#as well as the constant pressure to help the world more despite it not being my job nor smth i can actually help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fake-bleach · 1 year

Text

fallen star | darkish!ezra x reader

summary: You're lost, alone, and looking for your family in the middle of a planet you know absolutely nothing about. That's until you encounter a man who offers to help you, giving you more than you bargained for.

word count: 9k (crazy i know oops)

warnings: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), bit of a slow burn but not rly, dub-con smut (ezra convinces reader to give in), kinda manipulative/creepy ezra, unprotected sex, virgin!reader & is innocent as hell so.. innocence kink?, age gap (but reader is of legal age & an adult ofc), piv (pls use protection), fingering, foreplay, nipple play, crying from pleasure, slight spit kink, size kink, breeding kink, praise, degrading, dirty talk, all that good, filthy shit - lmk if i missed anything!

author's note: hi all! this is the first official writing i've ever done so please feel free to give me any suggestions, notes, etc! i've been so inspired by the incredible writers on this app, such as @mypoisonedvine & @toxicanonymity's fics & wanted to give it a try for myself! i'd appreciate it so much if you could let me know if you'd like more from me as well! hope you all enjoy <3

ao3 link | masterlist

The heat and humidity sticks to your skin while you run, desperation seething through your teeth as you take a deep breath. You inhale sharply as you finally take a break to sit on the ground. The bright, green scenery around you consumes you as you look around frantically, having seen the same trees and leaves over and over again. You're practically running in circles at this point.

You're stuck, and quite frankly, losing hope.

You've lost your family amidst this strange, new planet, as your father convinced you and the rest of your family that there would be hope to discover new materials and minerals that you'd be able to sell. You all would be rich and finally 'comfortable', not having to live off of the things you'd be feeding off on day by day, as your father said..

What a load of shit.

You're unsure of where exactly your family had gone, as you woke up two mornings ago to an empty tent; the "home" that provided you no privacy for the past few weeks, whatsoever. Since then, you've been on the search for them. They're all you've ever known, and despite the immense pressure and burden you've had on your shoulders for being the eldest sibling, you needed them.

You've never been out in the real world on your own. At least, not without your father to help guide you and provide reassurance in what you were taught to do.. what you had to do. You were completely dumbfounded and unsure of what you'd do next in this planet you hardly knew of, and to your knowledge, barely had any population.

The solitude you've experienced the past 48 hours has been torturous to say the least, and the scraps of food you were luckily able to find were running low already. You were getting tired already. How could you survive if you could barely last a day?

As you catch your breath, you begin to stand back up, prepared to continue on your journey and in hopes of finding more food and water. To your advantage and luck, this planet was breathable, giving you one less problem to worry about. As you lift yourself up back on your feet, you hear the crunch of a branch around you.

You quickly turn your head towards the sound as your breath hitches, your heart racing a bit faster. Your mind wanders to the worst case scenario, unsure of what might be out there. You weren't even sure if there were any creatures or other dangerous species out here.

The one thing you did know was that there were dangerous people out there. There was that constant reminder in the back of your mind, engrained from the repeated lectures that your dad gave you as you grew up.

"Sure, there are monsters out there, honey.. but it's the humans that'll get ya for good. They're the real monsters."

With his words roaming around in your head, you slowly take a step back as you continue to frantically look around, seeing nothing but the same leaves, trees, and branches filled in your eyes. You lick your lips nervously, clearing your throat to prepare yourself to sound tougher than you look.

"Who's there?" You yell out harshly, showing that you're no one to mess with. But to the unknown force watching you, it's not convincing one bit.

Silence fills your ears as nothing responds to you. No voice, no steps.. not a single sound. You take a long pause before you start to open your mouth again, until you see something out the corner of your eye move closer, yet subtly towards you.

Quickly whipping your head around to look towards that direction, you gasp faintly as you see a man approach you slowly. His hands are up, almost in a surrender. "Hey, hey, now.. no need to be afraid.." he says softly to you. The accent that his voice lets out consumes your ears as you take a step back, your eyes looking over him, taking in his presence. He's the first person you've seen in the past 48 hours and you're shocked, and more notably, afraid.

"Step back.. Stay away." You let out sternly, grabbing your small switchblade from your pocket to aim it towards him, trying to prevent him from getting any closer.

He was a tall man with messy, black hair, and a patch of white leaking towards the front. He seemed exhausted, looking at you with hazy eyes and on the brink of passing out. "P-Please, girl.. just need some help, I swear," He says as he licks his dry lips, breathing in harshly, "Been out on my own for a couple of days now.. and I'd assume.. you've been on your own, too."

You scoff as you shake your head quickly, denying the fact of the matter, "N-No, sir, you'd be wrong. I'm just getting back to my family, that's all. I can't.. I can't help you." You tell him as you glance around, a small brink of hope in your chest telling you that your family would be right there. But, you knew deep down, that would never be the case.

You look back at the man in front of you as his hand reaches towards yours, gesturing you to put the switchblade down, "Come on now, no need to do that. We can stick together, huh? I can help you get back to your family, you can help me get some food and supplies.. How's that sound? Keep each other some company, yeah? Then I'll be out of your way.." He tells you with a soft chuckle, a small grin forming on his lips in hopes of you to agree.

You back up a bit more before feeling your back hit a tree, making you sigh harshly as you lick your lips, thinking of what you should do. Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities that can come out of this. If this man was genuine and just needed some company and a bit of help.. he might be able to help you get back to your family.

As long as you kept your distance from him, you'd be okay.. and you would be able to finally find them. You wouldn't have to worry about being on your own anymore.

You look at him with stern eyes as you begin to reply, the grip of your hand on the switchblade tightening, "I don't even know you. You're a stranger. What makes you think I could trust you?" Your voice is a bit shaky as you speak, unsure on what decision you should make.

"That's right, birdie.. I'm a stranger, I know, but I guarantee you that I'm only tryin' to help you. You help me out too, and we'd be doing each other a favor. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will.." He proposes to you, his voice a bit gentle and soft as he tries to persuade you into joining him, giving you a small smile. "You just.. gotta put a bit of faith in me, that's all. I'm sure a pretty girl like you's got a nice heart, hm? We can help each other."

He nods at you as he finishes, taking a step towards you with his hand reaching closer to your switchblade. You breathe out faintly as you nod back at him, slowly bringing your hand back down to the side of your body. You flip the switchblade back and insert it into your pocket, your eyes never leaving his.

You bite your lip nervously as your heart begins to relax a bit, relenting, "I.. Okay, let's say I say yes.. What's in it for me? What makes you reliable in helping me? You said you needed my help too.. what would I be doing for you?"

The shakiness in your voice is evident as he stares at you intently, his eyes focused on you. He chuckles softly, explaining himself to you, "Well, birdie, I know this entire planet like the back of my hand. At least this entire area, that's for sure. More importantly, I know where we can stay for the night. I can give you some food.. a nice, warm place to sleep in.." He lets on, his grin widening as he notices your eyes soften at his words.

He can tell that you're exhausted, the hunger in your stomach increasing as every second passes. He knows what you need.

"Seems to me like you want that, don't you, honey? I can give you that.." He continues as he smiles at you. He seems genuine, even if you can't sense the obscure tone in it. "Just asking for your company, that's all.. that's all I want from you."

You breathe out through your nose, taking in the words he was saying. You're conflicted as your mind races with your fathers' words flooding through your head. But, you know you won't make it out here alone, especially not through another night of wandering on your own without any food or water.

Desperation is getting the best of you.

You gulp and reluctantly nod your head at him, ultimately agreeing to his offer. "Alright, fine, but we're keeping to ourselves, okay? There's no need for us to.. get to know each other or anything like that. You're helping me get back to my family, I'm giving you the 'company' you want: That's it." You establish the ground rules, letting him know that you want nothing else from him.

The man slightly shakes his head at you, poking his tongue against his cheek for a second. He laughs softly and nods, saying, "Alright, birdie. You got yourself a deal. But the least you could do is tell me your name, right? Here, I'll go first.. I'm Ezra."

Putting a name to the face, your eyes soften a bit as you stare at him. Ezra. You acknowledge it and nod your head, taking a pause before telling him your own name.

His mouth forms a bright smile, presenting his nice teeth to you, repeating your name on his tongue. "Lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Now, let me lead the way. Shouldn't take too long." He tells you enthusiastically, looking over at you while he proceeds his way east.

The sun's down by the time you reach the destination that Ezra's led you to. By the time you get there, your mind is hazy, the exhaustion and hunger getting to you with each step you take. Your eyes widen as they lay on the site in front of you; a decent sized tent that seemed much more impressive than the "home" you had with your family for the past few weeks.

Ezra's voice fills your ears, breaking the silence around you outside as he approaches the front of the tent, looking over at you with a grin. "Here we are, honey. Home sweet home." He tells you, licking his lips as he makes his way into it, beckoning you to follow him.

And you do. You follow behind him eagerly, impatiently expecting everything he's promised you: food and a nice, warm place to sleep in. Once you enter the tent, he turns on a lamp that fills the space with light. You're immediately looking around, taking in and cherishing the fact that you're actually somewhere that's remotely cozy and comfortable, just how a home should be.

"Do you like it?" He asks you softly, making his way behind you as you look around with curious eyes. You nod your head, giving him a small smile despite your inability to trust him too much. "It's.. really nice. Thanks, Ezra." You tell him, licking your lips as you pull your eyes away from him to set your bag of things in one of the corners.

The tent has almost everything you'd need in a basic home and it's impressive, to say the least. A small table for you to sit and eat at, a tiny kitchen area, and a decent sized bed that fit perfectly in the corner of it.

You turn your head back towards him, his eyes already wandering over you in curiosity. You ask him eagerly, yet collected, "So.. I was promised food? Can I get that now.. please?" You're trying not to have an attitude, seemingly as this man was kind enough to take you in, but you're starving.

Ezra smiles at you and nods, waving his hand towards his direction to gesture you to come over to him. While he walks towards a decently sized bin, he speaks to you, saying, "Don't got too much here, but it should be more than enough for the both of us the next few days. We'll go out looking for more soon."

You nod and follow him, eagerly looking over his shoulder as he kneels down to open up the bin. It's filled with packs of little food that are meant to get you through a tough journey or for you to get by, but it's definitely not anything special. By all means, food is food and you were more than happy to get what you could.

"Thank you, Ezra, I appreciate it," You say to him kindly as he grabs two bags for you, looking up at you while he places them in your eager hands. He nods at you and gives you that kind smile again, making you grin back at him.

As he grabs his own bags, he closes the bin and stands back up, motioning you to sit with him at the table.

When the two of you sit, you immediately open up the bags and nearly devour your food, your stomach growling in the process of your meal.

You hear a small chuckle as you eat and you look back up at him, mouth full of food. "Slow down, sweetheart. It's not goin' anywhere, don't you worry," He tells you, all while he calmly takes bites of his food, clearly cherishing it more than you are. "The faster you eat, the less you'll enjoy it, you know? Better to eat slow so it fills you up real good." He finishes.

You sigh as you nod at him, agreeing and taking in his advice. You hadn't realized that maybe you should be cherishing what you're getting right now, rather than indulging yourself in it so quickly.

Looking down at your hands, you sigh, apologizing to him. "Sorry.. I've just been so hungry. Thank you.. again. I really am grateful." You finish with a small smile at him, continuing to slowly eat your food and taking in the flavors that were satisfying your palette.

The both of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked knowing that you had someone with you, regardless of who it was. And from the few hours you've spent with Ezra, he seemed like the right person to be with.

As the two of you finish eating, you're satisfied, and definitely a lot more happier than you were before. You were just ready to end the day and get a good night's rest, exhausted from the relentless journey you were on.

You yawn softly as you shut your eyes, bringing your hand to your mouth to cover it up. Ezra looks at you attentively, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips once you remove your hand. You didn't notice that, though.

He then chuckles at you and shakes his head, smiling widely, "Ready to go to sleep now, birdie? You can have the bed tonight." He tells you, the kindness in his voice seeping through.

You look at him with soft eyes, eyebrows furrowing, "No, no, it's okay, I can sleep on the floor. You're the one who got this place and took me here.. you deserve the bed." You tell him earnestly, unable to accept his offer. Sure, it's just a bed, but he deserved to sleep well tonight too.

Ezra just shakes his head at you and laughs faintly, "No, you take the bed. I take the floor. Don't you worry, we'll have time to make it work.." He lets out, chuckling.

You aren't too sure what he means by that.

You ignore it though, just giving him a small smile instead. He was just being kind, and you were grateful for it.

Nodding your head, you reluctantly give in and sigh out, "Okay, just tonight though, alright? I'll be out of your hair eventually, anyway." He just grins at you as he takes in your words, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Right.. it's just a couple of days." He murmurs out, glancing around the room, pursing his lips. He looks back to you and nods, getting up from his seat as he gives you a grin, "Alright, time for bed, darlin'. You need some privacy?" He asks.

Getting up from your seat as well, you nod your head, slowly moving towards your bag. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks Ezra. I'll let you know when I'm done." You tell him.

He acknowledges your request and walks out the tent, zipping it up securely. You take your spare clothes out of your bag, beginning to change into the comfortable pajamas; the only ones you had left.

You don't feel the eyes on you, staring at your every move.

Getting ready to go to sleep, Ezra's changed into some comfortable clothes as well. He sets up a small area for him to sleep in, right next to the bed that you'll be taking. As he does so, you sit on the bed, staring at his movements.

Still feeling a bit guilty about the bed, you tell him, "Are.. are you sure you're okay sleeping down there? What if you get cold.. or something?" You ask him, gradually starting to care for him more than you hoped or expected to.

He glances up at you, sitting up on his knees as he lets go of the sleeping bag, shaking his head. "Honey, stop asking. This isn't the first time I've slept on the floor, and besides.. it's much more comfortable than you'd think," He replies to you, grinning at your concerns for him, "Don't you worry about me, alright?"

You sigh and nod your head at him, giving into his request to let it go.

"Alright.. goodnight then, Ezra. Thank you, again." You let out tiredly, giving him a final smile. You moved yourself towards the edge of the bed that was facing the wall of the tent, preferring to sleep where you weren't so exposed to any open part of the bed.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Ezra says, turning off the lamp in the tent before he gives you a final glance.

You turn to your side to shut your eyes, putting your hands underneath the side of your head as extra support from the pillow. You were comfortable, more comfortable than you've been in the past month.

You hear shuffling down on the floor, Ezra moving around in his sleeping bag as he tries to get comfortable enough to be able to doze off.

A couple of minutes go by as you attempt to fall asleep, failing everytime while your body shivers. You had a blanket over you, but it wasn't enough. There seemed to be a constant drift of wind from the outside coming inside the tent, making the heat in your body gradually fade away.

You sighed frustratingly as you softly whispered to Ezra, hoping he was still awake. "Ezra.. is the tent open?" You asked him, wondering if he forgot to close it all the way.

You hear his rough voice, whispering back to you, "No, honey, it's closed.. You cold?" He asks back, leaning up on his arm to look at you.

Turning your head and body towards him, you nod your head and sigh, "Yeah.. sorry, I can't sleep like this.." You let out, annoyed at yourself. You've already asked for so much from him and you were sure he just wanted to sleep already.

He grins at you and begins to get up slowly, saying, "Don't apologize, birdie.. It's hard to sleep when it's so cold," He breathes out, the silence in the room deafening you besides his course voice, "Why don't I come up there? Keep you warm for the night.. I promise it'll help you fall asleep."

You swallow as you think of it, unsure if you should let him be so close to you that way, so quick into your acquaintance. You were so cold though, as your fatigue ran through your body and all you wanted to do was sleep.

So, you agreed. What else was there to lose?

"Okay.. just for tonight." You murmur out, gesturing for him to come on the bed as he nods at you. You lay back down on your side, facing the wall of the tent as you move the blanket so he can have some too.

You feel him get on the bed, the weight and smell of him consuming you just from being right next to you. His hands move the blanket up to lay it on top of himself, sighing contently as he feels the warmth of the both of you surround his cold body in just a few seconds.

A couple of minutes later, as you're gradually starting to doze off, you feel arms wrap around your body, their strong hold pulling you by your waist. Ezra's chest presses into your back, his crotch just below your rear as you gasp softly, the intrusion of physical contact suddenly waking you up and energizing you.

You turn your head slightly to try to look at him, but before you open your mouth to say anything, he cuts you off. "Shh, honey.. just to make you feel a bit warmer. There's no harm in that. Physical contact creates warmth.. you know that, right?" He mumbles to you, just enough to be coherent as you furrow your eyebrows, conflicted by this.

You had just met the man and he was already holding you this close.

You sigh out and breathe softly, saying, "Okay.. I guess you're right," continuing to let him hold you. It starts to feel kind of nice, the warmth in your body increasing as you're both huddled so close together.

As you start to relax again, you press the side of your head to the pillow, allowing yourself to shut your eyes gently and let the sleep take over you.

Your peace is quickly taken away though, as you feel Ezra's hand on top of your hip begin to caress your stomach, slowly moving it lower to the hem of your pajama shirt as he slips his hand underneath it. His hand begins running across your stomach, feeling you.

Gasping softly, you turn your head to look at him again, asking sharply, "What are you doing, Ezra?"

He just hums and continues, his eyes shut. "Shh, sweetheart, c'mon.. Just gonna make you feel better, alright?" He whispers out, his other hand gripping your body tighter against him as the hand on your stomach lowers itself to your pajama pants, starting to slip it underneath the fabric.

You squirm against him as you groan out harshly, "S-Stop, Ezra, stop!" You protest against him, unsure of what to do. Your eyes move around the room frantically as his arms overpower you, holding you still against his chest.

Ezra's eyes open as you squirm against him, making him laugh out faintly at your struggle. His fingers start to roam across your panties, letting them run over your core. His head moves closer to your ear, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Be quiet, honey.. just let me do this, let me make you feel good. It'll keep you warm.."

His hand slips underneath your underwear, quickly cupping your pussy with his entire hand, making him groan out as you whimper, gasping out, "Ezra, please, stop!"

He ignores your pleas, moaning into your ear as his fingers run across your lips, feeling you grow wetter by the second. "Fuck, birdie.. You feel that? You're wet for me.. you're liking this, aren't you, darlin'? It'll feel good, just trust me.." He sighs into your ear, moving his lips to your neck to kiss it softly.

You continue to shake and squirm against him, trying to kick him off of you, but it's no use. He moves his leg over your own, entrapping you against him as you feel his crotch press into your hips and waist. The hard bulge in his soft pants makes you throb, forcing a moan out of you, both from a mixture of fear and unwanted excitement.

"Don't fight me, baby. Don't fight this. It'd be much better for you if you just gave in.. it'll feel so good, sweetheart, please, let me.." He pleas into your ear, pressing two of his fingers on your cunt to find your clit.

Rubbing small circles around your lips, he hears for your moan, indicating that he's found it. He smirks widely as he continues to rub small circles on your clit, feeling you grow wetter by the second as the pressure of his movements persist.

You whine out as your body grows a bit weak, feeling the pleasure build up in your body. Your heart races as you gulp, shutting your eyes tightly. You've never had anyone in your life do this to you before.

Ezra laughs faintly as he continues his motions, "That's it, sweetheart.." He draws out, "Give in, fuck, I know you want to. Anyone ever touch you like this, baby?" He inquires, moving the hand underneath the side of your body you were laying on. He grips your stomach, right below your breasts, and moves his body to lay on his back, taking you with him. Your back lays just against Ezra's side, his left arm wrapped tightly around you, moaning out as he has more control of you like this. He kicks the thin blanket off of the both of you, giving him a view of his hand down your pants and underwear, the moonlight shining through the tent.

You whine out, shaking your head quickly as you feel the warmth grow in your stomach the more he rubs those circles on your clit. "N-No, never, no one's ever touched me like this.." You moan, gasping and panting a bit heavily as you stare down at his fingers moving furiously against you. You can't help but grow wetter at the sight, knowing that it's him who's doing this to you.. but it feels so wrong.

"What I thought, baby.. Knew this pussy was pure." He chuckles, his teasing and almost mean demeanor running through your body, making you shiver and whimper slightly. You don’t know why you like it.

He stops his movements as he slips a finger through your folds, gathering how wet you became, making him sigh out in satisfaction. He pulls his finger out to look at it, showing it to you as well. "Look at that, honey, you're so wet for me now.. Didn't I tell you how good it'd feel, huh?" He lets out as you look at the glistening finger in front of you.

He moves it to suck it into his mouth, moaning around it. Popping it out from his lips, he laughs wryly, "Tastes good too, baby," making you blush furiously. It's so dirty and makes you feel so fucked up.

He takes no time to waste and moves towards your bottoms, quickly grabbing the hem of both your pants and underwear, "Let's get these off now, honey. Wouldn't want them in the way of our fun," and pulls them quickly off of you, making the cold air hit your core.

You gasp loudly as you clench your legs together, not wanting to have him see you there, much less continue.

He looks up at you with dark eyes and places his hands on the top of your knees, warning you, "Don't you get shy on me now, sweetheart. We've already gotten this far. I don't want to make it hurt for you.. I want to make you feel good, baby.." He tells you, his voice gradually becoming softer as he finishes. His hands proceed to grip at your knees, pushing them away from each other to spread your legs for him.

You reluctantly follow his requests, knowing that it would go a lot smoother if you complied. He groans faintly as his eyes latch onto the sight of your wet cunt in front of him, taking it in completely. "Fuck, honey.. what a pretty fuckin' pussy. Gorgeous.." He tells you, the dirty words filling your ears as you blush again at them. You've never had anyone talk to you like that, nor have you even heard anyone speak in that way til’ now.

Your eyes look around the tent, wanting to look at anything else but him and yourself, the shame starting to flow through you. You feel his fingers gently spread your lips apart, making you whimper softly at the feeling. It makes you look down at him and his hands, and you move your legs to try and clench them together again.

He tuts and shakes his head, gripping your knees harshly this time as he pushes your legs away from each other, spreading you for him completely. "You do what I want, baby, and this all goes smoothly, okay? You don't, and I promise you it'll hurt for you."

His eyes are stern as he looks into your own, seeing the angriest he's been so far towards you. You nod your head gently at him, gulping nervously and not wanting to make him any more upset.

The lips on his face slowly turn upwards, grinning at you brightly, "That's a good girl.. Just be a good girl for me," He encourages you, letting his fingers run around your glistening lips again as he moans out softly. "Gonna give you a finger, okay, darlin'? I'll go slow, if that's what you want.." He proposes to you, seemingly wanting to make this enjoyable for you as well.

You nod quickly and sigh sharply, pleading him, "Y-Yes, Ezra, slow please.. Please don't make it hurt."

His smile grows fonder, knowing that he's got you where he wants you now. "Don't worry, birdie, I'll make it good for you.. Just trust me."

The index finger that's right above your clit then moves into your lips, swiping it down between your folds as you moan. He then finds your entrance, pushing it in slowly and as gently as possible, making him groan out.

You gasp softly as your jaw falls open, looking down at his finger entering you. He sighs, "Fuck, so tight, sweetheart.." as his finger then pushes all the way inside of you, thick and long. You pant as you stare at his hand, clenching around his finger. He looks up at you and smirks, lips curling up into another grin, "S'good for me, honey.. Have you ever even touched yourself?" Ezra prompts you, realizing how shocking this was for you.

You move your head to look up at him and shake your head, gasping out, "Just.. just touched myself a couple of times, but never.. put one inside," and you lick your lips, your throat becoming dry, making you gulp.

He chuckles and slips his finger out, thrusting it back into you to see you gasp again, making him laugh. "Fuck, that's hot, baby.. Pretty pussy taking my finger so well. So tight.. Think you can take more?" He asks you, his finger gradually moving faster as you grow wetter, the squelching sounds filling the space more and more.

You moan out louder as you bite your lip, nodding your head at him. It was starting to feel good, and you couldn't help but give in.. forgetting about ever wanting him to stop.

"Good fuckin' girl, birdie.. My god." He says, taking his finger out just enough for it to be outside of your entrance. He presses his index and middle finger together now, rubbing them in between your folds to gather the slick you've produced for him. He then pushes it into your hole once he feels they're wet enough, making you whine loudly.

You gasp out, "F-Fuck, Ezra!" and grip onto one of the pillows next to you, lifting your head to sit up and watch his movements. You feel your body grow hotter by the second, the overwhelming feeling of his slow, yet deliberate fingers moving deeply inside of you, the mere sight of it making you lightheaded.

Your throat grows dry as you pant heavily, feeling nothing like you've ever experienced before. His eyes wander over your body, taking in the view of your worn out face, moaning for him, and your body that's trembling for him, your baggy shirt lifting up and up as you begin to shake.

His gasp is low and loud as he smirks, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, his need for you increasing more and more. As his fingers continue to move, he adds a third finger, making your face twist in pleasure and a mix of pain, the sudden intrusion shocking you. It feels too good for you to even care at this point.

He praises you filthily, moving his free hand to move your shirt up, exposing your tits for him. "God, you're so pretty, honey.. Such a pretty fuckin' cunt. Can't believe I found you, huh?" He says, making you squirm as butterflies fill your stomach with his dirty words and nick names.

He grasps onto one of your tits, squeezing it harshly, but not harsh enough to hurt you. Just right. He twists one of your nipples gently between his thumb and index finger, watching as it hardens and perks up for him. He groans at the view and brings his face closer to them, taking your other nipple into his mouth as he sucks onto it desperately.

You moan loudly, whimpering against him as the pleasure grows immensely. You've never felt this good in your life and you're in absolute bliss. You're not sure how or if it could get better than this.

"E-Ezra, can't.. can't take it, oh god," You cry out, panting even faster and louder as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars for a second. It's too overwhelming, too fucking good. Your hands find their way towards Ezra's hair, tugging on it gently, needing him more than ever. You wouldn't even begin to think that meeting him today would lead to this moment.

He finally removes himself from your tits, chuckling darkly as he looks up at you, bringing his head closer to your face. He looks at you intently, with desire and as if you were the only person in the entire world.

His fingers slow down, making you catch your breath a bit, and he removes them from your entrance, bringing them up to your face. "Taste yourself for me, baby.. Wanna see you take my fingers, can you do that, honey?" He whispers softly to you, his three fingertips resting against your lips, waiting for you to open them up for him.

You oblige, nodding your head as you open your mouth for him, allowing him to slip them in between your lips. You close your mouth shut around them, sucking on them gently as you moan out, looking at him the entire time. Your eyes roll back as he pushes them even further into your mouth, making it a bit harder to breathe, but you continue, wanting to please him.

His fingers were so thick in your mouth, and his scent was driving you insane. "Atta girl.. God, you're so fuckin' sexy. Makin' me go all crazy, you know that, pretty girl?" He groans out, bringing his free hand to grip your chin roughly. It makes you whine against his fingers, making Ezra feel the vibration of it through them.

He laughs lowly and slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, looking at them as your saliva connects, providing a string of it as he pulls it away. He just chuckles as he watches it, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. His grip on your chin moves to your cheeks now, squeezing your face a bit tightly as he demands you, "Open your mouth, baby. Open wide for me."

You quickly listen to him, opening your mouth as wide as you can. Before you could even process it, he spits down your throat, making you gasp loudly. "Now, swallow it. Swallow it all, darlin', let me see it." He instructs you, his grip on your face remaining rough and tight.

You nod and close your mouth, swallowing all of it for him. His hand squeezes your cheeks together, making you open your mouth again to let him see that you did what he asked of you. "Dirty, dirty fuckin' girl. Got so lucky, didn't I? Now you're getting it.." He lets out, snickering as you stick your tongue out to prove it.

His words make you feel so filthy, but you can't help but start to love it.. crave it. He's making it harder for you to even breathe right now.

You let out a small laugh, still absolutely worn out and overwhelmed, thanking him as your head feels cloudy. Ezra then grasps onto one of your hands, making you stare at its motion. He brings your palm to his hard bulge, all pent up through his pants, and the way it feels makes you moan. You've heard stories about men and this happening to them, but you never thought you'd be able to feel it like this.

"See how you make me feel, sweetheart? How hard you make me? You know what this means, right?" He says to you, his voice rough and raspy while he palms your hand over his bulge, making him moan lowly. You shake your head, not knowing if what you're thinking is the right answer.

He grins and chuckles, "Means I need your pretty pussy around me, honey. That's the only way I can satiate this.. make it all go away.. You gonna help me with that, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?" Ezra eggs you on, wanting you to crave this just as much as he does.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you swallow a bit nervously, unsure but curious to know how it'll feel like. You've wondered about this your entire life, and you could finally experience it now.

You open your mouth to speak, hesitating to do so. Ezra softly rubs his other hand towards your inner thigh, attempting to reassure you. "Don't worry, birdie.. I'd never hurt you, if that's what you're concerned about. I'll make it feel real good for you. Make you see stars, honey.. What do you say?" He encourages, leaning in closer to your face.

What else do I have left to lose? You ask yourself, coming to your decision to agree. You pause, nodding your head at his proposals.

"Words, darlin', need you to tell me. Tell me you want this.. that you want me." He tells you, urging it from you as he removes your hand from his bulge to lift his hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek affectionately. It makes you shudder to the touch.

You sigh, inhaling sharply, "I want you, Ezra.. I want this." You admit to him, the arousal running through your body as it reaches your core. You grow wet again, thinking of this actually happening.

He smiles gently at you and leans in closer to your lips, whispering out against them, "That's it.. Atta girl, baby," and presses a gentle, yet firm & long kiss to your lips.

You moan into the kiss, shutting your eyes at the feeling. You've been kissed before, but never like this.. never from a man who's made you feel this good. It leaves you dazed and hazy as he pulls away from you, the need for him growing even more.

Ezra's hands reach for his pants now, grabbing onto the hem as he pulls it down along with his own underwear, revealing his hard cock for you. The sight of it makes your mouth water, wondering how he'll even fit inside of you if you could barely handle a few of his fingers.

Your throat grows dry as you gulp nervously at the thought, making you stammer out, "Ezra.. A-Are you sure it'll be able to fit? I.. I'm not sure if it will.." You confess to him, licking your lips as you finally look up at him.

A soft laugh escapes his throat as he grins at you, stroking his cock gently and slowly, staring at you with a hard gaze, "Don't you worry, honey.. I'll make it fit." He tells you, the nervous tone in your voice all the more spurring him on, aching with need for you. "Now, keep those legs open for me, birdie.. Wanna look at you while I take you."

Your heart races at his words, yet you comply with his requests, knowing that there's no way of getting out of this regardless. Nodding your head and staring at his face intently, you keep your legs spread for him, the cold air hitting your core and making you shiver.

Ezra moves himself in between your legs, grabbing the base of his cock with his right hand as he rubs the tip of it along your wet folds, making him moan out from the feeling. His stare is fixed onto your glistening cunt; the only thing he's been fantasizing about this entire day.

Without warning, he pushes the fat head of his cock into your pussy all while keeping his eyes on your face, wanting to see your reaction to him. Your eyes shoot open from the sudden intrusion, mouth falling open. "E-Ezra!" You gasp out, looking down at his body connecting to yours as you grip the bed to the best of your ability.

He just lets out a sigh of satisfaction, laughing at your reaction, "Sorry, baby.. Couldn't wait any longer. You can take more, can't you?" He pushes you, smirking as he continues to make his way into your cunt more and more, feeling his cock grow deeper inside of you.

Your walls involuntarily clench around him, the stretch of it almost unbearable for you as your shut your eyes, throwing your head back. He wasn't giving you any time to really adjust, and the pain burned while the pleasure slowly made itself apparent with the warmth in your body growing quickly.

Panting, your heart races even faster, unable to stop yourself from opening your eyes. You keep your gaze on the sight of him pushing himself inside of you, making your body feel fuller by the second.

Ezra groans as he continues to push further, gasping out, "Fuck, that's it, baby.. What a tight fuckin' pussy. Fillin' you up nice and good, just like you needed.." The words on his tongue making you throb for him, as he finally buries himself inside of you completely.

Your breath is taken away as his thick cock fills you to the brim, tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as your mouth gapes at the feeling and sight of it. He's huge, making it evident that way as you see him bulge out from your stomach.

He chuckles as his eyes follow where yours are, seeing himself in your stomach. He places his hand right there on top of it, pushing onto your stomach so you can feel him right there. "You feel me in you, honey? So deep, I know.. But it feels good, don't it? Takin' every fuckin' inch.." He pants, slowly but adamantly rocking himself against you.

It takes every bit of control in him to not fuck you hard, taking what he wants from you and using you how he wants.

"Gonna move now, baby.. S'gonna feel real good, I promise.." He whispers, reaching for one of your legs to lift it up onto his shoulder, making the angle of his cock push into you even deeper as you groan loudly, the unbearable feeling running through your core.

You just lay there, taking it as the pleasure builds up and up inside of you, his hips pushing and pulling as the speed gradually increases.

He pulls his hips back, his hand pressing harshly onto your stomach to keep you still and full of him, making sure that he pulls his cock out just enough for it to rest at your entrance, wasting no time to shove it back into you.

The burn of his girth and how much it stretches you feels incredible now, making you moan out and shudder at the feeling. With each push of his cock, he fills you completely, pressing his hips to the hilt of your pussy, almost like you're taking him deeper every time.

"F-Fuck.. Ezra— please.. please!" You whine, the tears in your ears now falling down your cheeks at the overwhelming pressure in your pussy. "So.. So good, please, fa-faster.." You plead, your eyes fixed on him completely.

He lets out a filthy laugh, loving how much you're craving for it now. He knew he'd get you right where he wanted you. "That's my girl.. my good girl. Don't you worry, honey, I'll give you more than you need.." Ezra whispers lowly to you, the speed of his thrusts and movements now going at an unbearable pace, making your body shake and move from the force of his hips.

You whine out loudly, choking out as your eyes shut from the rapid change of speed. The noises that your pussy makes from his huge cock hammering inside of you is filthy, making you flush from how it rings in your ears.

"Dirty girl.. You hear yourself? Hear how soaked you are from my fuckin' cock? Can't get enough of this pretty little pussy, honey.. It's too good. Wanna fuck this cunt forever.." He groans out, making your eyes roll back at his words.

His movements suddenly halt as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your waist roughly to flip you onto your stomach, trapping your legs and hips with his thighs. Ezra quickly grabs hold of his cock, gliding the tip of it through your folds as he shoves it back inside your tight cunt, feeling him deeper than you ever thought you could.

Your back involuntarily arches up, the feeling of him buried inside of you being too much, too deep, as you whale and whine, turning your head to try to look at him. "W-Wait! Too much, please.. slow down!" You choke out, trying to get him to relent.

Ezra just laughs and shoves your head back down onto the bed with his left hand, the other pushing your back down to press your stomach flat. He shushes you, his thrusts quickening as he fills you with each push, "Shh, honey.. Just take it.. You can do it, I know you can, baby.. S'Better like this. Take this fuckin' cock, like the good girl you are.."

Your body convulses at his harsh movements, making your stomach coil in pleasure as you feel yourself grow hotter and hotter, the feeling in your cunt making you sob out. His cock repeatedly hits that spot deep inside of you, making you see stars.. just as he promised you.

His hips continuously collide with your ass, moving his hands to grab handfuls of it, squeezing your cheeks harshly as he spreads your ass for him, watching his cock plunge into you over and over again.

"Fuck, birdie.. Gotta nice ass, too.. So perfect for me." He chuckles out, slapping your ass a few times, making you squirm and groan out from the pleasurable sting. "Mmphf!" You whimper, his hand pushing the side of your face down onto the bed.

You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as you sob, "T-Too much, Ezra! I.. I can't.."

He shakes his head and tuts his tongue, correcting you, "Yes, you can, you can, sweetheart.. Not gonna stop til' I'm done with you," He says harshly, his tone needy and mean as his movements grow rougher. "Cryin' so pretty for me, baby.. Makin' me so proud.. My girl."

You shake as your body convulses from his thrusts, and Ezra laughs at that, knowing that you're close.. feeling that you're close, as you clench around his huge cock repeatedly, that unrelenting feeling building up in you.

Ezra's arm moves beneath your stomach, grasping onto your waist tightly as he suddenly pulls you up against his chest. He holds you unbelievably close and tight against him, making it impossible for you to move away, keeping you absolutely still for him. His hand at your waist moves to one of your tits, grabbing it hard as he holds you there.

His thrusts hit that spot inside of you repeatedly, pressing into it over and over again as you shake, your body feeling too weak to even hold yourself up. Ezra just does that for you, gripping and taking your body to his liking, as if your body was his.

To be fair, your body already is.

Sobbing out, you scream and shut your eyes tightly, lifting your head up to rest it on his shoulder, his pants and groans filling your ears as you grow lightheaded. "That's it, honey.. Gonna come for me? I feel it.. Feel how close you are. I am too.." He whispers in your ear, moving his free hand down to your cunt, using two of his fingers to rub rapid circles on your clit.

Your eyes shoot up at the feeling, enduring the feeling of your climax increasing as your stomach tightens and coils uncontrollably. "F-Fuck— Ezra! Go-Gonna.. come!" You cry out, your body completely giving out as his cock just takes you.

"That's right, come on my fuckin' cock, baby.. Gonna come too.. fill you up real good, sweetheart.. Make you mine."

Your eyes widen at his words, knowing that he shouldn't.. he can't. "N-No, Ezra, not inside, you can't, I.." You whimper out as your breath hitches in your throat.

He just shakes his head, laughing in your ear, "I can't? I can't? I can do whatever I want, baby. Nothin's stoppin' me.. not you, not your little family.. They're long gone now, honey.."

You whimper and cry out, squirming against him as you try to pull away, knowing that you can't get pregnant. Not in a world like this.

Your pleads just spur him on, all while his fingers on your clit push you further to the edge.

"You know, I was watching you.. following you around all day.. wondering how tight this pretty cunt would feel around me. Fuck.. I was right.. Now, you're mine. Never gonna leave you, baby.. Pussy's too good. Can't let you go.. Can't give this up."

Tears stream down your face as the pressure inside of you builds up with every breath you take, not even processing the words he just said. Your lower body shakes as you try to keep your eyes open, screaming out, "G-God.. M' gonna come!" His fingers apply even more pressure on your clit as he laughs. "Come for me, honey.. Doin' so good for me. Come on my fuckin' cock."

Your ears drown out every single noise in the tent, ringing loudly as your throat tightens, screaming out. Your cunt tightens around his cock, clenching onto him as much as you can as your pussy convulses and writhes against his, seeing stars. He fucks you through it, his pace never faltering as your climax coats his cock with your slick, running down your weak thighs.

He lets go of your body, making you collapse on your stomach as his thrusts go faster, harder. He's close, and you can feel it too, his cock twitching inside of your spent cunt.

His groans fill the room as he hammers into you, gripping onto your ass and waist to keep you still for him. "Gonna fill this pretty pussy so deep, you're gonna feel me for days, honey.. That way, you'll never leave me.. Never gonna feel any other man fuck you this good.. My pretty girl.."

You whine out at his words, knowing how fucked up it is.. but, you can't help but love it.

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling your waist flush against him as he groans loudly, holding you there. His cock is buried inside of you as deep as he can, pulsing streams of his come inside your cunt. You feel him deep inside of you, painting your walls as you sob out at the feeling. "O-Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck, yeah, baby.. All fuckin' mine, Take it. That's a good girl." He sighs out contently, pushing his cock even a fraction of an inch deeper, as far as he can. You whimper at how full you feel, his come running through your pussy, whining at how good it feels for you, even though it shouldn't.

Ezra's body slowly collapses on top of your back, keeping himself inside of you as he finally slows down, beginning to catch his breath, his high deterring.

The tears in your eyes start to dry up and your eyes stay wide open, processing everything that just happened. The shock runs through your body, making you shiver at the thought. You can't help but crave him even more, making you realize that you wanted this.

Ezra moves his hands around your waist to pull you against his chest as he rolls to his side, taking you with him. He pulls you in closer, preventing you from moving, staying flushed against him.

His coarse, gentle voice fills your ears as you shut your eyes, the exhaustion catching up to you, all while his hand runs through your hair, caressing your head affectionately.

"All mine, honey.. Never lettin' you go.."

And he never does.

You never make it back home.

wanna be on a taglist? fill out the google form in my pinned post!

reblogs are appreciated <3

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #prospect fanfic #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #dark ezra prospect #dark ezra prospect x reader #dark ezra prospect x you #dark fanfiction #my writing #fake-bleach

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winterzsurprise · 10 months

Text

False God || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f! reader

Summary: Once again, you end up pinned underneath Miguel whose annoying smile flourished the butterflies in your stomach.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, allusions to orgasm denials, gym sex, friends with benefit, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), one sided love, cunnilingus, angst(?), multiple orgasms, overstimulation.

Words: 1.7k

I am so sleepy but I have school. Managed to sneak this request during this hell week, I'm gonna try to make the other as soon as I can. Thank you for all your support, nearly 1k followers omg and thank you @path0logicalpeoplepleaser for your request and support again o/

hermosa - beautiful || cariño - darling

When you were first handed the invitation to join the spiderhub in the form of a heavy watch with a technology leagues far from your world, you were promised plenty of things. Knowledge, experience, adventure and connections with the other spider-people there are in the vast multiverse.

Being a free spirited soul, finally escaping the tiring cycle of taking down the same old villains terrorizing your city, you were ecstatic. Sure, you might face them once more just a different version but it was an option you’d take in a heartbeat. The challenge of different time periods and technology advancement gave you anticipation thrumming once more under your skin.

If it wasn’t for this, you would’ve quit being a spider.

But out of all the things you’ve expected when you entered the society, becoming enamored with someone so nonchalant and stoic as Miguel O’hara, the head of the operation, was not on your bingo card.

Him being your boss should’ve been the first warning but in the heat of passion and sweat and being pinned under him after growing frustrated from your lack of progress in battle training, you succumbed to the pressure of tension fogging your senses.

You blame him for everything.

He shouldn’t have reciprocated your kiss, shouldn’t have held you so sweetly despite his callous actions that day. If he hadn’t, maybe you wouldn’t be left in a situationship where you’re his sole outlet of frustration when work becomes unbearable and the pressure of being the leader of an organization is as huge as the spider hub gets to him.

If he doesn’t stir you so well with pleasure then you wouldn’t have been as attached to him as you are right now.

Pleasure struck your spine when his tongue found your clit, rolling it in tight figures of eight. You could feel his gaze burn through your skull while you withered and arched as he coaxed another orgasm out of you.

You can’t remember how you ended up beneath him once more, pinned and eaten out like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t even wanna bother counting how long it has been but with the way your legs trembled violently on his shoulders with every swirl of his tongue along with the pinpricks of pain shooting through you, it must’ve been an hour of constant decline already.

“Fu-fuck, please just fucking give it to me.”

One moment, he was teaching you the basics of some martial arts you couldn't bother to remember, the next, your legs are open and resting on his broad shoulders, bare as the day you were born out in the training quarters he ordered Layla to close down.

Why he initiated it? You've yet to know.

Miguel halts, tearing you away from your withheld orgasm to your absolute despair. But before a frustrated groan could leave your throat, a firm slap on your thigh stops it.

"So impatient, hermosa. It wouldn't hurt to ask me politely for it."

You’ve heard him call you beautiful plenty of times the whole time and it always awakens the butterflies in your stomach. He’s annoying and you like it.

He infuriates you to the brim with that smirk of his, yet you couldn't find it in you to leave him and his promises of ecstasy. His mouth is a drug intoxicating your blood and poisoning you fully, as does his body and touch. As if hypnotized, you couldn’t help but cling to him like he’s the salvation in middle of the chaos.

"Miguel, please? I'll be good, I promise!"

He said nothing, eyeing you with a blank stare before running his lithe fingers between your folds before finding your clit once more, sending delicious jolts down your spine.

Your muscles burned with exhaustion and aches from lack of use as it hitched onto his shoulders and his arms winded around your thighs, stapling you onto place with no other option but to absorb every thrill of ecstasy his fingers gave you.

"Can't really deny such a sweet request, can I?"

Miguel spreads your folds open before tracing down, intentionally dodging your throbbing clit and towards your leaking entrance and dragging his fingers up above your bundle of nerves.

The ache in your core grew with every tantalizing second spent under his torture, seeing the challenging shimmer in his dilated pupils, you had the mind to reach down to finish the job yourself but before you could, his large hand swiftly took yours and pinned them beside your waist.

You groaned, frustrated from his teasing and he chuckled. Traitorously, your heart skipped a beat, cheeks turning a shade deeper.

You couldn't believe that even in the midst of the frustration and lust, you found yourself growing enamored by him.

Each ghosting nudge of his fingers against your clit only urges more of your arousal to flood out of you. The ringed muscles pathetically contracting around nothing. You could only mew as he drenched his digits in your wetness, desire burned your chest and stirred your nerve endings awake.

Thick, filmy ropes of arousal clung to his digits as he pulled away. The strings pulled thin as he spread his digits and your body grew hot, flustered by the sight.

“Look at how wet you are for me, hermosa.”

The glee in his voice was unmistakable, this bastard. His tongue darts out to twirl over his digits before wrapping his plump lips around them. Your breath hitches as you watch him lick your arousal away from his hand so erotically. His dilated eyes never straying as it stares back at you, sending a pleasurable jolt down your back.

Without warning, he licks a broad line through your folds, and your back arches. From the hood of your clit, all the way down to your clenching hole before going back up and you gasped as ecstasy crawled down to your toes.

A groan rumbled his chest as he mouths at your folds like he was making out with it, tongue lithe as it flickered. Every lick reawakens the withered orgasm waiting at the tip of your tongue.

Your hands shoot to his head, fingers threading through his luscious locks before pulling him closer as your hips twitched closer to his tongue.

His gaze flicked up to you through his eyelashes, pupils dilated to the nines, barely leaving any red with how much lust and hunger has clouded it. Seeing your effect on him knocks your breath out of your lungs while a miniscule part of you rejoices with hope.

A hope that there’s something more outside of this stupid encounter of yours.

"Fuck..! Please, I need more."

Prickles of heat spike over your skin, blood boiling as he traced the trembling rim in languid strokes.

Pressure builds up in your abdomen as you grow dizzy from the stimulation, the declined orgasms from earlier now accumulating into the mass now weighing on your stomach.

It feels like too much yet your greed convinced you that it's not enough.

“Fuck… more please.” You begged weakly, eyes fluttering as his tongue lashed on your bundle of nerves, lulling your hips to rock onto his face.

Miguel relents, finally growing generous. His large arms wrapped around your thighs before pulling you flush to him as his tongue grew relentlessly on your clit and your mind blanks.

His fingers breached your walls without any restriction, practically gliding in. He wasted no time in building up a savage pace, plunging three inside of you with no regard for your comfort. Digits repeatedly poking your spot, curling just right, feeding into the mass growing and weighting your core.

“Miguel, just fucking do it, you bastard! Just fuck me already!”

His reaction is immediate. In a flicker, he had you on your stomach with your head pinned to the mat and ass up.

"So fucking annoying."

The loss of build up never faded as his digits were replaced by his dick, burying himself to the hilt but instead, it inflated into unreachable heights in one single push and you cry.

It didn’t take long before your orgasm boiled your entire body from the inside, lighting every nerve endings alight as blood rushed to your head in white flashes while your legs went numb as it trembled. The onslaught of pleasure attacking your insides felt too much yet felt so good.

The tug of war waging inside you drove you to insanity, the pain of overstimulation pinpricks your muscles yet the absolute heaven that is your orgasm had you floating. You were pulling him in as much as your body screams at you to push him away.

"Miguel… fuck—I can’t!"

"Another one, cariño. I know you can give it to me."

The new nickname however, didn't escape your notice. Honey, he calls you and the word echoed in your skull. The shimmering hope from earlier now fills your heart full as the delusion of something not quite there urged you closer into another orgasm.

The thrill of a new name of endearment unlocked got you giddy, overlapping the creeping negativity at the back of your head.

Miguel whispered incoherent words under his shaky breath as he shuddered and grew desperate with his thrust, no doubt near his own end. His hands grabbed onto you for salvation, almost worshiping as he dug his nails into your feverish flesh, urging your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Come with me, cariño.”

And with that, you fall once more. Legs convulsing around his torso as you cried out with your release.

Silence fell between you both, save for the loud gasps for breaths you took. His arms around your shoulders grounded you from the nirvana still resonating deep within your bones. It’s the small things that got butterflies running amok, Jess has frowned upon your easily swayed heart and shook her head once she heard about your situationship with Miguel, just two weeks after your first sexual encounter.

“That man is far from becoming the boyfriend you wanted. Miguel is all work and words, barely any feelings. Do me a solid and run off with someone better, I heard Shakespeare right there is searching for a nice partner.”

Sensing the usual air of nonchalance fogging around him like a second skin, you knew that it's true. You could've hung out with someone more gentle like Shakespearean Spider-Man, be treated like a princess with how hopelessly romantic he is but when Miguel looks so vulnerable with his eyes closed temporarily on your chest, you couldn't help but curl further into him.

It's annoying how you couldn't find it in yourself to leave him yet he'd dispose of you without a second thought.

You could almost see Layla materializing in front of you with a pitiful look, patting you with her holographic hand, knowing that after all of this, Miguel will continue his cold behavior once he's out of the haze of his orgasm.

You’re not dumb to know his words actually meant anything yet you couldn’t help but be deluded in your own world where the man of your dreams isn’t emotionally constipated and withdrawn.

As you watch him pull away from your arms and fix himself up, you sighed internally.

Maybe one day, just not today or tomorrow.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #marvel fics #marvel smut #spiderman smut #spider man fics #spider man smut #requests

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turbulentscrawl · 3 months

Note

If I may ask, may you do general headcanons for emil, if not then just ignore this💜

Suuuuure can!

!Edited on 01/26/24 to add a few more small HCs!

Warning: Mentions of abuse (a lot)

-Emil’s health situation is as complicated as it is depressing. He suffers from chronic pain that’s a result of the years of abuse he’s endured—both in the dog fighting ring and in the asylum. Ironically, he’s got some of the highest pain tolerance out of all the survivors, but it’s difficult to tell when he’s I the middle of his worst days. (This pain tolerance is all psychological, however. A little something he developed as a defense mechanism.)

-Pain medicine does little for him now. He was on such high doses of opioids while in the middle of his shock and bloodletting treatments that they don’t help much anymore while also having dealt him some lasting issues like low blood pressure and brittle bones. This bone weakness, his parkour movements, and lowered sensitivity to pain mean he tends to suffer more severe injuries in matches than most.

-Emil’s communication skills have improved over the last few years, but he still struggles with writing and social cues. He’s used to the body language of dogs and angry men, so things like confident shoulders and direct eye contact make him nervous. If those behaviors are displayed towards Ada or another special person, he may become aggressive.

-In addition to his communication struggles, Emil’s emotions are also rather stunted; he often has disproportionate reactions to events and stimulus around himself. (He especially tends to under-react.) It’s very rare for Emil to cry or become genuinely angered. He spends most of his time with that pitiful, placating, resting smile and just letting the world whirl around him.

-Emil’s attachment to Ada mostly comes down to hers being the first truly kind hand he’s ever been offered. Despite any dubious motives, Ada does genuinely care about helping people, and at the time of meeting Emil she had not been a practicing physician long enough to be come jaded or careless. Other doctors did not spare Emil any sympathy because he was quiet and obedient, but Ada still gave him those. Her being in trouble is one of the few times this emotional reactions will be high—he’s terrified of losing his only source of comfort, and will become desperate and violent in order to keep her safe.

-Emil likes “being in a daze” because when he’s drugged up his constant pain is muffled. But he’s also less aware in general, and he’s so desperate for affection that he’s willing to forego the relief to be alert around Ada, or anyone else who dotes on him. Also similar to a dog, he’s fiercely loyal to Ada because she takes care of him. It’s not impossible for him to become attached to others too, but it will take time and repeat exposure to get over his protective urges. He’s more likely to get along with children and people Ada specifically introduces him to.

-Emil doesn’t have much preference in regards to food; he’s used to eating slop, scraps, and dog kibble. He does, however, like cakes because Ada always gave those to him as a “treat.” They represent another form of praise and affection to him. He prefers to eat with his hands than utensils—it hurts to try gripping those tiny things.

-Emil is afraid of dogs, and this unfortunately includes Wick. He and Victor don’t get along well because of how much the pup means to the Postman. He does seem to have some fondness for Ann’s cat, though.

-Most love languages work well for Emil, but Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation are his favorites to receive. (He rarely knows what to do with the gifts he’s given, however.) To give, he likes Acts of Service and Gift Giving. Emil loves to be touched gently, for any reason. Pet his hair, rub his back, massage his hands, he doesn’t care as long as you’re doing it with the intention of being loving and gentle. He even easily forgives missteps that aggravate his pre-existing pain. Uneducated as he is, Emil still knows what remorse looks like. The gifts he gives are rarely valuable in a monetary way, but he likes to share pretty things with the people he loves. A wire ring, a nice rock he found, the undamaged wings of a dead butterfly, you get the idea.

-Sexual abuse was among the abundance of mistreatment he suffered growing up. If and when Emil does engage in those sorts of activities, they require patience and a lot of communication to avoid triggering him. Ironically, he does better with those things when he’s NOT being regularly treated by Ada because the memories are buried too deep to crop up.

-Emil is somewhere between the ages of 25 and 28. As an adult, he grows facial hair, but he's not able to shave himself due to both a nervousness about knives and unsteady hands. Ada does it for him about once a week, and it's a time-consuming activity due to Emil needing regular reassurances.

-Another trait he's picked up from his canine company is "licking his wounds." And other people's if he cares about them enough. You've cut your finger? In his mouth it goes. Saliva does tend to promote healing to an extent, so most people let his behavior be.

#idv x reader #identity v #idv patient #emil x reader #turbulentscrawl

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kesshavx · 2 months

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Heyyyy i was wondering if you could write megumi x little sister fic? Ofc platonic tho! Like toji prob had a one night stand with another soceror and she was born and shes like 3 years younger than him....maybe like she injured herself training cuz she trains too hard and he helps and comforts her?!?!? Hope you see this...thanks!!

Hey there!! love the idea and i hope you like it!! I was in a rush but here you go!!

!TW! This fanfic includes injuries and emotional distress reader at your own will

Sibling Strenght

ᴀ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ғᴜsʜɪɢɪʀᴏ x ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ sᴛᴏʀʏ

The day was slowly giving way to dusk, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The Jujutsu High training grounds were empty, save for the lone figure of a girl pushing herself to her limits.

You, the younger sister of Megumi Fushigiro, were born from a fleeting encounter between Toji and another sorcerer. Despite being only three years younger than Megumi, you always felt a constant pressure to catch up, to prove that you were just as capable as your older brother.

This determination led you to train alone, ignoring the protests of your body and the fatigue that was slowly creeping in. It was during one such training session that you twisted your leg. The pain was immediate, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips as you crumbled to the ground.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched your injured leg. The training grounds, once filled with determination and resolve, now felt cold and lonely. You were alone, or so you thought.

"Megumi..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper against the evening breeze.

Megumi, who had been watching from a distance, rushed over. His face was as impassive as ever, but his eyes were filled with concern. He had always been like this, his emotions hidden behind a stoic facade, only revealing his true feelings in the rare moments when he let his guard down.

"You're such an idiot," he scolded gently, his tone devoid of any real anger. He knelt beside you, his hands carefully assessing the damage to your leg. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to his usually reserved demeanor.

"You're not alone, you know," he said, his voice soft and soothing. He held your gaze, his usually cold eyes warm with concern. "You don't have to push yourself this hard. Not when you have people who care about you."

His words were like a balm, easing the pain and calming your racing heart. You weren't alone. You had him, and he had you. And as long as you had each other, you could face anything together.

"You don't have to be as strong as everyone else. You just have to be strong in your own way," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And remember, I'm always here for you. No matter what."

His words hung in the air, a promise and a reassurance that you weren't alone in this journey. You had Megumi, and that was more than enough.

With a soft sigh, he gently lifted you into his arms. Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel safe and protected. His arms were strong and warm, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. As he carried you off, you couldn't help but feel grateful. You had the best brother in the world, and you wouldn't trade him for anything.

#megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x female reader #megumi fushigiro x female reader #megumi fushigiro #megumi fushigiro x younger sister reader #megumi x younger sister reader #younger sister #younger sister reader x megumi fushigiro #younger sister x megumi #younger sister reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushigiro megumi

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deathbxnny · 10 months

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☆《Mha boys dating a civilian!Reader》☆

-----♡

A/N: So uhh... this is self-indulgent and a small cry for help, because I would love to write requests for other fandoms than just hsr and yeah... I just want to write for something else for once and am brain rotting hard, so forgive me- (If you're curious about what other fandoms I'm willing to write for, check my request info!)

Featured characters: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo

Content: Slight angst if you squint, fluff, established relationships, reader being a civilian, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Izuku Midoriya

He genuinely appreciates your existence in his life so much. He's always so busy with hero and quirk training, that it can sometimes consume his very existence. Something that starts to become very draining to him over time, despite loving what he does. So being with you is like a much needed break from everything going on in his life.

He can escape the stress and pressure with you, as your life is so much more calm and mundane than his. It doesn't stop you worrying over him though, since you know very well how dangerous his life sometimes can be. But he always reassures you that he'll be fine, that he'll always come back to you after a fight. He tries making time for you and makes sure you know how much he appreciates you during your dates.

You're his second best thing to talk about after Allmight and he genuinely cannot shut up about you either. He loves telling everyone about your normal life. It's comforting and motivates him to do even better at training, so that you can keep your peaceful life and live without any worries. It also makes him glad that you aren't a hero, as he already worries about your safety daily. But there is nothing for you to worry about, as your hero boyfriend will keep you safe no matter what!

-----♡

》Katsuki Bakugo

He's surprised at how fast he fell for you, when it should've been the other way around. Despite the fact that you were a hero or anything, he still felt oddly connected to you, something he thought about often even after months of dating. He didn't get what about you made him so attached, but he doesn't necessarily complain either, surprisingly. Instead, he feels pride in the fact that you appreciate him for all the training and work he does. His ego just inflates even more through you, but you're at least somewhat spared from his arrogance.

He likes that you are just a civilian, mainly due to him being able to show off that way. He likes impressing you and cares about your opinion alot, despite denying it. He's grumpy whenever you ask him to go out, but will show up fully prepared with flowers in hand, as he complains about you interrupting an important training session for this. You ofcourse know that he was willing to drop anything for you anyways, so you never take his words seriously.

He dismisses all of your worries and gets slightly offended. He's strong and powerful, so what are you even worried about? He's unbeatable! Besides, if anything, he should be worried about you. You may be a weakling in his eyes, but you are his weakling and therefore protected better than anyone else in this world.

-----♡

》Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki was unsure of how to be around you at first, especially after he began dating you. He always only knew the life of having to be the perfect hero and therefore didn't really know how to deal with your calm and mundane life. You were such opposites, that it deeply comforted him. You taught him about normal everyday life stuff, something he greatly enjoyed learning about at your side.

Your dates were something he always looked forward to everyday and he made it very clear at that. You gave him a sense of normalcy he missed and for that he was grateful. But that also made him more protective over you, as he didn't want you to ever get hurt. It's the last thing he ever wanted. He is surprised at your constant worry however. Sure, he was the one putting himself in immideate danger all the time. But you were the one he cared about the most.

He takes pride in you, even if you don't have anything special going for you. The fact that you're so kind and normal drew him to you and so he's more than willing to repay his kindness by training hard every day for you. He wants to prove that he is a good boyfriend and hero to you, as you practically motivate him to do something good with his life for once. You're the peaceful light in his dark world and for you, he'd do anything.

-----♡

A/N: Ah I feel much better... honestly, mha request are very much open and so is anything else on my request info list... please spare me and forgive me for going off my usual hsr theme for a little moment. But God... I'm so burnt out, I just wanted to write for something else. So I hope that's fine with you guys. Please let me know, if you don't like it. :((

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #mha x Reader #mha x y/n #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha izuku midoriya #mha izuku x reader #mha shoto todoroki #mha todoroki x reader #bnha #mha

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chuplayswithfire · 2 years

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endless list of favorite things about ed: he's been the smartest person in the room for years, the man with the plan, the guy seeing all the angles, the master of everyone's fears, and it's not just boring, but it's expected. it's less a source of pride and respect now and more the matter of fact expectation that other people have for him, to always be three steps ahead, always have a plan, always be in charge, never be just - genuine and taking it slow or moving with the tide.

it genuinely is no wonder he's bored, under-stimulated, stressed, and fed-up in episodes 3 and 4. he no longer likes what he's doing, no longer wants to be doing it, but people actively depend on him for their lives and livelihoods, so even if he knew about retirement, he couldn't just quit. mobility in the world of piracy comes from advancing up the pipeline until you finally strike out for your own ship, get promoted to captain a ship under your captain, or mutiny and take the ship. there's no way out, there's only going through.

and we can see that despite ed saying that he doesn't mind losing men in the effort to rescue stede, knowing the lives of his crew depend on him *does* stress him out. he hasn't known stede long enough to make that speech about the crew depending on him just to target stede's weaknesses - that's ed using his own fears and frustrations and anxieties to needle at stede just a bit, let him see what it's like to *be Blackbeard*. this is what it's like. pressure, constant pressure, to not just perform but excel, and without letting anyone know what it cost you.

and that isn't helped by the fact that the one person who should know ed's thinking by now, someone who knows that ed works through fuckeries to turn his enemies' fears against them, is also the person who fails to recognize when ed is planning a fuckery right in front of him, even when he gets an invitation to join in.

izzy has been ed's first mate for a long time, he ought to know very well that ed is not just eccentric as a quirky personality trait, but that it's all part of his process for the plans that get them out of tough spots again and again, but izzy dismisses it because he does not see value in the process. even though he of all people as first mate should know the imagination that goes into fuckeries.

knowlesian made an excellent point in a post yesterday about how episode 4 presents an excellent comparison between ed inviting izzy to look at the clouds and see what he sees only to be rebuffed, and ed asking if stede wants to do something weird and getting instant enthusiasm. *that's part of why ed is so bored and stressed*. it's not just that he's tired of the life, but he's tired of being the only person at his life level, with no one around him even trying to climb the peak -

and then he meets stede and stede might not be experienced, but he has the spark, the imagination to be ed's equal and think in time with him. is there any wonder ed starts to fall for him immediately?

(and not to say everything runs smooth there perfectly either - we see that stede has a tendency to fall into the same trap, assuming ed must have plans on plans, must be constantly ready to move, must have an escape from the naval academy ready - and i think this is a plot thread that we'll see develop in season 2, that ed, for all his talent at it and his skill, is really just fucking tired of the weight of expectation that comes with being in charge.)

It's such a familiar experience, I cannot help but relate heavily to ed in those moments because you just want to go with the flow or take a breather and instead the world/family/crew looks to you.

#edward teach #ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #stede bonnet #izzy hands #i'll keep them here bc they're involved and if i want to find my thoughts on them organization is good #but yeah man i LOVE ed and this is such a relatable mood

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astrolovecosmos · 2 years

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~Libra Season~

Artistic, romantic, BALANCED, sweet, persuasive - all of these are common descriptors of Libra. Yet I’m sure many Libra influences feel more comfortable in the sciences rather than the arts. Some may be that friend always stirring the pot or the biggest debater you know despite their peaceful reputation. Below are traits I’ve narrowed down for Libra to help understand their nature more in-depth than your typical well-liked host or captivating flirt.

Compromising: Libra’s adaptability, cardinal nature, and their desire to balance all work together when they compromise and/or cooperate. Libra is all about “the other”, especially relating to the other. This involves sympathy, understanding, meeting halfway, giving, taking, observation, it is about doing what it takes to make a connection. Romance, love, people pleasing, charm - these are all common keywords for Libra, and while they do have a desire to pair up, to complement others, to socialize, their archetype doesn’t have to be stuck as just the lover or partner in crime. Friendly and social air when in the cardinal mode takes action through compromising. “To compromise” is defined in a basic sense as “to come to agreement by mutual concession”, this fits perfectly with their own symbol the scales, two sides coming to a solution. I challenge people to think of how “compromising” isn’t always an easy process or even necessarily “balanced” or “fair”. Libra doesn’t always have to be seeking a friend or lover, they may just be seeking an agreement. Libra is a sign always navigating the world of people and correlation.

Objective or Logical: Libra is an air sign which indicates traits such as detachment or intellectualism. When writing this category, I was tossed between highlighting their objectivity or logic, but really both can come from the same place. Libra is heavily driven towards focusing on other people and their relationships with them. This does not subtract from being more intellectually driven than emotional. From this concept you get an individual who can easily remove themselves and their feelings from situations allowing them to be more unbiased than your average person. To stay out of the fray, out of conflict, heat, messiness, maybe even self-awareness Libra could rely on over analyzing, intellectualizing feelings, or just living in the most “logical” way possible. Even if a Libra doesn’t stick to a more objective agenda or mindset, their logic, need for mental stimulation, curiosity is not buried. Libra can have a low-key jealous, passionate, and intense side, they can be deep and sensitive like any person, it is important to remember the air element doesn’t = a group of people without emotions. But it is also good to remember, especially for a sign so famous for all things associated with “love and romance” that they are ultimately coming from a mental place than emotional.

Peace-seeking: It is a common misconception that Libra is inherently peaceful or balanced, whereas really this sign seeks peace, balance, and fairness. The word “peace” can mean a state without conflict, freedom from disturbance, and it can be used to mean stillness. Peace is a moment without stress, and it is important for Libra to understand this cannot be a constant state. BUT Libra as an archetype can remind us of the importance of having moments of peace in your life. Peace may not be constant, but it is a needed part of living. Avoiding conflict, indecision, indulging too much in recreation or de-stressing, or easily crumbling from pressure are all aspects that can be associated with Libra who is always trying to settle the dust. Many believe to obtain peace you have to fight for it. This can be a hard lesson for a more timid or agreeable Libra. However Libra is air in action, and they can be an argumentative, initiating, leading, playful, maybe even calculated sign. Libra is associated with justice, karma, and much like Capricorn or Saturn consequence. Saturn is exalted in Libra, and this can speak loudly for Libra’s deep association with peace. “Balancing the scales” can require messy work or shadow work and this is where Libra can surprisingly shine.

#libra #zodiac #astrology #libra season

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spnbaby-67 · 8 months

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Ok so I decided to scrap the other story I had for this one. I’ll get to it just this one kept calling my name, besides I need to do a bit more research before I post that one. Thank you to @deans-baby-momma for beating this chapter.

Please keep in mind that this is only fanfiction, not real life. So in this story Jensen is single. No disrespect to Danneel, I love her just the same. Please don’t copy my work and use as yours it’s literally taken me four years to get back to writing,

Summary.

"Behind the Lens" is a love story set in the summer of 2023, focusing on Jensen Ackles, a renowned actor facing the burden of stardom. Jensen's relentless dedication to his career has left him overwhelmed and disconnected from his true self. He's caught between his desire for a break and the pressure to maintain his public image. Through conversations with his manager, Darren, Jensen grapples with the need to find balance between his demanding career and personal well-being. This story explores the challenges of fame and the quest to rediscover one's passion in the entertainment industry. When he crosses path with a photographer Saamiya Siddiqiewill she be able to help him be the man he used to be?

Jensen Ackles x ofc Saamiya Siddiqie

Chapter one.

“Behind the Lens”

A Jensen Ackles and Saamiya Siddique Love Story

Written by Samantha Williams

Summer of 2023

Chapter One: Burden of Stardom

Jensen Ackles, renowned for his dedication and passion as an actor, saw his career soar to new heights over the years. However, the weight of his stardom took its toll as time went on. The constant demands of the entertainment industry, coupled with his perfectionist tendencies, led him down a path of exhaustion and inner turmoil.

At the beginning of his career, Jensen eagerly embraced every opportunity that came his way. He tackled premieres, interviews, and promotional events with enthusiasm, believing each appearance propelled him closer to his dreams. His determination to showcase his talent and worth to the world was unwavering. Yet, with escalating demands and skyrocketing fame, Jensen found himself consistently juggling numerous commitments. Endless film shoots, press tours, talk show appearances, charity events, and Supernatural convention weekends formed an unending list. It seemed as though he lived a life meticulously governed by a tightly controlled schedule, leaving only a few precious moments for himself before the next obligation arose. This rigid structure left him with scant time for genuine rest and relaxation.

As time passed, the unrelenting pressure to perform and maintain the charismatic and charming image the public adored eroded Jensen's sense of self. He felt as if he was in a perpetual role, even when off-screen, and genuine moments of respite and authenticity became increasingly rare. The more he pushed himself, the more his true identity seemed to slip through his fingers. Reluctance to attend events and interviews stemmed from a deep-rooted fear of losing himself entirely. He had heard stories of actors who had burned out, sacrificing their personal lives and well-being for the allure of fame. Becoming one of those cautionary tales was a fate he vehemently opposed. Despite this, he yearned for reality, for a connection to his craft that went beyond the glamour of the red carpet.

His desire for a break, a chance to catch his breath and reignite his passion, stemmed from his need to regain control over his life. The exhaustion he felt wasn't solely physical—it permeated his emotional and mental well-being. He longed for a space where he could delve into new roles without the suffocating weight of expectations. A space to rejuvenate his creativity and rediscover the joy that acting had once brought him.

Jensen's internal struggle was further exacerbated by his perfectionism. He held himself to incredibly high standards, consistently striving for excellence in his performances. This self-imposed pressure made it difficult for him to strike a balance between his career and self-care, ultimately leading to periods of burnout and frustration.

Currently, Jensen lounged on the plush couch in his comfortable Austin residence. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest as he gazed out the window. Beyond the glass, the muffled hum of the city provided a stark contrast to the tranquility he desperately sought. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, emitting a sigh as he glanced at the blinking notification light on his phone. He knew what lay in wait—a stern message from his manager, Darren Wright.

With a resigned expression, Jensen unlocked his phone and opened the message. The text stared back at him, sharp and unyielding:

“Jensen, we need to talk. Your recent absences from events and interviews are causing a stir. This is not the time to vanish, give me a call asap.” he had underlined asap and even bold-capped the words, that Jensen felt it was yelling.

Jensen bit his lip, the words hanging heavily in the air. He couldn't evade this conversation any longer. With a sigh, he dialed Darren's number, his thumb hovering over the call button. Each ring of the phone felt like a countdown to the impending confrontation.

"Jensen, finally decided to answer, huh?" Darren's voice crackled through the line, a blend of irritation and concern.

"Hey, Darren," Jensen greeted, aiming for casual despite the unease churning in his stomach.

"Skip the small talk, Jensen," Darren shot back. "We have a problem. Your recent absence from interviews, events, and that charity appearance last week—is causing a stir. Do you grasp the implications?"

Jensen reclined further, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I understand, Darren. I've been... overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?" Darren's voice sharpened. "Jensen, you're a top-tier actor. People count on you, and your disappearing act damages your image and our contracts."

"I get it, Darren. But you need to comprehend," Jensen's frustration bled into his words, "the ceaseless demands, the unending travel—it's draining. I need a breather."

"In this industry, you're not the sole one grappling with pressure, Jensen," Darren remarked. "But they don't vanish like you do. You hold responsibilities, commitments."

"I'm not seeking sympathy, Darren," Jensen's tone deepened. "I just need some time to recharge. To recollect why I embarked on this acting journey."

A tense silence settled over the line, the unspoken tension between artist and manager palpable. "Jensen," Darren's tone softened marginally, "I recognize the challenges. But you can't permit exhaustion to dictate your choices. We can adjust your schedule, and give you some leeway. But you must show up."

Jensen shut his eyes, weariness evident in the way he sank into the couch. "I don't want to lose sight of who I am, Darren. I refuse to metamorphose into a mere performance machine."

"Jensen, I understand. Truly," Darren's voice carried a hint of empathy. "We'll find a solution, alright? Yet, you must communicate. Vanishing in this manner won't solve anything."

Jensen nodded, even though Darren couldn't witness the gesture. "Yeah, you're right. I should have spoken to you before things escalated."

"Good. We'll address this," Darren's tone mellowed. "And remember, your public image is vital. People admire you."

As the conversation concluded, Jensen experienced a mixture of relief and residual tension. He acknowledged that Darren's perspective was valid; he couldn't permit exhaustion and frustration to steer his decisions. He needed to locate an equilibrium between his demanding career and personal well-being.

After ending the call, Jensen reclined further, his gaze fixated on the outside world passing by. Amidst the vortex of fame, he recognized he had misplaced his true self. He yearned for a reminder of the passion that had ignited his journey.

A couple of days later, Jensen's phone buzzed, displaying Darren's name on the screen. Sighing, he answered the call, his apprehension evident in his voice. "Hey, Darren."

"Jensen, good to catch you," Darren's tone was businesslike yet tinged with a hint of friendliness. "Listen, we've got an important photo shoot scheduled in New York."

Jensen's eyebrows furrowed. "Another one? Can't we reschedule it?"

Darren's sigh crackled through the phone. "Jensen, you know how crucial this is for your image. We've already rearranged the dates twice to accommodate your previous requests. It's time to show up."

Jensen's fingers tightened around the phone. "I understand, but I've been feeling really drained lately. I could use some time off."

"Jensen, I get that you're tired," Darren's voice softened, "but this is a big opportunity. It's for a prominent magazine cover, and the theme aligns perfectly with your upcoming project. It's a chance to showcase a different side of you."

Jensen leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he considered the proposition. "I know, but I just feel like I'm running on fumes here. I need a break."

Darren's patience seemed to wane slightly. "Jensen, we've discussed this. You're not the only one dealing with exhaustion. Everyone in this industry faces pressure. What sets you apart is how you handle it."

Jensen rubbed his temples, torn between his desire for a respite and the awareness of his professional responsibilities. "I'm worried about burning out, Darren. I don't want to reach a point where I can't even enjoy what I do."

“I hear you, we went over this ready the other day remember? I am truly working on it for you, just do this, then we will talk more.," Darren's voice carried understanding. "But think about why you started acting in the first place. Remember the passion, the thrill? This photo shoot could be a reminder of that."

Jensen let out a sigh, his resistance slowly giving way. "Fine, I'll do it. But can we keep it as concise as possible? I need some time to recharge afterward."

Darren's tone lightened. "Absolutely, We'll ensure the shoot is efficient, and then you can have a breather. Just remember, you're not alone in this. We're here to support you."

Jensen nodded, even though Darren couldn't see him. "Thanks, Darren. I appreciate your understanding."

"Get some rest before the trip, Jay.," Darren advised. "And remember, this shoot could be a turning point. Take it one step at a time."

As the call ended, Jensen leaned back, conflicted emotions swirling within him. He knew that relenting to the demands of his career was necessary, but he also realized that he needed to find a way to preserve his own well-being amidst the storm of fame. With a deep breath, he picked up his script and glanced at it, a reminder of the artistic passion that had driven him. He was determined to strike that balance—no matter how challenging it might be.

If you want to be tagged please let me know

@deans-baby-momma

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #reader insert #jensen ackles fanfiction #jared padalecki #supernatural rpf #dean winchester #reader fanfiction #photography #photography and reader #love story

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icebrooding · 1 year

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“There is something wrong with me, and it’s hardly my fault.”

(Oops I just wanted to make some background OCs to go with Cotharach and then this one ended up running away from me and becoming much more fleshed out than intended)

Rasene awoke in the grove some ten years ago, and where those who awoke with them were joyous and excited to have joined the real world, Rasene only felt one thing; discomfort. Their bark felt wrong. Their name felt wrong. They were plagued by a perpetual feeling that something was not right, but unexplainable why or how.

As a sapling, they would find themselves constantly embroiled in discussion with their fellows, with talks of Wyld Hunts and destinies, and the first and secondborn a constant topic. But in a contrast to the enthusiasm of others, Rasene could not help but wonder; what an awful thing. They had plans, they had goals and ambitions... and if a Wyld Hunt were to come to them, would that mean the end to such things? Would they too have to throw away their life, or spend an eternity in a futile, hopeless pursuit, because of a pre-determined destiny bestowed upon them? They could only hope such a thing would never happen.

But as it seemed, such hopes were only tempting fate, and one day Rasene woke with a Wyld Hunt calling them to far-off lands. Away from home, from the life they had slowly begun to build for themselves, away from everything they ever knew. While they kept the details of their Hunt to themselves, the pressure from other sylvari to follow it was incessant. It pulled at their mind, but Rasene was firm. This was their life, and they would not spend it following and dying for a destiny they never asked for.

It would be a mere few months after receiving their Wyld Hunt that Rasene chose to leave the Grove behind, no longer able to tolerate the blind acceptance being forced upon them. If the Dream, and their mother, did not know them well enough to let them awaken with a fitting appearance or name, then what hope could they have in their Hunt not taking away what little was left of them?

They would wander the forests, and escape the grasps of the Nightmare Court several times over (for all they would do is force a different ‘destiny’ upon them), until Rasene found a small settlement of soundless.

They were taken in by the other soundless sylvari and treated as one of their own. An elder woman by the name of Rhinan would go on to tutor the young sylvari in coping methods, and the two became like family. When another of the older members of the settlement would eventually find companionship with a non-soundless, Rasene was the most vocal about their disapproval.

They would spend months working to undo the mistakes they felt were made upon them, shearing their leaves to grow them back the way they should be, and hiding for weeks at a time while their bark shifted to the right colour and shaping. When a new name came to them, the other soundless rejoiced in Rasene finally finding themselves.

After the news regarding the nature of sylvari reached their settlement in the early weeks of the Maguuma Jungle campaign against Mordremoth, Rasene volunteered to join a small contingent led by same sylvari that they disapproved so strongly of; Cotharach. Despite the animosity regarding the older man’s decisions, Rasene was determined to prove that they, as well as the other soundless, were their own, Dreams and Nightmares be damned.

The contingent fared well in the jungle, being comprised exclusively of soundless who had lived long and weathered the pull of the Dream and the Nightmare through even their deepest struggles. While some had feared that Mordremoth would overpower them eventually, the few stayed resilient--those years of training to blot out all voices other than their own were not for nothing.

At Dragon’s Stand, as they took part in the assault on Mordremoth, Rasene couldn’t help but feel sombre, thinking how this would be the first and last time all sylvari could stand side-by-side. No dreams. No nightmares. Only them.

In the months following the death of Mordremoth, the soundless were given more consideration by traditional sylvari who followed the dream. And when new saplings finally came, with the trauma of the entire campaign flitting through the dream, there was a surge in kindred spirits.

Rasene would never fully be able to reconcile with traditional sylvari, the pains suffered too great to forget or forgive, but they would no longer turn away others who came to their settlement out of curiosity or interest.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 art #gw2 sylvari #Rasene #long loooong text #i want more info on soundless please i am so curious #you know what fuck you *alters your canon*

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k-dokja · 1 year

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Relationship & Courting | Questions | It's me, the provider of my own content again. Again, this is written with the knowledge of Heavensward Alphinaud. I'll change should he change in the future, but I don't think that's the case at the moment.

♥ Do they seek out love or let it find the? Are they even interested in romance?

Let it find him. While the young Alphinaud has gone out to achieve a number of accomplishments to impress girls, he's nowhere near desperate for affection. A lot of his flirtation is an extension of his polite and charming personality, not meaningful attraction.

After spending so many of his younger years indulging in frivolities, he's now content to wait for the moment love comes to him. He has no opposition to it, in fact, he will pursue it if he ought to chance upon the person of his dream.

His own parents nurture a harmonious and loving marriage despite their difference, it is what Alphinaud also wants for himself.

♥ When they have a crush on someone, how do they let them know?

Depending on where he's at in his life. If he's caught up in the Scions business, helping the Warrior of Light save the world, then he has every reservation to be more subtle about it.

He often spends a lot of his downtime around his beloved, even if he has to go out of his way to be by their side. Alphinaud prides himself on his own intellect, but their opinion is always one he holds in high regard. He likes to relay the events of his days to them and ask them for their opinions, even if they don't match his own.

Then there comes the gifts, little trinkets that he thinks they would fancy. A ribbon, a bracelet, or even his own drawing of them. Whatever would bring a smile to their face and make them look at him with affection.

He's also less reserved about his touches. Nothing beyond what decorum dictates, but he stays close to them. His gentlemanly behaviour cranks to the max specifically for them. There are times when he touches their shoulder or elbow, and he smiles far more often at them.

♥ Do they spend a lot of time in the courting stage or attempt to get to first base as fast as possible?

And of course, it's courting for Alphinaud. He's too well-mannered for otherwise. There'd be a lot of walks, tea times together, and meaningful glances from across the room. Even if he has thought of their wedding long beforehand, he takes it slow and measured.

Like my friend said, always a planner, that one. It'd be a while before he puts his affection into words, but his affection has been crystal clear long before then. After all, when he cradles their face and looks upon them with such affection, who can deny the fact that Alphinaud Leveilleur is hopelessly, unmistakably in love?

♥ Do they make an effort to find someone with similar views, be they political or moral?

Seeing that his parents have minimal issues despite their opposing views in politics, Alphinaud can see that he's able to enter a marriage with such compromise, even if it's not preferred. Albeit should be one where they don't actively conflict with each other, since it'd be stressful for the household in the long run.

The moral is another matter, however. He cannot be with anyone who wishes malicious harm to others. It's simply the opposition to his entire being and the people he loves. In fact, those with a big heart who cares for others around them are indefinitely more attractive in his eyes.

He wants a partner in a relationship, who can challenge his views and support him when necessary, not constant arguments over matters that crack the foundation of their relationship.

♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

He'd be lying if he says he doesn't feel the pressure to further the Leveilleur bloodline. However, he'd not marry simply for that, as his own parents and even his grandparents before them have found a love of their own.

Alphinaud is a romantic at heart, even if he tries to be otherwise. He can marry for pragmatic purposes, but his idealism always pushes him to get both that and love.

♥ Do they sleep in the same bed/room as much as they can or do they sleep separately?

Same bedroom. It's the best way to his day, wrapped up under the blanket with his beloved as he falls asleep. He often has to travel for the Scions business, which makes him crave their presence during long trips. While it is a downside to his lifestyle, it also makes him appreciate the time he has with them much more.

♥ Do they make it a point to eat at least one meal a day together with their partner, or do they do as they please?

Absolutely. If he doesn't have to be away, he wants to be close if possible. He likes to hear them talk about their days and distract him from the constant worrying about the Scions. Not simply the meals, he also likes to spend time sitting with them by the fire afterwards, enjoying each other's company no matter what they're doing.

#alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur x reader #alphinaud x reader #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #headcanons

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e-the-village-cryptid · 2 years

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An under-discussed aspect of the problem with labeling kids “gifted” at a young age isn’t just the harm done after the kid inevitably can’t keep up that level of achievement forever and burns out, but the harm done by the weight of expectations even when the kid is still managing to meet them all. When perfection is treated as the norm, it is impossible to achieve anything that feels like more than mediocrity. Perfection all the time every time is the minimum expected and the maximum achievable. Perfection all the time to be rewarded with not a sense of accomplishment, but a mere sense of relief, followed immediately by anxiety for next time.

I remember 7th grade, 3rd marking period, staring down at my report card. For the first (and last) time ever, I’d done it. 100% in every class. I felt a brief flicker of satisfaction, followed immediately by an inexplicable sadness. I felt a bit nauseated. I couldn’t put it into words. I went home, got the “hey, nice job honey, I knew you could do it!”, and all I could feel was a choking sense of dread, anger too. See, my parents weren’t surprised because they were supportive, because they really did believe in me. But all I could think was, That’s it. You physically cannot do better. You’ve tried for this for years, you’ve done the best you could possibly do, no one is impressed, no one is surprised. It can’t get better than that, only worse. And also, You can’t try to talk to anyone about this feeling, because you’ll be accused of bragging. That’s the other part of it, of course. You have it so good, how dare you be unhappy with it, oh so you want even more attention?

Even before the burnout, the pressure to be perfect is absolutely soul-crushing. The pressure doesn’t have to be overt, parents and teachers don’t have to demand it directly. Every time they decide what is worthy of praise, what is worthy of “oh no, you’ll do better next time”, what is worthy of surprise and what is not, they communicate that expectation and kids can pick it up. Despite the face that they are labeled “gifted” and elevated above their peers, these kids can easily become starved for praise and assurances that they’re doing well when even their most challenging accomplishments are met with lukewarm appreciation. “I knew you could do it,” “I’m not surprised,” “Of course you will!”, “Good job as always,” etc. All of these may seem on the surface to communicate praise and positive regard, but I grew to dread them as a child, because they also communicate, “This was just my expectation for you all along,” “I expect you to do just as well next time,” “Congrats, you’ve done the bare minimum to earn my appreciation, anything less would have been subpar.”

I honestly don’t know what the answer to this is, but there’s been some interesting research showing that praise should be process-based, not achievement-based. “Wow, you’re working so hard on this!”, “I can see how careful and precise you’re being with drawing those shapes,” “You’re showing a lot of determination in sticking to trying to learn this!” etc. are all process-based praise that emphasizes the positive behaviors and skills the kid is practicing rather than the end result. Also, no one needs letter or number grades in elementary school. If assessments are really to determine if the kid needs extra help or whatever, then the teacher can do what they need to with those assessments, the kid doesn’t need to see it and it doesn’t need to be used as an “evaluation” of the kid.

And if you’re still dealing with the aftermath of this, here’s your reminder that things don’t have to be perfect, the world is a lot more forgiving than it was made out to be, and giving 100% all the time is unrealistic and unhelpful. Kids and adults deserve better than to struggle for the hopeless standard of constant perfection.

#an e original

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ladybug023 · 1 year

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Hector’s Son Ricardo

Oscar Isaac, he looks like Hector but he also has those sad boi eyes

Rico's story:

He is Hector’s only son, which put a lot of pressure on him. Out of all of the 2nd generation Salamancas, he got the worst of Hector. He grew up suffocated by his father’s expectations and is a couple of years younger than Lalo, who lost his parents at a young age and was raised more like a big brother than a cousin to Rico. Despite having to compete with Lalo for Hector’s affection and attention, Lalo loved Ricky and tried to protect him from Hector’s constant abuse by making excuses for him. Hector would have the two boys fight, calling it training, and although Lalo would always win and beat Rico bloody, he would patch Rico up when it was over.

Rico's mother was docile and kind but also a pushover. Hector resented her for not being fertile, but he never left her. Rico always resented Hector for how he treated his mother. Rico was the one who got to name Tuco when he was born, picking the name Tulio, and he loved spending time with little Tulio. He did his best to shield Tuco from Hector’s influence, but Hector later twisted the name into Tuco.

Ricardo hated killing, having seen too much violence in his youth, which made him hate his father even more. He was the most moral Salamanca. Hector saw him as weak because of this and blamed it on his mother’s weakness. Like Nacho Varga, he dreamed of a life outside the blood and violence that came with being a Salamanca.

Ricardo met Joaquin’s mother, who was his parole officer. When she became pregnant with Joaquin, Ricardo wanted out of the game. Hector was so enraged that he even threatened Joaquin’s mother and then disowned Rico.

Lalo helped them escape from Hector to Spain, but they didn’t hide well enough, and the Peruvians found them. Lalo tried to rescue them, but Ricardo was killed. As a result, Lalo brought baby Joaquin and his mother back to Mexico.

Rico died young, and although Hector misses his son and regrets how he treated him, he’d rather die than admit it. If someone brings it up, he’ll only mention bad things about Rico. Lalo remembers him fondly and only speaks positively about his surrogate little brother. He understands that Rico was good, but just not cut out for their world. "Rico was a decent man, too decent to belong to this family."

#hector salamanca #better call saul #lalo salamanca #tuco salamanca #oc Ricardo Salamanca #joaquin salamanca #salamanca family

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thetwelfthcrow · 4 months

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Do you have motivational tips? I always lose motivation to continue writing after a while but I'm also scared of sharing works that aren't finished because while commets would probably the best motivator, they also started to scare me, even if that sounds dramatic. The thought of people "expecting" more kind of stresses me out because I get scared that they will lose interest if I don't work fast enough and that blocks me from working at all, I had this happen before a couple of times and eventually just stopped posting works in progess. That worked best for me but it's also less fun and I struggle to motivate me now: I've only recently gotten back into wanting to write fanfiction (for F1) and it doesn't work and seeing you suddenly work on your big project again makes me want to know your secrets, even though I know that they might not even apply to me. 🤷🏼‍♀️❤️

hi love! sending you a biiig big hug <3<3

you're doing amazing, first of all, for simply wanting to make stuff. and acknowledging the fear and anxiety that comes with it. that's very brave of you and very strong. and to ask for help! i'm already very proud of you.

and i get you. i have experienced quite a lot of pressure and writing-fright with all the comments i've gotten for Racing Heartbeats too. and, due to so much time passing, i just felt like i could write the whole series better than i already had. but that's part of it too, the progress! i think people can quite well read the difference in my writing style if you were to compare work 1 to work, idk, 10? 20? i read a post by ao3commentoftheday on it a few days ago and what i remember was this: it doesn't matter that the writing style changes over course, the readers change with you, see you evolve, and really don't mind that. it stuck with me.

then another thing that helped, for me, was working on other projects. the constant affirmation to myself that, despite not being able to work on RH, i can still write. i still enjoy writing. whether it's a short brainworm like lover, lead me astray or a longer thing like my nanowrimo project keep me under the charm. i could isolate my block to only RH and focus on other stuff. and when i felt ready, i could go back to RH with ease.

i recommend picking up something super small first. a pwp, just getting them from point a to b with no stops along the way, a nice ficlet (<1k) or short story (<5k) to get your knuckles warmed up for something bigger. maybe even a non-fanfic writing exercise can help! i've once written a story about chess pieces getting picked up by human hands, not knowing what's going on or even that they were pawns in a bigger game. something very random. with a fifteen minute timer and just no pressure, no goal, no worries. just whatever words come to mind. it's quite a creepy thingie and i still think fondly about it.

besides that, specifically talking about the comments: it's not dramatic to see it as frightening. it very well is. you're putting your work, something you put time, effort, your heart, into just out for the world to see. that is scary. just bc it's through pixels and not on a big irl stage where you can see the faces looking at you, the faces are still there. so it's completely normal and not at all dramatic to find that scary. i had that struggle too, with people commenting 'when will you update' 'where's the next chapter' etc. go away!!!!!! it's so well-intended but it has the opposite effect. and what helped for me is standing up for myself, being kind to myself. i can only write and post when i'm ready, when i want to, because in the end the only person i'm doing this all for is me. it's not the nicest thing, sometimes. and i'm certain i've lost readers bc of it, but that's fine, because it did help me.

what also helps in that regard, and something i've painfully come to learn with RH, is only posting when you're done with the entire work. but that comes with the added struggle of rarely ever being able to share your stuff with other people bc you don't want to spoil your whole work before anyone had a chance to glance at it.

what always helps for me, and something i had the luxury of getting used to and then the pain of losing it only to then get it again and realise how much i need it, is a cheerleader. one person, or more, who does read what you write. who brainstorms with you. who checks what you're up to, who helps you out every step of the way. the official fandom term for this is an alpha reader, though i often see people referring to them as a beta reader too. the links go more in depth about the roles but the most important difference for me is this: a beta reader is someone you ask to check your work right before posting. checking spag, mostly. an alpha reader/cheerleader is someone you go to before you start writing. they help brainstorm the idea, characterisation, plotholes, etc. having a cheerleader really helps me so so much to stay awake and focused on a project. and you can do that thing you so desperately want to: share! you can share your work with someone! and someone who doesn't expect you to write anything and someone who helps you too!

i guess my biggest secret is that i rn have @vmyosotis as my beloved cheerleader helping me with literally every single one of my brainworms (she's collecting my wip documents like a gremlin hoards shiny stones), @pinkjamblesss to generally get excited about 4433, to brainstorm new ideas together and just go feral about these nerds, and @strawcars about some angsty whump ideas that are out of my comfort zone, but still the brainstorming gets me excited and consider things for my own work as well. i think i'm more of a cheerleader to cherry than she's to me. maybe one day if i'll venture into hurt/no comfort.

so yeah. get your people around you - through the tumblr tags, ao3, other social media, discord, etc. - to get excited with you about your ideas. hell, i'd love to be a cheerleader for you! i love helping people get to more ideas and working out the kinks in a story to create something new! i love seeing people with creative ideas i'd never think of! and i hope to see you in the F1 tag, when you're ready for it.

much love and i wish every bit of motivation in the world onto you <3 xoxo!

#zhalia's lil' answer chat #Anonymous #writing advice #i love talking about writing !!! i hope this helps you a bit anon <3 #if you have more q's/thoughts you know where to find me !!

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daily-dose-of-writing · 2 years

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For your 1-year anniversary, how about a fill of this prompt:

You gain the power to travel to fictional worlds, so you immediately decide to travel into your favourite novel, only to then find out that you’re the inter-dimensional evil they’ve been foreshadowing for the past 3 books

Only if you want to ofc, no pressure, please and thank you! 💖

First of all, I’m so sorry I got really carried away with this and it’s about three times longer than I initially intended, so I’m literally going to have to post it in three bits because it’s too long for one post, and I also got a little bit carried away with the plot of the favourite novel. Secondly, I hope you like it!!

[tw: a bit of violence and blood mentioned, childhood trauma and what I guess is very mild psychological horror]

———

She never meant to end up there, that much is true, but she most definitely wanted to. Reading has and always will be a form of escapism; therefore it should not be a surprise that everyone who does it may wish to disappear into the world inside those pages. This is, of course, just a fantasy. Wishing to be in a world born from someone else’s imagination is nothing more than a fun thought experiment; something to waste time while you’re riding the bus. It has never been an achievable feat. That is, until a few months ago.

The pages of her book fluttered half-heartedly as another train rushed past. Her hair was not so well secured, so it swam irritatingly in front of her eyes, forcing her to turn her attention away from the words on the page in order to swipe it away. She scowled.

It was not as though she were at a particularly interesting point in the book yet, but the interruption was still as unwanted as they often are. She returned her gaze to where her thumb held the book open at the spine. It was still in the developing portion; none of the major action had occurred yet, but something was brewing. Something had been brewing for a while, by then.

The book was the fourth and final instalment in a series that she had practically gobbled up. It was a wonderful story. The books revolved around five people who had all been the heroes of their own stories long ago, but had long since been forgotten as all but children's bedtime stories. They were ageing and greying and fiercely protective of each other and their thankless world who did not notice their help.

Each enemy they had faced thus far had known a frankly concerning amount about each of them, yet had refused to reveal their source. The similar information and attitude had led the group to theorise that they were all from a single group or organisation hell bent on what, they weren’t quite sure. It unnerved them greatly.

Despite everything, they concluded their adventures successfully. Although, there was a refreshing sense of realism to the story; as you could easily sense how much each fight was grating on them. They were being consumed by their own narrative.

They had surpassed the horizon of their own stories many years ago and were becoming nothing but hollow shells and reanimated corpses, dragged through a story they had never meant to inhabit. The desperation of the cause, of being meaningful, was all-consuming and slowly devouring them. Their paranoia — of a greater enemy that they knew only the outline of; from shambled, half-false scraps of information and near-forgotten folk tales of shadow people in shadow worlds — was driving them insane. Weariness was a constant companion to their souls.

Another train rushed past in a flurry.

She continued to read. One of the characters was becoming aware that there was something in the dark and she was almost certain it was observing her. Yes, she thought, something is most definitely brewing.

At last, her own train arrived and she stood from her seat on one of the platform benches. A crowd was massing around each of the doors to what she could see were also rather full carriages. It was going to be a long day.

She opened her bag and began putting away the book when she overheard someone pleading to get onto the train. She looked up to see a rather ramshackle-looking man half off the platform, trying to get into the already packed carriage.

Distantly she heard one of the accusing voices within the train call the man “grimy,” and frowned. He was obviously desperate to get onto the train; they didn’t have to be cruel about it.

At last, someone gave a great shove and the man went tumbling backwards. Instinctively, she lurched forward to stop him from smashing into the concrete, catching him just before he hit the floor. The doors of the train snapped shut and a moment later it sped off into the dark, leaving her attempting to haul the man onto his feet.

“Sorry about that,” she said, still in shock of the other passengers, “I can’t believe they did that. I — I should report them, they assaulted—”

“Thank you,” the man proclaimed sincerely, breaking her rambling train of thought, “However can I repay you?”

“Oh, uh,” she scrambled for a reply. In her peripheral vision she could still see the receding tail end of the train and winced, “Give me the ability to run off into a fantasy world where I don’t have to go to work this morning,” she joked, thinking of the look she knew that her manager would be wearing when she attempted to excuse her third late arrival that week. Something inside of her twisted at the thought.

“Alright.” The man replied, a flat tone to his voice and a sincere expression to his gaunt features. “As you wish.”

“You— what?”

Another train rushed past, drawing her attention away. When she turned back, the man had disappeared into the encroaching crowd waiting for the next train. Her brow crinkled and her lips parted lightly, but more and more people were arriving and she had already lost sight of the man.

The next train was equally as crowded as the first, but miraculously, she had managed to snag a window seat. The glass was cool against the clammy skin of her forehead and it soothed the encroaching headache from the hustle and bustle in the carriage. She supposed that the headache was also, in part, to do with the strange man who had offered she the ability to run into fictional worlds. Perhaps he was mad.

Absentmindedly, she began to wonder what it would be like if she could disappear into the world of one of her books. She wondered who she would be, an antagonist or a hero or no one at all. She wondered if she would reinvent herself or be painfully truthful to her own nature — of which would make her more trustworthy. She wondered if it would be fun, or if she would wind up as the same, hollow, shell of herself that the characters did; if she would return as somebody entirely different.

A heavy exhaustion suddenly began to weigh on her chest, a pressure that squeezed her ribs like an enormous pair of hands or a snake constricting around its prey. With heavy-lidded eyes and a gently throbbing head, she let the comforting lull of sleep sweep her away.

Sunshine tickled delicately at her fluttering eyelids. It was soft and warm against her face, reminiscent of summer picnics during childhood spent lying on a hillside looking up at the vast, blue sky — the sort that were more dream than memory. Licks of grass brushed against her neck almost reverently, soft and dry but prickled just enough to make it tickle. The coolness of glass and the odd softness of the synthetic seat material of the train was entirely replaced.

She opened her eyes and sure enough the sky was very blue and she was very still atop a hill of wild grass.

Dreaming, she concluded, was what was happening at that moment. It was simply a very, very, vivid dream. A light wind brushed across her cheeks and the delicate scent of the wildflowers, mixed with the cloying smother of midday heat invaded her nostrils. She could hear a cricket somewhere in the underbrush and cars shimmying along a road somewhere down below; the whooshing rather similar to that of a violent river or cacophonous wind. A very, very vivid dream.

She got up brusquely and looked about herself. At the top of the hill was a squat, white building with a slated roof and what appeared to be gold writing embossed on its side, but which was too far away to read. Curious and with little elsewhere to explore, she made her way swiftly up the hill.

The long grass pulled and caught on her boots as she walked and she tried determinedly not to think of the disturbingly realistic quality to it. Slowly, the building grew closer and closer, and the words began to become increasingly clear. “The New Inn,” they read. Absentmindedly she remembered someone telling she that words in dreams were incomprehensible and began to wonder why those were not.

‘The New Inn’ was a pub similar to any that she had seen before: thus she decided that it was simply her subconscious taking old memories of random pubs and recreating them. The bar was the first thing that she saw when she walked in through the door; it stretched the length of the first room with an array of colourful bottles behind it and empty cups upturned on the work surface. Each of them had the signature brand label on the front but none of them were recognisable to her. Similarly, the alcohol all seemed to be completely unknown brands.

The bartender: a young man with dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses looked up at her arrival and asked if they could be of assistance.

“Where am I?” She asked dumbly, tongue thick with disbelief and utter confusion.

“This is the New Inn,” he answered quickly. He had a deep voice, rumbling but soft; it didn’t quite suit him.

“What town though? Where are we nearest to?”

He frowned curiously and recited the name of the three surrounding towns. She almost laughed in his face. The towns that he had named featured heavily in the first two books of the series that she had been reading. The author had wanted to create a world that was similar but not quite the same as her own and had thus made up the names of each of their towns and cities — as well as avoiding references to pop culture.

“Are you sure?” She asked him.

“Quite.”

She reminded herself that she was surely dreaming and left quickly the way she came. A sudden thought crossed her mind; if it was indeed the world within her books that she currently resided, then she could probably catch the protagonists hanging around somewhere. It depends on the date, she thought.

Suddenly very curious, she slipped quickly back into the pub. “Sorry, yes, and er, what’s the date?”

The bartender offered her and increasingly exasperated glance but answered anyway. “August 4th.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, “Year?”

“Ye- you don’t know what year it is?”

“Humour me.”

The bartender sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “It’s 2026.”

She grinned feverishly. She was standing right at the beginning of the narrative; the first day of the story, just before everything began to come together. “Cheers,” she exclaimed and dashed out of the door once again, leaving the bartender gawking in her wake.

She knew exactly which town to go to in order to observe the unfolding story and thankfully there were road signs outside of the pub. As she walked, the strange man from the train station and the sincerity of his words returned to her, almost like a warning and they rattled around inside her head. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream. She laughed; of course it was a dream. It had to be a dream. This is just what you get from binge-reading something, she thought.

It was only a short walk, ten minutes or so — or at least what felt like ten minutes; in a dream state that could have been hours. She remembered the church being a particularly well embellished monument within the opening description of the scenery, so that was what she headed for. It was a great, towering structure that loomed over the surroundings with a watchful eye. The ancient clock settled below its domed roof counted backwards for a reason unknown to anyone at all, yet had never been fixed for that was how it had always been.

It was about half an hour before she spotted them; bespectacled, with freckles spattered across their face like constellations, hair and eyebrows just starting to go grey — the spitting image of how the book had described them. She grinned.

Behind by about a hundred and fifty metres, she followed them to the small shop where she knew would be the scene of the first skirmish of the book — as well as the reader’s first introduction to their character.

As to not be injured by the impending fight, she waited outside, watching through the window. A punch was quickly thrown, then another, then she barely had time to step aside as the offending party was thrown through the front window. The offender sputtered and staggered in the broken glass and peered up as a hand gripped hold of their shirt and wrenched them up. She winced. Despite knowing the offender deserved to be put in place for harassing the cashier, she couldn’t help but pity the for the beating they were getting.

A few others had come to watch. Beside her stood a tall man in a black suit, his hair was gelled back and he looked as though he was going somewhere important. “You know,” she murmured conspiratorially, “They were a hero once.” The man raised his eyebrows above the dark glasses that she hadn’t noticed he was wearing in a questioning manner. She took that as her cue to continue. “Yeah, years ago by now, but they’re still trying to do their hero stuff,” the offender’s back thudded against the wall and she winced again, “as you can see.”

“Pray tell, do you know much more about them?”

Excited, she began to babble. “Oh, yes! This is Sam Wallace, no one really knows them much anymore but they saved god knows how many people back when they were a kid and recruited by one of those dodgy ‘superhero’ agencies — you know, those ones that got shut down because they really mistreated their employees and recruits, by like, locking them in rooms with rats and whatnot to scare them into submission? They live just up the road from here, they’re really cool.”

The man smiled to himself and turned away, “Thank you ever so much for the information, I’m sure I will find it vital in future.”

Too caught up in watching the fight, she waved the man off with a quick, “sure, anytime,” without any deeper inspection of the odd comment.

The police arrived soon after to take the retired superhero away, but so did a suspicious-looking, black SUV with some obviously government employees inside — who told the police that it was under their jurisdiction from then on. She couldn’t stop smiling; everything was happening just as it was in the book.

Over the following two weeks, she followed the group of retirees and half-forgotten legends through their escapades, until they finally discovered the antagonists base of operations. It was a rather decrepit warehouse in a forgettable corner of a generic industrial estate. Wide and squat, with a jutting roof and signature damp, concrete floor, it was by no means conspicuous. The unassuming nature of the building made it rather perfect as a lair.

The antagonists name was Ryker, or at least that was what he called himself. She crept in after the group in order to get a good look, hidden by the shadows of the towering, metal shelves. It worked. He was a tall man, half his face was cast in shadow, accentuating the angular properties of it and his sleek, black hair was swept backwards and gelled in place. He looked oddly familiar, but she put it down to reading his description in the books.

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