#if I could draw none of you would EVER be safe from me

[lamortwrites]

You ever think about your oc in a way that makes you legitimately embarrassed

#ash.txt #marking my proud return to tumblr with. with. I shan't say #if I could draw none of you would EVER be safe from me

[ikigaisvt]

quiet love

in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.

pairing: vernon x f!reader words count: 2k content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)

Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.

Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.

And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.

You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.

“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.

“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.

“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.

“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.

You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.

The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.

It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.

“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.

“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.

“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.

You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.

“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.

You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.

It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.

“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.

“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.

“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.

He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.

“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.

“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.

“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.

“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.

“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.

You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.

thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3

#sammy's works #j<3 #seventeen 💌 #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt reactions #svt fluff #vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon fluff

[softlyspector]

Honeyed

Summary: You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~11.7k

Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse, tattoos and getting tattooed (the reader only has one tattoo that is described in any detail), description of a past abusive relationship and a bad experience getting tattooed, insecurity, anxiety, loneliness, implied undefined past trauma with men, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this

A/N: We're ignoring canon and pretending like Joel can draw for this fic, thank you. I love this fic with everything I am and hope you all like it too. I'm trying something new with this header because none of the gif were giving me what I wanted, so I hope its not too cringe as I am not an aesthetic girlie. Thank you for reading! As always, I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

Summer is at its peak when you first happen by Joel Miller's tattoo studio.

The sky is a jewel bright, cerulean blue, the shining yellow saturation of the sun blurring the air around you in a washed out haze that reminds you of childhood summers past. 

Main Street’s sidewalk is hot enough to fry an egg, hot enough to boil soup. It sends shimmering waves up from the asphalt. Blinding sunshine pierces through the tired trees that line the road, undulating waves of emerald green and twinkling golden light shifting over the pavement. The leaves wilt in the heat. A single cloud floats on the sky’s horizon. 

The sun feels nice, maybe a little like you’re baking alive, but you don’t mind it. When you suck in a deep breath of that sun warmed air, you feel at home—it tastes like dust and heat and the slightly floral desert bloom. 

The town, just a couple hours outside Austin, already feels more like home to you than the city ever did. It’s idyllic, lush with shaded parks, an ice cream parlor and a coffee shop, plenty of restaurants and food trucks, a walkable little main thoroughfare not far from your apartment above a bookstore. 

It’s more than idyllic; it feels like a town straight out of a novel. Quiet and quaint and safe. 

And, apparently, it has a tiny tattoo studio that you’d somehow missed on all your walks through town. 

The shop looks a bit rustic—all raw wood tones and metal—but the art that hangs in the front windows is beautiful. Paintings that seem to be for sale hang next to artfully taken photos of healed tattoos. 

You step closer, pressing a hand over your brow to block out part of the glare that rains down from the sky in glimmering waves. 

The lone cloud in the sky slides over the sun in what feels like a moment of divine intervention, just for you, so you can see the displayed art properly.

It’s lovely, and your skin begins to itch and tingle with a need you know well. You know exactly what you’d ask for, from the hand of the person who’d created that which hangs in the front window. 

You want—need—another tattoo. You need this person’s art to live on your skin, to make a home there. 

You step back from the glass as the cloud drifts on and the sun reveals itself again, perfect golden rays slipping over your exposed skin. The world seems to filter back in to you then. The heat of the day, the hush of the breeze that does nothing to cool the air, the sweat gathering at the base of your throat. 

Children shriek at the park a block over, splashing in the fountain at the center of it all, parents reclined on benches in the sun, cold lemonade close at hand. The scent of sugar and sun and fried food burns through the air. 

The buzzing need only increases as you note the name of the shop and move on to the record store and then the clothing boutique, your mind still hovering in front of the studio. 

As much as you would have liked to just burst in, you want more than what a walk-in appointment could probably get you. That, and you needed to do some research about the place before you decided, no matter how much your skin itched with want. 

To your dismay, the tattoo shop seems to only have one artist, though it shouldn’t have surprised you, considering the size of the shop. It’s tiny and you doubt there was room for more than one artist to comfortably work there. 

A fairly new instagram account lists his name as Joel Miller, owner of, and soul artist at, the studio you had passed. The shop doesn’t seem to have a website, but the few google reviews that it does have are all glowingly positive. 

Bookings appear to be wide open according to the instagram bio, but a different kind of itch crawls under your skin at the thought of being tattooed by another man. Your stomach goes foamy, gives an uncomfortable lurch, at the thought of any man at all having to touch you. 

You scroll through the few posts that have made their way onto the account, the last dated two days ago. And, for the first time in years, you feel the need for this person’s art on your skin begin to outweigh your aversion to touch. 

There are no pictures of Joel Miller, just his art, though some of the posts give glimpses of strong hands and thick forearms. Despite yourself, arousal pools in your belly at the sight. A few scars run beneath the wiry black hair on his arms, thick veins snake beneath his skin to collect in rough, strong hands that speak to hard labor. It makes you wonder if he’d always been a tattoo artist or if he’d made a career change at some point. 

Some of the captions on the posts make you snort and you have to wonder if he runs the account himself. You somehow can’t picture the owner of those hands typing out the cheesy, often pun filled, lines. 

You ruminate on it for weeks, passing by the shop anytime you have to walk through town to admire the ever changing line up of photos and art pieces hung in the windows. The second week a drawing of a doe appears among the photos and paintings—big eyes wide, ears alert as she looks over her shoulder, surrounded by a thick forest bright with sun and shadow. Bumblebees hover around her alert ears. 

She looks familiar but you can’t quite place why. 

Sometimes you go out of your way to pass by, just to check out the new photos, even making a day of it, buying yourself an expensive iced coffee and lingering far too long in front of the window, just looking, pretending like the small shop doesn’t take up your every thought. 

You spend each evening hoping for a new post to the shop’s instagram page, hoping, too, that the new post contains glimpses of more than Joel Miller’s hands. 

The man remains an enigma, a mystery, and if he’s ever in the shop when you stand in the window, you never see him. You convince yourself that if you could just get a glance at him, you’d know. You’d know if you could handle being tattooed by him. 

You find yourself rolling your eyes at yourself often. You avoid hugs with friends, cringe your way through having anyone unfamiliar do your hair, tense at casual accidental touch. Phantom echoes of pain and want twin themselves around your heart, slide thick and cloying around your chest, breaking your breath from your body. 

It’s inexplicable, how much you crave touch and fear it. It’s terrifying, how you wonder what Joel’s hands would feel like. 

Probably it would feel like everyone else’s touch always has. Like your skin is too tight, like your heart might stop beating, like there’s something wrong with you for feeling like prey near capture, like the soft press of another person's hand might start burning. 

One hot afternoon, you finally find out what Joel looks like. 

The heat is relentless that day as it has been for weeks, the ice cream you’d stopped for at the local parlor rapidly melting as you completed your, now weekly, routine of stopping by the tattoo studio. As unbearable as the heat is, you somehow still find it blissful. On this day, a young woman stands outside the shop cleaning the front window. The door is propped open, frigidly cold air swirling out onto the street. 

“Sarah?” A voice calls from within, graveled and gruff and warm. “You ‘bout finished up out there? We need to get goin’. Tommy’s waitin’.” 

The girl, who could only be Sarah, turns away from the window, swiping a few errant strands of her hair away from her forehead, her opposite hand anchoring on her hip as she answers back.

You don’t catch her response, too distracted trying to glimpse the man just inside the door. 

All you’re able to see for a moment is a crop of dark hair laced with a fine sprinkling of gray before his broad shoulders that test the strength of the t-shirt he wears comes into view. Dark wash jeans fit snugly around his thighs and narrow hips, worn but well kept boots on his feet. He’s certainly handsome and looks rugged, and that both scares you and thrills you.

When you glance back up to his face, you meet his eyes. The slash of sun, a spinning shard of light falls over his gaze when he pokes his head out the door. In the warmth of the Texas sun, his eyes are cast in honeyed tones. The man you know must be Joel Miller smiles at you, one forearm lifting to brace against the doorway, the lines by his eyes crinkling up. His beard is threaded with that attractive gray too. 

“Howdy,” he says and he looks like he means to say more, but something seizes your throat and you avert your eyes and keep walking, barely managing to nod back politely. You don’t dare to breathe until you’re well past his shop.  

It takes you two blocks to realize the ice cream in your fist had melted over the edge of the cup and dripped over your fingers and that the man whose art you’ve been lusting over for weeks is just as pretty as his hands. 

Joel noticed you the first day you lingered outside his studio. 

He’d watched you cup a hand over your eyes, squinting against the glare of the sun. Your nose had scrunched up too as you gazed in at what was hung in the window. 

A curl of nervousness that he couldn’t exactly place had settled hard in his gut. But you just looked, eyes filled with wonder as honeyed sunshine fell in drafts around you. He half expected a colony of bees to buzz around you, like some long forgotten god. 

You’d reminded him then of a deer caught by surprise, big eyes and searching gaze pulling him in, something skittish and troublesome looming around you. 

It wasn’t in Joel’s nature to bother folks on the street anyway, but he suspected if he even cracked the door open you’d go flying down the street in a cloud of warmed sun, just like a deer that hears the first snap of a branch under a hunter’s foot. 

Eventually you’d moved on, and he’d tried not to feel too bad about it, not that he had any real reason to. 

His hand had itched as you walked away, to pick up a paint brush or a pencil or a whittling knife.

To his surprise, you start coming back all the time. A least once a week, and sometimes it seemed like you came by just to come by, like you didn’t have any other reason to be out. 

His girls notice, too, when they visit because of course they do. 

Sarah is kinder about it than Ellie who tells him to man up and talk to you. 

He just tells her to mind her own business, watching you look at the things he’d created with wonder and reverence. It flatters him, really, makes an embarrassing blush he’ll never admit to heat his chest. He considers himself a pretty average artist. 

But each time he thinks about following Ellie’s advice, he sees your doe eyes and knows he’d frighten you. 

There’s a drawing that hangs in the window now—several actually—of a doe with wide, curious eyes, not necessarily afraid but cautious. He can’t seem to stop painting, drawing, whittling deer.  

One deer really, a very particular doe that bees seemed to want to follow. 

He wonders if you know that that painting in the front window is of you, if you recognize yourself. You surely don’t, because you keep coming by. 

“Since when are you so obsessed with deer?” Sarah asks one evening. The light has faded from the sky in an orange and red blaze, the close blanket of night wreathing the street outside, street lamps buzzing haloing yellow light in patches down the sidewalk. 

“Always liked deer,” he comments, mumbling it more than anything. 

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Sure.” 

He’s right not to disturb you though. The day he finally gets the chance to say hello to you, when Sarah had insisted on washing the front window free of the accumulated summer dust despite his protests that he would do it, fear darts behind your eyes, nervousness seizing your shoulders. You don’t so much as look at him, head ducked, feet carrying you swiftly down the road away from him. 

A thread of worry that you’d stop coming by wrapped around his chest until the next week when you’d again lodged yourself in the window, peering in at the ever rotating catalog of his work. 

He figures that’s fine for now.

He’d rather you be there, unreachable on the other side of the glass, than have you disappear entirely.  

You are a creature of distrust. Of longing and starved skin, of loneliness and want. You aren’t sure where those things begin and you end, you aren’t sure where it started. Maybe you had been born that way, shoved onto the Earth and into existence with a mistrust of the world that shaped you into an infinitely lonely thing, an incredibly wary thing. 

There’s always been something missing inside you, that might let you bridge that chasm inside you, climb to the other side and put yourself in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t burn the path behind you. 

Maybe you are skittish and adverse to touch by nature. Maybe it started when you were a kid, with your parents who have never been tactile, not even when you were a child, not even when you were hurt or in pain.

But you aren’t sure, you have never been sure. 

What you do know is that it's left behind a raw hole, aching with a loneliness you can't figure out how to battle.

The times you had slipped your heart into someone else’s palm, wet and sticky with blood, the viscera of who you are, admitting to the pain that vibrated always at a low level frequency below your skin, you regretted it.

Mostly because you’re never able to explain it. It just is. You just are. 

It’s who you’ve always been, and sometimes one step forward necessitated two steps back with how much you could handle. 

Touch wasn’t even always bad, sometimes it was just too much. And no one wanted or tried to understand that sometimes it just felt too good, overwhelmed you to the point of exhaustion, and sometimes to pain. 

You’ve always wondered if there would ever be anyone who’s touch felt safe, felt like it belonged. 

The aversion you have to touch and the deepening trust issues that grew wilder every year were only solidified by your last boyfriend, by the tattoo he carved into your skin. He confirmed everything you ever needed to know about yourself, that you were not worth cracking the code on, that no one would ever be willing to try to handle you with care, to expose you slowly, to meet you halfway. To know when you asked not to be touched that you weren’t mad or punishing them. 

If he wasn’t willing to put up with you, he’d said, to figure it out, then no one else would be. 

You swore off having a relationship, content in the loneliness that you were destined to have claw at your heart, at least in that way. 

But with that tattoo came too a deep mistrust, an aversion to anyone getting too close to you, a swearing off, a final nail in the coffin of trying for things to be thrown back in your face. He’s the reason you moved to this tiny town, away from Austin and all the memories that he’d left in you like jagged shards of mirror, reflecting everything you didn’t want to see. 

Before he tattooed you, you’d been tattooed several times before. The experience had always been good, one of the few ways you didn’t mind being touched. It had always been the making of a happy memory for you. And he had taken that from you. 

He hadn’t just stolen something you loved from you, but shut the door on vulnerability or intimacy with almost anyone. 

Joel Miller’s tattoo studio, his stupidly attractive hands, the deep drawl of his howdy, and most of all the beauty of his art in the front window of the shop, captures your mind, ensnares your every thought. It’s woven a net around all the thoughts and worries that normally flutter around your head and calls for them to be silent. 

“All I do is think about this damn tattoo,” you say to a friend back in Austin one evening, phone squished between your shoulder and your face as you cook dinner. “Is that normal? Like, I can’t just go get one somewhere else, by anyone else.” 

No one knew about the sharp fanged demons that lingered in your past. The distrust and loneliness that ate out parts of your heart, bite by bite, year by year. But Leah does know about your ex, about the tattoo on your shoulder that still aches with long healed pain.  

“You said it looks like he does walk-ins, right?” She asks, not unkindly. “Why not just go talk to him for a bit,” she eases you into it. “See if it might be the right fit. I know. . .things in your past haven’t been easy. But he might be alright. I can go with you, if you think that might help.” 

And that doesn’t seem so bad. Just talking to him doesn’t seem so bad. You find that you want to. Then you would know if you couldn’t be tattooed by him, no matter how much you admired his art. Leah reminds you again of the nice google reviews, the funny little captions on his instagram posts, that he is not your ex even if he is a stranger. 

“He’s running a business,” she says gently. “It isn’t like then.” 

She’s right, you know she is, and you miss the experience, you miss getting tattooed. 

So, the next morning you brace yourself and make the now familiar walk to the little studio, picking up an iced coffee to sip on the way so you hopefully won’t be too sweaty in the early morning sun that blooms rose pink on the horizon. It gives your hands something to do too, and you fidget with the rim of the plastic lid as you walk. 

When you push the door open, Joel is standing at the counter. He has glasses perched on the end of his nose and is paging through a leather bound appointment book that sits next to an ancient computer that looks as though it hasn’t been switched on in a decade.

Something about the sight makes your shoulders loosen just a bit. You certainly hadn’t expected him to look like that, domestic and relaxed and calm. His pen scratches across the paper, a landline phone slotted against his ear. 

He glances up at you in the still open doorway, surprise pulling over his features for a brief moment before he makes a hasty end to the call. It makes heat crawl up your body, the way his attention latches onto you and sticks. “Hey,” he greets when he sits the phone back into the cradle, sliding the glasses off. “I’ve been wonderin’ when you’d finally come in.” 

There’s something light in the rough, drawling timber of his voice, like he’s trying not to startle you, like he’s inexplicably glad you’re there. 

You stiffen and he chuckles, cold air pulsing around you in the doorway before you finally step fully into the shop and let it swing closed behind you. You remain there, just inside the door, trying not to feel like a fish in a barrel, easily caught, even more easily killed. “Caught me, huh?” You try to keep your voice light, waiting for a striking arrow that would never come.  

“S’alright. Thought maybe you just walked this way a lot but you always stop to look,” he gestures at the front window. “My daughter is the one that’s always changin’ it around.” 

“I appreciate her efforts,” you say, taking a hesitant step forward. “I look forward to seeing the changes. Best part of my week.” 

He nods, looking just a tad embarrassed, and then closes the appointment book, giving you his undivided attention. “Lookin’ to get tattooed?” His eyes trace over your exposed skin, noting the few you already have. 

“Maybe,” you answer, giving a half-shrug that you hope comes across as nonchalant. “I saw on instagram that you’re, uh, taking appointments.”

“That I am,” he answers easily. 

You swallow and glance around the studio. It’s as tiny as it seemed from the outside, but homely and comfortable. The walls are a deep green that remind you of forests you’ve never seen. The walls are covered in photos and art, both created and bought, the styles too different to have been made by the same person. 

When you squint closer, you see that a few of them have tiny plaques beneath them, etched with names and dates. Shelves line the walls filled with knick knacks and children’s drawings in frames, and what appear to be family photos. One shelf is stacked with records and coffee table books, an ancient turntable perched precariously on top. A door is propped open behind the dark wooden counter, through which you can see the actual tattooing space, clean and sterile looking. 

A lone guitar is hung on the wall, and you wonder if he plays. Your imagination conjures up hands that you’ve been studying for weeks softly plucking at the strings, curling around the bridge. 

It’s shameful, the way your body flushes at the thought, the ghost of strummed notes floating in the air around you.  

“Darlin’?” 

Joel’s voice pulls your eyes away from the guitar and back to his face. Embarrassment drops like hot coal into the pit of your belly. You like the shape of that word in his mouth. 

“I just wanted to stop in and see if maybe we’d be a good fit,” you explain hastily, not thinking about the words before they fall like broken promises from your lips. “If you’d be interested in tattooing me.” Before he can open his mouth to respond, you continue, “That wasn’t what I—I don’t mean to take up any of your time. Just if you have a moment. I should have messaged maybe—” 

Joel waves you down and gestures around at the empty space. “No, it’s alright, hardly got anyone comin’ through here. Next appointment ain’t ‘til this afternoon.” He reaches below the counter, callused fingers catching on another notebook which he sets on the counter with care. 

You follow the motion of his hands, your eyes snapping back to his when he continues, “What are you lookin’ to get done?” The knot of anxiety in your chest loosens a little when he seems to take your nerves for concern over the piece you want done. 

Joel’s hands are ones that are familiar to you now after all the times you’d spent looking at the spare pictures of them online. That want, the heat, crawls back up inside your lungs and curls up to stay, making a home among the throbbing tendon and muscle. Though you’d glimpsed him that day on the street, it's a very different experience to stand for an extended period in front of him. His voice paired with the broad set of his shoulders, the cut of his brown eyes focused on you, all adds up to something devastating. 

Another vinegary squirm of nerves in your gut is accompanied by your treacherous heart squeezing tight in your chest, battering something long abused, long closed off. 

“You can show me reference pictures if you’ve got ‘em,” he offers when you don’t respond again, instead just looking at him, his presence calming in a way you can’t really explain. You blink and pull out your phone, approaching the counter slowly. The ice in your half finished coffee rattles as you set it on the counter, away from the appointment book so the condensation won’t accidentally get on it. 

Joel unsettles you, but not in a way that people usually unsettle you. Not in the way your ex-boyfriend had from the very beginning. Instead of feeling the need to flee, you feel the urge to stay. 

You show Joel the inspiration pictures you’ve been collecting the last few weeks, swiping slowly through what you have saved in your camera roll and describing what you imagine as best you can. When you lean closer to show him, the scent of clove and cinnamon and leather washes over you. The smell makes you a little dizzy, runs circles around your head. 

His brow is furrowed, concentration etched into his features. “I’ll need some time to work out some designs for ya.”

“That’s alright,” you nod, watching those rough fingers sketch broad lines in the notebook he’d pulled out. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, don’t know where my manners went. I didn’t get your name,” he says, and glances up at you. “I’m Joel,” he holds out a hand.

Sweetheart. You’ll be hearing the low timber of his voice whispering that and darlin’ in your dreams, you’re sure of it. 

You find yourself smiling, your mouth involuntarily pulling up at the corners. You take his hand without thinking. His hand is warm and firm; his fingers engulf yours.

He hums as he takes his hand back, pencil already between his fingers again, and you’re left feeling chilled, like there’s an empty space in the middle of your hand that needs filled. “Real pretty name y’got.” 

Oh. You like the hum of pleasure in your chest that chases the nerves below your skin. It’s a pleasant kind of warm.

“You can send ‘em on to me on that. . .app,” he grumbles. And you have to laugh. Between the landline phone, the physical calendar book, and that app he sounds just like the kind of cranky that you find endearing. “Uh, just so you know if you get a reply that don’t sound like me, it’s because my daughter runs it for me.” 

“Sarah,” you guess, thinking of the young woman you’d seen cleaning the window. 

“Ellie, actually. She thinks she’s a goddamn comedian.” He rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the affection lodged in his gaze. He gestures at one of the pictures framed on a shelf where two teenage girls are slotted on either side of him. “Got two of ‘em,” he clarifies. “Sarah—she does the window. You saw her that day you passed by, the taller one there in the picture.” 

You tilt your head, Joel’s eyes following the motion. “They help you run this place.” 

“They’re my marketing team,” he grumbles. “Self-appointed, if you couldn’t guess.” 

You find yourself leaning on the counter, watching Joel’s pretty hands sketch absentmindedly. “That actually sounds like fun.” 

“They seem to think so,” he agrees, glancing up at the same time you do. A touch of pink colors the high points of his cheeks. The delicate little shading makes something warm curl into your gut. “Anyway,” he clears his throat. “We don’t get a lot of foot traffic around here, you might have noticed. Ellie’s thinkin’ that account might lure people up from Austin.” 

You nod. “It’s a good idea. People have traveled further for tattoos. And we aren’t too out of the way up here.”

“I take it you live around here,” he glances down again, like he finds looking at you hard. 

“Not far,” you confirm. “That’s how I found you.”

He goes silent for a moment, fingers continuing to twitch around the pencil before he looks back at you. “I’ll, uh, have somethin’ to ya in a couple a’ days. You can let me know if you want any changes and we’ll set a date.” 

You straighten, feeling only slightly dismissed. “Oh, yeah, sure. Thank you.” You start to turn when you remember yourself. That’s not really what you came here for. “Actually, listen, I don’t want to waste your time. You don’t need to start on anything. Not yet. I’m not sure just yet, I just wanted to meet you. I really admire your art.” 

You leave it at that. Pouring out all your other issues would just make you look insane. 

Joel raises a curious brow at you, waiting, a question in his eyes that he doesn’t ask as you take a step back. “Alright,” he agrees. “I won’t start on anythin’ just yet.” 

“Okay,” you back further away, trying desperately not to turn and run, aware you must look odd. “I’ll see you around.” 

“I hope so, honey.” 

Though the tattoo shop is cold, heat that rivals the temperature outside dissolves the bones in your chest from the way his eyes linger on you.

But that want—need—is within reach now, and something tells you that you can trust him. 

At least with this. 

Joel sees you more often after the first day you actually come into the shop. 

Well—

He supposes he sees you about the same amount, but now you actually come inside. You always pause in the doorway for half a second, those watchful doe eyes going wide, like your instincts always kick in a second too late.

But once you make it inside, you talk to him, share snippets of your life as you watch him draw, eyes focused on his hands. 

You breakup the monotony of his days, those times between appointments and the few walk-ins that he does see. 

Sometimes, most times, you bring him coffee from the shop at the end of the road, and he hates that you feel obligated to bring something for him. “For letting me hang around,” you always say. 

Most times he feels like he’s trying not to scare you away, like one wrong move will send you bolting right back out the door. But he comes to rely on your presence, the sunshine earthy smell you bring inside with you, the cautious questions and wide eyes, the way you dart to your feet and disappear the second a sign of work for him appears, even if he wouldn’t mind you waiting, taking up room in the tiny front room. 

Joel has to wonder what happened to you, if anything, or if you’re just a nervous person. Maybe it’s just in your nature to be distrustful. He doesn’t mind you coming in all the time, in fact he likes it, hates the empty spaces you now leave behind. The studio seems impossibly empty and cavernous without you around now, asking about the guitar on the wall, about where he learned to draw, about his girls. 

Still, summer passes by slowly, like a jar of molasses catching sun in a window. He watches you come and go, watches you get to know him through tiny encounters that loosen your shoulders more each time you stop in.

He doesn’t tell you that he spends most evenings working on a design for that tattoo you may or may not get, that he has a dozen different versions of it clogging up his notebook. 

He figures if you don’t end up getting it tattooed then he can just give you some of the sketches to keep. 

Like he’d ever find a damn way to do that without feeling like a fool. 

Toward the end of summer, with heat still burning up all the air in Texas and showing no signs of abating, you push the door open with your chin lifted and a smile on your face. Heat, like the rush of burning air from an oven, whips around you and into the shop. 

He tells himself the heat is why his mouth suddenly feels dry. He tells himself it has nothing to do with how your ass looks in those jeans you always wear or the curve of your hips in the snug fit or the tank top that shows off your shoulders and arms and chest. All topped off with you smiling at him. 

“Hey Joel,” you greet, crossing the studio in a couple strides where you deposit a cup of coffee onto the counter next to his hand. He likes the way you say his name, breathy and quick. “I think I’m ready.”

“Ready?” He questions, bewildered. 

His mind takes a moment to catch up to what you mean. The tattoo. You’re ready to get your tattoo. 

And Joel becomes aware that he is distinctly not ready for that. Because then what excuse will you have to stop by so often? “Right now?” He asks. 

You smile. “Not at this exact moment, obviously,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just…generally. Whenever you have time for me. I know you’ll need time to work on a design. I’ll send the inspiration photos to the instagram account so you can look at them again.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, the notebook with your designs tucked under the counter burning a hole in the corner of his vision. “Shouldn’t take too long.” 

Your smile widens. “Thanks. I can’t hang around today.” You wave a hand back in the direction of the front window, “Errands to run. I just wanted to say that I really love the new painting.” 

“The—”

“The new deer. She’s beautiful. More confident than the other ones. I think, or maybe it’s the same. I really like the new one though. You’ve been doing a lot of deer lately.”

He swallows and nods. “Yep.”

Your head tilts to the side before you take a step back, anxiety pulling at your face. “Okay,” you say, your voice noticeably smaller. “Well, I’ll see you around. I’ll message Ellie.” 

Before he can stop you, you’ve bolted out the door. 

He sighs and rolls his shoulders back as he watches you walk down the street in the honeyed sunshine. When you’re finally out of sight, he pulls the sketchpad out and starts on yet another design. 

“Dude, you’ve got it baaaaaad,” Ellie accuses as she sets a platter of fried chicken on the dining room table. “He didn’t even ask for a fucking deposit!” 

“No deposit?” Sarah asks, adding a bowl of salad next to the plate. “That’s just bad business practice, dad.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “Not everyone takes deposits.” 

The girls glance at each other. “Yeah, but you usually do. You told me not to ask for one!” 

He grumbles under his breath, settling at the table, just glad that his girls were there at all. He’d half expected the standing weekly dinner to fizzle out once he moved out of Austin, but they always made the drive up, or he went down to them each Friday. 

His girls had their own lives, Sarah still in college, Ellie still trying to find her footing as an apprentice at a tattoo studio in the city.

“Did she seem interested?” 

Joel assumes Sarah is asking about the tattoo. 

You seemed exactly as he’d thought. A little nervous and wary, but mostly curious and eager. He’d been blushing like a kid, the warmth you always tugged along with you into the shop no match for the air conditioning. 

“Yeah,” he answers, shrugging. “Ellie’d know more than me—”

“I mean does she seem interested in you?” 

Joel glances sharply up to find both his kids grinning at him. “I’m talkin’ about the damn tattoo,” he says, exhaling sharply through his nose before he reaches for a plate. 

“Well, that’s obvious,” Sarah mutters with a roll of her eyes. 

“Yeah, c’mon, man,” Ellie leans back in her chair. “Isn’t she there, like, every fucking day?” 

Joel frowns at her. “Manners,” he reminds her. 

He gets an eye roll from her too, before she tilts her chair back down onto all four legs. 

“Watch it,” he says, “Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that.” 

“Joel—”

“She’s nervous enough as it is,” he grumbles. “Never met someone s’damn skittish.” 

“What, like a horse?” 

“Like a deer,” he corrects. “She don’t need me makin’ passes at her. I think she’s just now comin’ around to the idea of trustin’ me so don’t say something stupid to her.” He directs the last bit to Ellie. “Clear?” 

She spears a piece of chicken. “Clear,” she grumbles. 

“I think she likes you dad,” Sarah says, primly cutting into the chicken on her own plate. “I don’t think she’d mind it.”

Ellie sends you scans of a couple designs two days after you abruptly tell Joel you’re ready to get tattooed. It’s accompanied by a message that makes something in you squirm in such a pleasant way that you worry there might be wrong with you. 

the old man told me you know i manage the account for him. he’s really excited about this one and can’t wait to tattoo you. he worked on the design for weeks - ellie 

Another message pops up almost immediately after the first. 

don’t tell him i told you that

A warmth that has nothing to do with your open balcony door and the heat pouring into your apartment floods your veins. He’d said he’d need to work something out for you.

The two designs she sends are beautiful, and it's easy to see not only the talent but the time he put into them. Clearly he’d been working on a design since you first talked to him all those weeks ago. 

Your whole body goes awash with heat, warming you pleasantly from the inside out. 

You message her back to figure out the day and time, before flopping your phone face down on the couch, a nervous thrumming centering in your body. It folds your veins up into anxious little knots. The phantom echo of his low, drawling voice reverberates around your brain, the casual little sweethearts and darlin’s he throws your way kicking your heart into overdrive, a skittering pounding knocking against your ribs.

A thrill goes up your spine. At the prospect of a new tattoo, at the thought of spending so much uninterrupted time with Joel, of his hands on you. 

The last thought jolts you a little. 

That that’s something you’re looking forward to. 

You aren’t expecting another message, not after finalizing a date only a few days in the future. But your phone buzzes again, yet another message waiting for you.

just a heads up - joel said you’ll have to sit for two or three sessions. he doesn’t want to wear you out. 

Well, at the very least he was more considerate than the last man to tattoo you. 

A rare rain splashes down the morning of your appointment, driving away the humidity that had curled in the air like a choking wraith the last few days and cooling the temperature down to something mild. It’s the first false start of what will always turn out to be a warm fall. 

You take your time getting ready just to ease your nerves, hydrating and eating a bigger breakfast than you normally do. 

In the afternoon, the walk to the studio is dreary. The street smells like petrichor and summers long gone. The gloom only makes the interior of the shop feel more cozy. 

And more intimate. 

When you push the door open, Joel’s daughter, Ellie, is standing at the counter complaining loudly about how old fashioned Joel is as she slowly pages through the leather bound appointment book that seems to never leave the side of the ancient computer you suspect is rarely, if ever, switched on. She seems to be logging appointments from her phone into the book. 

Her eyes snap to you the moment the door swings shut, then glances at the clock. “Early,” she says. “Joel is still setting up.” 

“That’s okay,” you say, pointedly sitting down on the leather sofa that takes up most of the floor space of the front room. “I can wait.” 

You snap your mouth shut to avoid the waterfall of words that want to cascade from your lips. Nerves tingle under your skin, buzz lowly just beneath the surface. 

Waiting makes you hot, makes heat rise from your skin in painful waves, as your anxiety continues to crest. 

At the counter Ellie snaps the appointment book shut, now grumbling about Joel’s chicken scratch, when you peel off your sweatshirt. “Oh,” she says, surprised. “I didn’t know you had tattoos already.” 

You jump a little, eyes flashing to the woman leaning on the dark wooden counter. Her chin is propped in her hand. You aren’t quite sure what to make of that, that she thought you didn’t have any. 

“Yeah,” you stand and move closer to the counter. Maybe she’s just trying to distract you. “Why is that such a surprise?” You smile and offer her your arm. “I not look like the type?” 

“Joel just said you were nervous,” she says, turning your arm in her hand, inspecting the tattoo on the top of your shoulder, and then the one that wraps around your bicep. “So I figured it was your first.” 

Joel had talked to his daughter about you. 

Maybe he talked to her about all his clients; she did manage the instagram account for the shop after all. 

“I’m always a little uneasy beforehand.” 

Your excuse is weak but Ellie doesn’t call you on it. Her eyes are latched onto the tattoo over your shoulder, the one your ex had done. You know what she’s seeing, how a few of the lines are blown out, how it healed badly. 

She releases your wrist with a nod, her eyes more knowing than you would like. “Scared of the pain?” 

“No,” you shake your head. “It doesn't hurt much, usually. It's relaxing more than anything.” You nod to the tattoo on your shoulder. “But, that one was the last and it did hurt and, uh, it put me off getting more for awhile.” 

She looks it over for a minute, brows furrowing at what you know is shoddy work. Your gaze slides to the tattoo on Ellie’s forearm. “You don’t have to worry about that with the old man,” she informs you and releases your arm, her tone serious. “He might not look it, but he’s got a light touch.” 

Before you can respond, Joel emerges from the back, rubbing his hands together as he glances between the two of you, his eyes wary. “Ellie,” he says, his voice that low gravel. “You stickin’ around, kiddo?” 

“Nope.” She stabs a finger into the top of the appointment book, “Get fucking rid of this.” She grabs her jacket and hops up onto the counter, swinging herself over it, as Joel snaps at her not to. “Too late,” she chirps already out the door. “See you Friday.” 

When you turn back to Joel, those splotches of pink and cresting red are back in his cheeks and neck and you have to wonder if he heard what Ellie had said. “That girl,” he grumbles. “Come on around here, darlin’,” he gestures with a roll of his eyes. “You don’t have to climb over the counter like a wild animal.” 

You round the end of the counter and follow Joel into the back room where he’s already meticulously prepped everything. He sits on a rolling stool and gestures you in front of him. “I take it you already know the drill?” He asks. 

You hum in affirmation and try not to jump when his hand brushes yours. “Easy,” he mumbles, almost to himself. It doesn’t stop a flare of heat from spiking in your blood. “You already decided on your left forearm, right?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, holding your arm out to him.

You wonder what it is about Joel that makes him so magnetic, that makes him feel so safe. His hand, already in a sterile glove, slides around your wrist to hold you steady while he cleans your skin thoroughly. The sharp scent of antiseptic blooms around you, chasing away the clove and leather scent that usually lingers around Joel. “You alright?” He asks, glancing up at you to watch your face. 

“Yep,” you answer tightly. 

“Alright,” he agrees warily, like he doesn’t quite believe you. “I’m gonna haveta shave the area.” 

You nod, you already knew that, and watch him pick up a disposable pink bic razor from the tray to his left. Despite having gone through this whole thing more than a few times before, this feels different, it feels more intimate and reserved. 

He drags the razor over your skin slowly, carefully, then sanitizes your skin again when he’s finished, the cool flush of the moisture against your skin almost shocking. You go back and forth about the placement of the stencil. Your body tenses when you waffle for what feels like too long. You expect him to get frustrated with you but he doesn’t. His voice remains unbothered and patient. 

Maybe your standards are in hell, maybe he’s just being a proper tattoo artist like all the others that had tattooed you before your ex, but it still makes a knot form in the back of your throat.

Eventually Joel presses the stencil into your skin when you give the go ahead. He rubs at it gently, warming your chilled skin, before he peels it away. The warmth of his touch is surprisingly soothing, the loss of it leaving you cold. “If it ain’t right, we can do it again,” he says, jerking his chin at the mirror in the corner, the picture of calm. “Go on and take a look and let me know.”

You both agree the placement looks good, and then comes the moment when you have to climb onto the table and put yourself in his hands. You will have to lie there and let another person touch you, albeit professionally. It doesn’t make it any better, any easier. 

Your skin is so empty, so hungry, and Joel’s attention makes you feel like wax held too close to heat. 

It already feels like too much and he’s barely touched you. 

A cold prickle of fear slides down your spine too, pulling your shoulders in tight. The last time you did this you—

“You comfortable?” Joel is watching you, his eyes shaded and attentive. 

You nod, aware that you are the picture of uncomfortable as Joel changes his gloves. Your hands are in fists, your spine hard and tense. All the air seems to have been sucked out of the room, cold and sterile and icy in your lungs.

“I ain’t touchin’ you until you relax,” he says when he turns back to you, settling next to you on a stool, hand hovering over the tattoo gun on the tray by his elbow. “You don’t gotta—”

“I am relaxed,” you interrupt in a bite, harsher than you mean to. You grit your teeth, your hand only curling into a tighter fist. 

“Sweetheart you’re as taut as a bowstring,” he says gently. “Take a couple breaths.”

You do and your heart rate slows. Now isn’t like then. Now is different. “Good,” he says and the praise slides warm against you. “I’m gonna touch you now.” 

You nod and the buzz of the tattoo gun starts, his free hand curls over your fist, warm and reassuring and so present it makes tears sting at the backs of your eyes. You realize then that Joel has been touching you quite a lot, and that you haven’t exactly minded. 

“Relax, I got you,” he reassures. “You’ll tell me if you need a break,” he says and it’s not a question. 

You nod anyway, not sure which part you’re agreeing with. 

Joel talks while he tattoos you, mainly about his kids, his two daughters who are clearly his entire world, the point that his life hinges on. 

The pride in his voice, the love there, makes you smile. 

Joel is much chattier than usual. 

Normally you talk his ear off while he works as he silently listens and nods along. Joel is the gruff quiet type, not that you much mind. You’d expected to sit in relative silence, to listen to the rain still drumming against the roof and the low hum of the tattoo gun. 

Listening to his voice is a welcome change. You would listen to him read from a dictionary. 

Sarah is from his first marriage, Ellie adopted. Sarah is going to college— “Gonna be a doctor someday,” he says proudly. “For kids. Pediatrician.” Ellie is following in Joel’s footsteps, apprenticing as a tattoo artist. “Hope it's what she wants to do,” he says, equally as proud. “She’s got some art out there on the wall—well, I’ll point it out later, much better than mine—it took me long enough to make this switch.” 

“What did you do before?” You ask as Joel swipes a damp paper towel across your skin. Ellie had been right, he does have a light touch, a gentle touch. 

“Carpenter,” he answers, and you can’t decide if the way he squeezes your wrist is conscious or not. “Long hours, hard work.”

So you’d been right about the look of his hands. Hands that so carefully held yours as his other drew over your skin. “Mm,” you hum distractedly. “What convinced you to take the jump?” 

“My girls convinced me. Gettin’ outta Austin helped. Havin’ the money to finally slow down.” He chuckles to himself. “That’s why the marketin’ is a little ridiculous. Moved all the way out here just to complain about the foot traffic.”  

You find yourself smiling, watching the flex of tendon in his forearms as he works. His mouth is set in a concentrated line, a divot between his brows. “Looks like you’re doing alright.” 

“We manage,” he says with a groan, straightening from his position hunched over your arm. Something in his back creaks and then cracks before he goes back to work. “Although I regret not startin’ a little younger. My brother, Tommy, manages our business now.” 

“Carpentry business?” 

“That’s right,” he hums, leaning in closer to your arm, his breath ghosts over your arm, goosebumps racing across your skin. You swallow and your hand clenches reflexively beneath his. “You doin’ alright?” 

You wonder if he knows his hand is still cupped over yours, if he can feel the racing of your heart beneath his fingers. Maybe he did that with all his clients, just a way to steady himself and you. 

You don’t expect him to be looking at you when you lift your eyes back to his face. 

Heat blooms in your chest, the flutter of wings beating against your ribs. “Mhm,” you give a nervous hum, trying not to show the feathering thoughts that float like down through your mind, swirling and impossible to bat down. 

“Y’have to tell me if you need to take a break.” 

“I don’t,” you say quickly, wondering if you should explain yourself a little, if it would be better or worse for Joel to know exactly how fucking nerotic you are. 

It shouldn’t matter if he thinks you’re crazy or not. 

But it does. 

“Just…I’m not so good with touch,” you admit. “I never have been and my last tattoo was…”

You aren’t sure how to phrase it, so you stop and look at his hands again. His hand swallows yours, barely any of your skin visible beneath his touch. You wait for your skin to prickle, for the urge to rip your hand away to swim up the back of your throat, but it never comes. “I’m fine, really. I’d tell you if I needed to stop.” 

“I know it,” he says, not blinking, watching you carefully. “I’m just checkin’.” He looks back down, adjusting his grip before he continues, his thumb sweeping over your wrist. “Was it the one on your shoulder?” 

“What?” 

“The tattoo that was a bad experience?” 

You suck in a deep breath through your nose and look away from the top of his head, away from the graying brown that makes your belly clench and the butterflies that live permanently in your chest swing back to life.

The breath you pull in does nothing to steady you, instead flooding your senses with the clean woodsy smell of him. It’s dizzying. “That easy to tell?” You sigh. 

“Just a few of the lines are blown out,” he says, not unkindly. “Thought maybe an apprentice did it or somethin’.” Joel’s voice is mild, only lightly prying, an extended hand that you could lie a pearl truth in if you wanted to. 

The nerves subside a little. “Apprentices aren’t usually that bad,” you joke. 

“No,” he agrees. “Ellie’d never get ya like that. Shouldn’t be tattooing on people yet if you’re gettin’ ‘em like that.”

He doesn’t ask what actually happened, but you find yourself answering anyway. You find that his hand still securely over yours acts like an anchor rather than a weight. 

“I had bruises for a couple weeks after,” you admit. “It hurt. He wanted it to hurt. And it healed really badly.”

Joel’s hand pauses, the needle lifting away from your skin, but he doesn’t look up. A long moment passes, and his voice comes out in a forced calm. “Who wanted it to hurt, honey?” 

“My ex,” you say and Joel leans back, dark eyes flashing to yours. “He wasn’t my ex then, obviously. He wanted to tattoo me, but he wanted it to be his name. I wasn’t going to do that. He wanted to compromise for initials but I just…couldn’t. Something about it felt wrong. I let him—” you wave your free hand at your shoulder. “—do that. And…I don’t know what happened,” you say. “I think he wanted to brand me. He wanted to leave a piece of himself on me, whether I wanted it or not.”

Joel doesn’t say anything for a while, just blinks away from you and slowly leans over your arm again to continue working. 

The tattoo your ex did is the only one that ever hurt, but Joel is gentler than you remember. Or, maybe you simply can’t remember the other times as well, pain of the most recent one blotting out the memory. 

“I don’t want you to think about this like that,” Joel says eventually, not looking up. “I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, Joel?” 

His hand stills, his fingers flexing around your wrist, thumb subconsciously sliding against the side of your wrist. “I mean—I’m not puttin’ something of mine on you,” he says. You frown and open your mouth to protest. “I made it for you. This is yours,” he says adamantly.  

You watch him for a long moment, not sure what to say, an emotion you can’t name welling up into the back of your mouth, swollen and trembling. 

“I want you to think about it like that,” he says, looking up at you from beneath his lashes, his mouth a hard line. “I’m not markin’ you, because it's not mine. It’s yours. It’s for you.” 

You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. 

You avert your eyes, blinking away the water that crests against the edges of your lash line. 

Though you’ve been bothering Joel for the better part of the summer, you don’t really know much about him. Today is the most he’s talked, about himself or otherwise. All you know is that he makes you feel oddly safe, that he has gone out of his way to try to make you feel comfortable. You can hear the words he doesn’t say, the quiet anger that vibrates under the surface of it. What happened to you was wrong, I would not do that to you. 

He wants you to believe he’s gifting you something, and you suppose he is.

You remember Ellie’s message, how she’d said he’d been working on the design for weeks. You think of every moment you spent hanging around his shop for the last few weeks while he worked on a design for you, never saying a word about it, knowing you might decide not to get tattooed. 

“Joel,” you murmur, carefully lying your free hand on his shoulder. Muscle flexes beneath your hand, thick and warm. “I know you wouldn’t do that. And you know I wanted to do this, right?”

Joel’s hand squeezes yours again. “I know it,” he shrugs and leaves it at that. 

Something unspoken passes between you though. He would not do that to you, but you also sense he would never let anyone else hurt you like that again either. 

You watch the feathering of his lashes against his cheeks, the firm set of his mouth, the way he keeps sliding his thumb over your wrist. You study his nose, the line of scar on the bridge, the hard ridge of his brow, the wrinkle that pulls at the skin of his forehead. 

“You don’t have to be mad about it,” you say. “I already have that covered. I think I’ve been angry for a long time.” 

The room is quiet, the sound of rain on the roof having abated in the hours you’d been there. Joel doesn’t say anything for another long moment, the only sound his breathing and yours, the sound of the tattoo gun buzzing its familiar tune. “I could, uh, fix some of it for ya,” he offers, eventually, leaning back to study the progress he’s made on your arm. “The lines where they’re blown out, we could think of somethin’ to blend it into.”

You look away again, not able to answer around the thick knot braided into your chest. You try swallowing around it, trying desperately to think of something to say. His hand is starting to feel a little heavy on yours. The aching clawing that is two steps back begins to threaten you. 

This time, unlike the others, you aren’t quite sure if you want him to stop touching you or for the feeling of his hand to melt into yours, if you’d just rather he became a part of you instead. 

You decide to try to ignore it, to focus on the nice parts of it all — how warm his skin is, the calluses you can feel, the scent of his skin and hair, so close you could press your nose into him if you leaned forward a little. 

“You have really nice hands,” you comment, entranced by the flex of muscle and vein and sinew even through the black nitrile gloves. 

Joel glances up, his face close to yours. You can see the threads of honeyed gold and warm hazel in his eyes, almost sun-spotted “That so?” He asks with a quirk of his brow, fingers tightening over your hand. 

You swallow, glancing away from his eyes to focus on anything else, and give a nervous hum. 

“You still alright?” He asks, his thumb slipping back and forth over the back of your hand. “Still comfortable?” When you just nod, suddenly too anxious and warm to do anything else, he leans back and releases your hand to strip off his gloves. “Let’s take a break.”  

The loss of his touch is—you aren’t sure what it is. 

You just know you hate it, and that has never happened before. 

“I’m alright,” you protest. 

“You’re startin’ to shake, which means you’re goin’ into shock. I’m sure Ellie told you this’d take more than one session,” he says, matter of fact about it. 

“She did,” you breathe. 

He grunts and offers you a hand down from the table. “Let’s get you wrapped up and then I’ll take you to get somethin’ to eat.” 

“Oh,” you say, surprise and that spark of warmth flooding you again. “And you do that for all your clients?” 

“Just the ones I like,” he deadpans, fitting a second skin over your tattoo before giving you the usual spiel about how to care for it once the second skin was removed. You hardly listen, thinking only about how Joel said he likes you. “But I assume you know all a’ that,” he says, twisting your arm. “And ya know where to find me if somethin’ ain’t right.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, trying not to let the disappointment show when he releases you again. “I’m something of an expert with tattoo care, I think.” 

“Three tattoos makes you an expert?” He asks, not looking at you as he meticulously cleans up.  

“Well, three that you can see.” 

He turns, eyes sliding over you. You’re awash in that warm feeling again, the one that is an anchor and not a weight. “You got more than three, honey?” 

You just smile and make a show of looking over the work he’d done on your arm, ignoring his question. 

Joel chuckles, “What else do you have?” 

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” 

He laughs again and herds you out the back room when he’s finished cleaning up, keys jangling in his fist. “Shouldn’t I pay—”

“Nope. You’ll do that when it’s done. Should just need one more session.” 

“Joel really—” 

But you’re already out on the street, the door firmly closed behind you. You watch him lock up and then gesture you down the street with a jerk of his head. It’s dark outside, the sky still tinged with dark blue on the horizon. The road smells like heat and rain, like damp dust and lightning. 

“You really ain’t gonna tell me what other tattoos you got?” 

“You really ain’t gonna let me pay?” You ask, imitating the gruff cut of his voice. 

He rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine.” He walks away, leading you down the street, light from the streetlamps cartwheeling over his face, throwing his jaw and eyes into sharp relief and then plunging him into shadow. “C’mon now. You need somethin’ in you.” 

You’ve never ventured into the center of town after dark. You’re always at home long before that, curled on your balcony with something to read. 

Cicadas light the air with sound, the crisscross of wired lights spear butter yellow onto the pavement below where a bar is serving drinks and a local food truck still idles. 

Someone has set up a speaker that folks twirl each other around to, old country music, the good kind. Others park themselves on benches, chatting and eating. It’s nice. 

It makes you feel incredibly lonely, reminded of all the gaps in your life, all the places people should be, all the places love and familiarity should be. 

Before you can sink into that mire, Joel’s guiding you into line with a careful hand against your back. 

His palm is broad and warm, heating you from the inside out. It rivals the warmth pulsing around you, the leftover heat of the day leaching into you. 

“What d’ya want?” 

“Shouldn’t I get you something?” You offer. “You worked all day, I just laid there.” 

“I drew a nice picture,” he retorts. “You lost blood. Pick somethin’ sugary.”

“Bossy,” you comment, feeling alight with nerves as his fingers flex against your spine. 

“Mhm, that’s what Sarah and Ellie are always sayin’.” 

You glance at him—at the rough cut of his jaw, the thick tendon in his throat—and swallow, nerves pinching at your belly in a way you haven’t felt in a very long time. You press back, so his hand rests more firmly against your back and hope he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, just humors you by tracing his hand up and down your spine. “Maybe they’re onto something then.” 

“Definitely are.” He glances back down at you, “Pick somethin’ yet?” 

You look over the menu as the line inches forward, and pick something to drink. Something sugary, as Joel had demanded. 

But when he orders he makes a show of not letting you pay and ordering something for you to eat too. 

“You should after sittin’ for as long as you did,” he argues when you settle at one of the picnic tables. “You don’t gotta, just thought I’d offer it.” 

You and Joel face each other, one leg on either side of the bench, knees brushing. With each tiny touch, lightning zings up your spine, settles in amongst your bones and blood. You have a feeling you could lie all the bones and blood and viscera of yourself right at Joel’s feet and he wouldn’t so much as flinch. 

“Right,” you say, picking at one of the tacos he’d ordered. “I can see why you have such nice reviews on google if you’re taking your clients out on your dime after tattooing them.” 

“I wouldn’t say you’re that,” he scoffs.  

“Mm,” you nod, not sure exactly what he means by that. “What does that make me then?” 

You glance up at him and Joel just stares at you for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. “You really not gonna tell me about your other tattoos?” He ignores your question to go back to his own. 

“Nope,” you take a sip of the lemonade you’d ordered. Despite what you said to Joel, you are exhausted, muscles still trembling in little starts, and the sugar does help. “But you can guess.” 

You know he won’t try to guess. He’s too gentlemanly, too mindful of his manners to go around pointing at body parts and guessing if there might be something inked there. 

Joel raises a brow, taking a bite of his own taco. “Are you using my manners against me?” 

You shrug, smiling. “Maybe.” 

“That ain’t playin’ fair,” he accuses, leaning in, the inside of his jean clad thigh brushing against the outside of yours. Your belly clenches, the center of you suddenly aching. 

“Who said anything about fair?” You manage. “Do you have any hidden tattoos?” 

He shakes his head and glances briefly up, like he’s asking for patience from the stars. But he doesn’t answer your question. 

It makes you smile. “Fine, you can keep yours a secret. I won’t pry,” you tease. 

“Mhm,” he grumbles again, ignoring your jibe. “You’re mighty brave tonight.” 

And suddenly your teasing feels dangerous, falls flat against the stone shore of Joel. The air seems to go frosty, a shiver raking down your spine as you shuffle back a little, suddenly aware of how close you are, how very brave you’ve been. You aren’t sure when Joel started to feel familiar to you. 

Since you first met him, you suppose. You’ve carved out a place on that rocky shore whether he wanted you to or not. 

“Sorry,” you say, starting to stand, thinking of how annoying you must have been all evening, all day, every single day you’ve taken up his time. You let him comfort you, plied him with trauma you’ve barely touched yourself, let him buy you something to eat against your better judgment when clearly it’s his manners that made him do so. “Don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ll message Ellie to figure out the second session. Thanks for everything. You didn’t have to—”

“Your hip,” Joel says, curling his hand around your wrist so you can’t move any further away than you already have. You pause, your mind spinning as he clutches you gently. 

His voice is steady, like you’re a spooked animal that might dart away at any moment. 

“What?” 

“I bet you one of your other tattoos is on your hip,” he drawls. 

He squeezes your wrist again, now familiar and comforting. You fight the urge to pull your hand away, and instead let the feeling of his skin sink into yours, no cheap plastic gloves separating you now. You can properly feel the calluses on his fingertips, the catch of them against your skin, the soft center of his palm and the lines carved into his skin. 

“No,” you lower yourself to the bench again, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “None on my hip.” 

“How many other one’s you got?” His hand stays around yours. 

“Two, not including my new one,” you say, laying a hand over the ink, your skin warm under your hand. “That’s my prettiest one, for sure. And it’s not even done.”

Joel ignores your compliment entirely, like he always seems to. His eyes rove over you, trying to guess the places you were inked, trying to picture it you would guess. It makes you squirm, the thought of him trying to imagine your bare skin, all the hidden places you might be tattooed.

He nods, his gaze heavy on you. 

“I’ll just have to keep guessin’ then,” he says, taking a long sip from your cup of lemonade. 

You glance away and bite the inside of your cheek. “You’ll be guessing a long time, I think.” 

“I’ve got time.” He releases your arm when you start to squirm under his attention, chest burning, lungs compressed into too small a space. Your chest doesn’t seem large enough to contain the feelings beating to life in your heart. “So long as you keep comin’ by.” 

A smile pulls at your mouth again, feeling unreasonably charmed. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you what they are, but not where they are.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to,” he says, even as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, mustache twitching, like this concession is the only thing he’s ever wanted for. 

“One is a honeybee,” you answer. “The other is antlers.” 

Joel goes still and doesn’t say anything for a moment. “A bee?” He asks, like he’s never heard of the creature before. “And…antlers. Like a deer?”

“Yeah, like a deer. With flowers and vines and moss all tangled around it.”

“Huh.” 

“What? Don’t like deer?” You smile. “Funny isn't it? You’ve been drawing them a lot the past few months.” 

He eyes you and then shakes his head, “Don’t like ‘em? Jesus Christ, no. I think I’m gettin’ to be real partial to deer.” 

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of Y/N, swearing, dancer!reader, fluff

He was terrified, but not terrified enough to deny that you held his very life in your hands. Zoro didn’t mind that, not at all; you were gentle and funny and lovely and kinder than he deserved. Yet, you were real, as he often was reminded when you carded your hands through his hair with a little laugh and a mumbled, “Dumbass.”

No, Roronoa Zoro was terrified of how much he’d grown accustomed to your entire being.

It was also mildly frightening that you knew fully well just what he would do for you. Zoro admitted, he never tried very hard to hide it, not after your quiet little confession of affection some months ago, under the starlit sky, the wind brushing your hair away to reveal your face.

He’d been yours long before then, but only now he didn’t care to hide his adoring stares and relished in the little way you hooked your pinky with his when you were nervous. How your eyes searched him out when you entered a room. How your kisses grew from shy to ravenous as your relationship progressed.

It was safe to say he was certain you were as infatuated as he was, if not more, though that was a heated topic of debate between the pair of you (“There’s no way you love me more than I love you.” “Wanna bet?” “Zo, I literally took a bullet for you.” “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to bring that up… Why the fuck—!”)

A grin ghosted over Zoro’s face at the memory, and how you’d just laughed as he scolded your reckless affection. His grin grew to a smile before he could cool his expression, and then the warmth of your palm was cupping his jaw, drawing his face closer to yours. 

In the low light of the tavern, he swore you glowed. Or maybe it was the three shots of vodka in your system. Either way, you were an angel if Zoro ever knew one. An angel who blessed him with your touch and your teasing little smirk as you asked, “What’s got you smiling?”

“You,” he replied like a reflex. Leaning into your touch, he cast a look around the tavern, scoping out your other crewmates for signs of disturbance. Luffy and Usopp were at the bar, Nami was swindling a woman at the booth across from yours, and Sanji was charming up a brunette in the corner. None of the other patrons minded your crew, so Zoro allowed his shoulders to lose just a bit of their tension, and his hand drifted from his sword to your hand, tugging on it gently to urge you to sit beside him instead of across.

Giddy, you jumped up and hurried to his side, sliding in till your thigh was flush with his. Zoro’s body warmed as you leaned into him, not caring to ask as you took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder, gazing up at him softly. Your comfortability filled him with confidence; how you moved with such familiarity in his presence, and how it contrasted from when you first met—it was enough to make his ribs crack just to have room for his rapidly expanding heart.

“Good answer,” you teased. You reached up to card your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp and smirking wider as he grunted and closed his eyes. “Tired?”

Zoro huffed a laugh. “No.” 

It was your turn to reminisce, watching as your swordsman melted before you, guard nowhere to be seen. Yours. Never would you have thought you’d actually get to call him that, but here you were, after all the odds and barriers of character.

You particularly enjoyed how he looked just now, eyes closed as you gazed up at him. Once upon a time, Zoro would whip around to make sure you never stood at his back, always ensuring you were nowhere near his blindspot. Now, you mused, he often slept with his back to your chest, your fingers trailing shivers up and down his arms. 

Now, his dead eyed gaze didn’t instill you with paralytic nerves; you knew he was more bark than bite, at least with you. 

Your dumbass.

“Oi, Y/N!” called Usopp, who had moved from the bar to the wide open space many used as a dance floor. The band of various instruments played a whimsical tune, the rhythm causing your knee to bounce in time.

You raised your brows. “Yep?”

Luffy wrung an arm around Usopp and laughed like a lunatic. “Come dance!”

Your eyes were droopy and honestly, you just wanted some sleep—but who were you to deny your captain? Besides, weren’t you the Strawhats’ resident deathly little dancer? 

Casting your boyfriend a look only to find him pursing his lips, you giggled and kissed his frown away, escaping the booth in his brief surprise.

Zoro watched as you leapt to your feet and practically floated with the grace in your steps. As much as Zoro trained and as hard as he tried, he’d never been as graceful with a sword as you were now. Somehow, that made him love you more.

A fiddle and drum, a flute and dulcimer—from what Zoro could tell with his limited knowledge, the music was exactly your style. A lively sort of sound. 

And as the music blossomed anew, Zoro spotted that tell tale sparkle in your eye; you had something up your sleeve, per usual, and as your toes started to tap against the ground he knew you’d be amazing, per usual. 

Luffy’s enthusiasm drew attention, and soon enough a crowd had formed.

You clapped your hands in a steady rhythm, twirling around in the middle of a circle of people, their gazes trapped by your every move. The crowd soon mimicked your clapping. From the front of the circle, Luffy and Usopp cheered louder than the rest.

Zoro leaned this way and that to keep his eyes locked on you, but it became increasingly difficult as you drew them near like moths to a dancing flame.

With an arabesque leading into a balancé, you glanced over your shoulder and caught Zoro’s eye through the people. His heart stuttered.

You laughed, pure joy in your lungs, and shifted your style from more classical to something looser. You twirled and curved your arms in an “S” shape before pointing your foot and scraping it in the dirt in a wide Rond de Jambe. The movement was swift and agile as you continued to follow the flow of the music, completely in your element. 

Mind elsewhere, Zoro hardly realized he’d stood up, not until he had forced his way through the crowd and stopped between Luffy and Usopp. The clapping all around him was deafening, only made worse by the sweet torture of your laugh. 

Again, your eyes locked him in place as you swept toward him, only to take Luffy by the hands and twirl him around with you. Zoro scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, unable as ever to hide the smirk tugging at his face. 

A giggle left you as Zoro’s face got lost in the whirl of your surroundings. You started a swing dance with Luffy, releasing him a second later to drag a newly approached Nami into the fun.

Your head spun and your feet ached—yet you would never feel happier than when you danced with your friends.

Well, you might’ve been a bit happier when dancing with your special green haired friend, but you knew him well. If you were to drag Zoro into the circle and dance him into the ground in front of all these people, he’d be compliant, but less than pleased.

No. When you danced with Zoro, it wasn’t like this; it was slow and steady, to the rhythm of nothing but the sea. It was deep in the belly of the Going Merry, when the crew was fast asleep, and the moon hung high. When you had the world to yourselves, and could sway in the hold of the other without interruption.

It was simple and plain, but it held a very special place in your heart.

Nami let you spin her around, rolling her eyes before she yelped as you pulled her in and dipped her low. She snorted into a laugh and stumbled a bit, grabbing your arms to keep you from whirling her around again.

Shooting her a wink as she all but ran back to the bar, you danced on light feet once more, starting up a roar of steady clapping. 

Your swordsman stood in awe, his eyes desperate to catch as much of your radiance as he could, like you'd disappear at any moment. He always believed good things never last, but he’d die before he let this one end. Because you were Zoro’s best thing, and he refused to grow a similar policy surrounding best things.

So when you had spun off your balance and teetered off your feet, he was there, his arms scooping under yours and catching you against his chest. Out of breath, you looked up and found his eyes, letting the rest of your weight lean into him as he stood a steady post. 

“Hey,” you giggled. 

“Hi.” Zoro tilted his head. “Ready?”

You were back on your own feet in an instant, thoughts of a warm bed more enticing than dancing through to dawn. So you took his hand and beelined through the crowd, shoving your way through and dragging Zoro along. You winded up collecting Nami by the door, and waited up for Sanji too. The navigator and chef yawned in time, their eyes droopy.

You were no better, your steps lazy as you mindlessly followed after Zoro and the others. It felt as if you’d blinked and you were back on the Merry, gazing up at Zoro who only nudged you with his shoulder. “You up?”

You grunted in reply and promptly led the way to your shared cabin, throwing open the door and letting go of his hand. You plopped into the blankets and at once felt yourself melt into them. The bed dipped a second later. Rolling over, you grinned up at your boyfriend, finding him with his brows met.

“Gonna take off your shoes?” he asked, though it sounded more like an order. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you huffed, lugging yourself back up to undo your laces and rip the offending apparel off. You turned to find him under the blanket, holding up one end to make you room, and you settled in beside him. Your head found its natural place on his chest, sleep just on the other side of the mental door, so to speak.

Lost in thought, you barely registered the words spilling from your lips. “I love you.”

It felt natural, like a breath you needed to survive. You wanted to say it again, then once more, and maybe again just for good measure. 

Zoro stiffened, his face going an embarrassing shade of red, and he was grateful you weren’t able to see it from your place tucked against his side. He barely even breathed, wondering how much time had really passed since you’d uttered those worldbreaking words. It must’ve been longer than a few minutes; you were fast asleep, none the wiser. 

He swallowed thickly and sank deeper into the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He’d deal with figuring out how to say it back in the morning, and decide whether it’ll be the full truth some time later. Or, that was the plan anyhow.

Zoro really couldn’t hold back how you consumed his thoughts—his deathly dancer—and he could deny it all he wanted, but Roronoa Zoro had fallen in love, and apparently, you had as well.

The swordsman grinned, pressing a kiss to your hairline and forcing his eyes shut. How he got so lucky to have you love him, he had no clue. All he knew was you made his life a sweet kind of complicated, and he wouldn’t want you any other way.

#zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa #opla x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #one piece #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action zoro #one piece live action #zoro x you #zoro x yn #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #reader insert #fem reader #female reader

[cc--2224]

I Told You So

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Tech realizes that you are more precious to him than he originally thought, and though he is upset that you didn’t listen to him, he is more upset that he nearly lost you. And he intends to finally do something about it.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Slight canon typical violence and mentions of injuries in whatever plot this has, smut; oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!), porn with feelings, possessive Tech, slight praise kink? language

Notes: I don’t know where this came from, it has been a minute since I’ve written anything remotely spicy let alone an actual smut fic. But please let me know what you think!

Word Count: 5.5k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Edit: Thank you all for the likes and reblogs!! I hope you enjoyed it 💚

"It is unwise for any of us to go out on our own, we should be working in teams of two." Tech pointed out as you were gearing up for your mission. You were to locate and rescue a Republic senator who had been imprisoned by the Separatists and bring them back to Coruscant.

"There's an odd number, we can't go in teams of two." You pointed out. "I can handle myself, I don't want to divide your squad." 

Ever since you had teamed up with Clone Force 99, you had gotten to know them well, but you still felt like an outsider. In some ways, you were, but you never really felt like one of the team. It wasn't uncommon for you to be the odd one out for teamwork, and to you, this was no different.

In truth, you had always hoped to be partnered with Tech when you were given the briefing, but his talents were more complementary with one of his brothers. Ever since you met him, you were drawn to him, his brains, his demeanor, the way he lit up when speaking about something that interested him which ended up being nearly everything. He was handsome and skilled, and he welcomed you into the squad immediately, over the following months, you began developing feelings for him.

It never hindered your performance on missions, not only because you were never paired up with him, but you were good at compartmentalizing your feelings from your work. You wanted to get closer to him, but there never seemed to be a good time, and even if there was, you just didn't know how to bridge the gap. 

"You can join Crosshair and myself, it will be safe for you." He suggested.

"We'll cover more ground in three groups. I'll be fine, I doubt there are even going to be any platoons that far out." 

Tech shrugged, "Suit yourself. I will send you the coordinates for our rendezvous point. Keep your comm on."

You nodded and left the Marauder with your equipment. 

You had no idea that this mission would be more dangerous than many you had encountered, but Tech knew, he always did.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, you saw a clear path straight through to the compound where you suspected the senator was held. It seemed a little too good to be true, there should have been droids out here, not full platoons, but someone keeping watch. 

You drew your blaster to be safe, and crept onward, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. You could hear chatter over the comms of the others checking in with each other, and then you heard Tech say your name. 

“All clear. As I said.” 

Tech didn’t reply and you lowered the volume on your comm, still keeping it on, but not wanting to draw attention to yourself. 

You had made it about halfway through the clearing when you saw blaster fire strike about ten paces to your left. You looked up, trying to see where it came from when you saw a platoon of B1s headed your way. 

“Easy work.” You mumbled to yourself, aiming your blaster forward, shooting them as they neared you. 

It was easy work at first, but there didn’t seem to be an end to them. When you’d shoot one, two more would appear, and before you could even disable a squadron of them, a tank appeared over the horizon. 

“Kriff.” You said. 

You considered calling for backup, but your pride couldn’t handle Tech telling you that he told you so, so instead you took a grenade out of your pack and threw it toward the platoon. It didn’t seem to damage the tank, but it at least got rid of the marching battle droids.

If you had raised your comm to ask for help, you would have heard Hunter say that the target was secure, and call for everyone to return to the ship, but you were the only one who didn’t check in. 

“Tech, Crosshair, you two go find her. Wrecker and I will bring the senator back to the ship.” Hunter told them. 

They left their post and headed to your last known location.

“Why didn’t she just join our team?” Crosshair finally asked.

“I did suggest it, but due to her stubborn nature, she was certain she would be fine on her own.” Tech’s tone indicated his annoyance. He wanted to be as annoyed as he sounded, but more than anything he was worried. 

He liked having you around, you were always willing to listen to him prattle on about whatever topic was on his mind. You were kind, you treated him and his brothers well. The idea that you could be taken from them had never crossed his mind until now. Unlike you, he had no idea of the way he felt about you. He had rarely had feelings for anyone before, he didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. All he knew was that he didn’t want to sit through a briefing without you, or ramble on about some useless topic without you intently listening, and he didn’t want your last conversation to be the last conversation. He didn’t want to be right about this one thing. 

When they saw the explosion in the distance, he began to fear he was right.

The tank fired toward you, it missed its mark and you were able to avoid a direct hit, but the explosion was just a little too close. You were sent flying back from the shock wave, and you could hear buzzing in your ear before everything went black.

If you hadn't gone out on your own, someone could have been looking out for you. Tech could have been looking out for you, just as he insisted upon.

But instead, you were so certain you could handle yourself that you had gotten yourself in trouble.

You woke up in your bunk, bandaged and sore, but still alive. You didn’t know what happened, and you weren’t exactly eager to find out, but you knew you had to face everyone eventually.

Wrecker smiled at you when you walked into the cockpit, “Well look who’s finally awake!”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, instead looking at the back of Tech’s chair. 

You heard a sigh, and then Tech turned his chair around, eyeing you up and down.

“Something you need to say?” He finally asked.

“What happened with the mission?”

Hunter spoke, “Got the senator. We’ll be arriving on Coruscant shortly.”

Had you really been asleep that long?

"I told you you should not have gone on your own." It seemed Tech was tired of the small talk.

You looked at him, unsure of what he wanted you to say. “I was just doing my part of the mission, nothing I did was out of line. I didn't know there would be that many droids on the outskirts." It was a losing argument, and one you'd rather not have in the cockpit of the Marauder in front of everyone, but Tech didn't seem interested in anything but the argument.

"Precisely. If you had gone with Crosshair and I, you would not have encountered those droids. And now you are injured because of your own mistake." He had raised his voice, something you’d never heard him do.

You flinched slightly at his words but he continued, “What happened to keeping your comm on? We were trying to reach you.”

“My comm was on!” You retorted, “Just turned it down so I wouldn’t be spotted.”

“Yes well, a lot of good that did you.” He responded sarcastically. “We might not be there to save you next time. Keep that in mind before you choose to do something so reckless.” He turned away from you, facing the front again.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the back of the chair, "I didn’t ask to be saved, in fact I’d rather be back there with the droids. Maybe then-"

Hunter cut into your argument. "That is enough, both of you." 

He looked at you with his eyebrows knit together, "Go lay down, rest is going to help your injuries, arguing is not."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, you turned and went to your bunk.

After you were out of earshot, Hunter spoke to Tech.

"What was that about? You can't just yell at her, she got hurt, she learned her lesson already."

"As I have mentioned, she would not have-"

"Stow it. We all know what's going on between you, even if you don't. You need to figure it out before your next outburst." Hunter turned in his chair to face the front of the ship again. Tech looked on at the dancing lights of hyperspace.

Tech didn’t speak to you for the next week. The five of you were granted time off after saving the senator and you had all decided to spend it on Coruscant, but with the tension in the ship, it didn’t seem like much of a vacation.

You knew that all you had to do was apologize, but you didn’t feel like you did anything wrong. 

You knew the others were getting tired of yours and Tech’s attitudes; they all knew that it was more than just the mission. They knew about your feelings for each other, and they knew how worried Tech had been as he treated your wounds and bandaged you up. 

The only thing they could do was to force a resolution.

“Okay, we’ve had enough.” Hunter said loud enough for both you and Tech to hear at opposite ends of the ship. “We’re all going out. And that includes the two of you.” 

He slammed down a flyer he had found for a gondola ride through the upper levels, complete with all the sights Coruscant had to offer. 

“Is that really necessary?” You asked, glancing at Tech from the corner of your eye. You couldn’t think of anything less beneficial than the five of you being cramped together in a confined space you couldn’t leave.

“It isn’t a request.” Hunter informed you. 

You sighed and left the ship, followed by the others, and finally Tech, and you made your way to the park where the dock was located.

The five of you slowly arrived at the front of the queue, and when it was your turn, you were shoved into a gondola along with Tech. None of the other batchers joined you, but before you thought to exit, the vessel's door had closed and you were moving. 

You sat down on the bench across from Tech, still avoiding eye contact by looking out the window, arms crossed. 

Tech still kept his silence. Even a week later, he was still considering Hunter's words. Was there something between him and you? He knew he didn’t want to lose you, but that was completely normal, wasn't it? And even if it wasn’t normal, that doesn’t mean whatever he felt was reciprocated. But if you did return his feelings, he knew this might be one of the only chances he had to act on it, to tell you how he felt.

When the gondola had reached nearly the top of the track, the view overlooking the Jedi temple, he sighed and finally looked at you. 

"You see, I... I felt responsible for your injuries."

"You felt responsible?" You repeated after a pause. "Wasn't it my fault that I got injured? For not following your oh-so-wise plan?" 

You were acting petulant, but your emotions were still running high and the confined space didn't help.

"Well yes, if you had done as I suggested, you would have been free from injury."

"Right, because you know everything."

"Crosshair and I left with zero injuries. So yes, this I know to be fact." 

"Do you really have to say 'I told you so'? I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I got hurt because I didn't l-"

You didn't have time to react before you felt Tech's lips upon yours. One hand was on the side of your face and the other was digging into your waist.

The vessel rocked slightly at his movement, causing you to grip onto the bench. Your eyes were still wide at the sudden contact, but when he didn't back away, you closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, moving your hands to place them on his chest. 

He stopped to take a breath, his lips still hovering tantalizingly close over yours, breathing you in, committing your perfumed smell to memory.

You closed the gap this time when you decided he had enough time to catch his breath.

His tongue darted out and swiped across your lip, asking for access to explore. You allowed it, moaning into his mouth when you felt his tongue against yours. 

In one swift movement, he sat on the bench and pulled you into his lap, resuming the kiss once you had situated yourself. 

Your hands moved up, resting on his shoulders briefly before snaking your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. You could feel his strong hands massaging your thighs before resting on your ass, testing the waters by giving it a squeeze, you bucked your hips slightly in response. 

You could feel a coiling sensation in your stomach, a heat pulsing through you, and pooling out onto your panties. You wanted him, and you could feel based on his actions and the stiff bulge in his pants that he wanted you just as badly.

He broke the kiss, and moved his head back, causing you to chase after his kiss. He put a finger to your lips and smirked.

"You must be patient, the gondola ride is near the end of its course, and I still have more to say about the mission." 

You frowned in protest, feeling all that heat suddenly dissipate as he gently pushed you off of him.

"Not to worry, the Marauder is nearby, no one else will be there and we can continue our conversation there, if that is what you want."

You nodded in agreement.

"I apologize, but I will need to hear an answer before I can comply."

"Yes, I want that." You said too quickly, trying and failing to not sound too desperate.

He smirked again. "Good girl. You and I still have much to discuss."

You whined slightly at his praise, then waited for the door to open as you neared the dock.

After disembarking, Tech grabbed your hand, pushing past the people exiting their respective vessels. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair were nearby, but you didn't see them as Tech ushered you back toward the landing port.

"I guess they finally talked about it." Wrecker had said, staring wide-eyed after you two.

"We should probably give them some privacy so they can talk more." Hunter shook his head, smirking toward the ground.

"Just as long as they don't talk in my bunk." Crosshair said as he crossed his arms.

The door to the Marauder wooshed open, and the two of you hurried on board. Tech was back on you before it could close again.

He pushed you back into the wall, pinning you there as he kissed you. Placing hot kisses on your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could.

"Do you realize how worried I was when I saw you?" He asked between kisses. "When I heard the explosion, when I rushed over only to find your body on the ground?"

He stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes, "I thought I lost you before you were even mine to lose."

"Tech.." You tried to move a hand from his grip to place it on his face, but he tightened his hold on it. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not want your apologies.” He told you, “I want you by my side, I want you to be safe. I…” He kissed you again, this time more roughly, eliciting a moan from you again. “I want you to be mine.”

Behind his goggles, his pupils were dilated, his eyes half-lidded.

The coiling feeling returned. Your stomach was in knots. You had never seen Tech like this before, you hadn’t seen him behave so possessively, and you wanted to see more of it.

"Then make me yours." You said, only a whisper. “I want to be yours.”

His mouth found yours again, not bothering to ask you to give his tongue space to enter but instead forcing it past your lips. His knee slotted itself between your legs, close enough to tease you, but not close enough to give you friction where you desired it most. You bucked your hips trying to find it on your own, and he smiled into the kiss.

"What do you want, mesh’la?" He asked you.

You bucked again in response. He removed one hand from yours and brought it down, pushing your hips back against the wall so you couldn't move them again.

"I told you, I need to hear your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I-I need you."

"Then I should not keep you waiting."

He let go of your hip, and with the hand that was still holding yours above you, he guided you over toward the console.

"Here?" You asked.

"Well, of course." He guided your hips downward so that you were seated. "I cannot help but think about how pretty you would look while I fucked you right on the console of my ship."

You let out an involuntary moan at just his words alone.

He caressed the side of your face, and with a feather-light stroke across your jaw, he tilted your chin up to meet your gaze. Despite his words just a moment ago, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips once more, and his hand slowly traveled down your neck, over your breast, down your stomach, and rested at the hem of your shirt.

He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly and he pulled your shirt up over your head. He tossed it onto the seat behind him and then looked at you, admiring the newly uncovered parts of you.

"Beautiful." He whispered. Out of everything done so far, this one word was enough to make you blush, you tried to turn your head away but he stopped you.

Leaning down over you, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your collarbone, trailing down to your breasts, still obstructed by your bra. His lips kissed the top of one, while his hand held the other over the fabric. You reached behind your back and unclasped it, giving him access to another part of you where you wanted to feel his touch.

He tutted quietly. "I could have done that myself."

You rolled your eyes jokingly and he resumed allowing his lips to explore your skin, now alternating between kissing and sucking. And where his lips weren't, his hands were. Squeezing the flesh, thumbing over your nipple while his mouth worked on the other.

Soon, he continued his exploration, and as he neared your stomach, he lowered himself down until he was kneeling between your thighs.

His gaze was hungry as it focused on your center, his lips formed a tight line, holding his mouth closed to prevent his tongue from hanging out.

His hands were on your knees, he trailed them up your thighs, stopping at the waistband of your pants, once again looking up at you to ask your permission. You situated yourself to make it easier for him to remove them, and soon they too were discarded, thrown back toward the pilot chair. His hands were back on your thighs, prodding the soft skin, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on each of them, sucking them enough to leave marks.

You whined, both at the sensation of him marking your legs, but also at the lack of sensation where you really wanted him to be.

He smirked up at you, and then spread your legs further apart, slowly moving his face toward your aching cunt. He could see how turned on you were, and he licked his lips before speaking.

"Stars, you appear to be soaked."

"Mmhm." Was all you could manage, all your attention was on the fact that he was inches away from giving you the friction you needed.

"Cyar'ika.." He scolded. "Words. You need something of me, what is it?"

"I... I just need you, I need your mouth, your fingers, your cock, I-I need to feel you." Your desperate words turned his gaze dark.

"Good girl, telling me everything you want," his praise caused you to squirm, trying to close your thighs just to feel friction, but he held them open.

"You enjoy it when I call you that?"

"Gods, yes." You moaned.

He hummed in response, keeping that knowledge filed away.

He finally pressed his face forward, nose rubbing against your clothed pussy. You whined in response. He dragged the tip of his nose upward, knowing exactly where you wanted to be touched, and he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, relishing in your whines and pleas for him to finally take them off of you, and soon he relented, letting them join the rest of your clothes before he dove in.

He ate you like a man starved, licking you through your folds, tasting as much of you as he could.

"G-ah, fuck, Tech," you cried out, your hands reaching for his hair. The feeling of your hands gripping his hair causing him to groan.

His lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking it and circling his tongue around it. He could feel you squirming at his touch and he reached one hand up, resting it on your hips, hoping to help anchor your.

With his other hand, he circled your entrance, teasing you, making you beg him to touch you before he obliged.

He slid one long finger into you as far as he could, pressing against the spongy walls, exactly where you needed to feel him.

He let go of your clit and let his tongue run up and down your folds, getting another taste of your juices.

"M-mmo-" You began to say, being cut off by the feeling of his tongue making another swipe up.

"My apologies, you will have to repeat yourself." He looked up at you, his face slick with your arousal.

"More, I need more."

He raised an eyebrow and plunged another finger into you. Your head rolled back and you cried out.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes!"

Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face back into you. His hot breath fanned against your cunt and you sighed in contentment.

"Gods, you are a needy thing." His purred, his voice vibrated against you as he attached himself to your clit again.

He sucked on you while his fingers made scissor patterns inside you, all the while you could feel the coil start to tighten.

"I'm close-" You cried out. He didn't change anything about his rhythm. He strived to get you there, he was eager to please you after he had been so harsh toward you earlier. His tongue circled your clit and he could feel you pulsing around his fingers.

You could feel the heat growing in your stomach, your moans got louder as you got closer. He slid his fingers out, and before you could complain about the loss, you felt his tongue swiping up and down before dipping inside you. His fingers resumed drawing circles on your clit as he drank from you.

Your thighs clenched together, forcing him to stay exactly where he was, you muttered out a string of curses as the coil finally snapped and you cried his name as you came undone. He kept lapping at you until you were through.

You released your hold on his hair and he stood back up.

"You taste magnificent," He smirked, licking your arousal off his fingers before his mouth found yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he leaned you back onto the console. You shuddered when you felt his stiffened cock press against you. His hands began grabbing at your breasts and your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in.

"You are perfect." He said as he began kissing every piece of you he could. He locked onto your neck, he kissed you fervently, then gently bit down, giving you a mark that would be difficult to hide from the others, not that they didn’t already have an idea of what was going on here. But that’s what Tech wanted, he wanted to show everyone that you were his. 

"Tech.." You said quietly,

"Mm?"

"I want to see you." You pushed yourself back up onto your elbows and looked into his eyes.

For a moment, just for a moment, he froze, but soon enough, his hands moved to the fastener on his pants.

"Let me do that."

He smirked and helped you off the console gently.

You worked on the buttons on his shirt first, unbuttoning them slowly, placing gentle kisses on his chest as each loose button reveals it to you.

He tilted your chin up and leaned in for a kiss, pressing against you. You could feel his stiff bulge press into you again and your hands moved faster to unbutton his shirt.

You pushed it off his shoulders when it's finally unbuttoned, and you looked at his toned chest. You knew he'd be strong but it was still a surprise to you. Your fingers danced across his torso, feeling the muscles under his smooth skin, before finally landing on the fastener of his pants.

You look up at him, just as he did for you, asking for his permission. He pressed his forehead against yours in response, you smiled and kissed his lips, then moved to undo the fastening. He helped you to slide his pants off, and he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side.

You could see the outline of his cock much clearer against his briefs and you could feel your mouth water, you clenched your thighs together, not wanting to wait to feel it inside of you. He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You desire it so badly?" He asked you, forcing your gaze away from it and back up to him.

You nod quickly, "Yes."

He smiled then rutted his hips against you, "Then please, continue."

Your hands moved to the waistband of his briefs, he moved his lips to yours again and you returned the kiss before kissing along his jaw, then his neck. You peeled the waistband down and he hissed as his briefs grazed across his cock. They had soon joined the rest of the clothes and you looked down.

You bit your bottom lip and you started to lower yourself down but he stopped you. You gave him a confused look, and he smirked.

"There will be plenty of time for that at a later time. But for now,"

He continued by guiding you back onto the console, laying your back down and he stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," you assured him.

You felt his cock rub against your folds, before he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Ready?" He asked.

You bucked your hips in response and he pushed himself in without another word.

You arched your back as you felt him stretch you open, if there was any pain, it quickly turned into pleasure as he buried himself in you inch by inch.

When he was fully sheathed, he gave you a moment to adjust before he started to move. He started out slow, he made sure that you were used to the feeling of his thrusts before he picked up the pace.

"Gods, you are taking me so well, cyar'ika."

You replied with a moan. You bucked your hips to meet his pace and he smirked.

"Is there something you want?"

"Mmm p-please, go fas-faster" you answered between thrusts.

"Very well," He obliged, his hands gripped onto your thighs and he buried himself again, quickening his pace at your request. He looked at you as you took his cock, the way your back arched, how your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your face contorted in pleasure.

He tightened his grip on your thighs, you took that as a hint to wrap your legs around his waist and he moaned in response, feeling himself go even deeper inside you.

"You are so perfect, such a good girl for me." Your walls clenched around his cock at his praise.

He thrusted into you harder wanting to explore the new angle he was permitted.

“Fu-uck,” you whined.

"Is this okay?" He asked, unsure of if he was hurting you.

"Gods, yes!"

He set a brutal pace, but you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts each time.

Tech could feel himself nearing his climax, his pace started to become slightly more erratic. He slid one hand down your thigh toward your center. He circled your clit with his thumb, intending on sending you over the edge with him.

Your walls clenched around him again at the contact. You were getting close again. Your moans grew louder as you neared the edge.

"That's it," He said, he wanted to feel you come undone again. He continued circling your clit as he thrusted into you. "Be a good girl and come for me once more, come on my cock."

Your second orgasm crashed over you without as much of a warning as the first, your legs tightened around him, he slowed his thrusts down, helping you through it, and he moaned at how your walls constricted him. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Wh.. Where do you want me?" He asked.

"In-inside," you said, still overcoming the last of the waves of pleasure.

He didn't ask any further questions, he buried himself as far as he could before he stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with hot ropes of his seed.

He moaned out your name as he finished, feeling himself soften inside of you, he pulled himself out of you and you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, your tongue darting into his mouth.

He returned the kiss, holding you close to him, and his hands traveled across your thighs, before lifting you up from the console.

“I love you.” You told him, resting your head on his shoulder as he held you. “I think I always have, but… In case it still wasn’t obvious.”

He smiled and carried you toward the refresher, sitting you down on the counter when you arrived, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Perhaps it was not obvious over the last week, but now, I would have more questions if you did not.” He smiled at you, “I love you too. But next time, if I ask you to join me on a mission instead of going off on your own, please listen to me.”

“But look where it brought us.” You replied with a smirk.

“Perhaps that is true, but for your own information, you do not need to nearly get yourself killed in order for me to fuck you. You could have just asked.”

He grabbed a towel before he quickly left to retrieve your clothes and clean off the console. Tech soon returned to you and turned the water on, helping you off the counter and guiding you to the shower where he joined you. It didn’t take long for his lips to be on you once again. 

While it was your stubbornness that led you to this point in the first place, you were suddenly very eager to see what would happen on the next mission, should you and Tech finally be paired together.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #the clone wars #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb tech #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tech x reader #tech bad batch #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tech smut #the bad batch smut #bad batch smut #tbb tech x reader

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Epilogue

A/N: Hello! This is just a short little scene I thought would be sweet! Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and reblogs and a BIG THANK YOU for the astounding 130+ followers I gained from this series alone! You guys are wonderful!!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 665

Warnings: None! just fluff :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_____

“Come on- let us see..!” Sam urged as he tried to peer around the Soldier’s broad shoulders, only for your Star to turn his back on him again. Even Natasha was trying to get in on the fun and see her honorary niece. She had a mission to become the coolest aunt on the team and she had to start right away to get ahead of the others.

“No.” The Winter Soldier simply answered, easily side-stepping and maneuvering around their advances.

He was too busy staring down at your daughter Selene’s little sleeping face. He had barely wanted to give her up since she arrived a day ago and refused to let her go for anyone who was not yourself. You only smiled and shook your head. You knew he was just trying to soak up his time with her while he still could. 

But this time you didn’t feel sad as you knew the end of his time was drawing near. Your eyes did not pool with tears and your voice did not quiver because in the short weeks before your pregnancy came to a close you and Bucky had been talking. You wanted to see how he felt about maybe letting the Winter Soldier out a little more often, or perhaps just not pushing back quite as hard when he needed him. It didn’t have to be for days or weeks on end, but something to make sure he didn’t get lost in the background again, to make sure he knew he had people waiting for him. And while you and Bucky hadn’t actually gotten around to making a firm agreement you’d like to see him try to deny you after today. Between giving birth in a safe house and the heroic actions of the former assassin, you don’t think he’d have the heart to say no to your request.

“Y/n, tell your boyfriend I want to see the newest member of the team…” Sam turned to you with defeat written in his frown as he failed to get a good look. 

“And I need to become the cool aunt before Wanda gets a chance to show off her magic,” Natasha chimed in as she tried to fake him out- it didn’t work.

You held your hands up, “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands guys… You’ll just have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

“Wow… and here I thought we were friends,” Sam joked as he shook his head before going back in for a few more tries. 

“And to think I made you my famous pancakes…” 

You laughed as they were blocked at every turn, it honestly didn’t even look like the Soldier was trying too hard either. Still, Your heart shone rays of joy as you laid back in the comfy chair of the tower, enjoying the entertainment before you as you took your own time to soak up moments with your beloved star. 

On the way back from the safe house you had told him about the talks that you and Bucky had. You could see before he even said a word that he was beyond excited to know he would see both of you again. The way his eyes widened ever so slightly, the way the corners of his mouth fought beyond their better judgment to crack a smack smile, his expression said it all. You reminded him that nothing had been settled yet, but he couldn’t care less about that, he just had only one request:

“Yes, my star?”

He smiled, a little less awkward now as he gained practice, “Promise me you’ll take photos when I’m not there, okay?” he looked down at her as he spoke, his hopeful smile shining down as she lay in your arms, “Promise me that I’ll still get to be a part of every single moment, okay?”

Your heart melted and you smiled softly, “Of course, My Star… You’ll be with us every step of the way.”

_______

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@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@goldylions@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @hsllfirescoops

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#bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Girl Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ talks of sexuality, implied trauma, safe words, role reversal, breast worship, grinding, fingering (m!), ass play, rimming, prostate orgasm, some gender play, aftercare, porn w/o plot

One late night Astarion turned their conversation to a more sensual topic and was delighted to discover Tav lacked experience with men. Naturally he was more than happy to lend a hand...

-

"So you've never..." He smiled, laying on his side next to her, the faint miasma of wine around them.

"Never?" She asked, incredulous. "Astarion do you take me for a holy woman?" Smiling cheekily at him. "I thought you surface dwellers thought all Drow are insatiable."

"Well, are they?"

"No comment." She lifted her glass to her lips, sliding her eyes away from him mischievously.

They had been traveling together for a while now and had struck up a fast friendship. Her snarky words and wanton flirtation winning him over. Sharp tongue and sharper eyes.

She leaned back, thinking. "Its more that I've been mostly with women. Sure there was a man or two but they didn't make it far enough to make an impression. Didnt get far below the belt." She shrugged, waving her hand noncommittally.

Of course, in a matriarchal structure she would be more directed towards sapphic pursuits. She had explained that Drow men were not upheld to the most flattering light in her society.

"If you had to pick, in our camp-"

"Karlach," No hesitation. "Oh I'd climb her like a tree."

He blinked, an amused smile teasing the edge of his mouth. "Impeccable taste."

"I have been known to have a refined palate." She smirked.

"Honestly I'm curious but I'm just more comfortable with women, I know their bodies. I can navigate them even without eyes." She laughed.

Ah yes, the eyes. Those haunting eyes.

He had overheard her speaking to Wyll about their shared warlock experience. His, to a devil, to defend his city. Hers, to an eldritch being, to achieve the gift of sight. Tried to smother his frown at the easy energy between them, their instinctive bond.

Logically he knew he should feel this same way about Karlach, with her soft puppy eyes following Tav around camp. But he couldn't keep distaste in his heart for her. Not for long anyway. Wyll on the other hand...

Her demonic white eyes peering good naturedly into his now. He didnt know if he'd ever get used to how they pierced him. She savored every sight and while slightly intoxicating it made him squirm to be looked at so thoroughly.

"Well," He smiled. Leaning towards her conspiratorially. "If you're less experienced with men you could always practice..."

While he found himself enjoying her company, quite a lot if he was honest, he was still looking for an in. And here it was. Plopped in his lap, just a shared drink away.

"Oh please," She rolled her eyes. "My pickings out here are slim to none. Unless I get the sudden urge to get horizontal with a goblin."

"What about closer to camp?" Sliding a little nearer to her, his fingers almost touching the inside of her forearm.

"Astarion," She admonished, drawing out her words. "Wasting your advances? My neck is right here." Turned her head to make her point.

While he was distracted by her jumping pulse point he couldn't help the edge of frustration creeping up him.

He had been putting all of his honeyed words on her, all his soft tempting touches, and she would just dance them off with a light laugh.

She was a natural flirt but there was an air to her that she didn't take his advances to heart. Maybe she thought he was just like that with everyone. That it didn't mean anything.

Given that she was devastatingly beautiful he felt even more pressure to stake his claim. Their companions all circling her constantly. Gods she basically had to beat them away with a stick at the tiefling party.

"What if," He started, tracing his finger languidly up her wrist. "You practiced on me? You can touch me like you would a feminine lover, if that helps."

She sat up on elbows, head cocked slightly to the side, staring at him.

It was suddenly very quiet and he tried not to fidget, finger tracing figure eights into her soft flesh.

"And that wouldn't make you feel... uncomfortable?"

Honestly he hadn't thought that far ahead. This was a person he was free to bed on his own terms, of his own will. And he was rather fond of her. Though he was here with ulterior motives, that didnt mean he couldn't enjoy her company. He could do much worse.

"Oh what's a little exploration between friends..." Looked up at her through his lashes. "Or more than friends."

"I mean, if we're exploring I could get out the strap."

He had been mid drink and choked, sputtering as she laughed, patting hard into his back.

"I'm sorry, just teasing."

"I mean... are you offering?"

She crooked a bemused smile at him. "I think we would have to work up to that, Star. Let's see how the night goes first."

After dinner she gathered her bathing supplies, exchanging pleasantries with everyone as she retreated.

Blowing a cheeky kiss to Karlach as she rose. Her fire erupting in a burst, Gale having to dive off of the log they were sharing. A goofy smile all over her face.

He almost felt bad about what he was planning. She would be much more suited to the tiefling.

Well, it's just sex, it won't mean anything beyond each of their gain. Him, allegiance. Her, pleasure.

He walked on light feet, following her dark auburn hair. The gentle lull of her singing. Playing with the tones and words they had helped the bard Alfira stumble through.

"Moon, Sun, All remind me of your grace, Faith, Care, All the love I can't repay~"

Despite her light and playful demeanor her singing voice was full and haunting. A mournful cello calling out into the night.

He understood why Karlach basically begged her to sing for them around the fire when her little talent was discovered. She had waved her away, insisting that it wouldn't be worth their time. She'd much rather hear Halsin play. Then Halsin had urged her on, countering that he would only pluck a few strings if she joined.

"Fine, prepare to be underwhelmed." She had laughed.

Immediately they went quiet as she started, closing her eyes. He noticed she always closed them when she was concentrating, as if the added sense was too much.

They were enraptured listening to her, even Halsin almost stumbling through cords. Her voice spellbinding them all.

"Gods, Soldier. Are you part harpy?" Karlach hushed after she had fallen quiet.

She smiled, clearly embarrassed. A rare sight. She had an easy confidence, getting her flustered was a feat.

Now, he approached her stealthily at the edge of the river. Faced away, already waist deep, wringing water out of her long hair.

"Are you joining or just hoping for a show?" She smirked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He was about to scoff, how did she always hear him no matter how quiet he moved?

Seeing his annoyed posture, she smiled. "My ears are more attuned than most seeing people, dont take it personally."

"Noted. I would so enjoy sneaking up on you." He pantomimed, crouching down playfully.

"I bet you would, but you'll have to walk on a whisper to get past me." She winked, sinking down into the water to chest high. Turning to face him. Eyes alight with mischief.

It felt so easy with her. Their banter a practiced dance, the steps surefooted.

"So, are you still dreaming of sharing a night of pleasure?" He mused, pushing his hand on his lower back. A wicked smile on his lips.

She lowered further into the water, only eyes now. Staring at him through her lashes, serpentine. One hand emerging, beckoning him with a hooked finger.

He pulled his clothes off in a sensual show, leaving them in a neat pile next to hers.

As he began to wade in her head submerged. The night water too dark to make out her shape.

He stood in false absence in the water, chest high. Senses alight.

Fingers along his waist, exploring. He looked down and saw her murky shape against his torso.

She rose, chest to chest with him. Pushing her hair slick back over her head. So dark it looked black in the dim light.

"Well, well," He intoned, pulling a damp lock behind her shoulder. "Looks like I caught myself a siren."

"You do know what sirens do to beautiful creatures like you, right?" She cocked her head at him, arms coming up to drape over his shoulders.

Their eyes were level with eachother, nearly the same height. She had teased him mercilessly in camp when it was discovered that she was an inch or two taller.

It felt almost too intimate to be directly across from her, their faces mirrored.

"I'd be more worried for your neck than mine, darling." He purred, flashing her a fang baring smirk.

"Oh I dont know," She mused, pressing her body flush to his. "I think deadly things can be good bedfellows, dont you?"

She brushed her lips against his, pulling away teasingly. "You still want to do this little experiment?"

"I'd love nothing more." He snaked his hands around her waist. "Lead on."

At least he didn't have to do the work this time. Could just lay back and go somewhere else.

Some of his thoughts must have betrayed in his face cause she paused.

"Hey, I'm okay to postpone this. Indefinitely if needed." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft then, pulling away from him.

He grabbed her retreating wrist, leading her back into him.

"Tav, I need this." He hushed, the truth. Though maybe not with the intent she imagined.

She paused again. Gods it made him nervous when she got quiet. Her melodic voice usually floating around the air.

"Ground rules." She stated, her eyes serious. Waiting for his response.

He blinked. Honestly he had given his own boundaries very little, if any thought.

"You first." Stalling for time.

"Not okay with being restrained and I'd prefer if we had a safe word."

He nodded, this was new to him but he did appreciate the idea.

Scouring his mind for definite turn offs but found it difficult. He tried to not be present for most of it so it was hard to say with certainty.

"Dont touch my back or the bite. Also not into restraint. Or force."

She smiled and he felt proud that he had passed this little test.

"We can stop at any time, okay?"

"Naturally, darling. Though I doubt I'll be able to resist ravaging you, I'll behave."

"Those lines work on a lot of women, huh?" She teased, fingers trailing his cheek as she pulled closer.

He felt a slight tightness in his chest but gave her an easy smile. "Well you're here now, arent you darling?"

"True." She whispered, leaning in to kiss his jaw gently. "Though I could say I'm here in the spirit of research."

"And you'd be a liar, a terrible one at that."

She breathed a laugh against him. "You always need to get the last word, huh?"

"Oh, I'll ge-" He was muffled by her mouth, pulling him into a slow exploring kiss.

He felt a little moan escape him, much to his horror. The desire in her touch surprising him.

She held him around his waist, cupping the back of his head. Her lips sliding warm against his.

She pulled away and he found himself following her. "The safe word is Bulette."

He nodded, and she lifted under his thighs and wrapped them around her waist. Walking up to the edge of the water.

His dead heart did race a little bit at that but he figured it was just the role reversal.

Though they were the same height she was much stronger than she looked. Muscle hidden under plush thighs and the soft curve of her stomach. He could feel it when he bit into the defined curve of her neck. See it in her shoulders when she lifted her arms over her head. That little adorable whine when she stretched.

She layed him back on the grass, her hands guiding him down.

"If this is how you treat your women I can see why you've taken so many admirers." He teased.

"You know," She smiled, leaning down over him. "You're beautiful enough it's not a far stretch."

He breathed a laugh through his nose.

"So where would you start, lover?" He purred, twisting a lock of her hair as it fell over him.

She hummed, moving down. "Usually here." Leaning into his neck on his unmarked side.

Kissing and nipping at his throat he found himself giving in to the sensation. Head falling back slightly. He never minded the foreplay.

Her mouth was devotional on his neck, licking and pulling heavenly circles.

He found himself humming with approval. Hand carding through her hair. "That is nice, darling."

"Then I'd move here..." her fingers trailing down his chest, brushing tentatively over his nipple. Asking.

He felt a shiver go down his back. Shocked by the little strike of pleasure.

"And then?" He intoned, hearing the slight rasp in his voice. Definitely intentional.

He felt her smile against his throat. Moving down his front, leaving soft kisses as she went. Thumbing over his nipple playfully.

"I would put my leg here." She hushed, pushing her knee between his thighs. "So she could grind."

"Interesting," He tried for suave, failing miserably. Her fingers softly twisting his peak making him slow and stupid.

"This is my favorite part." She looked up at him through her lashes cheekily. Hovering over his chest. "Hold on, love."

He almost scoffed, surely it wasnt-

Her mouth descended on his chest, licking hard slurping circles around his nipple.

His back arched involuntarily, a loud embarrassing groan leaving him.

She moaned in pleasure, her mouth salivating. Gripping his hips.

Gods she was unhinged, tongue pulsing and insistent. Laving up and down his hard peak. Panting hot against him.

If he had more sense he would have been baffled at how much it seemed she was enjoying just his experience. But he felt lost, head heavy with pleasure.

She pushed her thigh further into him encouragingly and he could no longer resist. Already painfully aroused.

He ground down into her thigh gratefully, feeling her tense the muscle for him.

Her other hand came up to pinch and twist at his nipple as she left it, sliding over to his left side and taking up there. The new sensation making him gasp, both sides of his chest being devastated with equal intensity.

She picked up on the rhythm of his hips and pushed her thigh into him in pulses.

Gods her mouth, rolling her tongue and nipping. Suckling down hard then pulling back to lick long stripes up his chest.

How in the hells was he already close?

He gripped her bicep, wrapping his leg around her hip.

Fuck it. Why not?

"I'm-," He panted.

She moaned into him, biting down on his engorged peak. Rising back up.

He almost whined at the lack of sensation until she latched onto his earlobe.

Oh fuck.

His eyes pulled shut. "Oh Gods, don't stop."

She suckled down hard, a little sweet whine directly in his ear. Her hands gripping his ass and pulling him into her harder. His cock throbbing and sliding wet against her.

One last nibbling suck and he was shattered.

Coming in stuttering cries, head thrown back. His pelvis contracting in great vicious jolts, spurting long ropes against her hip. Distantly aware of the sounds coming out of his lips.

"You with me?" She asked gently after a moment, pulling back. Kissing his face in light caresses.

Suddenly aware of his body again he realized his eyes had welled with tears.

"Ah, yes darling." He ruffled, trying to pull himself together with great effort. "I could actually go again."

She looked at him dubiously, a soft but amused smile on her swollen lips.

"I think you're lying." She purred, leaving a tender kiss on his already bruised neck.

He was. But he had a reputation to uphold.

"All out of moves? Dissapointing." He sighed.

"You're cute," She chided, coming back up to pull him into a searing kiss. "Biting off more than you can chew."

"Oh I've barely been sated, sweet thing. I'm starving."

"On your belly then." She whispered into his ear. Patting his thigh playfully.

"Well, wouldn't you like to be tasted?" He asked, confused. Surely she didnt intend to only pursue his pleasure.

"Hmm, maybe another night." She mused, truly seeming to mull it over.

What a strange creature.

"Are all sapphics like this?" He scoffed, letting her hands twist his waist. Hips up, bracing himself on his forearms.

"More than you'd think." She laughed, massaging his hips from behind.

"You know what you're doing back there?" He teased, shooting her a look over his shoulder.

"Hmm, different from what I'm used to. But I think I can translate." She eyed his backside playfully. "But dont hesitate to give me directions."

She leaned down and tongued gingerly at his hole.

His head fell forward, hands in fists.

"Well that's encouragement." She teased, tongue coming back. Moving in tight circles.

"Ah!" He moaned, pushing back into her.

Though he knew she was new to this she moved with practiced precision. He could tell she was very good at what she did on more feminine bodies.

"I heard this is a good spot." She murmured, her two fingers rubbing back and forth against his taint. The shudder that moved through him making her smile.

Tongue coming back to push slow pulsing heaven into him. Both sensations playing him like a fiddle. His fingernails digging into his palm.

Oh Gods it was too good. And still he needed more.

"Inside. One finger." He moaned into his arm.

She wet her finger inside her mouth, tested it in small circles around his entrance. Other hand still stimulating.

She pushed in gradually, pausing one knuckle deep. "Like this?"

"Yes," He panted. "Slowly."

"It feels so similar." She marveled, finger almost to the hilt. "How lovely."

He clenched at her words and heard a delighted giggle. "Even that! Oh!"

"If that's the same, then what about..." She curled her finger toward his navel.

He moaned loudly, buckling down.

"Oh yes," She smiled, beginning slow pulsing thrusts of her hooked finger. Other hand pushing more into his taint. Hitting his prostate from both sides.

A moaning writhing mess beneath her, he was completely gone.

"Oh how pretty, coming undone like this." She purred, leaning down to lick around her pumping fingers.

He knew he was not long for this world, the building pressure in his pelvis about to burst. Reaching around to grip her thigh with a bruising intensity.

"Such a good girl for me." She hummed.

He cried out, his end hitting him so hard he thought he would black out. A deep shuddering ripping through him. His whole world condensed to nearly agonizing waves of pleasure. Tears spilling down his cheeks he bit hard into his forearm. His cock forcing out what little he had left in him.

He collapsed comepletely flat into the ground, the damp earth holding him up.

She left his back momentarily, coming back with a cloth, wet from the river.

She pulled his slack body up to her chest, his back cradled into her. Softly wiping first his brow then working her way down.

"You dont ha-"

"This is part of it, love." She smiled, running her hand through his hair, cajoling it back into place. "You're getting the full experience."

He leaned into her, closing his eyes. Letting her bathe him clean. He knew future him would be screaming into his pillow at this but he was too blissed out to care.

"Thank you," She gave him one final wipe. Setting the cloth down and wrapping her arms loosely around his middle. "For trying this with me. For trusting me."

"You did everything and you're thanking me?" He laughed, still panting. "You're a strange woman, you know."

"If you're so insistent maybe you can do all the work next time." She pinched his side lightly.

Next time. The anxiety in his heart melting just for a moment. Oh thank the Gods.

"If Karlach doesn't beat you to it, that is."

"You're the devil."

She laughed against his back, his eyes getting heavy.

"Let's get you to your bedroll, we'll have a brand new day of bothering eachother tomorrow."

He would never admit it to her, but he was looking forward to it.

~

Part 2

#post nut clarity is going to hit him like a truck #babygirl you are sooo normal about her #astarion smut #astarion x tav #lyrics from: you know me too well - nothing but thieves

[drak3n]

THE BEST FRIEND

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: perhaps you shouldn’t have waited so long.

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: unrequited love, mostly angst, hurt & some sort of comfort? best friends trope, one mention of murder at the beginning, a little bit of baji x reader

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“it’s impossible for anyone not to love you. has anyone ever told you that?”

there were times in which even a district like shibuya — always vibrant and full of life — was eerily quiet and void of people.

people you’d want to be around with, at least. people who made you feel safe roaming the streets at this hour. right now, you didn’t feel all too comfortable walking past streets with alleyways looking awfully sketchy.

every tiny sound made you walk faster than before, it be a cat scratching at a trashcan, a breeze howling against buildings, or leaves crunching under your shoes. you just wanted to get this over with and head back home into your trusted four walls.

you grunted as your ran face-first into someone you hadn’t seen, which you wanted to blame your terrible night vision for.

the figure didn’t move and you tried to stay calm. you uttered an apology and tried to rush past them, careful not to draw too much attention.

maybe they were just minding their own business. they didn’t have to be a murderer or anything.

“you shouldn’t be out here by yourself at this time,” the person suddenly called out. you halted. “someone got murdered right over there two days ago.”

the shiver that ran down your spine at the husky words was inevitable, your eyes darting over to where he pointed to show you the place was just a couple feet away from where you were standing. it didn’t help that the boy said it with so little emotion.

“thanks for telling me… i just really need to drop by at the nearest local duty pharmacy,” you responded. under the halfway functioning street light, you recognized a very tall boy, perhaps around your age, so 15 or 16 years of age.

the dragon tattoo on the side of his head drew your attention. it didn’t necessarily elicit bad thoughts, it just looked very unique.

“i’ll accompany you.” his offer took you by surprise; it wasn’t like you had been used to others being nice to you before. when he continued walking towards your destination, you quickly joined him, barely able to catch up with his long strides.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“how could a person be a best friend, mentor, older brother and father all at the same time? you made the impossible possible.”

hanging out with the boys was exhausting, to say the least. there wasn’t anyone you particularly disliked, but they could be a lot. you didn’t really mind that they were all part of a gang, all that mattered to you was that none of them had ever made a move to hurt you or others.

“i’m saying, that’s not how you solve that question!”

rolling your eyes at the first division commander discussing with you, you threw your arms in the air. you were currently all lounging off in the warehouse, with you having joined them after they had finished a meeting.

draken always insisted on you never, ever joining a meeting of the tokyo manji gang. he would never want you to get involved with their business.

“baji, are you seriously telling me i’m in the wrong?” you shoved your purple flip phone out of the pocket of your school uniform skirt, unlocking it to click onto the calculator function. “you must be stupid if you think that three times 24 is 72–”

the whole warehouse went quiet after that. blood rushed to your face, your entire head and ears feeling steaming hot as the brunette started laughing at you. the others were too immersed in their own thoughts to listen.

“who’s the stupid one now?” bending down to your height, baji flashed you his cocky smirk, revealing sharp canines. your eyes stung with tears of humiliation.

before he could tease you a little more, because you were so easy to tease, a hand shoved the boy with long hair back to create a distance between you and him. it was him.

“baji, that’s enough.” draken’s firm voice made said boy shrug and back off. “it’s just a dumb mathematical equation.”

when you sniffled and crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning away deliberately to hide your embarrassed self from the others, a palm settled on the top of your head.

looking up, you saw draken grinning down at you ever so gently.

“don’t worry about it, everyone makes mistakes.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i failed to tell you. i thought my actions would be enough to prove what i felt. perhaps you knew all along, but decided not to talk about it. you were always thoughtful and considerate. but i wasn’t special.”

it was a gloomy day for you today. you were excited to see draken, putting in a lot of effort while getting ready and wearing one of your best outfits, just to see that he hadn’t joined the otherd at the usual group hangout today.

“wasn’t it emma’s birthday today?” mitsuya recalled. mikey wasn’t there either. unbeknownst to you, baji’s eyes wandered to look at how you’d react.

as someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, you were terrible at masking how you felt. he didn’t miss the way your face fell.

draken and emma were always close to each other. of course they were, as her brother and draken have been inseparable since middle school. you couldn’t compare to her. you’d just met him not even two years ago.

you were slowly realizing that despite him doing a lot for you and always being there for you, you perhaps didn’t mean as much to him as emma did.

after all, draken was nice to everyone.

“someone’s grumpy,” baji commented slyly, and this time, you didn’t have it in you to bicker with him. this time, there was no draken to tell him to stop either.

the two missing blondes joined you hours later, with mikey nudging his taller vice’s side teasingly while talking about how sly kenny was for having found that plushie emma had wanted for the longest time.

it made your mood even more sour than it already was, and you pondered about an excuse to leave, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about it.

forget about your stupid feelings for someone whose heart was already taken, and who saw you as nothing more than a friend.

“hey (f/n), that’s a pretty outfit,” mikey commented, “you going somewhere?” draken glanced down at you curiously while you forced a tight-lipped smile on your face. you inwardly thanked the leader of toman for saving you like this.

“yeah. i’ll see you guys.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“would things have been different if i’d just confessed to you while i still had the time? it would have been selfish. she was the first to know and love you, after all.”

ken and mikey had dropped out of high school at 17. they had big plans of opening a workshop for cars and motorcycles. by the time you graduated high school, they already had their small, cozy shop. toman was no more, and everything was well.

objectively speaking, it was. but subjectively? you weren’t too sure about that.

by the time you entered the italian restaurant, the table that caught your eyes was already pretty crowded. it wasn’t a surprise anymore, you were always late, after all.

too late. those two words echoed in your head as you looked at emma and draken sitting next to each other, her blushing feverishly when he removed something from her hair.

that could have been you.

“let’s go.” hearing baji’s voice behind you surprised you, and even more did it to feel his hand on your back, guiding you towards the table. as much as he was a jerk, you didn’t believe he did it out of ill intent to humiliate you.

the hours went by, and you had all eaten to your hearts’ content, now exchanging light jokes and future aspirations to one another. emma mentioned wanting to be a housewife, and the ken getting married to her made you want to throw up everything you’d eaten today.

“how about you?” mitsuya asked you, who had talked the least tonight. “any plans for college?” you smiled awkwardly when you felt draken’s eyes on you.

he had always wanted you to go all the way with your education, having supported you whenever he could. you were more than thankful for that.

“i actually got an admission for law in osaka.” the blonde sitting right across from you smiled so brightly, and you were sure it would have made you melt if emma didn’t have her head on his shoulder.

it was almost childish how you had tried to interpret every single of draken’s actions as a possible chance for something to develop between you two. your chances were long gone.

you had never stood one to begin with.

“i knew you could do it! you were always a smart girl.”

his compliment made you feel worse than it should have.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you told me to go and pursue my dreams. i knew that if you had told me to stay, i would have. how idiotic of me, right? i ended up leaving and letting you slip from my grasp without you ever having been in it.”

after moving away for college, you hardly visited tokyo anymore. and to be quite honest, you preferred that. it was good to stay away from the source of what had drained you for so long.

draken hadn’t taken advantage of your feelings for him, no. he was the last person on earth who’d be willing to do that. but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to be trapped in a web of unrequited love.

you were in your fourth year of law school when an invitation laid in your mailbox. you just knew from the second you looked at the envelope without even opening it. it was exactly what you’d anticipated it to be.

a marriage invitation, for you to join ken ryuguji and emma sano for the most important day of their lives. you stood in front of the mailbox, staring at the piece of pretty paper for at least twenty minutes, as if it was ever going to change.

he was going to get married. not to you.

all of your dreams of walking down the aisle in a pretty, white dress, approaching him with his sweet smile, crushed to bits and pieces.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i have never wished you anything else but happiness, and i still do. she makes you happy, and that’s all i could have ever asked for. i saw it in your eyes that day. you never looked at me like that.”

the wedding reception was nothing short of beautiful. catered to everyone’s tastes, it left nothing to the imagination.

the wedding of your dreams had always looked like this.

it was bittersweet how another woman was going to live that dream to the fullest, with the man of your dreams, at that.

thankfully, you weren’t left alone with your thoughts while you waited for the couple to come to the rented hall after they would get lawfully wedded. mitsuya and his sisters kept you company, making sure to recommend you everything they had tried at the enormous buffet.

“pretty sure they’re coming now,” mitsuya informed you as he stared at his wristwatch. you gulped and looked into your glass of soda.

oh what you wouldn’t have given to be in her shoes, taking on his last name… waking up next to him every single day, having his children.

you felt absolutely and utterly horrible. like all those years you’d spent away from this had caught up to you, leaving you to drown in your unrequited feelings.

before you could excuse yourself to the bathroom and ruin your perfectly done makeup by indulging in a five-minute breakdown, you were stopped by a hand finding your shoulder. it felt as if life was sucker-punching you in the gut once again.

“hey, baji.” your voice was low, and you didn’t notice mitsuya leading his sisters away from the table. his formerly wild, brown hair was much shorter now, tied up in a ponytail, and he wore a dark gray tuxedo.

when he opened his mouth, you shook your head. “i can’t take any teasing today. i mean it.”

your words weren’t even harsh, you just sounded exhausted. his grin disappeared, soon replaced by a frown. “i’m aware,” baji stated, “i couldn’t have attended if i was you.”

with a raised brow, you stared at him to explain what he meant. “i’ve known since back then.” you looked down, pursing your lips to stop them from trembling and giving it all away. you were asking to change the topic until the two would enter through the door and make your mood plummet entirely.

baji knew you better than you could have guessed. so this time, instead of poking fun at you, he actually tried to make you feel better

“by the way, i’m moving to osaka for med school for the next semester. i finally got in.”

it still stung when you saw draken and emma entering the hall hand-in-hand. you couldn’t compare that sting to any other kind of physical pain you’d endured in your life, it felt worse than broken limbs or a cut that needed to be stitched.

but he was happy, the way you never saw him be. he had never smiled as purely as he did when he danced with his wife, kissing the back of her hand that now adorned a ring to bind them to each other forever.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i’m sending this letter even after it all. even though i know i’m too late. don’t get me wrong, i have deliberately not added your new address. you will never get this letter. this is just for myself, to liberate what i’d held onto for multiple years.”

you picked up the call after one shrill ring, holding your phone against your ear while your eyes were plastered on the tv. it was your episode today, dealing with your letter.

the show was muted so you could hear exactly what you’d hear on the phone. with a deep breath, you spoke first. “hello?”

“good evening, miss! we are very excited to be hosting you on today’s show for TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE!” on the screen, you saw the main host move her mouth with a smile plastered on her perfect face.

you sat down on your couch, taking another deep breath. “thank you for having me,” you responded, “i can already guess what you are going to ask me.”

you heard sweet laughter from the two hosts while you were busy picking at a dried scab on your thumb. this was making you more nervous than you’d wished it to.

“if that’s the case, then we would love to hear your thoughts,” spoke the co-host, “our audience is very excited to learn about your motives and what exactly has made you not put an address for the letter to be shipped to!”

the camera angle was switched to show multiple rows of people of all ages sitting and awaiting your response. it made your throat go dry.

“i have made this decision because,” you looked away from the screen, “they have found someone else. and they are very happy.”

the hosts showed faces of surprise. for a second, you wondered why you’d even done this to begin with. but it felt too relieving to speak about this for a bunch of strangers to listen. it felt too relieving to hang up now when you were so close to just letting things go.

“which was why i just wanted to send this letter to… get rid of it. to be able to live on and stop holding onto those feelings that are never going to be reciprocated.” you had no idea if the words you were saying made any sense to them, but to you, they did. they made perfect sense to you, and they described exactly how you felt.

“that is very mature, and we admire you for having collected the courage to take this step.” the host clapped her hands, obviously looking moved. “love isn’t all about having happy endings together, right? sometimes, it means to let go. for their, and for our own happiness.”

hanging up not long after, you sank back in your couch and chuckled to yourself. this wasn’t so bad. in fact, you haven’t felt as good as you did right now in a while.

when the door to your apartment unlocked, you watched a mop of brown hair appear in your peripheral. the smile on your face only went brighter.

“i’m home. did i miss it?”

“just did. let’s rewatch it together, kei.”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way, because it was thanks to you that i found my own happiness, too.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

#tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader x baji #baji x reader #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuguji x y/n #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader angst #draken angst #baji x you #baji x y/n #draken x you #draken x y/n #tr x you #tr x y/n #tr angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers fanfiction

[causenessus]

Cherry Wine. | Nakahara Chuuya

nakahara chuuya x reader <3

written in 2nd pov

song recc: cherry wine by hozier

word count: 700 words

my apd couldn't even understand what hozier was saying until i looked at the lyrics so let's ignore the real meaning of the song okay? tyvm ˊᵕˋ ✿♡

Sometimes he came home and wanted to let off steam. 

But other times he just wanted to love you. 

He just wanted to be a human. To act like one and be treated by one. 

Perhaps it was like what Dazai had said all those years ago; he had let others take control of him and his ability despite him being stronger than them. 

There was nothing wrong with his job, or using his ability, but it was nice to be separated from it every so often.

To use his hands to hold yours, run them up your arms, and wrap his own around you. To protect something rather than to hurt.

It was nice, not to have his life on the line, but to have his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck. To be close to you and your warmth. To keep you safe while he himself was safe.

It was nice to be holding you, trailing soft kisses up your skin to your lips that still tasted of sweet cherry wine rather than spilled blood evading all of his senses.

These were moments that grounded him. During the days that dragged on for too long, he reminded himself of what he would return home to. When work was becoming numb and routine, you reminded him that he had a heart. He was not an ability. Not just a part of the mafia. Not a cruel, heartless man.

He was yours.

And you were his. 

Something he needed to return home to.

On nights like these, he took his time making sure he could give everything to you. He made sure his hands were clean, and that there was not a spot on him that reeked of the day. He made sure that he was just himself, and that you knew he loved you.

“Chuuya,” you’d murmur as he finally came to you.

He hummed in response, beginning with a kiss to your forehead.

You always knew him well. Knew how the day had gone as soon as you heard how he opened the door. 

There was already a glass of wine on the table for him, he noticed, as you pulled him to you on his couch, hands running through his damp hair.

He didn’t want it. He just wanted you.

Your hands were gentle and warm as they combed through his hair, undoing any knots. There was love in every touch, in every gentle press against his scalp. He rubbed circles against your sides, the side of his head resting on your chest. He could hear the steady, constant beat of your heart. It slowed down his own, relaxing him further.

“Was it a day?” you asked softly.

“It was a day,” he mumbled back, turning and lifting his head to look at you. He brought a hand up, running it through your own hair as he pressed it against the back of your head, bringing your lips to his. “I love you,” he drawled with a small yawn. “I love you,” he repeated, kissing down your jaw and neck. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y’know,” he was talking instinctively now, but none of it was a lie. He laid his head back against your chest, listening to your heartbeat again.

“I love you, Chuuya,” you said back, running a hand through his smooth hair. “I could never put into words how much you mean to me.”

He replied again with a hum. His hand that had been in your hair moved back to drawing lazy circles on your skin while the other moved to intertwine with one of your own hands. “You could never love me as much as I love you,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

Your chest rose slightly as you laughed, “Yeah, yeah. I know you won't stop until you’ve won and declared you love me more.” Her hand squeezed his as her breathing started to slow as well. “Or more like when you think you’ve won,” you teased. He looked up at you with a playful glare before you brought his head back down onto you.

“Sleep well, Chuuya,” you whispered.

“I love you, [Y/N].”

#chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

[cutielando]

Can I have oneshots for Theodore nott and reader when he finds out that their daughter is constantly bullied at school?

PROTECTIVE

my masterlist

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Wife!Reader x Daughter

School can be tough. That was a given. Especially if you end up being a Slytherin.

Theodore knew that better than anyone. Being a Slytherin himself, also being friends with the infamous Draco Malfoy always attracted some unwanted attention.

Most of the other students knew not to mess with him, but there was still the occasional bully who didn't give a shit and picked on him anyhow.

Because of that, he never wanted his kids to experience the kind of pain he went through when he was younger. He did everything in his power to make sure your children were safe and happy at school.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He didn't notice the signs early on, but you did.

Y/D/N was more distant than usual, spending an awful lot of her time in her room when she was home for the holidays and summer break, her letters always failed to mention any of her school friends and the atmosphere there, she was sadder and lost the spark that she always used to have in her eyes.

Thinking it could be something serious, you decided to talk to your husband about it.

"Tesoro?' you asked him one night as you entered your shared bedroom and saw his under the covers, reading a new book he had purchased the previous day.

"Yes, amore?" he put the book aside as you sat next to him, giving you his full attention.

"Can we talk about something?" you were nervous, you didn't even know how to approach this subject with Theo.

"Of course we can, amore. What's bothering you?" he took your hand in his, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm.

"I'm worried about Y/D/N" you confessed.

His eyebrows were scrunched, not understanding where you were coming from.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. She's just...different. She hasn't been herself in a while, she's always in her room, she barely eats or talks to us, her letters seem downright robotic and she's just not the same girl we know her as anymore. I'm worried something might be happening over at the school" you explained.

You felt Theo's hand that was holding yours tense up, stopping the movements.

You looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, he was fuming and looking at a fixated point on the wall of your bedroom.

"Do you think someone might be making fun of her? Bullying her?" his voice was low and tense, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know, but I think maybe we should talk to her. You should talk to her, you know she'll open up to you a lot faster than me" Theo nodded at that, numerous thoughts running through his mind.

Y/D/N had always been a daddy's girl ever since she was little and you were okay with that. Your younger son was a mama's boy, so it evened the scales a little bit.

You knew that Y/D/N would open up to your husband and you hoped that the problem wasn't as bad as you felt it was.

"I'll talk to her"

Come the next day at breakfast, Theo turned to your daughter as soon as you and your son left the kitchen to go to the living room.

"Y/D/N, love, I wanted to talk to you about something" he started and put his hand over hers.

"What is it?" she was avoiding eye contact with her father, which happened very rarely when they would talk.

Theo put a hand under her chin, slowly lifting up her face so she could look at him.

Her eyes had lost their sparkle, now void of any emotion and tired.

"What is bothering you, vita mia?" Theo asked, brushing his finger over her cheek.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, wanting to let the pair talk in private. You instead focused all of your attention on your son, who was more than content to have his beloved mother's attention on him.

"Nothing, dad" Y/D/N tried to shrug Theo off, but he was having none of that.

"Stella, don't push me away. Your mother and I are very worried about you. You haven't been yourself for a while and it's concerning us. What is wrong, vita mia?"

Just one look into her father's eyes and she was sobbing, letting herself fall into his arms and clinging to him.

Your heart broke when you heard your little girl sob, taking everything in you not to run in there and scoop her up in your arms to reassure her that everything would be okay.

"I hate them, dad" Y/D/N whispered once her sobs had calmed down a little.

"Who do you hate, stella?" he was trying to keep his anger in check, his blood boiling at the thought of anyone hurting his princess.

"Everyone at school. They all make fun of me for being a Slytherin and they bully me because their parents hate you and now they say they're supposed to hate me too. I'm just so tired of always being the one getting hurt over there" the young girl finally confessed, her words breaking Theo's heart.

He pulled away from the hug, instead opting to take her face in his hands.

"Y/D/N, listen to me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is allowed to make you feel bad or think any less about yourself. You are perfect, mi stella. You hung my moon and stars from the day you were born and both your mother and I know that you're destined for great things and a bright future. Never listen to what anyone else has to say about you when you know the truth about yourself. Do you understand?" the girl nodded, giving her father a small smile.

"I love you, dad" she said before kissing his cheek, hugging his body once again.

"I love you more, vita mia"

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[sukibenders]

consolation

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: y/n has been cooped up in their cabin for days, only leaving to attend breakfast and lunch at their siblings' insistence. it's not that they mean to, it's just that their art is doing anything but coming together as of late and it's making them doubt their abilities. good thing for them that their fantastic boyfriend is there to save the day!

contents: soft!percy, cute couple moments, possibly some angst in regards to self doubt but mainly fluff in the end, references to passing of time, worried!percy, gn!reader, no stated cabin or godly parent but mentions of siblings, percy referring to you as 'babe'

note" this is my first actual piece of written work on here, and it seemed fitting that it would be pjo related. I'm so nervous about it, so please be kind and give this some love! it's stated that the reader is in an art slump, and that's for the sake of the plot behind this so sorry to all those who aren't interested in the arts or things like that!

You would say that it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to compare yourself to others to anyone who asked, but you yourself knew that that simply wasn't true and, in this moment, were being proved wrong as you stared at the messy array of art supplies circling around you--from crumbled papers of failed sketches to messy rags layered with dried paint. While the mess was contained to your side of your cabin, you were sure that your siblings cautious of just how long that would last.

Your appearance faired no better. Your camp shirt was littered is paint marks from sloppy movements of your hands, the orange holding more life to it than the fresh canvas in front of you. Three had laid crestfallen along the floor, thrown down carelessly during fits of frustration after another failed attempt tallied in your mind. Just when you thought things where going to go smoothly, fate had other plans and took another direction. Maybe this was a sign of the Gods punishing you, but for what? You couldn't figure out.

The more you stared at the blank canvas, at the mess around you, the more dishearted you felt. Your mind wandered to a group of kids that you had seen at the arts and crafts center last week, some Apollo campers you had assumed, albeit bitterly, when your eyes fell on their stunning art pieces making it hard for you to look away. They were so beautiful and held your attention longer than you'd hope to admit outloud. You had desired to master a similar affect with your own piece. That did not seem likely.

"But they did it so perfectly," you muttered to yourself (more like growled), hands gripping your paint brush tightly to the point where you were sure that the wood would snap under the force. "I'm sure they didn't have to go through all this." Your brows furrowed and you were just about to give up when a familiar voice spoke up.

"Man, it looks like a hurricane rolled through here." You looked up and were met with a pair of sea green eyes, of which held a mirth to them that only increased tenfold when they landed on you. "Maybe I should take you to seek shelter, just to be safe."

This caused you to snort. "Haha, very funny. I know that, if ever in a hurricane, to simply call out your name and you'll be there to save me, won't you?"

"Always!" A toothy grin broke out over Percy's face and it was almost enough to draw you back from your creativity haze. But when your eyes drew back to the blank canvas, the sense of dismay returned. Subconsciously, your shoulders sagged in response, but you were none the wiser. Percy, however, being the attentive boyfriend that he was, took notice. "I take it things aren't going as planned?"

You shook your head. "That's an understatement. This is my third attempt so far, and I can't even put paint to the material. At least with the others I could say that."

Percy shifted forward, reaching for one of the lone canvases and studied it with interest. "This one is nice," he said honestly. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because it's bad." You answered simply.

But Percy didn't believe that. "No it's not, you're just being hard on yourself." Like always hung in the air, but it was moreso a thought of your own rather than Percy's himself. The inky haired boy gave you a brief once over, brows furrowed with tinges of worry. "When was the last time you took a break? Stepped outside for something other than going to the dining pavilion?"

You blinked for a moment, attention slightly divided between your boyfriend and the work before you. "Uh, I think it was like...yesterday, one of my siblings dragged me out to the strawberry field with them." Or, at least you thought it was yesterday.

But Percy shook his head. "That was Tuesday, babe, I asked one of your siblings. Today's Friday. We need to get you out of this cabin, doing something other than painting."

Slightly shocked by clarification, you body tensed at the thought of being pulled away from your workstation, especially so prematurely into your journey. If you stopped now, what was to say that you would ever finish? Or that this was possibly your last chance at recreating and if you left now, all that went down the drain.

"I can't." You sighed weakly, hurriedly drifting your eyes to your boyfriend, who you had just discovered, that you hadn't spent much time with at all during this week. "If I don't get this piece right now, I might never-"

Percy raised a brow in response of you cutting yourself off. "You might never what?"

With a frustrated and embarrassed sigh, you explained to him your dilemma and the set backs it had provided you, refraining from looking at him the whole time. A part of you had fear some sort of mockery or lack of understanding that conjured up a simple dismissal without actually helping. You had grown accustomed to that after a few occasions and, while you didn't believe Percy to be like, it still hovered in your mind.

To your surprise, though not really, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you so gently yet fiercely that you felted tethered and set free all the same. Your face subconsciously pressed into Percy's bicep and you inhaled his scent, feeling the burdens of the weight you had placed on yourself slowly slipping away one by one. Faint tears welled in your eyes, but he made no move to comment on them.

"I wished you'd came to me sooner, I could've helped you. While not with anything art related, because it would have ended poorly for the both of us, I could have been here to keep you company and show some support."

A small sound that was a mix between a cry and laugh bubbled from your throat. "I don't think I would have been much fun."

Percy snorted. "Please, we would've had the time of our lives here. You're siblings would have kicked me out and banished me from ever entering." While this drew another laugh from you, it wasn't hard to notice the seriousness enveloping the boy's tone. "I think you need a break, for real this time and with no objections."

"But-"

"This piece, can wait. You can't. So what if some other camper made a cool piece, that doesn't mean anything. It especially doesn't mean you're a bad artist just because you're having trouble recreating it." When you fell silent at his words, he rested his nose against your temple, breathing you in. "You're very talented, and that shouldn't be doubted."

A part of you wanted to argue, to say that he was only telling you that because you were dating, but the more you thought about doing anything other than laying in your boyfriend's arms, the more exhausted you felt. Maybe it was your sudden drop in weight, but Percy had maneuvered you around until you were far from the canvas that had been torturing you for hours and closer to your bed.

"Let's get you some rest, babe." He moved to lay you down when your hand reached out, stopping him. "Babe-"

"I got paint on your shirt." You said simply, eyeing how your, still paint riddled, fingers smeared over your boyfriend's tee from his abs to his side. You had been so wrapped up in savoring his embrace, that you had forgotten about your own mess clinging to your frame.

Rather than wallow in the new stain, Percy reached for a damp, less paint splattered cloth and held it to your face. "It's no big deal, but it will be if you get paint on your sheets. Let's get you cleaned up."

By the time he was finished, you were already dozing off no matter how much you tried to fight. Your body rocked and swayed softly, and the action only made Percy laugh even more. Resting you gently on to your bed, head braced against your pillow, the inky haired boy moved to stand when your hand latched around his wrist.

"Stay," You whispered, eyes hopefully. Even with how busy you made yourself, you had missed him deeply.

"I gotta clean up around here. Wouldn't want you to trip in this mess, now would you?"

This caused you to wave him off. "Ah, well you'll simply just have to take care of me again, which seems like a win if you think about it."

Percy chuckled. "Yeah, it does. And maybe I'm so inclined to be against it." He patted your side. "Move over, babe, I'm coming in."

You cheered softly, doing as told just enough for him to rest his frame an inch away from you before you practically melted into him, arms wrapped around his waist and face tucked under his chin. You could feel Percy's chest rumble in satisfaction before he followed a similar manner. The two of you laid like that for a few minutes before you whispered.

"I'm sorry for not spending time with you these last few days." You apologized. "I was just...so wrapped up in this project and my own thoughts that I lost track of time. It's no excuse, but-"

"It's all right," Percy cut in, shushing you softly as you tried to protest. He was in no mood for you to get worked up, especially over something that was so easily fixed and could be settled even further once you were rested. "I understand, and I'm not uupset. I missed you, for sure, but we'll find a way to spend time together later, once you've had a decent amount of sleep."

You nodded in agreement, a yawn pulling from your lips. "I propose a date, anywhere you'd like and we can do whatever you want. You deserve it."

"I don't think taking care of my partner necessarily guarantees a reward," Percy commented, watching with mirth as you sent an eye roll his way. "But I'll hold you to that deal later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

#percy jackson #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #x reader #percy jackson x black!reader #percy jackson x poc!reader #[🪐] - lunars writes

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

#geto x reader #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru angst #yandere geto suguru #jjk graphic #jjk dark #jjk pining #mean geto suguru #gojo satoru #kento nanami #anime #jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #geto suguru x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader

[hotpinkstars]

Can I make a request for a s/o that likes to give forehead kisses for the characters Shenhe/Eula/Yelan?

-> forehead kisses

synopsis -> their s/o loves to give them forehead kisses.

warnings -> none! complete and total fluff.

a/n -> i screamed when i saw yelan i love yelan so so much eee this was so so fun to write thanks for sending this in!!

w/c -> 1.2k

-> shenhe

shenhe doesn’t mind your affection one bit, but she sure isn’t used to it.

the first time you gave her a little peck on the forehead, she was taken off guard. though, this was the first time your lips have ever come into contact with something besides her cheek or her mouth.

she seriously thought that there couldn’t be any other ways to kiss someone besides the cheek and lips. how many forms of affection exactly are there?

you walked into your home to find shenhe sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up her lunch. you greet her usually, but this time, your kiss landed right on her forehead. she froze before looking up at you semi-puzzled. 

“what was that for?” she asked, before clearing her throat. “i know it was a kiss, but you usually just kiss me on the cheek or the lips.”

you laughed a little before taking her empty plate to the sink, proceeding to wet a sponge and wipe any residue off the plate before tossing it into the dishwasher. “just felt like trying something new, is all.”

she nodded, making a mental note in the back of her mind that this may become a normalized thing. 

and that it did!

it seemed like every single opportunity you got, your kisses hit her forehead. before bed, it was a kiss to the forehead and then the lips. when you woke up, a kiss to the forehead. the cheek kisses have been discarded somewhere, but you both can barely remember they existed at this rate.

the only time she draws the line is when you’re in public, around a swarm of people. if it’s a secluded area in the harbor, where there's only a few fisherman and some millelith, different story. although, theres not too many of those times, because liyue can get packed tight, especially at night.

the city is so super gorgeous, and even better when it’s illuminated by all of the glimmering lights from the surrounding buildings, keeping shops open until later hours on the weekends. she’d get too flustered in a crowd like that, and would politely request you to not do that anymore if you found out by accidentally doing it.

-> eula

she love love loves forehead kisses, but she’s too shy to admit it.

the first time you stumbled upon this realization was when you kissed her forehead before she left for work. considering how much you enjoyed them, you didn’t expect her to be the one with the red blush creeping up her cheekbones. if you were to tease her of it, she’d deny it and probably dart out the door of embarrassment. but, that may not always be the case, knowing eula. 

“alright eula, you’re all set, have a good day and stay safe,” you straighten her tie before leaning up to kiss her forehead. usually, she’d get a hug from you, or the occasional kiss on the lips. but she sure wasn’t expecting this. “are we still on for dinner tonight?”

eula tried to cover her face with one hand, but quickly realized it was too noticeable. hell, she’d be surprised if you haven’t already noticed her hiding her blush. “yes, of course we are. five o’clock tonight at good hunter, right?” she smiled, walking up to the door and twisting the knob before stopping her motions. “i will be safe. you can ensure that i will be back in one piece.”

you laughed, shoo-ing her off in an affectionate way. “go off to work now, and i’ll see you tonight.”

bullseye, you found her weakness!

she kept a cool pretty well, you thought as you closed the door. but you could totally see the natural blush peeking through her foundation. considering you also knew that she doesn’t wear artificial blush, only mascara, foundation, concealer, lipstick, and some light eyeshadow. and even that routine is pushing it.

you continue to do it more often, and she eventually eases up and gets used to it. it seems like that's the only way you kiss her, but she’s not complaining. 

she doesn’t really care where you kiss her like that at, but she’ll tell you to cut it out if it's in public. she always dances around that sentence with a sarcastic tone, so you know she’s not serious. but you do know that she has her boundaries, and she’d rather not tell the whole mondstadt population that you’re her significant other. not like she’s embarrassed, she’d just rather keep you safe, due to the backlash she sometimes faces from her status in the lawrence clan. 

she might even perform the action right back to you! because she likes it so much, why not see if you do too?

turns out, ya do! now, it’s just an endless battle on who can give more (and better) forehead kisses to the other. 

-> yelan

she enjoys them very much, and she teases you about it to let you know.

the first time you did it, she just chuckled before doing it back. the action seemed to fluster you more than it even phased her, but you swore you could see her ears go a faint shade of pink. 

you two were getting in bed when all of the sudden, you lean over and kiss her forehead. “goodnight babe,” you smile as you tuck yourself under the covers, yelan having a smirk plastered on her face.

she leans down and kisses you on your forehead, and then your lips, and then both cheeks. “goodnight, y/n. i love you,” she breathes, chuckling at how much her gesture seemed to catch you off guard. 

as you turned out the lights, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. but you both equally enjoyed it, so why not continue to do it?

you liked to sneak up behind her and just… come out of nowhere. she always happens to know you’re there, but she won’t tell you that. she lets you have your fun, and if it makes you happy, it makes her happy. and you always get to give her that quick little forehead peck, which she loves oh so dearly, and it usually turns into a long hug or a steamy makeout session. 

but in all seriousness, she enjoys it when you do it. there was once a time where she requested you to put some blue lipstick on your lips and kiss her smack in the middle of her forehead. she went out that night to gamble, with the blue mark still on her forehead (????) you were incredibly confused, but you just shrugged it off. 

when it’s just the two of you playing a game, maybe blackjack or poker (just for reference), she’ll give you a kiss on your forehead in return for trying. if you manage to beat her, she’ll beg with her eyes for that forehead kiss back in return. she gives them to you back, so it's only fair!

she normally gives you kisses on the lips, but considering how much you truly love forehead kisses, she stopped demanding lip ones out of you, and let you do your own thing.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff #shenhe #yelan #eula #shenhe x reader #yelan x reader #eula x reader

[roguekhajiit]

TW: Transphobia

I had my first ever encounter with a transphobic member of the LGBTQ community this week.

At work on Monday, I overheard some co-workers discussing Transgender Day of Visibility and how President Biden issued a statement acknowledging Trans Day. Since it just so happened to occur on the same day as Easter this year, my very close-minded co-workers took that and Biden's statement as evidence that Trans people are trying to take over Easter!

Now, I consider myself to be Non-binary (specifically Demi-girl/Agender), but I tend to fly under the radar, which is very helpful since I live in a very, very red state. It doesn't hurt that my normal sense of personal style is very casual and all black. So, I can wear traditionally "men's" pants, and no one pays much attention to me, which is the way I prefer it. I hate anything that draws attention to myself.

So, I bit my tongue and hyperfocused on my work. Then, when I went home, the non-binary gremlin in me just couldn't be contained anymore; I opened Reddit and made a post about how no one is going around trying to steal stolen holidays.

Now, I was fully anticipating pissed off Christians to rain their uninhibited fake outrage down onto the comment section (which happened) but I wasn't anticipating a self-identified 60 yr old gay man to come into my comments saying things like, "Why would you put a Trans holiday anywhere near a religious holiday knowing every seven years it's gonna land on said holiday" and "As a gay man I believe that the one part of our community is stifling the rest of us."

Tell me you're transphobic without telling me you're transphobic.

Now, since I can't just ignore the sheer inaccuracy of his math; according to Google from 2001 to 2100, Easter will only land on March 31st 5 times. Five times in an entire century. The last time Easter was on March 31st, it was 2013. So, 11 years ago, or over a decade ago. No one gave a shit in 2013 that Easter and Trans Day were on the same day. But let the president acknowledge it in a statement and everyone loses their fucking minds.

So, why would you avoid celebrating something important in your life on the off chance that it might coincide with someone's religious holiday? Of course, you wouldn't. If your birthday is on Christmas, do you no longer have a birthday?

"Next, why wouldn't you place it in the month of pride then each day of pride month could have a different day celebrating each letter of the lbgtq+ community."

Yes, that is what Pride Month is for, celebrating the diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. But are you gay only in June?

But sadly, even some in our diverse community isolate and vilify trans individuals just like what this old gay dinosaur is doing. For 15 years, a vast majority didn't know or even give a shit that Trans Day existed. That is until a president acknowledged it.

"May I point out there's no gay holidays that coincide with Yom kipper or Ramadan."

True, Yom Kippur and Ramadan don't coincide with any "gay holidays," but Shavout is directly in the middle of Pride Month. Any outrage there?

"So just piss off the Christian's so they have one more thing to hate us for. I find many in our community asking for acceptance while giving none, just my opinion and nothing more."

How very accepting of you to say, my lord.

"Maybe it's time we all in the gay community and cis people give the whole year to the Trans community."

But they aren't asking for the year, or even a month. They just want one day that is their own. And even members of our own LGBTQ+ community can't even give them that.

"I'm gay so I can't be transphobic."

Your statements say otherwise. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you are absolved of your transphobia.

Perhaps it's time we stop placating these dusty ass old gay dinosaurs and call them out on their hateful thinking. Their "I got mine" attitude only harms our communities. Just because you won the fight for same sex marriage doesn't mean you're safe. The fight for equality is never-ending.

More and more of us are having our rights stripped away right before our very eyes. Roe v. Wade has already been overturned, and they aren't going to stop there. They never planned to stop there. They are very methodically chipping away at our rights. Right now, they are focusing their efforts on the trans community, slowly outlawing their very existence. And while they have you distracted by that, they are quietly overturning same sex marriage laws. Your rights aren't safe and never will be safe as long as we have members in our communities who subscribe to this kind of thinking.

#trans community #trans day of visibility #transgender #trans rights #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtq+ #lgbt #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+ #lgbtqplus #transphobes #reddit #nonbinary #demigirl #demisexual #agender

[tubbytarchia]

Just a bunch of Doc and Jimmy thoughts as to why I find them so appealing and endearing. I wanna draw them more but regardless I have too many thoughts on them to ever visualize them all. It's a lot and very self-indulgent. This is your warning TLDR Jimmy in a father/son type of dynamic (as opposed to a romantic relationship) would do him good and Doc would be very perceptive and gentle and awesome about it

These are pretty much all reliant on a hypothetical scenario in which Jimmy is on Hermitcraft (after Secret Life?), temporarily or permanently or accidentally etc. I'm also gonna refer to Jimmy's relationships with Tango, Scott etc as romantic just for clarity

- Firstly I don't mind them as a ship, its all cool with me (cause I know at least a few of you ship them haha), but to me their absolute main appeal is the fatherly aspect. It being a father/son dynamic eliminates so many of Jimmy's struggles off the bat - ones that are prevalent in his romantic connections, mainly the inherent anxiety and inability to open up to his partners as a result (at least fully)

- Because of said anxiety, none of Jimmy's partners up to this hypothetical unexplained point of time would fully "get" him. Even if Jimmy trusts them, he's been conditioned to see himself as the faulty link by default and the people around him, however good they are and however much they COULD help, aren't the type to pick up on or be able to understand exactly what he needs (Tango's rather oblivious, Martyn's hot-headed etc), and Jimmy isn't exactly going to tell them in the headspace that he's in, he doesn't know how to. Yet Doc has had one, ONE notable interaction with him, and in that one interaction, even as Jimmy's just jokingly calling for Etho, Doc immediately and immaculately picks up on what Jimmy needs: "I want to take you into my hands and take you to a safe place"

- There's a quote(?) exchange that goes "You're free, (referring to a bird whose gate has just been opened), why don't you fly away?" followed by the bird "the cage is all I know". Sorry to use some "I'm 14 and this is deep" quote but that's just Jimmy. He needs time and gentleness, and a safe place that'd allow for that. A safe place to heal until he's ready to step out into the world of his own accord. He's helped out of the cage with patience and understanding, not by pushing him. Where Doc understands to be patient, some of Jimmy's partners post-3L would push - of course just trying to help but failing to grasp Jimmy's needs fully - or fail to realize there's (still) a cage there at all. Sorry what are we talking about again

- Add-on to the above points: Doc being able to pick up on Jimmy's wants and needs without verbalization. He'd be able to offer Jimmy desired comfort, and, comparing to Tango for example, without their time necessarily being cut short and without the failure to recognise that it's something Jimmy continues to need. (I've said it before but Tango's oblivious, and that's partially why he and Jimmy work well together, but it also means that he doesn't pick up on everything, especially when not near and soulbound to Jimmy, and by virtue of being a romantic partner, Jimmy's too anxious to ask for help too, because of previous relationship experiences). Doc would pick up on it all though, eliminating Jimmy's need to explicitly ask for help, because that's the one thing he's not able to communicate however desperately he's needed to to kickstart any kind of healing

- We all know how Doc gets when he's being a dad so. This father/son dynamic only means more softness and gentleness from Doc you know... Again, something Jimmy is in desperate need for!! And what he's gotten from people like Tango as well, but once again, this isn't a romantic relationship so Jimmy's feelings about physical affection are a bit different. Doc would have the utmost mindfulness of approaching Jimmy in any physical touch scenario though and never push or pressure. He always watches out for signs of discomfort, and will hardly touch him if he thinks that there's a chance it could upset Jimmy further. He understands that Jimmy needs time and patience and he doesn't want for him to draw more into himself, thus reversing any progress they might've made, especially if in Jimmy's current mindset, an even remotely unwanted approach could make him feel unsafe. If there are defenses that he's learned to and needs to keep up, then Doc won't take that away from him and give him space as needed

- When Doc IS to offer physical touch and such, he'd still have the utmost gentleness and pay attention to where he's situated near Jimmy just so he can ensure that he's using his organic arm to pat him or to have the organic half of his face towards him, not only to minimize intimidation but to also put them on more equal footing - If Doc can just look over and read Jimmy's eyes at any moment, he wants Jimmy to be able to see his too to help him feel more comfortable (and thus encourage opening up)

- Back to the "safe place" thing specifically, Doc would totally take Jimmy under his wing and thus also into his base - his huge and scary full-of-machines barely-resembling-a-house-to-any-degree base. Jimmy would be naturally intimidated by Doc and his base in kind, but just as he grows more used to big scary goat man, he grows more used to big scary goat man base. He'd be intimidated but not past the point of intrigue, and combined with his need to prove himself, Jimmy would very much try to study Doc's machines and learn the layout of his base etc. I'm tickled by the idea of no one understanding Doc's base as per usual, except this one lost guy he took under his wing

If Jimmy were to mess anything up (he inevitably would I'm sure) Doc would be all grumbly about it in the moment but never hold a grudge towards him. And Jimmy would either flee but quickly return and/or be very insistent on making it up to Doc, which Doc would refuse because there's no need

- Again, with Jimmy's need to prove himself but also out of genuine interest, Jimmy would very much try redstone whilst at Doc's. He'd ask Doc to be honest and not to praise his work just to be polite, but Doc would believe in him and find his efforts genuinely endearing and worthy of praise for the work that he'd have put into it. Not once would he have complimented Jimmy's work without meaning it. I don't think he'd be able to live with himself if he stooped to disingenuousness like that (though Jimmy wouldn't know that)

- Doc would be protective and rightfully so. If he were to see Jimmy bullying becoming too prevalent, he'd very much step in to say that that's enough of that. He might tease Jimmy a little himself, very lightheartedly, but otherwise not find much comedy in it. And we all know how he holds grudges if he's to single anyone out for going over the line... Jimmy would be opposed to Doc calling anyone out or anything of the like and Doc very much wants to respect Jimmy's wishes but... There's no way he isn't going to speak his mind at least out of Jimmy's earshot

- Doc has always understood that Jimmy's in need of help, but of course he can only entail so much without hearing it from the man himself. And when Jimmy does inevitably open up, Doc would be totally taken aback by the amount of things weighing on Jimmy's heart, and just out of disbelief he'd go "and you haven't told anyone??", which may make Jimmy curl in on himself a bit, but Doc would be quick to reassure that he's not questioning Jimmy's actions nor blaming him for bottling his feelings up, merely expressing sadness that Jimmy hasn't felt like he could tell anyone up until now. Doc would remember everything he's told with precision and keep it all in mind constantly. Very self indulgent but for example, Jimmy having felt the need to dress up as a maid as payback just to stay on SOS would make Doc pay even more attention to any potential signs of discomfort in Jimmy presenting himself to others or feeling pressured to do something etc

- Before reaching the point of being able to open up, Jimmy would inevitably tear up at some point when he gets stuck thinking about just how kindly he's being treated for whatever reason that remains a mystery to him. Even if he tried to hide it, Doc would immediately notice the unusual body language, or something like his headwing moving to cover his face. And he would become very panicked lol, quickly reassuring Jimmy about whatever he thinks caused the reaction, like his redstone attempts for example, only for Jimmy to be unable to express why he's really crying, but at the very least Doc would understand that there's more to it and will just do his best to comfort him regardless

- Jimmy has and will absolutely call people his dad as a joke, but when he inevitably refers to Doc as such by accident, he'd become embarrassed about it. It'd be awesome and cute I think

- Ok so Hermitcraft, of course Tango's there!! And with no death game looming over his or Jimmy's heads. Still, that doesn't erase Jimmy's anxiety even when he opens up to Doc about it. Doc would offer suggestions for how Jimmy could approach Tango (And maybe Pearl too), but if Jimmy expresses his inability to do so because of anxiety and such, then Doc will let it go and just comfort or reassure him for the time being instead. He'd ask if he should talk to Tango all menacing and Jimmy would be vehemently opposed to the idea lol. Doc would probably still take it up with Tango at some point and Jimmy wouldn't find out until much later into him and Tango talking again, at which point he'd become embarrassed that Tango had to deal with that (but of course there would have never been any malice involved and Tango can easily laugh about it). Added drama if we go with the idea that Jimmy's time on HC is limited which would only stress him out more about talking to Tango

- Doc would pay so much attention to Jimmy's wings' welfare. He'd ask Grian and do all kinds of research on his own too to make sure they're properly cared for whilst fully understanding their personal importance and potential intimacy that caring for them entails, giving Jimmy whatever space he needs whilst still keeping an eye on his wings. In a different hypothetical scenario where Doc is in the Life series and not much else is changed, he'd take note of Jimmy's wings being clipped (3L, LL), then growing (DL, LimL), and then becoming ragged (SL, with Jimmy's increasing hostility, restlessness etc)

- You are insane for reading till this point. Take my hand, we can be insane together

#blabber #shak's doc&jimmy thoughts

[unadulterated-syd]

ethan landry x gn!reader

synopsis — a funky way of doing dating hcs

this is how i see ethan,, if u don't like it that's okay !! but this is how i'll continue to write him <3

(he's not the killer in any of my fics bc im in denial)

ethan landry, somehow the coolest guy in your eyes whilst also being the biggest loser you'd ever met.

when it came to dating him, it was a total shock. not necessarily that you'd managed to get with him, but more so that he'd had the guts to ask you out.

it started with inviting you to little hangouts, eventually managing to ask you on a real date. though he hadn't even told you it was a "date" inviting you to see a movie with you under the assumption the whole group would be there.

'i heard this movie was sooo good, dude.' you'd mentioned, walking with him as you held your ticket.

'yeah, that's why i wanted to take you..' he hummed nervously, almost fumbling at ever crack in the sidewalk.

only for him to reveal minutes into the previews that it was a date, and that no one else was showing.

'where are they, dude, always late.'

'about that...!'

nonetheless it didn't take him long to win you over, he was a loser but so were you at heart. not to mention the amount of times he'd gone on and on about random things.

rambling all night, with no clear plans for the future. it never mattered who was there, or what about, as long as he talked.

you liked his voice, and he liked yours.

'no way that'd work he'd have to have like come down and unleashed hell or something insane—'

'can you losers shut up, i can feel reddit waiting to swallow me up because of this' mindy shouted from the kitchen of sams apartment.

'shh mindy he's onto something!' you defended, rolling your hand in a gesture to continue as he let a bright smile escape.

or how at parties he wouldn't drink, because he was scared he wouldn't be able to handle it well. he didn't want to get to clingy, or whiney, he knew he'd be like a lovesick puppy.

and when you drank so much that you'd force him to slow dance inside the crowed house— to loud club music.

'y/n...' he protested, as you pressed your weight against him, hollering lyrics he couldn't be bothered to memorize.

'hush, dude, im totally dancing with my boyfriend right now.' you called loudly, over the music.

and some nights you'd sneak up his fire escape, and stay the night as you told him all about your day.

sometimes while you were over you could convince him to let you draw on his hands— as much as he complained his heart jumped whenever chad asked why he was covered in poorly drawn stars.

'my english teacher gave me a 58 on my essay today, i need you to study with me next time.' you sighed, scribbling stars on his knuckles.

'i could write it for you' he hummed, eyes trained on his phone idly, 'unless you wanted to spend time together—'

and when he could be, he was wrapped in your arms. he never really liked to explain himself, and you never asked.

and when he'd drunkily told you it was because you made him feel safe, he was in your arms even when he couldn't be— at work, in class, anywhere. because you wanted him to be safe.

'you don't think im a loser do ya' he slurred, the crown of his head pressed into your collarbone, as he looked up at you.

'no, pretty, i don't' you whispered, your eyes trained forward, watching as chad drunkily took his turn of some dumb guess who game.

'thanks.' he grinned, not looking away from you, 'your like— like a knight or something. keepin me safe..'

'yeah, okay princess.' you teased.

—

tags -> none !

send an ask to be added to the taglist + hes not in my character list bc im lazy but send in for him anyway :))

#ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x male reader #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry hcs #scream 6 #scream vi #scream