medical journal, I know most of it won’t be relevant today but I thought it was cool.”

“It has very old procedures in.”

“Yup, and who knows you may be able to use some.”

“They are not very safe (Y/N).”

“I know, but I know you’ll make them safe.”

He looked at you, holding the book out.

“Will you look after it?”

“Of course. Have you had your dinner yet?”

He shook his head, tidying the mess he had made before he stood there looking at you.

“Do you want dinner?”

“I do not like the food they serve here.”

“I made food, it’s in my bag.”

He walked over, peaking into your bag.

Shaun took the tub with his name on it, and he lifted it up to look through the bottom.

“You made my favourite pasta.”

“Yup!”

He smiled.

“We need to heat it up, come with me.”

With that he walked off and you ran to catch up to him.

You knew you wouldn’t see much of him, but when he was finished his shift in the morning you were going to make sure he had the best Christmas ever

#the good doctor #the good doctor x reader #the good doctor x you #the good doctor imagine #Shaun Murphy #Shaun Murphy x reader #shaun murhpy x you #shaun murphy imagine

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 1 year

Text

And they were roommates. 1-4

Summary: Your roommate comes to save you from a bad date and ends up saving your whole night.

Pairing: FemReader x Jason Todd

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, choking, teasing, swearing, praise, asshole men, drinking, plot? whos she?, Friends to lovers, Roommates!AU, Jason is the hood but his roommate has no idea. Mean names for mean men.

AN: OMG they were roommates. Soft Jason is getting me through my days right now.

Edit: Apparently I need to put numbers on theses, because I live in this world now and as of right now there are 2 more chapters in my drafts.

“Hey roomie, what's up?” Jason's voice is somehow the only thing calming you down as you cower in the stall of the ladies room. This was supposed to be a nice date, the guy was a doctor for fucks sake. But if he isn't the creepiest guy, with the worst vibes in the world, you'd eat your own shoe.

Shit, how are you going to tell Jason that you’re an idiot. The smart thing to do would’ve been to call Cass or Steph, but you’re not quite sure how they would react. Jason on the other hand, you know he will come. He might be one of the biggest assholes you know, but he’s got a soft spot for you. He did let you move in with him after you got kicked out of your last place and well, you panicked. So now here you are hiding in the bathroom, calling your massive roommate to come rescue you because you're terrified of what's going to happen when you turn this guy down.

“Princess? You there? Are you alright? You're breathing kind of heavy.”

“Jay, I need you to come get me.”

“That bad huh?”

“Yes, please. Were at-”

“I know where you are. Give me ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” you end the call. Ten minutes ok. You can wait ten minutes. You've just got dessert left. That should give Jason plenty of time to show up and you can just say Jay will give you a ride home and that will be that. No worries.

5 minutes to go, you think as Dr fuckin douchebag, stands from the table. “I can't wait for you to see my apartment I just got the new-” Blah Blah Blah.......Fuck does he ever shut up? you think. Your eyes stay focused on the door. Maybe you could go back and hide in the bathroom until Jason gets here?

Shit, he's staring. Did he ask you a question? Who cares? You stand up peeking down at the message on your phone.

“1 minute away.”

Thank all the fucking gods for Jason Todd. You follow Dr douche outside, onto the busy street. His gross hand on your back makes you recoil into another passer-by. "Sorry, ma'am,"

"It's ok dear," the old lady says, brushing past you with her groceries, "are you ok?"

“Yeah, thanks.” You say sincerely, hearing the echo of Jason's bike from down the street. Any second now.

“Don't worry about that old bitch. She needs to watch where she’s going,” Dr douche says, “my car is this way,” he starts to direct you. But you stand in place, he looks at you with his brow furrowed, “this is Chanel,” he points at his coat, “I need to get inside before it rains. Lets go.”

You just stare at him. Completely flabbergasted. Where the fuck is Jay? The Doctor reaches for you but you take a step back. “I think I'll walk home,”

“Don't be ridiculous, I can drive us back to my house.”

“Nah I'm good,”

“What! I buy you this expensive dinner and nothing? Typical fucking female.”

“The lady said she's good,” a gruff voice comes from behind you before an arm wraps around your shoulder. You lean back into the touch, letting out a deep breath.

“And who the fuck are you?” Dr D-bag shouts.

“Ready to go Princess?” Jay asks, handing you his spare helmet. You nod in response and Jason turns to lead you back to his bike when he suddenly stops. Turning around so fast you don't know what's happened until you see Dr douche on the ground cradling his face. “Fucking prick. Keep your hands off me,” Jason sneers over at him. “You ok?” he asks, as you step away from Dr D-bag who’s still shouting obscenities at you both.

“Yeah good, can we go home now?”

“Right this way Princess.”

Xxx

“So what happened?” Jason asks when you walk through the door of your shared apartment. He’d be silent the whole way home and you’re not certain if it’s because you wouldn’t be able to hear over his motorcycle or if he was trying to calm himself down. He was gripping the handles of the bike so tight you thought they might snap off.

“You saw him. He was awful. Nearly dragging me back to his house wasn’t even the worst of the things he did. Sure, the not letting me get a word in bugged me, but when he started talking about OUR plans for the future I knew I needed an out.”

“That’s gross. But what I don’t understand is-” he pauses as if thinking over his response, “Why call me?”

“I ah-” you're not really sure what to say or why he's so shocked that you would.

“Noone ever calls me for help. You must be out of your mind,”

“I didn't know who else to call,”

“Dick, Steph, Cassie. Geeze I even thought you’d call the demon spawn before me.”

“I panicked and well, I knew you'd come.”

“Because I have no life?”

“No, because even though you're a jerk sometimes there's a reason you let me move in here when I was desperate.”

“Because you're hot?”

“No, because we're friends. You like me,” you tease,”you think I'm cool.”

“Not true.”

“Liar.”

“I would not.” he dramatically rolls his eyes at you.

You ignore him, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of wine. With a little jump, you sit yourself on the kitchen counter and take a swig. Jason throws his favourite jacket off onto one of the stools, leaning himself next to you on the counter. He stares up at you, like he’s still very confused about why you called him instead of one of the others. The favourites, but he doesn't want to push you.

“May I?” he asks and you recall the dozens of other times you have sat like this together. So much easier and equal when his face is in line with yours and his massive frame isn’t hulking over you.

“For my rescuer? You can have as much wine as you want,” you smile, handing him the bottle.

“Rescuer, I like that. Though I am wondering why you went out with him in the first place.”

“He seemed fine when we were texting. But-”

“He wasn't.”

“Exactly. And honestly I'm so pent up that if he wasn't such a walking red flag, I probably would have gone home with him.”

“Asshole is lucky I only hit him,” he mutters under his breath, “Should’ve at least stabbed him a little,”

“Enough about him. What are we going to do tonight?”

“I could call Roy and Artemis, we could go to the club? We could prowl the streets to find this guy and I'll hit him again for good measure? Or we could stay in, do a girls night?”

“Dancing does sound good, but I'm not really in the mood for other people right now.” You slide further down the counter, before flopping onto the floor, “mogjt I wntd t gt ld tdy,” you mumble into your arm.

“What was that? You’re mumbling,”

“I said!” You shout, “MOSTLY I JUST WANTED TO GET LAID!” Jay peers down at you, his eyes going wide and a tiny bit of shock on his face. “But apparently I'm picky and gross. No one I ever want, wants me.”

“Hey, I won't have you saying shit like that,” he bends down in front of you, his hand firm on your chin. You want to look at him but you can feel the shame on your face. “Eyes on me, Princess.”

“I can't,”

“You can. Come on now, just look at me.” You slowly raise your gaze until your eyes meet his. “There you are, now tell me about your problem.”

“My problem is being so horny I feel like I'm gonna burst.” you admit, “So, not so much a problem as an inconvenience.”

“That’s a really big one,” He says leaning back on his heels, “do you want my help?”

“What?!” you say, very taken aback by his offer.

“I said,” he stays where he is giving you room to think. But you know how fast he can move when he wants to, “Do you want my help?”

“I -” Shit, you can feel all your conflicting emotions swirling around in your head. Sure Jay is kind, sweet even. But he can be such an jerk. Is he going to hold this over you? Bring it up all the time? Is it going to change your friendship? You admit you always had a tiny bit of curiosity about what it would be like, how he would taste, what his big strong arms would feel like wrapped around you. But would this change everything? Would it be better or worse?

“Last time I'm going to ask Princess, you want my help or not? We can just sit and watch a movie or something.” he throws his head back towards the couch, “Clocks ticking, better decide fast.” He smirks, pulling away slightly like he’s about to get up and leave.

“Yes,” the word whispers on your lips.

“Going to need you to say that a bit louder, Princess.” He teases, watching you intently.

“Yes, Jason. I would like your help,”

“Good girl,” he takes your face in his two hands, pulling you into him. His lips meet yours and it's like nothing you've ever felt before. The sweet wine on his breath, his calloused thumbs brush along your cheek, his lips firm while not consuming. It's a great fucking kiss.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask when he stops to take a breath.

“Second guessing yourself already Princess? Coz we can stop. This is all it could be, just a kiss between friends.” He bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes raking over you in the tight red dress you'd worn for your date. “Be a shame, but we can stop.”

You take him in, the grey sweats that just cling to his thighs. The black tee that looks like it's been painted on and those beautiful curls that have gone all frizzy from his helmet.

“Yes”

“Yes you want to stop.” he confirms, backing away.

“Yes, I want to keep going.”

He smiles so wide at that, “then get up,” he wraps an arm around you hugging you close to his body, “I'm not about to fuck you on the floor.” Your legs bind around him, even though you know he isn't about to drop you, “see now isn't that better?”

“Much.”

“Love this dress by the way,” his fingers graze along the underside of your thigh, “Red looks good on you,” he carries you down the hall. Stopping when he reaches your opposite doors, his eyes glancing between the two, “Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

“Damn, was hoping I'd get to smell you on my sheets tomorrow.”

“Maybe next time,”

“Oh,” he raises his brow, “going to be a next time is there?”

“If you're lucky,” you wink.

“Well, I’m shit outa luck.” he jokes as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, placing you on his lap. His hand drift’s closer and closer to your pussy. “Maybe I don't need luck,” he kisses into your shoulder, “maybe I can convince you based on pure talent.”

“That's a big maybe,” you squirm rubbing yourself down into his groin,

“Not for me,” he hooks his knees under yours, spreading you open for him, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. His nose brushes along your neck, his fingers matching the movement on your inner thigh.

His other hand reaches around, massaging your tits. A quick swipe of his fingers over your panties, you hide your face, knowing what he's going to find. “Fuck, you're wet already,” his finger slip up, moving your panties to the side as he dips his fingers into your wetness.

You let out a small moan, his fingers feel so intense, slowly drifting up and down your pussy lips. You start to squirm aching to have them inside of you. “Jason please,”

“You want my fingers princess?”

“Yes, shit that feels so good.” His hand rises from your tits circling your neck. His other hand moves your thighs up, your feet landing on his knees and making you fall further back unto him,

“That's a good girl, spread open for me. I got you,” he says when he feels you tense, “relax into me.”

You let your muscles go loose, your hands wrapping around his huge biceps as he brings his free hand closer to where you need him. His hand slips into the band of your panties, ripping them from you and in seconds his hand is back on you.

“Shit, can’t believe you’re so wet already. Do I turn you on Princess?” His voice teasing as his middle finger presses onto you. “Slides in so nice,” he presses it deeper, “fuck, I can feel you clenching on on it already,”

“Jason,” you thrust your hips up, “move your hand,” you reach down, pressing your hand ontop of his.

“Oh, like this,” he pulls his finger out, then puts two back in, “Show me how you like it Princess,”

“Yeah,” you moan, “like that,” guiding his fingers, exactly how you like it.

“That’s it, show me how to make you cum,” he moans, his stubble grazing your cheek as he peers over your shoulder to watch you, “You like that? How about this?” he tilts his head, lips sucking on your shoulder, his thumb moving how you're directing it while his fingers fuck into you.

“Yeah, that's amazing,” you move your hips in time with his thrusts noting the hardness growing under your ass. Relishing in the soft nip of his teeth as they graze up your neck. His other hand reaches round, slipping under your dress and pinching at your nipple.

“That's it, take it from me.” He moans in your ear, “take your pleasure from my hand Princess.” Your hips start to buck, your knees shake from trying to get his fingers deeper and deeper inside you. You feel a surge inside and suddenly your legs collapse, your feet tingle and your head falls back right into his shoulder.

“Jay, that was-” you're lost for words as you stare up at him with only half your brain left.

“Fuck, you made such pretty sounds, let's see of I can get some more,” his hands tighten on the bottom of your dress, tugging the material over your head and throwing it onto the floor. The chill of the night hair hits you and sends goosebumps all over your skin.

You're still basking in your post cum haze when he flips you. Landing on your hands and knees and before you can even ask what he's doing his face is on your pussy.

“I just have to, if this is the only time. I want it all,” his tongue thrust's into you, licking all of that sweet cum from inside you. “Fuck you taste so good,” he moans, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “So fuckin hot when you twitch, Princess,” His fingers thrust back into you as he sucks down on your clit.

“FuucK Jay, yeah like that,” you quiver, over-stimulated from your first orgasms. You press your ass into his face and he growls in response, grabbing you by the hips to force you even closer.

“That's it Princess, fuck yourself into my face. Give me all-” he stops, staring up at you in awe, “are you going to cum again?”

“Yes, so close.”

“Fuck, you must've needed this. So pent up, just needed a real man go take care of you,” his fingers work faster his whole arm wrapping under your hips to keep you upright. “So fucking delicious,”

“Yes Jay, yes I need to-”

“Cum then. Cum on my face,” his words muddled by how well he is eating you right now

“Jason fuuuucckkk,” you scream as you let go, your body shaking, held up only by the arm underneath you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, slowly easing off you, “take a rest,” his weight leaves you and you feel the bed rise as he stands.

“Where are you?” You turn your head with maximum effort.

“Can't fuck you with my pants on Princess,” he smirks at you, “do you still want me to fuck you? Or are you blazed out?”

“Yes, please,” you smile sweetly at him, even though your face is still smooshed into the mattress.

“Such manners for such a bad girl,” he says, working to get his clothes off a bit faster, “Can you tell me what you want?”

“Want you to fill my achy pussy, so fuckin empty Jay, please.” you pout your bottom lip at him.

He smiles so bright that it almost lights up the room, ”Since you asked so nicely,” he grabs your hips lifting and spreads your ass cheeks, “do you want it right now or?” His cockhead swipes through your soaked pussy.

“Yes, now. Please fuck me,” you try to back into him but he his massive hands hold you in place

“I wanted this for so long, can you let me enjoy this,” teasingly slowly he swipes his cock through you, slapping his head onto your pussy. You jolt up, so fucking sensitive, you legs start to twitch and your back arches your ass into him.

He lets out a pleased giggle to himself. He presses just the tip into you, slowly opening you up and pressing himself in deeper and deeper. His huge cock stretches you out wonderfully. You feel every vein, every inch of him, until he's fully inside of you. “Holy fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, leaning his body over yours and kissing into your neck. Goosebumps cover your skin and you can feel your pleasure starting to build again.

You try to move again, but his strong hands hold you in place, “Inpatient aren't we Princess. No need for squirming, I got you.” Drawing out slowly, he slams back into you.

“Jason, holy fuck,” you pant, biting down on the blanket below you.

“Shit, you're pussy, holy fuck is right,” he keeps his movement consistent, the slow draw out before he thrust hard back into you. “You're so fucking slippery princess, it's so fucking good.”

His pace speeds up, your breath becoming raged and hoarse as he fucks into you. “Holy shit, I can’t believe we waited so long for this,” His cock worshiping you from the inside while his mouth rambles "so good, too good. Taking me so well, Fuck I want to live here,”

Your about to come again when he stops, his hand latching into your hair and pulling your back to his chest. The zing of pain almost, fucking almost sending you over the edge. But he’s still, holding himself inside you.

“From now on Princess,” his voice is almost a growl in your ear as you clench around him at the mention of your pet name, he shivers in response. Tugging tighter on your hair, “You come to me ok. No more fucking assholes that can't treat you right. No more late night rescues, just this.”

“Jay,” you pant, “is this-”

“I want you to be safe and if this keeps you safe, then we'll do it every fucking day,”

“I want that,”

“Good girl, now roll over. I wanna see those pretty eyes when I make you cum on my cock.”

“Jason, fuck.” You squeal when he takes your ankles over his shoulders, his hands coming down to rest on either side of your head.

He leans down pressing his forehead into yours, “kiss me Princess,” you reach up wrapping your arms around his neck and plant your lips on him. It's hungry and sloppy and it sends shivers down your legs. You only stop to let out a low moan when he pushes back in.

“You're so deep,”

“I know, shit. I want to be all the way back in.” He pushes harder, “do you feel how well I'm filling you?” He grinds his pelvis into yours, “how well you're taking me? Fucking hell, hold on to me,” He tightens your grip around his neck, He moves faster, fucking into you like some wild animal let loose, his pace all over the place as he looses himself in you. “Princess, you're-” he grips your throat tighter holding you in place, “that should stop ya slipping away from me”.

“Jason, tighter,” you move your hand over his, pressing his fingers in harder.

“Like that?” He confirms and when you nod he takes your hand back, “hold onto me. I need to cum, I need it so fuckin bad.” His hand moves back to your throat, "But I don't want to stop fucking you," his hips pressing yours higher and higher until your ass is fully off the bed, his other arm holding your thighs to his chest.

“Jay, fuckin- oh my shit,” you pant as he cock reaches parts of you, you didn't even know existed. “I'm gunna cum Jay,”

“Me too Princess, want me to count us down?”

“Yes, yes whatever.”

“5, shit you're so fucking sexy like this,” he moves your head with his thumb pointing your face right at him, “4, were definitely doing this again,” you feel your legs begin to shake and your world start to spin as you try to hold it at bay. “3, shit, shit, it's so good, too fuckin perfect,” his grip tightens on your throat, and you close your eyes trying to focus, “2, open your eyes Princess, look at me when I make you cum,” your eyes zap open and your met with that cocky smile, you feel your insides start to flutter, to squirm and buzz and all that good shit, “1.” You start to convulse like you've been possessed, the only thing holding you in place is Jason's massive body while he cries your name and buries himself in you.

“I didn't choke you too hard did I?” He asks rolling off you and gently putting your legs on the bed.

“I liked it,” you joke, turning on your side and slipping your elbow under your head. “How are you? Do you need some water?”

“Yeah, that'd be great,” he takes heaving breaths, not even sitting up to drink from your water bottle. “That was something else.”

“You got that right.”

“So have I got the skills or what?”

“Are you really fishing for compliments right now?”

He shrugs at you, throwing the water on the ground.

"Yes, oh great Jason Todd, you got the skills."

“Knew it,” he winks, “I meant what I said, you come to me, you cum on me, whenever you want.”

“Noted,”

“Good night Princess,” he says, rolling over and tucking you into his chest.

“Hey! I didn't say you could sleep here,” you protest jokingly trying to push him away.

“Good luck with your whole pushing me away thing,” he yawns, his arms tightening around you as he presses a little kiss into your forehead and snuggling down into your hair.

“Asshole,” you mumble as you press yourself in closer, throwing a leg over his.

“Yeah, this asshole rescued your whole night Princess, So I think you'll let it slide this time.”

Part 2. OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES

#jason todd fanfic #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood #x reader

1K notes · View notes

wifeofasith · 5 months

Text

Warnings — Dead dove - do not eat, psychologist!Anakin x reader, manipulation, coercion, captivity, blindfolding, tying up, drugging, loss of consciousness, both Anakin and reader are mentally ill, scissor play, undressing, dub-con, implied murder, hinted homicide, hinted torture, stalker behavior, implied APD, implied suicide, Stockholm syndrome? Generally a messed-up piece of work.

Word count — 3k

Notes — A small project for my friend. Not something I'd normally write, but I took it as a challenge. Not exactly smut, but it's hinted & characters make out. Make sure to read the warning list and be mindful. Wrote it in a different point of view to make it as gender neutral as possible. NOT PROOFREAD.

After seven visits and a night of consideration, I've come to the conclusion that Doctor Skywalker wasn't the correct mental health specialist for me. And it wasn't because he was bad at his job, no, quite the opposite. Anakin Skywalker was an attractive male in his forties. He never shared details about his personal life, and despite that, he managed to create an impression of a person I've known for months, if not years, of my life.

Anakin scared me. Not intentionally, of course. It was what he's supposed to do — pick up the details of me, the patterns of my brain, my movements, and my involuntary fidgeting. He was a modern mind reader, and I couldn't help but wonder if he's aware of every thought I've had when he sat in front of me, with his legs crossed, glasses hanging on the very tip of his nose, a linen button-up with the last button left free. Could he hear what my inner voice was saying during those stolen stares? The gentle tapping of a fountain pen on his notebook told me he could.

He wasn't the only one digging for specifics, though. His purposeful, secretive behavior made me want to figure him out. As if he were my medical project and not the other way around. I knew that it wasn’t ethical; part of his job was to keep the outside world, including his own, off his patients' brains to avoid influencing them. But I needed to know more. Anakin Skywalker was my psychologist, and I was utterly and entirely obsessed with him. Maybe that's exactly why I should stay in therapy. For one reason or another.

It was Tuesday morning, and I woke up especially early for my supposedly last appointment. I wanted to take a longer way to his office and connect all the pieces of private information my ill brain gathered and processed about Anakin. There were plenty of assumptions, facts I couldn’t know for sure, and guesses about his life that were possibly altered by whatever’s been lurking in my brain. However, I loved the image. In my head, Anakin was divorced. The absence of an expensive stone on his ring finger forced me to come to that conclusion. A glimpse of his phone wallpaper portraying two toddlers told me he was a father of two — a boy and a girl with the same gentle but intense stare he wore. The bundle of keys on his office desk told me the kind of car he drove, how many locks his house had, a keychain of his assumed favorite hockey team hinted at what he enjoys doing in his free time. Oh, and he was a smoker, that’s for sure. You could never miss the smell. No matter how many mints he swallowed before my visits or the scent of soap he used to wash his smoke-stained fingers, the cigarette trace was always obvious. But I didn’t mind it, not one bit. His natural smell mixing with the dirt of an addiction on someone who’s supposed to be an example of a perfect intellectual man was like knowing his dirty secret — it was arousing.

I came fifteen minutes early. My doctor worked on the third floor of a five-story commercial building; it was an environment I deemed to be perfectly suitable for a man such as Anakin. Modern architecture surrounded by enough green to not appear like a dystopian haven. And it was an excellent choice for a psychologist office, initially. Personally, however, I thought it was too perfect. Everything surrounding Anakin was a bit too perfect, from the way he carried himself to the choice of his work spot — it always rubbed it in for me that there are people doing okay, people who aren’t chained with the issues of their own heads, uncaged, people who can enjoy that perfect organic modernist dream.

I was going to spend the punctual sixteen minutes outside on a bench before stepping inside and greeting the doctor with a new wave of depression to discolor some of his lively world; after all, that’s what he’s signed up for. I sat down comfortably, not too far from the main entrance, admiring the surrounding park while judging parents chattering around while their strollers were left unattended near the children’s playground. It was enjoyable to see and possibly figure out the mindset of all the strangers and passersby. I felt like my own kind of psychologist, but I never had any intentions to help the people I marked as dysfunctional in one way or another. I lacked some empathy, yes, but that only made my life easier; I wasn’t as attached to problems that weren’t my own, and I could analyze people without their lives influencing mine. My doctor’s fairytale was unfortunately disturbed by the raspy voice greeting me.

“Good morning. You’re early.” Anakin greeted me with a welcoming yet slightly surprised tone. “I’m glad.”

The coffee in his hand told me otherwise; I could only assume though, but he probably expected to spend a good ten minutes alone in his office, enjoying the morning with a hot latte and with no bothering from his patients before his workday even started.

“Good morning.” I nod too nonchalantly for my own liking. It was obvious I was forcing the tone, and if someone is to pick on such a small detail — it’s him.

“Let’s go; I don’t mind starting early.” He smiles, and I can once again can tell what a liar he is.

I follow him inside a white-lit lobby area, where he’s greeted by a few people he’s familiar with. He walks with masculine confidence, and I find myself feeling so disgustingly small beside him, small and insignificant. I wonder if he’s ever aware of the effect his demeanor has on people. It pisses me off and excites me further. It’s a case of mental masochism, and I’m a pathetic victim.

After a few second elevator ride, spiced with his initiated small talk, we enter the office. He offers to make me a cup of tea, giving me a choice of peppermint and lavender. I was about to decline when I reminded myself that it was my last time here and that I had never drunk lavender tea before. So I agree, encouraging him to be generous with sugar.

“Can I assume you being oddly early to come means an improvement in your mood?” He asks as he brews my beverage. It’s almost as if he’s not even working yet, not taking notes and analyzing me, but I know it’s just a facade to make me feel more comfortable.

“Perhaps. More so that I don’t think I’ll be visiting anymore.” I confess and go along with his play.

“Can I ask why?” His broad back turns from me, and I’m greeted with his handsome face. There was no hint of confusion or surprise; you would think he'd expected me to say that.

I shrug my shoulders, following his hands as he stirs my tea and pushes a delicate porcelain cup forward. His voice is nice, but I would much rather stare at him than watch his miserable attempts to help me.

“I don’t think therapy is necessary. Not anymore, at least.” I take a sip of a hot lavender drink, my hands taking the cup involuntary to avoid speaking further. The brim touches my lips, and I hiss in pain from the burning liquid. I swear he chuckles at me.

“I would like to continue seeing you.” He crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. The gaze he’s fixed on me, mixed with the weird silence after he stops asking questions, is making my insides squirm with anxiety. It’s never like that around him.

“You see, y/n, you are an interesting case…” Anakin pushes his glasses up with his index finger, rocking his chair slightly. “You’re an obsessive stalker.” He blurts out as a wide grin spreads across his face. “And I dislike misbehaving patients.” His face is becoming more blurry as we speak, and I feel myself sinking into the velvet cushion of an armchair.

Fucking lavender tea...

I couldn’t tell if I was out for days or mere minutes, but I’m pretty sure if the familiar smell of cigarettes hadn't reached my nostrils, I’d still be asleep. I opened my eyes only to be met with a dark cloth concealing my sight. I know I’m still in Anakin’s office because the sensation under my restrained wrists is of the same velvet chair. I remained still, in hopes of figuring out what’s going on. Only one thing was clear: I shouldn’t have came today yet alone drank tea. That's a gut feeling for you. The blindfold is weak around my eyes, and I guess it’s less for hiding the view and more for intimidating me. Good job, doctor.

“Oh?” Anakin gasps mockingly. “You’re up early, little bird.” He’s standing behind me; one of his hands snakes up my neck, fingers twisting into my hair. “Good.” He tightens the cloth around my eyes.

“There’s something about you. You’re as annoying as you’re pretty, and I can’t decide if I want to keep you as my little pet or get rid of you and mask it as the tragedy of a weak-minded person.”

I can sense him walk away and then make his way back into his chair in front of me. I sat up straight, settling my head towards him to show how little his words were frightening me. My mind’s been playing games on me since I can remember myself, and a mere human couldn’t scare me with ropes and threats when my own head was a prison of torture most of my life.

“I urge you to make that decision now before your next patient finds us in this roleplay of yours.” I tug the restraints on my hands.

Anakin laughs; I can hear him light a cigarette.

“Yeah?” He pauses, probably taking a puff. “You’re stupid. You don’t think you should be scared?”

I know I should be; in fact, I am not mentally ill enough to be oblivious to how messed up my situation actually is. But I’m not scared, and that scares me way more than being held hostage by my own psychologist.

“So what then, doc? Don’t keep me waiting.”

I can feel Anakin rise from his seat and slowly make his way to stand in front of me. I can’t see him, but as he towers over me, I lift my head up. There is that sense of feeling small again. Maybe it’s less about his confidence and more about how twisted his mind is to lure in people like that.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed? You… Digging through me, trying to figure me out... Watching me. You’re sick.” He grabs my chin. ”You’re sick, and it pisses me off.”

“So you decided to tie me up?”

He sighs, and I’m pretty sure he’s fed up with my poor sense of judgment.

“No, I decided to tear up your dignity piece by piece to show you who’s the real maniac between the two of us.” He yanks the blindfold off my face, and I can’t help but wonder if the initial purpose of it was to do just that. It's as if he’s planned every single second of our sick encounter.

His piercing deep blue eyes star into mine intensely, filled with overwhelming emotions of visible hatred and lust, and I am no longer sure if I want to scream into his face or bite his lips off in an intense session of kissing. I want to make him bleed through both pain and pleasure. Can he tell what I think this time too, or is he sane enough to be unaware of the disturbing thoughts spiraling in my scrambled brain?

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says it with a disgusted tone.

“Do you not enjoy my stare, doctor?"

I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why my tongue moved in such a seductive manner when I spoke to him. Maybe it was the fruit of his manipulation, making me feel safe, making me trust him, and then turning me into a mindless vessel that craves his approval. Or maybe my problems dive deeper into my body, and it’s just who I am. Maybe sickness excites me.

Whatever the reasoning, it seemed to amuse him. Though I still couldn’t read if his amusement was based on hatred for that twisted attraction he obviously felt towards me, part of me wished it was later.

“You’re a masochist.”

“And you’re a sadist.”

Anakin raises his eyebrow. “So you agree?”

We were both right, but I wasn’t just going to sign up for him hurting me. Or at least not this easily. As I wonder how this is going to go, he leaves the room.

I like to think he’s keeping me because he finds me desirable. It doesn’t exactly make the whole captive situation better, but hell, it’s satisfying when you’re entertaining enough for a man such as Anakin to consider not murdering you instantly. For other eyes, it would make his image less perfect, but to me, he’s becoming better by a second.

Anakin comes back with a pair of metal scissors in his hand. He towers over me again, this time raising my chin with a cold blade.

“You’re not letting go of that stare, are you, darlin’?” He bites his lip, looking down at me.

The stinging blade traces down my neck, sliding over my right collarbone. The thicker skin he reaches, the more pressure he’s applying, yet he's not breaking the flesh, only leaving a red, tingling line. It drags over my clothed shoulder and down the sleeve of my shirt. He does it slowly, not breaking eye contact, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. I question if I am as special as I thought I was.

“You have no idea what I am going to do to you.” He leans down to whisper as he hooks the cutting edge under the cuff and cuts into it.

A cold sensation sends shivers up my arm when he lets the two blades rip through the material all the way up to the neckline, leaving my left limb completely free of clothing. The dust particles tickle my nose, causing a sharp inhale, which he mistakes for fear.

“Scared?”

Not a chance. It’s better than just undressing me; it gives a sense of foreplay, whether before sex or murder. He repeats the same process on my other sleeve.

“You like playing with your food?”

Anakin grins widely. I think he’s liking me more and more. "Oh, how I’ll enjoy devouring you, my sweet dessert."

He drops down to his knees, placing his hands on my thighs to keep them apart and give him more access to be closer to me. He cuts into the hemline of my shirt and rips it across the middle, parting it and exposing even more of me for his eyes to eat. He doesn’t stop there and digs the point of the scissors into my chin, causing a painful sting. I look into his eyes, clouded with darkness, biting my teeth together to avoid hissing from the ache.

“Mouth.” He says that, and my lips part involuntary, as if he had control of my own body.

He slides the scissors fully into me, leaving only the rings hanging out.

“Bite.”

I clench my teeth against the metal to prevent myself from choking. Anakin looks at me proudly, as if saying how good I am for listening to his orders. He grabs the waistband of my pants and commands again.

“Hips.”

I lift myself up, and before I know it, I’m almost entirely naked, tied to a chair, with scissors digging into the back of my throat. And I don’t think ever in my life I’ve been this turned on by a mere thought of being hurt.

He stands up, grabbing the tool out of my mouth and yanking it out without any consideration. With trembling hands, he starts cutting the ropes off my wrists.

“I’m about to die from the feelings you make me feel.” He groans.

Once my hands are free, I clash into him like an animal freed from a cage who’s been deprived of meat. His lips lash onto mine, and his arms grab my thighs and lift me up against him. He’s kissing me, and my body’s burning with sickness and desire. Anakin carries me to his desk, sweeping all the papers and stationary on the ground with a loud, crashing sound, breaking whatever’s fragile and unlucky enough to interfere with our twisted fantasy.

Anakin’s teeth graze the skin on my neck as he throws me to lay on the wooden tabletop. He digs his teeth into my flesh, making me gasp. He’s marking my body with deep red bruises, and I wonder if it’s to hurt me, taste me, or make me see the sars. I’m pretty sure all three things are happening at the same time, though.

He pulls away for a second just to force his tongue into my mouth. And I kiss him. I crave him. I want to make him feel weak for not killing me; I want to make him feel vulnerable for giving into his desires, but the only one who’s feeling small is me. Just like every other time. I keep kissing him, tasting his spit in my mouth as it smears over my chin from how hungrily he’s working. And he keeps devouring me. He keeps devouring me, and I can’t force myself to stop him.

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katesmemes · 2 months

Text

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

"I don't think that blush is your shade."

"I'll probably just stay home."

"This is the first critical rager of the year."

"You know what your doctor said."

"You need socialization."

"Why don't you use my tanning bed?"

"You're in need, babe."

"I'm really sorry you got electrocuted."

"Are you hot for anyone?"

"[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]!"

"I don't know who that is."

"He doesn't play sports; he's cerebral."

"This party is gonna be clutch!"

"These things will turn your feet into hamburger helper."

"It's not haunted, just abandoned. Desecrated."

"Well, I heard [Name(s)] do witchcraft over there."

"I've never seen anybody there."

"I think it's really peaceful and quiet."

"I talk to him sometimes."

"I brought this for you."

"It's kinda morbid when I wear it so I wanted you to have it."

"That's really weird, [Name]."

"I just don't think anyone should be forgotten."

"Y'know, I wasn't gonna say anything, they were such a mess, but you look amazing now!"

"Oh my God, [Name], bag your face!"

"How do you know my name?"

"So what exactly happened to her?"

"I can never ever talk about it, for personal and legal reasons, and i also pinky swore, but I guess I can tell you. I trust you."

"I'd be screwed up if I were her, too."

"Hi, sorry, how do we know each other?"

"You're being so dramatic."

"This is not what I expected from you; you have so much potential."

"Lets find somewhere for you to sit for a bit, yeah?"

"I hate parties like this; I don't even know why I came."

"Your hair feels like easter grass."

"You know it's not nice to lead people on."

"I wish I was with you."

"It's okay; everyone does it."

"You should probably get going."

"Did you smash the mirror in the bathroom?"

"Do you know what happens to people who act out?"

"How about an apology?"

"I feel like I may want to apologize for what happened last night."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, is there pizza left?"

"I think I'm gonna skip the movie."

"I'm just really tired from work."

"Do you know how hard that is on the groin muscles?"

"It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Do you like this song?"

"We're better off up here in case anyone comes home."

"I haven't said this many words in a row in forever."

"I hate to say it, but you're either crazy, or just goddamned inconsiderate!"

"You're kind of absurd, aren't you?"

"I really don't get your fixation with that one."

"There are plenty of halfway-dece guys who would date you."

"I wanna help you, I really do, but I dunno how."

"It's a waste of time to try and fix a boy; it's better to just accept a guy's flaws."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What happened to your neck?"

"You don't want to hold my hand?"

"This whole place gives me the creeps, okay?"

"I thought that was a really cool thing to say."

"Don't feel bad about what we did!"

"You saved me."

"Is that a rad new trend or something?"

"I don't play with dolls anymore."

"I'm sure there's some explanation."

"You know I'm usually pretty cool about things, right?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You have no idea how scary this is."

"I actually feel like something's wrong."

"People are so afraid of death because they dunno when it's gonna happen to them."

"I'm not afraid of death anymore."

"I don't wanna die a virgin."

"I want to do it with someone I truly love."

"You're so supportive."

"I love our conversations."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

"How about I drive since you're not feeling so good?"

"Your boobs look great by the way."

"This is just too freaking much."

"It's your fault we're screwed."

"You act like you're happy for me, and you care about me, but you're not really happy for me."

"You couldn't let me have this one thing?"

"You knew I liked him and you went after him on purpose!"

"I swear, I would never do that to you!"

"Guys usually only want me for one thing."

"It just was never gonna work out between us."

"I don't have feelings for you like that."

"Do you know how uncool that is?!"

"Uh, you're not making any sense."

"Thank you for being nice to me when no one else was."

"You're the type of person who usually bullies me or looks right through me, but you didn't."

"You actually went out of your way to try to tell people I was part of your family."

"You really actually wanted me to be your sister..."

"You're a great person, [Name]."

"Listen, we're running out of time."

"Make love to me."

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starter sentences #rp starters #starter sentences #roleplay starters #rp sentence starters #ask meme #sentence starters #ask prompt #movie sentence starters #lisa frankenstein sentence starters #lisa frankenstein starter sentences

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sweatervest-obsessed · 6 months

Text

Black Dog

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

WC: 758

TW: Love of Zeppelin, mentions of Satanism <3

A/N: Sorry I've been gone but now IM BACK. She's ALIVEEEEE

Have you ever woken up to Led Zeppelin's Black Dog playing distantly in the shower?

Spencer Reid has.

It’s his own fault really. He’s the one who invited you back to his place, and he should feel guilty, should feel bad about breaking one of Hotch’s rules, but you were just so fucking pretty, it made his brain malfunction.

He should feel fucked about the situation, and he did, just not in the way he probably should have.

You had walked out, wrapped in a towel, humming along, having turned the music back down thinking he was still asleep.

The water droplets dripped down your legs caused him to blush slightly, smiling shyly at how fucking gorgeous you looked, embaressed by the thoughts of the previous night.

“Morning Spence.” You whispered, dropping your phone on the bed, and moving over his body, placing a kiss on his lips, a dreamy smile across your face.

“Morning.” He whispered, sighing your name as you kissed his jaw. His hands wrapped around your waist, letting you collapse and place your weight on top of him.

“I just showered..” You mumbled, continuing to kiss his neck and jaw, examining the damage you caused.

“And who’s fault is that?” He kissed your head. He took his hand and laced it through one of yours, bringing it to his lips.

“We have work, handsome.”

“I’m actually not the one on top of someone else.”

You huffed and rolled off of him, standing up. “Yeah Yeah, whatever. At least you don’t have to show up to work in the same pants as yesterday.”

Spencer laughed a little bit before getting up with you.

“I didn’t know you liked Led Zeppelin.”

You whipped your head around, eyes filled to the brim with excitement. “You, Doctor Spencer Reid, know who Led Zeppelin is, and like them?”

He pulled on a pair of khaki trousers you had seen a million times before. “Don’t seem too surprised. Jimmy Page was known popularly as a satanist, even though he wasn’t. He agreed with Crowley’s philosophy of personal liberation, however plenty of Led Zeppelin's songs deal with the supernatural, or more pagan like elements. For example, the cover of Zeppelin IV is commonly believed to be straight out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy, but in actuality, it’s the symbol of the hermit from Tarot. I–” He stopped himself, and looked up at you, not fully expecting you to still be listening.

But you were. Looking at him with such patience and adoration, and a genuine interest in whatever he was saying. “What?” You looked at yourself and then back at him. “Why’d you stop?”

He opened and closed his mouth for a second, furrowing his brows. “Sorry. It’s just, uh, no one ever really lets me ramble, let alone listens…”

You shook your head. “Well that’s idiodic because you have a lot of very interesting things rattling around in your brain. And now I know that the very handsome man I slept with last night, likes one of my favorite bands…or at least has a good breadth of knowledge about them.” You pulled your shirt over your head, tucking it into your pants, starting to look around for your shoes.

Spencer was still staring at you.

“Spence do you remem–babe, please. Stop staring and keep talking please.”

He swallowed and nodded, fumbling with the shirt in his hands. “I-uh-I, don’t remember, um–”

“That's fine.” You called from under the bed, having located where one of your shoes got kicked. “Tell me something else about Zeppelin.”

“Uh-uh speaking of Satanism.” He pulled his shirt over his head, staring at your ass completely unashamed. “Did-did-did you know that, uh, Televangelist Paul Crouch believed that if you played Stairway to Heaven backwards, it would have satanic messages?”

You slid on one of your shoes, hunting for the other one still. “Oh please Spence, you’re slipping. Everyone knows that. And it’s a bunch of bullshit, kinda. It does sound like some devil words but truly who has the time to plan that out, and then execute it?”

“T-that’s what the band said!

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek as you walked out into his living room, determined to find this other fucking shoe.

“What’s your favorite song by them, Spence?”

“Oh well I don’t actually listen to them…”

“Spencer please. You’re breaking my heart. I’m picking the music in the car, and you’re going to suck it up.”

Spencer has never been more excited to listen to music at 7 am before.

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fandom #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid

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soapoet · 7 months

Text

PJO pick-a-card reading

Luke Castellan; A message from above

Soapy scribbles: I opted to format this topic as generally as possible since we all hold various different beliefs. Whether this message comes from your spirit guides, angels, higher self, God, any deity, ancestor or passed loved ones, or anything beyond my comprehension, is for you alone to know based on how it resonates with you. I am just the messenger and it is no business of mine who your particular sender is.

01.

Shufflemancy: Travelling by James Spiteri

You're coming out of a period of stagnation. Either delays entirely out of your control, or the sheer lack of motivation has kept you at a stalemate unable to proceed with your plans. You have found comfort in distractions aplenty. A seemingly never-ending cycle of avoiding the next step because it appears so very daunting, then being overcome with guilt and shame, which you again run from, chasing anything and everything which would put these feelings at bay. Now the first step looks less frightening, and you may feel more motivated to journey onwards.

Growing pains may feature, but you are able to handle them well. You may feel inclined to keep secrets, especially regarding your endeavours. This will prove beneficial as it reduces pressure, you now have nobody to hold yourself accountable but you, and you avoid the urge to run away should anybody dare inquire about your progress. Push yourself forward, as unnerving as it may be. You will quickly notice how light you are on your feet and the distance you can go when harnessing the dopamine from simply overcoming this fear.

Do not be too hard on yourself or expect to run a marathon. A little progress is better than none, but do not use busy work as yet another distraction. You have great gifts and plenty to share with the world, and you are destined to inspire others with your achievements and your accolades. As much as you detest routine, try to keep even a small one. Do a little bit every day to inch yourself closer to your dreams. To avoid feelings of uncertainty and your fears of failure, set aside time to sit with yourself in silence and ask yourself why you want this, where it will lead, and why that is where you want to be and what you hope to achieve, the life you wish to lead and what legacy you wish you leave. Remind yourself of the answers to these questions whenever motivation begins to evade you on your journey.

Sometimes a writer can only muster a sentence, perhaps one they will later entirely eliminate, yet they did something. And sometimes all this writer can do is stare at the manuscript before them and give of themselves nothing. Yet they did something. They got up to look at it rather than wince across the room and refuse to rise to the occasion at all. Celebrate even your smallest victories and allow yourself a cheer when you muster even the slightest effort. Do not expect perfection of yourself and know that many before you had to go through trial and error, and learn and adapt along the way. That is perfectly okay and you do not need a doctorate straight out of the womb to be good enough.

02.

Shufflemancy: Kiss the rain by Yiruma

You must cease this pattern of giving up your energy so easily to so many who are not deserving of your time. When bad news arrive, it is fine to feel whichever way you feel, but anchoring your emotions to this negativity will suck you dry of the life force that you need to shine. You are allowed to have boundaries and you are encouraged to enforce them and guard them closely. Those who would trespass should know punishment swiftly. Do not tolerate things you do not tolerate truly. Do not quietly hope unfortunate things go away and that people notice your discomfort and stop what they're doing that is harming you.

Stand up for yourself and make your thoughts and feelings heard. It is also not your duty or responsibility to translate a simple no or a stop to people wilfully ignorant and always finding a justification for their words and actions. No is a full sentence. Anybody who fails to internalize this fact and look in the mirror to reflect and to change any behaviour that's lead them to ignore this simple command is not a headache to take as yours. You should be unapologetic in your selfcare and demand space when you need it. Set aside your fears and shoo away any prowling feelings of shame and guilt. If you would be happier alone than in bad company, seek solitude and cut off what no longer serves you.

There are lessons some learn only upon a collapse. You may pray for a change of heart and hope for the sun to shine again, but you do not need to weather storms that are not yours to experience. You're not a bad person for stepping back and saying enough is enough in a situation that only causes you distress. Those who need help must want it and ask for it. You can promise to be there when they're ready and aid in their recovery, and still express to them the grief that they have caused you. Sometimes people need to be faced with the harsh truth. The pain and the agony and sleepless nights which they have brought upon you and others and be shown they could truly lose it all lest they stop and strive to do and be better.

If somebody truly needs help and you do not have the heart to abandon them, seek assistance. You need not be alone in a quest which requires more than you alone have to give. There are many sources of help and even more solutions once more hands are there to help, and you only have two and are allowed to seek extra pairs to aid you in this task. You are commended for your resilience and your kind heart. It may break and bleed often, and you must know that things will get better. These rough waters will calm soon enough and you will find peace.

03.

Shufflemancy: Ballerina by Yehezkel Raz

You don't need to run so fast. You have all the time in the world to make the changes that you want and need. Slow down and allow yourself to breathe. You have been much too hard on yourself and allowed everything outside of you to weigh you down. Shelf some burdens that were never yours to carry and make the choice to serve yourself for a change. Be gentle with yourself and listen to your own body and soul, and act according to that which is truly in your best interest. You are your own worst enemy when you let the beasts feed upon your negative self talk and your fixations on perceived failures.

Know that you have no more need for tips and tricks and new methods to your madness. You already have everything that you need, and no tool beyond your own consciousness is required. You could paint cathedral ceilings with just your imagination, so cease your struggle and let yourself be carried by the stream. Do not waver in your convictions, and do not let doubt lead you astray. Stick to what you know in your heart to be true and cast away every inkling of worry and fear.

You need to learn to let life happen to you rather than holding the reins so tightly you vitiate the opportunity to experience the present moment altogether. The present is all we really have, so try your best to cling neither to the past or the future. We all have regrets behind us, and wishes for the future, but it is the present moment which we truly have control over and get to experience.

Let go of any unhealthy dependencies you may have allowed to take root in your garden. Whether this is a person, a habit, or a situation, if it isn't doing you any good in the long-term, do your best to weed it out so that more energy may be received by the things you do wish to grow and nurture. If you feel unqualified to tackle some of this gardening, do not hesitate to ask for help and guidance from gentle people who will understand how delicate some situations may be. You do not need to tolerate fear mongering or unnecessary pressure, time constraints or misplaced ultimatums. Be direct with what you need and the tone and feel you wish to engage in so that you do not end up feeling cornered and threatened so much that you refuse any help at all in favour of protecting yourself from harsh criticism and judgement.

#pac reading #pick a card reading #luke castellan #pjo #energy reading #intuitive reading #percy jackson and the olympians #pac #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #tarot reading #tarotblr #soapy.post

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soapskneebrace · 1 month

Note

Do you have any recommendations for longer cod fics with plot?

Yeah, plenty!

A few from @391780 (and their ao3) (if you decide to explore their other fics PLEASE read the tags first, early writes some very dark work that may not suit you):

The Arrangement

The ad reads "Looking for a woman (25-45) to enter a discreet and unusual arrangement, with monetary compensation. Must fill out application and send photo.", and for some reason that you can't even fathom yourself, you apply. AKA John Price, who knows better than anyone what a liability having a spouse or partner is, decides that the only way he's going to find a beautiful soft woman to put up with his absurd schedule and dangerous job is to simply hire them.

the space in between

a shortcut through a construction site at night leads you to a run-in with john price, leader of the local crime family. (or, mafia Price romance with a desk jockey who didn't sign up to be a crime boss' obsession or sole confidant)

Into Your Veins

Ghost is a vampire during a zombie apocalypse, sent on a mission from Price to recruit you to join the little gated community of survivors that he's rounding up. You're a survivor who just wants to be left in peace to tend your garden and occasionally clear out your moat and booby traps of the undead. Neither of you gets what you'd planned on.

Then we have milk0 on ao3

Incompetent People

You share a group chat with your team and you sometimes wish you didn’t. (or, a very fun fic that started as a group chat piece and has evolved into a poly 141 romance. Otherwise known as my favorite fucking trope ever. The reader character has such a fun voice, I adore this fic.)

Next of course is @ceilidho (emphemeron on ao3) (same deal as with early—read their tags if you explore more of their fic, they also write darker work)

take me home, country road

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au

Following up with @alittleposhtoad (smoggyfogbottom on ao3)

"it's gonna get me by the end of the night"

A year after the attack on the Urzikstan embassy, Stacy Davidson struggles to move on. Whumptober Prompt: No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?” Note: I picked Gaz x OC because this ship doesn't exist on ao3, and I wasn't sure how to classify it for searching purposes. Stacy has a minor role in the game!

oh bury me not on the lone prairie

You are a doctor on the frontier, recently widowed and left to fend for yourself. You cope by keeping a strict routine, one that is threatened by the arrival of four strangers one hazy summer night. (141 western AU)

a handsome stranger on a cold autumn day

You work at a small-town library doing the same thing day in and day out, until a handsome captain approaches your desk.

rounding out this list is @lunarvicar who is on hiatus but still fully worth reading. (you can find them here on ao3)

exit row

ghost is that hot guy at the airport you wish you could talk to. good thing your seats are next to each other on the plane and you can fantasize alllll you want. (or, you hook up with Ghost in an airport and meet, months later, after you join the 141. he is not happy about it. or is he?)

to the flame

Moth has barely escaped her first captors, but tumbles headfirst into the care of the 141. She has to decide whether to trust them and their prickly leader, Captain Price - who also happens to be the sexiest motherfucker she's ever met.

a stranger at the table

tudor era AU. John Price is an old friend of your new husband's, come to help on the farm for a season. Your vows are tested in ways you could never have imagined.

All of these I've listed are multichapter fics, but every single author's one-shots are just as good. I highly recommend reading those too!

Now I'm just going to list a few writers who you really should just take the time to go through their masterlists, because you can't go wrong with anything they write.

@yeyinde

@peachesofteal

@moondirti

@charliemwrites (dark fiction, be aware)

@ohbo-ohno (also dark fiction)

honorary mention of @guyfieriii who has removed most of her cod fiction from tumblr due to a frankly disgusting amount of harassment, but I'm sure if you ask her very very nicely she'll send you where you need to go. (seriously. be nice. or you'll see me in your bedroom holding a knife at midnight)

P.S. if you're reading this, and i've expressed love for your work in the past, but you are not on this list, it is NOT intentional exclusion. It is my absolutely horrible memory. I love you and please link your own work if you'd like!

#answered #happy reading anon!

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joesheistyy · 1 year

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Busted on Ice

This was inspired by me busting my ass on Wednesday because of ice and still having to go to class <3 yes, my ass has a bruise and so does my arm and my ego but I promise I’m fine and nothing is broken :)

——

Wintertime in Cincinnati showed no remorse to anyone. The weather would switch between mid 60s to low 20s within a day, and who knew if it was going to rain, sleet, snow, or be sunny.

You were one to study the weather, checking it multiple times a day, almost like it was social media. For the past few days, the forecast had been predicting ice and maybe snow. Or snow and maybe ice. It could be anything.

Both you and Joe were not fans of the cold. A nice, crisp 60° day was your favorite, and same with Joe. So this cold weather system coming through made you want to hibernate until it was done with.

“Do we have everything we need in case we lose power?” Joe asked as he entered the living room to see you charging your computer on your lap while playing the Sims.

“Yeah I think so. I mean we’ve got plenty of blankets cause of my blanket addiction and we’ve got non perishable foods so we should be fine,” you reply, not looking away from your game.

“So I guess we just wait it out now, don’t we?” He asks, sitting down next to you.

“Yup, sounds about right,” you said with a shrug.

As the day went on, the weather got worse. Going from rain to sleet to snow and back to sleet. You and Joe spend most of the day cuddled up on the couch, avoiding the cold at all costs.

You two headed to bed in hopes that the roads and ground wouldn’t be as bad as the meteorologists had predicted.

As the sun rose the next day, you and Joe made sure to enjoy the warmth of your shared bed as long as you could. You had plans with your friends and you’d be damned if you missed them. First, yoga class, then mimosas.

You began to get ready in the bathroom as Joe stayed in bed, turning on an episode of SpongeBob. You put on your favorite lululemon leggings and align top and tossed one of Joe’s sweatshirts on top.

Joe got out of bed and decided to remote start the car for you as you made your water bottle. You bundled up and grabbed your bottle, heading out through the garage. The car was partially defrosted, but you always left with plenty of time for situations like this.

You stepped out from the safety of the dry garage, but what you didn’t know was that the ground below was frozen solid, yet clear.

You hit the ground, falling on your right arm.

Crack

The most blood curdling scream left your mouth.

Joe came running outside the moment he heard your scream. You were sitting on the ground, clutching onto your arm. Your clothes becoming wet. You were in shock, your eyes filled with tears.

“Oh my god y/n, what happened?” Joe questioned, pulling you carefully into the garage. Your butt slid along the ice until it hit the hard concrete garage floor.

“This fucking piece of shit weather,” you cried out, grasping your arm and trying to make it feel even the slightest bit better.

“Baby, you gotta be more careful,” he said as he pulled you upright, trying to avoid the arm that you fell on.

“Joe I heard a crack and it’s numb, I literally can’t feel anything right now,” you croaked out, looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

Joe gave you the same look, a look of shock as to the status of your arm. “Babe, we gotta take you to urgent care or something,”

“I refuse to leave this house because of this fucking ice,” you yelled, walking back into the house, still cradling your arm.

Joe followed you inside, pulling out his phone to call the team doctor to see if he had any suggestions. You sat on the couch, grabbing at your arm and trying not to move it because of the immense pain it caused. You were still in shock, your body language radiating pain.

“Okay the team doc said to take some Tylenol…” Joe trailed off as he frantically walked throughout the kitchen, “oh I know what would help…ice,” Joe laughed out, thinking he was being funny.

“Not fucking cool, Joseph. Tylenol isn’t gonna help the fact that I probably just broke my fucking arm. Quit being such an asshole,” you barked out, frustrated that you were in so much pain and at the comment that Joe made. Glares were exchanged between the two of you.

“You didn’t let me fucking finish, y/n,” Joe responded with a harsh tone. The last thing you needed was to bicker with Joe, yet here you were.

When it came to injuries, you were usually pretty self sufficient. Bandaids and sprains didn’t shock you in the least, but this time around was different. You weren’t used to being in this much pain and shock, so of course you were going to be frustrated and angry.

“The doctor is gonna make his way over here to take a look at you. He said he’s safe to leave his house and not slip and break a bone in the process,” Joe snipped at you. That had your blood boiling, only making things worse. At this point, you gave Joe the silent treatment until the doctor arrived.

The doctor came in and took a look at your arm. It was swollen up pretty bad and your range of mobility was lacking. He gave you some pain pills and a sling and said that when it’s safe for you to leave to go see an orthopedic doctor.

Joe walked out with the team doctor, having not said much the whole time he was there.

“Let’s get you up to bed,” Joe says, outstretching a hand to you to lead you upstairs.

You follow Joe, he had gotten you a bottle of water to set on your bedside. You took Joe’s pillow and set it under your arm for support.

“I’m gonna go get some stuff from the store,” Joe says as he walks out of the room “text me if you need anything,”

Your pain medication made you drowsy, so you decided to take a nap. You were upset with Joe for talking to you the way he did, and you were upset with yourself for much more than just falling.

Upon Joe’s arrival back home, he put the groceries away. He felt immense guilt for the way he got snippy with you. He didn’t want to admit that your fall made him anxious, but he didn’t mean to be so short either.

Not much can make up for the fact that your arm was most likely broken, Joe was upset with you, and you missed yoga and mimosas. You were a sucker for mimosas.

But, Joe got you some things in hopes of making you feel better. A bouquet of flowers because he felt guilty for being short with you, a bottle of nice champagne to make up for the missed mimosas, and some of your favorite snacks. He even got you a new blanket. Sometimes, Joe loved to spoil you. You hated it because you always want to give in return, but he always says no. This was one of those instances where you wouldn’t be upset with him for spoiling you. Life seemed like it couldn’t get much worse.

Joe arranged the flowers and staged them in the middle of the island. He set the grocery bags of gifts on the island so he could slowly pull them out one by one to show you what he got you. He climbed the stairs to find you still asleep, partially sitting up to rest your arm comfortably. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked your non-broken arm to wake you gently.

“Hi baby, how’s your arm feeling?” He asked as your eyes fluttered open.

“Terrible,” you groaned out a bit. Joe reached over to grab the sling to help stabilize your arm. He lifted the blankets off of you and held out his hand to help you out of bed.

You followed him downstairs to see a beautiful arrangement of flowers and a few bags full of gifts. Joe pulled out a barstool and assisted you up.

“I feel bad for everything that happened today so I got you flowers and other goodies,” he said with a small smile, leaning in to give you a sort of side hug.

“Joey, that’s very sweet, thank you,” you leaned into his hug with a smile, taking a nice whiff of his detergent.

“Lemme show you what I got!” He said excitedly, walking to the opposite side of the counter to give you a haul. He always loved when you showed him what you got, but the roles being reversed was just as fun.

Joe showed you all the things he got, making sure to continue to apologize about being so short with you. And the comment he made about ice helping really set you off, and he knew that. He hated that you were in pain and he wished he could take it away.

Joe made sure to take the best care of you that he could. He made sure to serve you all the mimosas you wanted and drape you in your new blanket, along with cooking you all your favorite things. And, of course, give you all the snuggles and love in the world and try his hardest to keep you out of pain.

——

This idea was much cuter in my head 🫠 anyway, it’s something for you all! I’ve got more ideas churning and so many great pictures of Joe that are inspiring me!! Let’s hope I can manage to put content out while dealing with classes 😂 this is like my way to detox and settle down and I love it. I love y’all!!

#joe burrow #bengals quarterback #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #bengals #joe sheisty #nfl imagine #joe burrow blurb #nfl #cincinatti bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow oneshot #Joe burrow is so hot and presh and cute

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

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Yandere Male Monster Musume | Resting Easy

Last Part

“Hello I’m Centoreo, you are my destined master!”

“No, I’m not. I’ve never even met you in my life.”

“Perhaps not but I’ve already observed you enough to know that you are. Not to mention that legally I’m meant to stay with you.”

He pulled out a paper with an official seal and Smith’s signature off to the side there was a sticky note on the side with a smiley face and a message:

‘Got you another tenant, sweet pea! No sex!’

–S

You frowned as you recognized the handwriting, silently cursing the agent in your head. You tried to look past the centaur at the clinic only for the long-haired male to tilt himself in the way. You sighed again before looking to the sky. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, considering you got to skip the whole thief chasing and the painful misunderstanding of riding the back of a centaur. You took another breath finally looking into the centaur's sky-blue eyes as you smiled.

“Hey, well welcome to the family. Uh, we can go back after I go to the doctor over there. So you’ll have to wait until I’m done.”

His face fell before he easily scooped you into his arms. Turning around back to the clinic, all you can hear is the speedy clopping of his hooves as he reaches the door.

“Excuse me! Would you please help my master? They’re gravely injured.”

“S-sure.”

______________________________________________________________

“Uhm Centoreo? Are you sure it's okay to be on your back like this? Isn’t this reserved for like your…special person?”

“My destined master? Well didn’t I say you already were? I’m perfectly fine with this. In fact, I’m more than happy, I’m elated+”

You let your head rest upon his back as he moved closer to the house. You’ve decided you quite liked him. You were already aware of how much the main guy relied on Centorea. Finally talking to someone who listened to what you wanted was nice, he may be a bit forward but he made you feel a lot more relaxed. You fought exhaustion, ultimately losing to the rhythmic clapping of Centoreo’s hooves against the pavement.

“You must have been exhausted (Y/n)...to let your guard down so easily.”

Letting himself smile as he came upon the house already seeing the silhouettes of the monsters he had studied previously.

“...I’ll be sure to lift that burden for you with plenty of happy accidents.”

________________________________________________

Milo was inconsolable. Slithering anxiously from your room to the door, he had been wrestling with himself about the interaction you had just hours before. Torn between guilt for hurting his love and fear that you’d send him away. From crying to angrily slamming his tail against the floor he constantly wrestled with his desire to chase you down and force you to stay. Pypi on the other hand was truly prepared to seek you out himself. He vaguely recalled promising not to do something…but since he can’t remember what it was it shouldn’t stop him.

“Weee going to find (Y/n)-shi-eh!?”

Pypi’s winged limbs were being held against his body by the muscled tail of the lamia. He tried to fly away again only to find he still couldn’t get very far. In fact, his takeoff was entirely interrupted by that tail flinging him into an adjacent wall from the door. Rubbing at the offending area, the harpy quickly got up to pull out his talons.

“WHATS YOUR DEAL, WORM!?”

“Worm?! And of you weren’t such a bird brain you’d get deported…but now that I think about it maybe I should let you go..”

“Deported!? But then I’ll never get to mate legally with them!”

“But you can’t now either.”

“That won’t stop me! So let me go!”

Milo blushed in embarrassment as he already felt the subconscious wrapping of his tail around the harpy’s legs.

“B-because I’m not letting you find them without me!”

“...Are you serious…your such a crybaby.”

“Says you!?... So are you bringing me or not?”

“Fine but I’m dropping you the moment we find them!”

At that moment there was a strong knock on the door which both sparked hope and fear of who was behind. Releasing Pypi he let the overexcited harpy dart towards the door swinging it open.

“Horsey? Smif?”

“I’m not a horse.”

“Hehehe well guys this Centoreo, a centaur, and they're your newest roommate!”

An icy glare was exchanged between Milo and Centoreo, the latter giving an insincere smile that had Smith chuckling.

“Don’t be so mad Milo. See, Centoreo is doing happy to meet you, right?”

“Yes, I’m delighted.”

“...”

Pypi whipped his head between the two before grimacing at Centoreo, “For some reason, I feel like you aren’t very nice.”

Them agent felt the cold sweats run down his back as the beefing monster boys directed their angry stares towards him and the harpy.Smith held his hand over the harpy’s mouth while stepping away from the glaring monster boys towards the kitchen.

“So uh your darling’s back and safe, courtesy of him.”

He directed Milo to your resting form who immediately snatches you from Centoreo. Hugging you into his chest he growled in everyone else’s direction before slithering off to his room. Laying you in his bed, he let himself inspect you. Staring at the brace around your ankle had globs of tears welling up in his yellow eyes.

“Oh Darling its all my fault! I’m sorry Darling! Its just…you act so nonchalant I can only hope to…squeeze it out of you.”

He played with the hem of your shirt lightly pulling it up to let his finger pad press against the skin of your stomach. He continued to eye the way your skin bounced unfer his hand. He let his head rest next to the spot he was playing that, purposefully letting his breath tickle your skin. He nuzzled and caressed before pulling away with a conclusion. Decided, he protracted his fangs and sunk them into your skin.

“OW! Hey!”

You snapped up trying to push his head away only for your arms and body to be kept still as he kept his fangs in place. You called for him frantically in hopes he’d snap out of it only for your voice to die down with the sight of Milo. His yellow irises were slitted and he didn’t look…completely there. So you kept as still as you could with his fangs planted inside you, the pain being soothed with the soft, wet gliding of his tongue. When he was seemingly satisfied he retracted his incisors before absent-mindedly crawling up to lay beside you.

You poked at his face; finding no response you carefully untangled from his tail to limp out of his bedroom. You slowly made your way to the main room, following the aroma of freshly brewed tea.

“Master (Y/n)! I’m happy to see you survived him. I’ve just made some tea to put everyone at ease.”

“Uh yeah, thanks for that Centoreo.”

You looked at the sleeping Pypi who was fast asleep with an empty cup on the couch, you sighed in relief.

“I would offer you some but its specifically for us, male monsters. Tonight is a full moon after all.”

You blinked before letting your eyes widen in recognition. That’s right the moment Centoreo returned home Smith would clear the tenants in the house for marriage with the main guy. Not soon after he was attacked, room broken into, and forced to juggle three horny monster girls through the night.

“Wow, yeah thanks for that…uh by the way was there anything Smith left for me or meant to say to me? Usually when someone moves in here he has something to say.”

Centoreo tilted his head with his heart-pumping smile as he carried his cup of tea.

“Nothing that I can recall. Maybe some more paperwork but I’ve already went through as much as i could.”

“Oh okay…” You were debating if this was the truth or not. You were sure the original series included something of a fight before the moon scene went down but the original series didn’t have a centaur who was really on top of it.

“Uh well I’ll be going to bed. We can all give you a proper welcome tomorrow.”

Centoreo chuckled scooping Pypi up before walking alongside you to your respective rooms.

“Thank you, master. I will see you tomorrow.”

Shoving at your heavy steel door to open, lock, and close before plopping down onto your bed. Ignoring the distant screeches of what must be Milo as he awoke, you cuddled into your blankets mentally preparing for the worst.

It won’t be long now before rest is simply a dream.

#yandere male monster musume #yandere monster x reader #yandere monster #yandere lamia #yandere naga #yandere monster musume #yandere monsters #yandere harpy #yandere centaur #yandere x reader #yanderes x reader #yandere genderbend monster musume #yanderes vs yanderes #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint

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