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miintsprigz · 5 months

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Mercs x GN! reader who drew them (ALL NINE!)

This goes out to everyone, not just my artists.

But yes, all my fic material is extremely self-serving.

Big thank you to a dear friend of mine for helping me with mercs like Pyro, Engie, Sniper, and Medic when I got stuck.

VERY LONG POST INCOMING

Scout

• Well, he IS an artist himself, that’s probably how the two of you first started talking.

• Ran past one day, only to immediately throw it in reverse and go “hey whoa whoa whoa when were you gonna tell me you could draw?!”

•Naturally…it was only a matter of time.

•He was always so encouraging about your stuff, so…after working up the guts, you showed him.

• “Yo wait a sec…you drew me??? I…” For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been drawn—not even a self-portrait. For as cocky as he seems…well…

•He just…stares for a second. Marveling. Is that…really what I look like?

• “Do you like it?” “Abso-friggin-lutely, (Y/N)!!! You kiddin’? I don’t even look that beautiful in real life! And ya know, that’s sayin’ somethin!”

•You laugh, and he pulls you in so fast to hug you that you weren’t even ready. “But seriously…thank you. I’ve uh…I’ve never been drawn before. You did amazing. …you know I gotta draw you now, right?”

•And he does. He’s a complete perfectionist about it—he feels like he can’t replicate you, you’re one of a kind. (He actually does very well! But he’s so shy showing it to you…d’aww.)

Pyro

•Pyro was more of a doodler than anything. They loved color. And of course, you could resonate with that.

•Sometimes you’d draw designs and let them color it in. They giggled all the while…they just adored how creative you were.

•Being the most secretive about their appearance, they’re hard to nail down…even for you. Pyro is most themself in their full gear. You, out of everyone, know that best.

•So you took a…different approach. Abstraction.

•Their hands, the ones that so often seemed to be magnetically drawn to you.

•Their back, the strong shoulders when they just felt content to sit in the quiet with you.

•The brief glimpses you’d caught of their face—split second instances in shadows—those were easy, yet challenging. Their brief sightings made them easy to be abstract about, and yet, it made them harder to actually nail down.

•Conjuring a rather fittingly smoky composition, it had a dreamlike feel to it. Pure Pyro.

•You were only a bit hesitant to show them, but when they did see…they surprised you a bit.

•You could see them straighten up a bit…surprised. They craned their neck a bit, looking closer, gently curling their fingers over yours to hold the snapshot-like portraits with you.

• “Hmmm…” There was a sort of…tranquility to them. So unlike your little sparky fella.

• “Do you like them?” Immediately, the edge of their mask bumped against your forehead—your own personal way of kissing. That was all the answer you needed.

•They couldn’t verbalize it, but…seeing beauty in images of themself. The same beauty they saw all around them…it made them see themself in a way they never had before.

•And of course, it made them fall even deeper in love with you, the one who cared for them so much that they took the time to look so deeply.

Heavy

•Heavy is a very intelligent man, but he’s never had much gift for creative work. Even his insults were kind of just the same thing repeated, when the other mercs made it an art form.

•So he couldn’t help but be enraptured by your artistic endeavors and how much work you put into them.

•He loved to see you covered in your medium of choice, your passion for it. Made him lovesick. How lovely you were doing what you loved.

•If he could paint, he would have wanted to paint that. So he could look at it forever.

•So of course, imagine his delight when you decided to draw him!

• That roaring laugh you so enjoyed boomed immediately, just elated.

•“Ohhhh…look at that! You captured me perfectly! Beautiful!” You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

•“Can Heavy keep this?” “Of course you can, hon.” This warranted a sudden barrage of kisses to your face, which cracked you up of course.

•“Very happy to have such talented artist as yourself to love. But to me? You are most beautiful. In all the world.” Despite being more eloquent in his native language, Heavy could still get you to turn red. “Oh gosh…” “Is true!”

Demoman

•Tavish had always been a pretty sentimental fellow. He really did enjoy artwork, but didn’t talk about it much.

•Once he discovered that you were an artist, he was over the moon. Finally, he felt, he could talk to someone about art without them possibly poking fun.

•He’d never go in your sketchbook unless you allowed him to, but he always looked with such admiration in his eyes. “That’s bloody brilliant. So long as ya luv it, never stop doin’ this. Cuz I’ll never stop lookin.”

•One day, you told him you had a surprise for it. “I dunno if I like surprises…” “Oh trust me, Demo,” you chirped, “I think you’ll like this one.”

•As you held up the finished product, his mouth went agape. Almost instantly, he began to smile.

•“Well aren’t you just the sweetest!! That’s me there???” “Yes, love. I uh, I hope that you like it.” His gaze shifted over to you, and you could see his eye had grown somewhat misty.

•Demo was at a loss for words. He had never thought of himself as particularly good-looking, certainly not good enough to be drawn. And yet. You had drawn him. Drawn him very well. And he liked how he looked. Was that how you saw him?

•“Aw, Tav…you okay??” He blinked quick, trying to keep composed.“Never better…c’mere, you…”

•Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a kiss, just about taking your breath away.

•“My little artist…ya made me look so good.” You caught him rubbing his eye a bit. “I just drew what I saw.” “Well, ya see a work of art in me. And that? That’s the best surprise of all.”

Engineer

•With how much designing went into his machines, Dell could always appreciate the skills of an artist. So when he learned that you were one, well, that only sweetened an already sweet deal.

•You were a little self-conscious at first about him watching you work. You tended to just work parallel to one another, both lost in your own stuff.

•You’d sometimes stop what you were doing to follow his hands as he put the pieces together, fingers wandering as they looked for the correct tool.

•When the inverse happened though—when Engie watched you work—he admired your spontaneity. You could start off with a total wild card and somehow managed to pull it all together and make it work, in a way he never could have come up with.

•Being rather rigid in his own trade, that was something Dell couldn’t help but be dazzled by. Very smart man for sure, but rather by-the-book. Not like you. He saw genius in the way your mind worked.

•So, one day, as the two of you perused each other’s handiwork a bit, you shyly revealed the piece you’d made of him—hard at work on an updated sentry model.

•His lips parted a little like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

•“I know it’s a little rocky…I’m not the best at drawing machinery.” Gently, he took ahold of the sketchbook and gave it a soft tug, nonverbally asking for permission to hold it. You let him.

•As he looked closer, a warm smile crept across his face. “Well, well…wouldja look at that. That’s me alright.” He chuckled heartily, but you realized it was from admiration, not amusement.

•“Look at you, (Y/N)! Saw me all covered in dirt an’ said ‘yeah, I can make art from that’. I love it…shucks, darlin’, I can hardly get my eyes off of it.”

•He looked back at you, still all aglow, only to find you blushing to the point of near luminescence. “Aw, c’mon now honey…no need to be all shy. You’re incredible, ya know that?”

•An arm slunk around your shoulders, pulling you fast to his side, quickly pecking the top of your head. “I love it, and I love you.”

Soldier

•Soldier was a brave man, that he was confident in. But even he was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t the sharpest.

•Anything he’d ever drawn looked like kids’ stuff, so to see what you could make? It blew his mind.

•Jane tried not to stare while you drew—you’d gotten all nervous when you’d caught him, and he was trying to be courteous—but he couldn’t deny how it captivated him.

•“Whatcha workin’ on now?” “I’m drawing those two goofs.” You motioned to the Spy and Scout bickering as they often did. “Why them, of all things?” “I just like capturing the moment sometimes.”

•One day, as you sat while he drilled the rest of the team, you started to do just that. You found it hard not to chuckle just a little as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

•Sure, you got their annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be pulled in by Jane’s excitement and hot-bloodedness.

•“Seemed pretty lost in your work there, or I woulda asked you to join in.” A strong hand ruffling your hair snapped you out of your daze. “Capturing the moment again?”

•“Uh-huh. I think this is my best one yet.” You turned the book around to show him, and you saw his lips part slightly in surprise before he suddenly laughed. “Haha! Look at that! It’s me!”

•You laughed with him, just happy to see him so tickled by it. “I think I really captured you.” “I’d say so, kid! I’d say so…wow.” The amusement gave way to what you realized was…almost awe.

•“I look…strong. Proud.” “Yep.” “…I look good.” “Of course you do.” He nudged his helmet down a bit with his hand, chuckling to himself. From what little bit of his face you saw…was he blushing?

•Imitating him playfully—it was something you two tended to do, he found it cute—you joked, in your best impression of him, “‘Are you going soft on me, maggot??? You’re red as a tomato!’” “Noooo…oh, (Y/N), what am I gonna do with you?”

•He caught the side of your face softly and pecked you on the cheek. “But…really. Thank you, sweetheart. I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

Sniper

•Truthfully, Mick had never given a lot of thought to the arts before he’d met you. What really caught his eye was the amount of time you put into it.

•Sniper knew better than anyone that holding still, completely focused on your task, being all but absorbed in it…that was respectable.

•The fact that he could leave for work and come back to find you in the same spot? It was just very attractive to him.

•You stopped by to watch him sometimes, very discreetly, on less busy days, although he wouldn’t lie, it got him nervous. He trusted in his own skills plenty, but…you weren’t just anyone. He couldn’t have you getting hurt.

•So one day, as he finally wrapped up, he saw you, still hard at work. He didn’t want to interrupt you, but if it was time to go, he wanted to go. Giving you a light pat on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Almost done there, darlin? Quittin’ time.”

•“Just a bit more…there. Perfect. Check it out.” You held up what you’d been working on: a full sketch of him invested in his own work.

•It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he couldn’t help but be amazed. Slightly slack-jawed, he looked up at you, the faintest trace of a smile.

•“Never considered myself the modelin’ type, ‘specially not out here, but…wow. Ya really did it. And I look bloody good, too!” “Well duh!” “Oh, stop—” Oh, that got him. The Aussie was surprisingly easy to fluster once he’d fully grown comfortable, and you loved it.

•“Awww, are you blushing?” “Just a little…now c’mon.” Taking your hand, he helped you up, quickly hugging you around the shoulders, catching you somewhat off-guard.

•“But really. Great job there. Thanks…it’s an honor, ya know that? To be drawn by you?” “Gosh—” “Heh, now you’re the one goin’ all red.” “Oh, stop—”

Medic

•The good(?) doctor first learned of your artistic prowess when he caught you trying to draw the charts he had on his wall. “Ooh! Very impressive.”

•Medic could do a lot of things, but drawing wasn’t really one of them. He couldn’t resist watching you work, even though he knew it was a bit touchy.

•“Poetry in motion, Liebe. Really.” Simp. “Oh, come on—” “I mean it! You have such precision, such grace…it’s a sight to behold!”

•So of course, when you were working on something that you absolutely would not let him look at, he wanted to see even more.

•“I promise that whatever it is, I will find it as beautiful as you!” “It’s not that, silly—it’s supposed to be a surprise!” He seemed almost sulky about it…it was kind of cute, although you did feel a bit bad.

•Eventually though, it was done—him, with Archimedes on his shoulder. “Okay, honey, you can look now.”

•One hand comes up over his mouth, audibly gasping. “Is that…? It is!!! Haha!”

•You had never seen him this happy, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N)! Look at that…and Archimedes too!”

•Perhaps unsurprisingly, he brings the bird out to show him too. It’s hard to gauge the response from a dove, but the tranquil cooing seems to suggest that he enjoys it.

•The doctor catches you off-guard as he sweeps you into a kiss. “Oh…danke, Schatz (treasure). May I keep this?” “Of course~”

•Best believe this man is showing your art off to EVERYONE who he treats, going on and on about what an incredible artist and person you are.

Spy

•This guy is a man of culture, he can appreciate good art. And good artists, wink.

•But in all seriousness, your attention to detail was incredibly attractive to him. After you’d been together for a while, the two of you would sit in his smoking room and relax together once the work day was over.

•Sometimes he’d be off to the side just doing his own thing, reading, but other times he’d actually sit beside you and watch. There was an intimacy to it, one you took time to grow fully comfortable with, but he was patient.

•So when you were very secretive one night, it caught his attention. Nothing slipped past him—not even you. You sensed him behind you surprisingly quickly though, and quickly closed the project up.

•“Shy tonight, are we? So unlike you, mon bijou (my jewel)…” “Hehe…be patient, babe, it’s not done yet.”

•His arms wrapped around you from behind briefly…gosh, it was difficult to keep anything secret from this man. “Very well. Keep your secrets…for now.”

•But he respected that you didn’t want him to see it just yet, and so he waited.

•“…Okay, you can look now.” In an instant, he was behind you again. It was hard to even look up at the guy right now, but once you did…there was this sense of wonder in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

•It wasn’t often that Spy looked at himself unmasked for longer than a few seconds—he’d almost forgotten his own face by now. For spies, he reasoned, it was better that way. But the way you had captured every detail of him…

•“Oh, what a handsome devil…wonder who that could be…” Was he trying to brush off his own flustering? Maybe a little.

•You couldn’t help but giggle as he almost hurriedly sat down next to you, quickly drawing you in close as he continued to look. Almost entranced.

•That element of intimacy I mentioned before? It was his turn to feel it now. Not even in a physical way, which is what this Casanova is so used to.

•No, the fact that you had clearly just…looked at his face, so intently. There was something raw and vulnerable to it. And as much as he wanted to look at it even more, his eyes were magnetically drawn to you.

•“I wouldn’t have ever asked it of you, but…I always wondered what it would look like if you drew me. I…”

•Glancing back down, he found that he couldn’t even come up with anything to say. The act of love had rendered him speechless. YOU BROKE HIM OH MY GOSH/j

•“…Do you like it?” Before you could say anything else, you were swiftly kissed, and I mean kissed.

•Spy always looked at you with a sort of passion, but this was different. He had never felt so much love for someone. Felt like a young, hopeless romantic boy all over again.

•“I adore it…and most of all, I adore you, mon cœur (my heart).”

AAAAND IM DONE. WHEW. That was fun!

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mindstriker · 4 months

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i really wish more people would get into Scarecrow as a character outside of the "hot" iteration of him cillian murphy played in Batman Begins because honestly he's such a nothing character there. he's really just Ra'as' 5-minute-screentime-having lackey, but he's magnetic because come on. it's cillian murphy.

i just want to grab people by the hand and gently guide them over to all the other delightful interpretations of him. look, guys. he's from georgia. he has religious trauma of the evangelical-adjacent variety so heinous it would make catholic guilt look like the greener grass on the other side of the fence. he once drugged batman just to follow him around on patrol while he hallucinated all night to psychoanalyze him and attempt to convince him to retire. he also once made him chamomile tea. he may or may not have changed his own last name to crane in reference to the fact that he was bullied in school by being compared to ichabod crane. because he was built like a skellington. sometimes he just has a gun and uses this in place of his typical fear toxin gimmick. in one iteration he gets fired from being a university professor for firing a gun in the classroom to prove a point. he generally tends to condescend towards everyone, but seems to get along with fucking harley quinn of all people specifically despite the fact that you'd think her positive attitude would give him a hernia. he's an absolutely batshit individual. he's shockingly self-aware and chooses to be terrible despite being aware of how terrible he is. he thinks he's batman's therapist. please i am begg in g y ou i know his glittery blue eyes and submissive attitude in batman begins are appealing but please there's so much to love here i beg of you look at him

#is this me being needlessly bitchy about the fandom tag for jonathan crane being 99% nolanverse? mayhaps.#nonetheless: i stand by my statement. the scrunglier versions of him deserve love #am i going insane over this because i'm currently writing fanfiction? yes #blame it on the 3k words of my batman au #this is me yelling #batman rogues #jonathan crane #scarecrow dc

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eddiernunson · 2 months

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Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.

“Eddie, make me cum, please.”

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work.

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m counting on it.”

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.

“Don’t tell my wife.”

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive.

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.”

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”

“C’mon, Dyl–”

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?”

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”

“On it!”

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”

“Yeah. You want me to–”

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this.

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!”

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.”

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.”

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.”

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.” Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not done!”

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?”

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?”

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?”

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’

“Let me guess. Arlo?”

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”

“What?”

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”

“No way!”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?”

“Yup. Are you interested?”

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room.

Well, that’s a lie.

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible.

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?”

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.”

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–”

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?”

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.”

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking.

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”

“I fucking love you so much.”

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?

For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”

“M or H?” Kayla asks.

“M.”

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?”

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?”

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.”

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.”

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.”

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher, someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–”

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom.

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?”

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–”

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?”

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.”

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door.

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.”

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.”

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?”

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs.

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.

“Gross!”

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.

———————-

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linnamonrolls0 · 4 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there.

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink.

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!”

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely…

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard…

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him.

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking?

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all.

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

#lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel x reader #hermes x reader #pjo hermes #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #my gif #my fic #pjo hermes fanfic #can't help it i love him

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sinokocranes · 7 months

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Why the MW5 Heavy Scrap Yard Metal Magnet is a Must-Have for Efficient Metal Dispose

The MW5 Heavy Scrap Yard Metal Magnet holds immense importance in modern metal recycling facilities. By swiftly lifting and sorting metal scrap, it reduces manual labor, saves time, and enhances productivity. By minimizing manual handling and reducing the risk of accidents associated with heavy metal scrap, it enhances workplace safety.

The MW5 Heavy Scrap Yard Metal Magnet is widely used in sorting and separating metal scrap, scrap yard cleaning and purification, scrap yard equipment maintenance, construction and demolition recycling, etc.

#cranes #bridge magnets #lifting goods #scrap yard

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euphoricfilter · 6 months

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𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟔

attempt #1

tags/ warnings: games designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || fluff || small brain jk is making a reappearance he's just a little silly

word count: 1.1k

notes: no taglist!!!!!

☆ collaboration with @bonny-kookoo 💕 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Y/n—baby” Jungkook almost slips over as he speeds into the living room, corner of the rug curled up just enough for him to trip over.

His eyes catch onto you, sprawled across the couch, movie running on the TV. Because as much as he planned to spend every moment with you on this trip, there was only so many times he could ignore the calls from his boss before he was toeing the line of losing his job.

You find it in yourself to pull your eyes away from the television, “Hmm?” you blink over at him, neck craned uncomfortably.

“I packed you a fancy dress, right?” he rushes, foot tapping against the floor.

You simply look at him for a moment, mind slowly whirring back to life as you recount what had been put in your suitcase before the both of you left. Vague memory of a nice outfit being folded beneath a pile of clothes.

“I think so…” you start, watching as Jungkook stalks across the living room.

His hands wrap around your arms, lifting you off the couch with ease, “We need to get dressed then” his hands linger over your warn skin a little longer, fingertips acting like magnet as he has to drag himself away from you.

“What?” you breathe, stumbling behind him as he slithers back into the bedroom.

He’s quick to unzip his suitcase, neatly folded clothes thrown onto the chair as he looks for something.

“What’s happening” you stand beside your own suitcase, entirely confused as to what was happening. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for Jungkook to panic, mind always frazzled, and so you’ve taught yourself to figure out what exactly was going on inside his head before you chose to panic too.

“I booked a dinner at this restaurant—” he starts, throwing a suit onto the bed, “And I forgot It’s in less than an hour… and we’re not exactly dressed yet, and we need to drive there—”

“Jungkook” you call out his name.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, stray piece of underwear held in a tight fist as he swallows.

“Calm down” a gentle smile pulls onto your lips, “We have time. When’s the reservation?”

“6:30” he murmurs, shoulders losing that little bit of pent up tension.

“That’s enough time, okay?” you nod, “You can get ready before then, and so can I. You don’t need to panic”

“I know, it’s just—” he sighs, fingers tugging at his earrings, “I want this to be perfect. No, it needs to be perfect”

You step over your suitcase, crouching down beside him, “You’ve done a good job so far, so please stop stressing. It’s not good for you”

He presses his forehead against your shoulder, “I love you” he murmurs.

“Love you too” your fingers tangle into his hair, “Now get changed, or we really will be late”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“One picture, please baby” Jungkook whines as he pulls his bag from the back seat of the car.

“And what if we’re late?” you peer through the passenger side widow at the time of the dashboard, keys still running the car.

“It’ll only take a minute” the car door slamming shut echoes through the empty car park, “You look too pretty, I need to document this moment forever” he tells you, entirely serious as he looks at you from over the hood of the car.

You glance over at the restaurant on the other side of the street, then back over at Jungkook.

“One photo… maybe two but the second one has to be the both of us” you mumble, arms crossed over your chest.

He slips around the front of the car, fingers gentle as they skim down the length of your arms. He leans down, lips soft against your cheek as he whispers out his thanks, kiss lingering over your warm cheeks.

He thinks the dinner is perfect, entirely enamoured by everything you say as you talk over dinner. Warm unfiltered, raw, perfect love bubbling within his heart, so fully of you, loving you, wanting to worship the ground you walked on.

There’s something entirely magical about the moment in Jungkook’s mind, candle on the table reflected like starlight in your eyes, restaurant mellow enough that it felt like it was only the both of you there. The world yours just for this moment, even if only a couple of hours. He’s happy as he watches you eat, cheeks aching from smiling at you so much though it’s the good kind of ache that reminds him of why he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Let’s share dessert” you say as you look at the menu, “Or should we get one each and share both of them?” you run a finger over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s eyes linger over your face, words barely registering in his mind before he’s telling you to order whatever you want.

“You’re not helping, Jungkook” you lay the menu flat on the table, “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want, baby” he pulls his chair a little closer to the table, wanting to be that little bit closer to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I want whatever you want”

“Liar” he chirps, “because I know for a fact there’s shit on that menu you wouldn’t even dream of eating, even if it is dessert”

“Touché” you pull the menu closer to you, “I want something you’ll like too”

“I like everything you like” he tells you.

“That’s not true”

He hums, “Name one thing you like that I don’t”

You pause for a moment, head tilting to look up at him, “What about…” you start, leaning back in your chair.

He opens his mouth, smug little smile on his face.

You stop him, “There definitely is something. Just give me time to think of it”

He laughs, head tipping back a little.

“While you think of that… and order dessert, I’m going to the bathroom” he pushes his chair back, leaning over the table to give you a gentle kiss before he’s slipping around tables towards the toilets, bag tucked under his arm.

And only once in the bathroom does he realise a flaw in his plan. He rummages through his bag, frantic as he sits on the toilet seat, feet tapping against the floor as he pulls everything out of his bag.

“Shit” he whispers.

He’d planned it out perfectly, ready to have the little velvety box tucked away in the pocket of his suit, ready to be yours as you walked along the beach. Secluded from the rest of the world because he knows not to ask you to be his in front of a crowd.

He feels the panic settle beneath his skin, contents of his bag emptied over his lap, velvet box nowhere to be seen. Likely still tucked away between his clothes where you wouldn’t be able to stumble across it.

He holds his head in his hands, a long drawn curse falling past his lips.

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kjhbsies · 3 months

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Fool For You

HELP PALESTINE • donation links • ways to help • why you should not buy/support TLOU2 remaster

PART I : PART II.

Rockstar Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Synopsis: Ellie wants to prove herself that she's a better one for you, but finds herself entangled in a web of circumstances as she was forced to fake-date a charismatic rising pop star. As Ellie navigates herself through the challenges of making appearances for the public eye, you become distant, fueled by doubts about Ellie's sincerity. the conflict deepens when Abby unexpectedly reappears, adding a layer of tension and fear that further strains Ellie's connection with the you.

wordcount: 6,473

"Who’s this?” Ellie asked coldly while taking a side glance at Abby, who was smiling amusedly as she could recognize the rockstar in front of her. She can take a hint that Ellie is getting furious because of her, and that thought makes her want to do some things that will probably annoy her.

“Abby Anderson,” she said while smiling, offering a hand to her. “I listen to your songs.”

Ellie ignored her, and she instead looked at you. “I’m sorry I was so late, there’s some emergency that happened in the group so I went here instead.”

You stared at Ellie, whose eyes were pleading with you right now. Yes, you were annoyed at her for standing you up at your supposed public date. Who wouldn’t, right? Sitting there at the park for minutes, trying to amuse yourself with things in there, while looking sad is pathetic. Humiliating, even. If Abby wasn’t there to accompany you for the rest of the night, you probably would be waiting for Ellie forever. I guess these kinds of things, such as meeting up with her or even having the chance to talk to her, will make you do everything that can deem you crazy.

But hey, it’s Ellie. Who wouldn’t do that for her?

But the question is… will Ellie do that for you?

Yes, she did go to lengths to correct her past mistakes, and to apologize profusely and sincerely. You can see that with her actions, and especially words because that’s what she’s good at her. Every word that comes through her mind and mouth is poetic, maybe that’s what makes her magnetic. But you can’t be sure of her intentions. Everyone loves Ellie, and she can get everyone she wants. And that’s what scares you. Because you think you are not enough for her. You’re just a simple college girl, her fan girl, there’s nothing crazy about you that would make her crawl to you. You don’t even know why she’s still wooing you.

Maybe Cat was right. You need to test what Ellie’s intentions are. And you can’t fall in love in the process. Not yet.

“It’s fine. You’re here now. And Abby was there to amuse me.” You smiled assuringly.

“Right.” Ellie almost rolled her eyes when you mentioned Abby’s name. The rockstar craned her neck to look at her, “Thanks for bringing her home, you can go now that I’m here.”

Your brows knitted and you looked at Ellie. “Hey, that’s kinda mean.” You whispered. But Ellie acted as if she didn’t hear you.

Abby acted nonchalantly. Instead, she smiled widely. “No worries, bro. I had an enjoyable night, tonight. But…” Abby clicked her tongue. “…The next time you ditch her, you should be nervous because I might steal you from her.” She then laughed jokingly.

Your eyes turned wide. And Ellie’s face reddened in annoyance. The rockstar’s jaw clenched and her grip on the bouquet and the tub of ice cream hardened.

Abby smiled at you before heading back to her car, but you and Ellie remained still until the car got away.

Ellie inhaled, “I don’t like your friend.”

“She’s joking.” You looked at her, and she met your gaze with a serious one.

“Well, she’s not funny.”

“Okay, valid.” You nodded. “We should go to my house. That ice cream is going to melt.” You begin walking inside the building, and Ellie starts tailing you.

“Next time she says something like that, I’m gonna crack her skull open,” Ellie commented.

You immediately shook your head. “No, you wouldn’t.” You went inside the elevator.

“Yes, I will, babe. Yes, I will.” Ellie said, staring right at your eyes.

Yup, she will.

You and Ellie are sitting in the kitchen bar area while slowly eating the ice cream in front of you two. You can tell that Ellie’s mind is going elsewhere, as she is unusually quiet and is already staring at nowhere right now. Since both of you are sitting side by side, you can tell how her leg is moving up and down – a sign that she’s uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” You asked, and Ellie almost jumped as you pulled her out of the trance.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry. I was kinda spacing out.” She said before smiling.

Your eyes lightly narrowed as you studied her, and Ellie immediately looked away. “What happened earlier?”

Ellie didn’t answer for a few minutes, and that made you want to question her more as your suspicions rose that it wasn’t pleasant. With the way she behaves, you can tell that it isn’t great, and that makes you slightly nervous.

“Some issue just broke up, it was kinda hard to explain but, yeah,” Ellie said in a low voice, almost like a whisper.

“…Okay. If you can’t say it right now, it’s fine. I don’t want to push it.” But you do want to. However, you’re afraid that this might make Ellie annoyed. If she isn’t ready, then who are you to force her? Besides, it isn’t your business and you aren’t involved in it.

The truth is, the reason why Ellie is extremely quiet and why she is so late at your supposed date, is because she and Jesse, their manager, got into an argument.

A new rising popstar, Jenny, is one of the netizen’s favorite musicians besides the Serenade Apocalypse. In three months, she has started to gain so much attention from the fans. However, some people have started to create multiple fan accounts of Jenny and Ellie that were practically shipping and wanting them to date. It has now become a new huge thing that gives Jenny and the Serenade Apocalypse a new wave of popularity that it reached Jenny’s management.

Her manager insisted to Jesse that they should engage in fake dating just to get more publicity. The pop star immediately agreed to this arrangement, saying that this was just a good idea. However, Jesse knew that Ellie wouldn’t comply, because of you. But the proposal got him thinking about how he could make the rockstar agree. Because, admit it or not, those fans are giving them fame. And fame is what keeps the band going.

Ellie doesn’t know how to say it to you because she doesn’t want to do it. Never. But everyone, including the rest of the band, agreed for her to do it, well, except Alex. Jesse said that it would be easy — both Jenny and Ellie would go on a public date where paparazzi are around, talk for an hour or so, go into cafes, have a drink, and maybe have a little makeout scene in the car while the windows are down, or a collab in a concert or gigs, some modeling shoots for luxurious brands, and then it’ll be done.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, on behalf of y/n,” Alex commented before drinking her beer. “I mean, the band is going well on its own and Ellie doesn’t need Jenny because everything is going well for us.”

The rest nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s right, but there are brands and sponsorships that will offer us millions of dollars if we agree to collaborate with Jenny,” Jesse said. “I know you’re right but the fame you have right now will double or even triple if Ellie agrees to do it.”

“Why me?!” Ellie asked angrily. “You know I’m not interested in that right now, man. I already have someone. Don’t make me fuck this up.”

“Just explain it to her, I’m sure she will understand,” Jesse answered.

“That’s not easy, dude. I won’t do it.”

“Well, I know you won’t do it, but either way, you don’t have a choice. You can’t change my mind here, Ellie. You and Jenny will have a fake relationship for a month. I’m sorry but it’s happening.” He said before leaving the office.

And right now, Ellie doesn’t know how to explain it to you. She’s scared that you might run away from her. It’s her worst nightmare. She doesn’t want to lose you.

“Hey, you ever heard of Jenny?” Cat asked as the two of you were walking around campus. She’s been looking at her phone the whole time, immersed in what she’s reading.

“Oh, the popstar?” You asked. She nodded. “Yeah, she’s getting shipped with Ellie right now.”

“I know. It’s crazy that there are even some fan theories that they’re dating.” Cat said before the two of you sat on a bench under a tree. After a few minutes of scrolling, Cat gasped loudly. “What the fuck?! They were seen together in a cafe an hour ago?!” She exclaimed.

Your brows knitted. “What? That can’t be real.” You said, trying to be calm because there was no way that Ellie would do that. She can’t do that to you.

Right?

Your heartbeat tripled when Cat showed you her phone. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem fake. It’s taken by a paparazzi. Look. “Rising pop star queen, Jenny, was spotted having a fancy brunch with the rockstar Ellie Williams.” Cat read the headline. She then scrolled down, revealing a couple of pictures of Jenny and Ellie, sitting in one of the cafeterias in New York.

Jenny is smiling and laughing at those pictures while holding her small cup of coffee. Radiating as usual with her cute clothes, perfect hair, and gorgeous makeup. On the other hand, Ellie is in front of her, wearing her black varsity jacket and baggy pants. She isn’t smiling, but you can’t tell from the pictures because her eyes are covered with her dark sunglasses.

You can physically feel your heart crack at the moment. It is real. That thing can’t be photoshopped and it is Ellie. The same Ellie in your apartment last night. “Oh my god, y/n…” Cat looked at you with sadness in her eyes.

You gulped, trying to keep tears at bay. “So that’s why she was quiet last night…” You said. “Well, can’t really blame her. Jenny is pretty. But I just hoped that she told me earlier.”

Well, Ellie isn’t even yours to begin with. She was just your friend, nothing more. But you still can’t help but feel a pang of betrayal in your heart. It’s an ugly feeling because Ellie didn’t promise you a single thing. She was just kind to you. You aren’t her girlfriend so why are you feeling like your whole world collapsed?

After you’ve heard the news, you couldn’t help but stay in your apartment, sitting on the couch, while a cozy blanket is wrapped around your body. Dina and Cat are extremely quiet, not knowing what to say or do after the news broke out.

It was all over the internet, and every time you opened up your phone, it was all you could see on the screen. Your notifications popped out, reminding you that everything that was happening was real. Ellie is dating Jenny. She might be. Of course, this wasn’t supposed to shock you. I mean, Ellie was known for dating pretty famous girls in the past. Her flings are filled with models, singers, actresses, and such, you might be foolish to think that you are her type because, to be real, Ellie is out of your league.

You shouldn’t have hoped that there was even a small chance that she would date you.

How can you be so gullible?

Dina placed the hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you. “I know what you’re thinking, and no, y/n, you shouldn’t dwell on that.” She sat beside you, wearing her comfy pajama set while sipping her tea.

You gulped, your eyes were sore and red and puffy from crying for over an hour, or even more. After hearing the issue from Cat, you and she decided to go back to your apartment, and you have been silent ever since. Cat doesn’t know how to comfort you as she admits that she is bad at it. All she can think about is how many ways that could make Ellie Williams suffer at your hands. Honestly, she has been listing it on her mind even from the start, but her annoyance with the rock star has skyrocketed after this. She hated seeing her friend cry over anything, and Cat has been known as very protective, especially with her loved ones. Seeing you in this state breaks her heart because you deserved better.

Ellie’s last text was from last night, saying that she was already at home. After that, there are no updates from her. You don’t want to seem needy by flooding her messages, asking where she’s at, who is with her right now, or if the rumors are even true. You couldn’t look desperate. If you begged for her, then your dignity will be lost. And that’s the last thing that you have. So. no, you won’t bother picking up your phone.

“Look, you two should talk it out,” Dina said.

“What’s there to talk? Ellie is dating Jenny, which is very clear from the pictures. What’s more to say other than her being a dick?” Cat answered frustratingly.

You shut your eyes. “She’s not.” You sighed. “Ellie doesn’t owe me any explanations because we aren’t dating, okay? She can be with any girl she wants, and it shouldn’t hurt me because she’s not mine. Ellie shouldn’t be blamed for my emotions.”

“Not dating? But she was just here last night. Look, the bouquet is still fresh. No friend buys flowers and a tub of ice cream in the middle of the night.” Cat said.

“Right,” Dina nodded.

“And you two have been on private dates so many times.”

“It meant nothing. You two are my friends and we always go out!” You reasoned.

“But it was different with Ellie. Because admit it or not, she has been extremely romantic with you.”

“Guys, it’s fine.” You said. “You know me, I am always like this when Ellie has dating rumors.”

“This time it’s different, y/n,” Dina said. “Because deep inside, you thought you finally had a chance with her.”

You just looked away silently.

“Gosh, I’m so stupid.” You put your hands in your face, as you cried onto it. The two immediately wrapped their arms around you, enveloping you in a warm, comforting hug. “This is so fucking pathetic. I fucking thought…” You sobbed. “I’m so humiliating.”

“It’s not.” Dina immediately answered.

“Give her hell,” Cat said, making you pull away from the hug as you stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

“What?”

“Give. Her. Hell.” She said firmly.

Oh, Ellie Williams, you are so done.

“Are we done?” Ellie asked once they stepped inside the limousine. She looked outside the tinted windows, scanning the people flocking around the car, trying to make their way as near as possible to get so many pictures of you and the pop star beside you.

Ellie was so guilty for doing this, and even more when she kept thinking that you would find out what she had been doing right now before she could even explain herself. She chickened out last night, not wanting to ruin your whole day or week. But after she left your apartment, Ellie wanted to come back, knock on your door, and beg on her knees just for you not to get mad at her because she knows she has no choice but to oblige.

The moment Ellie woke up, Jesse was the first person she saw. He has been sitting at one of the barstools in her penthouse’s kitchen, sipping her self-made coffee. Your irritation grew so that you wanted to punch his face.

“I confiscated your phone.” He said, waving the thing in front of her. Ellie immediately walked at him, eyes fueling with anger as she tried to snatch it away from him. But Jesse was quick to put it in his pockets and move away from Ellie. “I will give it back once you’ve done your task.”

Ellie wanted to rip him limb by limb. She was now seething with anger. “What am I?! A kid?!”

Jesse sighed. “Ellie, this won’t take long. You can text your girlfriend once you’ve followed my directions.”

Which is why she was here, sitting inside the small space with Jenny who’s been looking at herself in the pocket mirror she’s holding on to as soon as they got in. Ellie’s hands are itching to text and call you right now, wanting to explain everything. That this was all a fake thing. Nothing is real, and you are still the girl in her mind.

And that’s if you will still talk to her.

The thought of you leaving Ellie haunted her mind, and it never failed to make her whole body freeze in nervousness. Fuck it.

Jesse gave Ellie her phone. She immediately checked it, but then got disappointed that you didn’t even say something to her. Ellie gulped, something inside her mind told her that you probably knew. You weren’t dumb, and news flies too fast.

“You know,” Jenny looked at her and she glanced back. “You seemed uninterested in me. Am I making you bored?” She asked. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Look, I just got pulled into this situation that I never wanted in the first place.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” Jenny scoffed. “So many guys and girls wanted me, okay? Why are you acting as if I’m making you miserable?!” Her tone is getting higher.

“It’s because I am!” Ellie said back, frustratingly.

Jenny’s jaw clenched but she didn’t say anything. Ellie wanted to thank the universe for making her shut up. She couldn’t stand her presence. Jesse and Jenny’s manager exchanged awkward glances before sighing. The tension in the air is thick, and everybody went silent. Ellie’s eyes shut tightly. She immediately recites a long apology for you at the whole ride home.

The next morning, you receive a text from Ellie, asking you where you are. It is a breezy afternoon and your classes were done for the day. Your energy is still low, and you can’t even focus, your head is full of thoughts about Ellie and Jenny.

You knew that you two should talk it out as it is the best thing to resolve an issue. Communication is very important, but you couldn’t even afford to have the courage to ask her about it. Because at some point, Ellie doesn’t owe you any explanations. Like what you’ve said, she could take whoever she wants, and it should be none of your business. Just because you two became close, doesn’t mean that you are romantically involved with each other.

Ellie, on the other hand, knows where you are. She is already outside of your campus, waiting on her heavily tinted car. The huge bouquet she bought, with a box of flowers is now sitting on the back of her car. She knows your schedule, and Ellie thought that at any moment right now, you could be walking right out of the main gate.

She has been practicing what to say in front of you. She wanted to explain, not wanting to leave you hanging. Ellie is serious about pursuing you, however, she couldn’t ask you about it. She’s afraid that you might be thinking that everything is going so fast, She doesn’t want to scare you, which is why she’s taking things slow.

While you were walking near the gate, Abby briskly walked to catch up to you. “Hey, how are you?” She asked, “I heard about-”

You immediately rolled your eyes. And Abby stopped talking before she held up both her hands in the air – it’s as if she’s surrendering. You two laughed at her actions. “I just want to sleep all week.” You said.

“That’s such an impossible wish.” She joked. “But, seriously, if you wanted to talk about things, what’s bothering you, then you should call me.”

The two of you reached the gate and you two stopped. “I don’t have your number, Abby.” You said while smiling.

“Ah, here.” Abby offered you her phone. “Put your number here so I can call you instead.”

You immediately obliged. Unbeknownst to you, Ellie saw your interactions, and the similar annoyance she felt when she first saw you and Abby tripled. Her hands balled into a fist, it was so tight that her veins started showing up. She wanted to slam Abby’s head into the steering wheel as she saw her smiling and laughing with you. She wanted to pull out her eyes for even looking at you to flirt with you.

You saw Ellie’s familiar car. The same one that she uses to take you out on a date. The one where paparazzi couldn’t trace. Your heart started breathing too fast before you looked away at it, knowing that Ellie was probably looking at you through the tinted windows.

You bid goodbye to Abby who immediately went on the other side of the road. You sighed, wanting your heart to calm down as you were walking to the car. Bitterness started to flood through your veins as you realized that Ellie just got into a public date with someone else yesterday, while she’s now trying to hide her identity every time she goes out with you.

You opened the passenger seat and you were immediately welcomed by Ellie’s pissed face.

“What?” You asked.

“She still wouldn’t leave you alone?”

Your brows knitted together as you quickly realized that she was talking about Abby. “We’re friends.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I know she has other intentions.”

“Oh really?” You too are now getting annoyed at her. “So I can’t talk with Abby but you can go out with someone else on a date?” Your voice is laced with bitterness and you immediately regret it.

Ellie looked at you, the small pain in your tone almost made her want to throw up. “It’s not a date…” She said softly.

“I don’t know, it seems like it is.” You looked outside the window, not wanting to look at her face.

Something inside you starts building up. Sadness flowed in your thoughts, mixed with annoyance and bitterness about everything. Your eyes started to tear, and you looked away even more.

“Y/n. It’s all fake.” Ellie said, and your heart almost leaped. You took every force in your body not to look at her. “I went home to explain everything to you, and I’m telling you right now that everything isn’t true. My manager forced me to do this.”

You gulped, wiping the tears that escaped from your eyes before you dared to look at her. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was still contemplating last night because I- I got scared.” Ellie sighed.

“Of what?”

“Of losing you.” She answered quickly.

You stared at her. “Why would you lose me?”

Ellie’s mouth moved but she couldn’t utter a single word. “I don’t know…” She said softly before caressing your cheek. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Here it goes again.

You don’t know whether to feel happy or sad with what Ellie is doing right now. Of course, the familiar thump in your heart never goes unnoticed by you. It was all you can hear right now. Ellie is still the woman in your dreams, it won’t change. Never will. You knew that being with her almost every day would wreck you in the end. You knew that once Ellie was within your sight, you wouldn’t be able to stop your feelings. You knew that once Ellie spoke, you would obey everything that she said. You love her so much that you’re afraid that the grip she has on you will eventually be the end of you.

You contemplated asking her about what she truly felt. But you need answers, or else you won’t take it anymore. You should save yourself first.

“What are we doing, Ellie?”

“Wha- what?” She asked, taken aback.

“You should stop doing those,” You said, mentioning the bouquet at the back of her car, “Sweet things. It’s confusing.”

“What’s confusing about that?” Ellie questioned.

You were now growing impatient. “You should only do that to the person you love, Ellie. Do you feel that about me?”

“I do!” She exclaimed.

“Then say it.” You demanded,

Ellie grew silent. She stared at you, breathing heavily. The thought of finally confessing to someone about what you truly felt seriously, without an ounce of alcohol in your veins, or a little bit of drugs, scared Ellie. This is getting too real to the point that her feelings scare her. She isn’t used to it, everything she does with you is new to her. It’s like she’s trying to find the right path in the darkness, where no one but her is guiding her, and she isn’t used to that. She’s afraid of making mistakes and hurting you.

This should be easy to say. Just do it. Just fucking-

When a couple of minutes had passed, you nodded. Her silence gave you the answers.

“Y/n-” Ellie called your name when she realized that you were scrambling to get out of the car. She immediately locked the doors, not wanting you to go. She tried her best to get a good grip on you but you were quick to pry her hands away. Ellie backed out, slowly getting her energy drained from her body.

You were getting away from her.

“I should go-”

“No, please.” She shut her eyes tightly. “Y/n, I-”

“It’s fine, Ellie.” You tried to smile. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Don’t go.” She said, catching your hand tightly. She looked at you with those green bloodshot eyes, pleading with you. But you shook your head. You’re afraid that the more you spend time with her, the more you won’t get out of the cage you’re in.

Ellie couldn’t do anything but to let you go. When you finally did get out of the car and ran away, she couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her freckled cheek. Ellie rested her head on the steering wheel, contemplating if she should go run with you. But again, she couldn’t because she shouldn’t be seen with anyone else.

So the whole time, all Ellie could do was to cry, and blame herself for being such an asshole.

A month has passed, and you still haven’t seen Ellie since.

It wasn’t such an easy thing to do, especially when Ellie has been persistent in wanting to talk to you. But you still wouldn’t budge, you made up your mind that you wouldn’t want to waste your energy on her. With the examinations week going, you’re mind is too preoccupied to even entertain her. So instead, you decided to bury yourself with books and reviewers.

That night you left Ellie’s car, she knocked on your apartment door, wanting to explain everything to you. But you never bothered to leave your room. You couldn’t. Your energy was drained from crying the whole day. This is why Cat was the one who answered the door, immediately making Ellie go away.

But that didn’t end. Every day, Ellie wouldn’t stop stalking you. She would flood your inbox with her texts and calls that you had to block it. But Ellie’s efforts would always go to waste since you’ve somehow managed to dodge her.

She tried waiting outside your campus in her car, but you’re smart enough to spot it even from a distance. So you would immediately go the other way, walking fast enough to catch up with the bus. And Ellie couldn’t even do a damn thing. She couldn’t even hop out of the car and chase after you. Ellie also tried going up to your apartment, particularly on those days that she knew Cat wasn’t around to yell at her. However, you weren’t there. And Dina wouldn’t tell her where you are no matter how much she tried.

On days when Ellie was out with Jenny to do publicity stunts, she would constantly send you different flowers with a box of chocolates and a note where she explained that everything wasn’t real and that she really wanted to talk to you about what happened at the car but you wouldn’t just let her. So instead, she’s sending out those letters because you’ve blocked her in everything.

Best believe that Cat was living her dream of seeing Ellie in her poor state. Dina was too soft-hearted to even leave her alone with the rock star because she was always trying her best not to spill anything about you when Ellie was almost crying in front of her. She just couldn’t handle the two of you being in a situation like this.

But you, no one knows how hard it is for you to ignore her and act like as if nothing has happened. It’s like you’re on a constant battle with yourself every single day. One part of you wanted to stop this madness and just talk to her, settle everything for everyone’s peace of mind. But the second part of you wanted to just let this pass away for the mean time. Let Ellie rethink her decisions before she comes up to you, and just leave you hanging again. You wanted yourself to calm down and not get devoured of your emotions before talking to her. So that is what you’re doing right now.

Cat groaned as the four of you were at the cafeteria. You and Abby are sitting side by side. She offered to carry the huge textbooks you’re holding and wouldn’t say no as an answer. So, you wanted to buy her something in exchange.

“What?” You asked, drinking the sparkling water you’re holding.

“Jenny and Ellie will be having their collab duet at the bar here.” Cat showed you her phone with the said headline.

Your heart ached once more but you still somehow faked it in front of them. The grip on your bottle tightened. “So?” You asked, acting nonchalantly.

“You should go,” Cat said and everyone looked at her skeptically.

“Are you going insane, Catherine?” Dina butted in.

Cat reached onto her jacket’s pocket while rolling her eyes. She then tossed the two tickets in front of you. You and Abby took it.

“VIP front row tickets.” Abby read the paper.

“What’s this for?” You questioned, brows were knitting together. “I thought you hated Ellie.”

“I still do, pretty girl. But hear me out, you two should go on a date. I specifically got the front row one because that is where Ellie would see you two together, okay? You should go out and make her realize that you are so much more than that Jenny girl.”

Your eyes dropped on the tickets once again.

You found Cat’s explanation absolutely absurd and childish. If this will make Ellie annoyed, then what more will it do for you? Seeing the two up close at the stage, acting as if they were in love with each other will make you dizzy in jealousy.

“Cool. I’m in.” Abby said, smiling widely.

Your neck snapped up at her. “What?”

She shrugged. “I never forgot what I said when I first met her, and I hope she didn’t. Because I’m serious about that. I will actually steal you from her if she isn’t too careful.” Abby winked at you.

You then looked at Dina. “Dee, you think that this is a good idea, too?”

Dina then opened her mouth, trying to say something but then she just nodded. “They’re right. Ellie is already annoyed at Abby so bringing her in one of their gigs will actually make her realize what’s right in front of her.”

You gulped and looked away.

“Fine.” You answered and everyone snickered.

To say that Ellie was incredibly annoyed tonight was just an understatement because its more than that. No words could describe how much she wanted to bang her head at the concrete wall before this show started. She couldn’t even handle Jenny’s presence for even a minute, and then their managers decided to make the two collab in a gig. That sounds like a pure hell for her.

But then she has no choice. Ellie knew that this bar was near your university, and she was hoping that you wouldn’t go in there. Yes, she wanted to talk to you, she wanted to explain that she was afraid of admitting it to herself, and with you, that she does like you. More than you’ve ever known. She wanted to kiss you, wanted to make up with you and worship the ground you walk on. Ellie never knew the purpose of her life until she met her. You’ve opened up her eyes to so many things, and you showed her that she has a heart that can love.

She sighed, strumming her guitar as the music started. Jenny is beside her, making flirty glances to stir the public but Ellie couldn’t pretend to even like her. Not when the song she wrote for you was the one playing.

The two of them started singing. Ellie was avoiding Jenny’s gazes at the stage by looking at the crowd, examining everyone who seemed to be indulged in their performance.

A couple of minutes passed and Ellie saw a familiar figure amid the crowd. Her posture straightened while following you as you made your way to the swarm of people. Her ringed fingers gripped the base of her guitar tightly while the other one was strumming it.

Ellie couldn’t move her eyes away from you. She wanted to jump off the stage and catch you in her arms at the moment. It’s like someone has cast a spell that made her this crazy in love for you. Ellie forgot about her partner on the stage and just was shocked when Jenny touched her tattooed arm.

And then reality has seeped in.

She was with Jenny, and you weren’t alone at the bar.

You’re with Abby.

Oh god, you’re with her.

Ellie’s gaze darkened as she stared at the two of you, sitting at one of the front row seats at the bar. Perfectly in line with her vision. The bar was dim, and the light that was on was the blinding neon flashing lights. But she could see how Abby was gripping your waist, pulling you closer to her body as she leaned in and whispered something to you. Ellie figured out that it was funny because of the way you laughed.

Ellie wanted to smash the guitar at the floor, slowly getting red from so much annoyance. Her gaze never left yours, watching every move of you two.

The performance was painfully slow, and those two hours, Ellie spent glaring in your direction. Something inside you stirred, knowing that she was annoyed. You couldn’t believe that Ellie was acting jealous, especially when Abby was close to you. At first, you thought Cat’s plan wasn’t going to work, not believing that there was an absolute chance that Ellie would get jealous of someone near you. However, it was proved wrong when Abby and you noticed how many death glares she threw at the two of you.

And Abby was enjoying every little bit of it.

When it was done, Ellie never wasted a single second before she angrily made her way backstage. She immediately took a swig of the bottle of whiskey, drowning her anger in it. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted to slam her fist at the wall, shout at something, and then repeat. She fucked this up. And she should face the consequences of it.

You sighed, watching Ellie leave the stage. You wanted to run after her, the universe knew how much you wanted to. However, you can’t. Not when Jenny was around. Not in front of her.

“She’s mad.” Abby pointed out.

You looked at Jenny who was still at the stage, talking to her fans. But you can feel the awkwardness of it when the band members were slowly getting out, following Ellie. Leaving her alone to deal with them.

“I feel bad.” You said, sadly.

“You should talk to her, then.”

You stared at Abby for a minute before nodding, seriously considering it.

Your phone lit up. It was Alex telling you that Ellie was at the limousine if you still wanted to talk to her. You quickly bid goodbye to Abby who assures you that she will be fine in here. You thank her before you spotted the car that Alex was talking about.

You opened the door, and Ellie couldn’t contain her surprise at the sight of you. However, it was short-lived as her annoyance started to get her way in her.

“Where’s your date?” She asked bitterly.

You shook your head. “There. I left her.”

Ellie’s brows knitted. “Why would you do that? She might get hurt if she finds out that you’re here with me.” She said sarcastically.

“Ellie, we’re friends. Nothing more.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wouldn’t talk to me because you’re finally with her.” She slurred.

“I wouldn’t talk to you because I don’t want the two of us to become overcome with our emotions. Which is what is happening right now.”

Ellie silently looked at you. Her green eyes were watering as she tried to glare at you. You, however, stared at her with much sadness.

“I just missed you.” She croaked. “And I do like you, y/n. The moment you hopped out of the car that day, I wanted to run after you. Kneel in front of you and tell you how much I wanted you the moment I laid my eyes on you.” She breathed. “You’re the only one I wanted, okay?”

“Ellie…”

“Please, just.” She shut her eyes tightly, tears flowing down her cheeks. Ellie was even surprised that loving can make her feel such things. It was ugly, but it reminded her how much she cared for you. “If you don’t like me anymore, I’ll stop. Just say it.”

Instead of answering her, you immediately grabbed her cheeks with both of your hands, enveloping her in a warm kiss. You leaned into her, and Ellie didn’t waste a time to grab your hips, making you straddle her in her seat. You attempt to pull away from the kiss, but Ellie desperately catches your lips once again, pulling you into a deep heated makeout. Both of your tongues swirled against each other, and Ellie’s grip on your waist tightened.

“I love you, Ellie. I don’t want to leave you, okay?” You said after you pulled out from the kiss.

Ellie smiled. “I won’t leave, baby. And I do love you more than ever. So please, kiss me once again because I am starving.”

And who are you to say no, right?

taglist: @bready101 @liasxeatt @ivying @elliesaturnsoftdrink

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 4 months

Text

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 4)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10299

Warnings: SMUT (public sex/office sex, fingering, masturbation, bath sex, p in v, dry humping, hand job, worshipping), Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student

Summary: Y/n had been craving more of Jonathan, more of all of him. She knew she couldn't push him to do anything, but maybe she didn't have to.

A/N: Sorry it took AGES for me to post this part, I had just moved cities and gotten settled into a new job too, so a lot of moving around for me lately.

I had quiet a bit of fun writing this part, I loved writing more of Jonathan's personality and personal problems.

I hope you enjoy this part and look forward to whatever I write next. 💚

Y/n had begun wearing skirts to class, trying to get Jonathan to fuck her. She loved the thought of him getting all hot and bothered during teaching. The skirts were tight and showed off her legs, making Y/n feel confident and sexy. Jonathan noticed the change and couldn't help but stare at her. Every day, Y/n felt more in control, knowing that she had the power to turn Jonathan on just by wearing a skirt.

She knew she had power over Jonathan and loved it. She could just fuck him at home, but she liked the thought of fucking Jonathan in his office, or even in the middle of the classroom. She loved the idea of him getting caught by fucking his student, his face beet red with embarrassment. Y/n was in control and she loved every minute of it.

In these moments, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill at the taboo nature of their relationship. It was more than just fucking one another, but queit literally living together, the knowledge that they were transgressing the conventional norms of student and professor dynamics.

As the lecture concluded, Y/n gracefully sauntered into Jonathan's office, an air of mischief accompanying her every step. The anticipation hung palpably, the room of students unaware of what Y/n had in store for their professor.

Jonathan, though accustomed to Y/n's teasing ways, relished in making her wait. A knowing smile played on his lips as he closed the door with a deliberate click, the sound echoing through the room.

Seated behind his desk, Jonathan assumed an air of calm composure, belying the desires that simmered beneath the surface. The familiar ritual had begun, a silent interplay of glances and a magnetic pull that drew them closer.

As Y/n circled the desk, a picture of effortless allure, she leaned against its edge, casting a playful gaze upon Jonathan. The soft glow of the office lights caught the subtle mischief in her eyes.

"Professor," Y/n's voice was a velvety whisper, a prelude to the seductive dance they were about to engage in.

“Y/n,” Jonathan acknowledged her with a measured response, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I’m bored,” Y/n declared, her voice carrying a tone of mischievous longing.

Jonathan, unruffled, looked up from his work, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a hundred books in here, pick one out,” he suggested, feigning indifference.

Y/n's sigh filled the room with an air of impatience, her faux boredom manifesting audibly. "I don't want to read," Y/n declared, her gaze fixed on Jonathan with a teasing challenge.

Jonathan, ever the composed professor, responded with a playful suggestion. "What do you want to do then?"

Y/n, with a devilish gleam in her eyes, gracefully positioned herself at the centre of Jonathan's desk. A confident smile adorned her lips as she beckoned playfully, "Come on, Professor... don't you want to play with your little student?" She reclined provocatively on the smooth surface of the table.

"I don't know, you have cards?" Jonathan suggested with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Y/n's eyes rolled in exasperation, dismissing the idea of a mundane game. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me, my Dear… What do you want?" Jonathan inquired, rising from his desk to stand over her, a potent blend of curiosity and amusement dancing in his gaze.

Y/n's voice carried a sultry undertone as she made her desire known, "I want you to fuck me... right here." The air thickened with tension as her words hung in the room, like an invisible thread weaving their shared secret.

Jonathan, in response, sighed, a mixture of reluctance and longing, as he leaned over Y/n. The subtle brush of his fingers against her cheek. Jonathan sighed softly as he leaned over Y/n, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Breaking away just enough to let his warm breath caress her skin, he whispered with a hint of playful authority, "Well, then... let's hope you can keep the volume down."

Dr. Crane couldn't resist the urge to run his hands through Y/n's hair, pulling her closer to him. Y/n's tongue danced with Dr. Crane's, teasing and tantalizing him until he couldn't take it anymore.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at her. “You're such a naughty little patient,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire

He leaned in and captured her mouth once again, his lips rough and demanding as he claimed hers in a fierce kiss. Y/n moaned loudly, arching her back as she felt his hands roam over her body, exploring and teasing her until she could hardly bear it.

With a mischievous smirk, Dr. Crane reached down and slowly slipped Y/n's skirt up over her hips, revealing her black underwear.

He paused letting his eyes rake over her body appreciatively before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think these have to go,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Without waiting for a response, he leaned over and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down over her hips as Y/n gasped and wriggled with excitement. reached down and rubbed his fingers over her wet pussy, teasing her until she was squirming with need.

“You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he rubbed his fingers over her swollen clit.

“You're just dying for my cock, aren't you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body thrumming with need as she moaned loudly.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she pushed her hips back towards him, desperate for more. “Please fuck me.”

Without another word, Dr. Crane reached down and slipped two fingers into her wet pussy, slamming them in and out of her eager hole as Y/n screamed and writhed with pleasure. He was relentless until she was screaming his name and begging for more.

As Jonathan fingered Y/n's pussy over and over, his eyes locked onto hers, a look of pure determination on his face. “You need to be quiet,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

“You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body throbbing with need as she nodded frantically, unable to speak. “If you’re too loud, I won’t be fucking you.”

Y/n covered her mouth, muffling her moans. “That's a good little patient,” he whispered.

Jonathan pulled his fingers out of her wet pussy and reached down to pull his cock out of his pants, his eyes locked onto hers as he positioned himself in front of her. He pulled her hips back towards him and slammed into her, his cock slipping in and out of her pussy.

Her pussy muscles clenched tightly around his cock as he moaned loudly. He was relentless, driving into her over and over as she held on his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss.

she reached out and tried to grab his shirt, but he was quick to stop her. With a wicked grin, he reached down and grabbed her wrists, pushing them above her head and holding them tightly as he thrusted into her.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Dr. Crane,” Y/n cried.

“Come for me, my Dear,” he whispered.

Her body shook and thrummed with need as she started cumming, her cunt clenching tightly around his cock as she squeezed it with all her might. Within seconds, he was grunting loudly as he started pumping into her, his cock slamming into her cunt as he came, his cum spurting out inside of her until he collapsed onto her with a groan.

Beads of sweat adorned their skin, glistening under the soft glow of the dimmed room. The air was thick with the heady aroma of sex. Breathless and sated, Jonathan pressed a tender kiss on Y/n’s flushed cheek.

Y/n chuckled, her breath still uneven, "Should have done this sooner," she remarked playfully.

"Well, perhaps you should have been more explicit from the beginning," Jonathan teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes. A smirk played on Jonathan's lips as he added, "I hope you don't believe this concludes our time together."

Y/n released a contented sigh, acknowledging she wouldn’t be sleeping much that night. No matter how tired Y/n was, the promise of more sex with Jonathan kept her pleasantly awake.

With sex becoming more common in their relationship, Y/n became keenly aware of the need for a bathtub. The ritual of a relaxing bath appealed to her, especially when after sex, Y/n can never be bothered to shower as Jonathan had fucked her dumb.

While laying tiles, Y/n's eye caught a glimpse of the past plumbing embedded in the floor. She knew she wanted a bath eventually, but getting the main parts of the bathroom was more important at the time. However after all the leg shaking sex the two of them had been having, the sentiment grew stronger.

Y/n's enthusiasm was contagious as she excitedly skipped over to Jonathan amidst his work. He glanced up, protective goggles perched on, watching Y/n approach.

“Hey, Jonathan…” Y/n chirped, prompting him to divert his attention.

Jonathan removed his glasses, his eyes squinting slightly from the change in focus. “Careful, I’m using chemicals,” he warned, ever mindful of Y/n’s safety.

“We really need to get you a proper lab. But that’s for another day! Can we install a bath?” Y/n's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating the feasibility. “Do we have the plumbing?” he asked.

“Yep! I left it uncovered while tiling just in case. Have you not looked around in the bathroom? No wonder you wear glasses,” Y/n teased, her playful banter drawing a smirk from Jonathan.

“Well… I get paid this week for work I did for Nigma, so we can go look at some after that,” Jonathan suggested, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Y/n beamed with satisfaction and planted a quick kiss on Jonathan’s cheek. “Y/n! Be careful! Go wash your mouth, I said I was using chemicals,” he chided, a hint of frustration in his tone.

Y/n laughed, darting away with playful mischief, leaving Jonathan to return to his work with an affectionate smile.

A few days later, with Jonathan's dodgy paycheck in hand, the two set out to find the perfect bathtub. They wandered through home department stores, looking at various designs and features.

"Jonathan, what about this one?" Y/n pointed excitedly to a sleek, modern bathtub with built-in jets.

Jonathan glanced at it, raising an eyebrow, "Jets in a bath? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Y/n grinned, "Come on, it's not just about functionality. It's about enjoying the experience."

Jonathan chuckled, unable to resist Y/n's enthusiasm. They finally settled on a deep, freestanding tub with elegant claw feet, a perfect blend of comfort and aesthetics.

Back at the warehouse, Y/n set to work installing the bath, with Jonathan eagerly assisting. The room started to transform, taking on a more luxurious ambiance. The scent of scented candles, ones which Y/n begged Jonathan to purchase, filled the air as they worked.

As they filled the tub for the first time, Y/n couldn't contain her excitement. "Jonathan, this is going to be amazing! Our own little spa."

Jonathan, although reserved, couldn't help but smile at Y/n's infectious joy. The bath was more than just a new addition, it was a symbol of their new domestic life and the continuous evolution of their sanctuary.

Jonathan's lips curled into a soft smile as he responded, "Go for it, my Dear. You deserve a soak in the bath." He pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's temple, the warmth of his affection radiating through the gesture.

As Y/n turned to him, an eyebrow raised, she asked, "You're not joining?"

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment as Jonathan hesitated. A subtle pause lingered in his expression before he finally replied, "I have to head down to Arkham."

Y/n's expression shifted to a gentle pout, disappointment etching across her features. "Okay, be safe," she said, offering Jonathan a consoling kiss on the cheek.

As the door clicked shut behind Jonathan, Y/n found herself alone in the bathroom, the gentle ambiance of soft lighting and the soothing scent of bath salts, which she had also forced Jonathan to purchase, enveloping her. She understood the reasons for his departure, a weight of unspoken responsibilities lingering in the air. Respecting his choices, Y/n decided not to press him into revealing more.

With a graceful ease, she began to undress. The warm glow from the candles danced across her skin as she stepped into the water, embracing the comforting warmth that enveloped her body. The room seemed to hush, and Y/n sank into the fragrant bubbles, allowing the serenity of the bath to wash over her.

Each moment was a small act of self-care, a celebration of solitude that mingled with the soft symphony of water and her own thoughts. Y/n relished in the feeling of the bath, the gentle caress of the water against her skin, and the tranquility that washed away the stresses of the day.

The warehouse door crashed open with a resounding bang, capturing Y/n's attention as she glanced up from the couch, her towel for her hair resting on the floor beside her. Jonathan stormed in, his frustration evident as he angrily tossed his burlap mask onto the cluttered workbench.

"Jonathan? What happened?" Y/n asked, rising from the couch to approach him.

"That blasted Bat is meddling with my plans...he's getting too close," Jonathan growled, fixing a menacing gaze on nothing in particular.

"I thought Edward was taking care of it," Y/n remarked.

"Yeah, well, we both know how reliable Nigma can be," Jonathan scoffed, prompting a subdued chuckle from Y/n.

"Come on, let's just head to bed. You've barely gotten any sleep this week," Y/n suggested, her hand gliding down his arm to entwine with his.

His frown eased, replaced by a gentle look as he met her eyes. Smiling, she guided him up the loft stairs, leading the way to their shared bed. Seating him on the mattress, she grabbed a pair of pyjamas, offering them to him.

As he began shedding his jacket and other clothes, Y/n watched with a loving gaze. Jonathan undid the buttons of his shirt, hesitating before fully removing it. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards Y/n, his jaw clenched. Understanding his vulnerability, Y/n lowered her head and hopped onto the bed, facing away from him.

Jonathan harboured insecurities about his physique, often choosing to change in private or while Y/n slept. She had glimpsed his body only once, tending to him after a brutal fight, and remained mindful of his sensitivity in such moments. His reluctance to be touched lingered, restricting the intimacy between them. Even during their hugs, he only let her hands rest around his neck or against his chest.

Y/n, well-acquainted with her own insecurities, understood the delicacy of the situation and recognized the limits of what she could change without him initiating it. Yet, an earnest desire to connect with him on a deeper level persisted.

As he finished changing, a sudden silence signalled his readiness. Y/n felt as he reclined on the bed and felt his arm envelop her body. Turning to face him, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips before closing her eyes and nestling against his warmth. In the quiet moments that followed, she surrendered to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, finding solace in their shared silence as she drifted into sleep.

Awakening to a chilly emptiness, Y/n opened her eyes to find the bed void of Jonathan’s presence. A surge of emotion brought tears to her eyes, but a hopeful warmth lingered in the spot beside her, suggesting he might not have left just yet. Frantically, she scanned the loft before bolting down the stairs and out the entrance, calling out for him in the night.

The creak of the bathroom door interrupted her anxious search. She turned to see Jonathan hurrying out, reaching for her shoulders to bring reassurance.

"I'm here, Y/n. Don't worry, I haven't left," Jonathan assured her, enveloping her in an embrace while tenderly stroking her hair.

Her breath steadied as she closed her eyes, absorbing the comforting embrace and inhaling his familiar scent. It was a blend of his natural musk and subtle perfume, a fragrance she had grown to love. In that moment, the warmth of his presence and the familiar aroma offered solace, grounding her in the reality that he was indeed there with her.

"Come on, back to bed," Jonathan urged, gently pulling her away and guiding her back to the comforting embrace of the sheets.

"What's the time?" Y/n inquired.

"It's only 4 AM. We don't have to be up until 8, we have a late lecture today," Jonathan explained, leading her back to the bed.

They resettled onto the mattress, and Y/n nestled closer to him. He responded by planting a tender kiss on the top of her head, the warmth of the gesture echoing the tranquillity of the early morning hours.

The lecture unfolded in its typical monotony. Y/n absentmindedly tapped her pen on her book, her mind wandering. Her thoughts, however, were occupied by the events of the previous night, particularly Jonathan's reluctance to reveal his body. While this wasn't an entirely new occurrence, a yearning to see him persisted. It wasn't a mere curiosity; she genuinely wished he felt more comfortable with himself.

While Jonathan exuded confidence in his intelligence, the same assurance seemed to crumble when it came to his appearance and physique. It was a stark contrast, leaving Y/n contemplating the complexity of a man so assured in one aspect of himself, yet plagued by insecurities in another.

She understood that his reluctance had nothing to do with any sexual stigma, after all, they had already been intimate, though fully clothed. Y/n longed to make him feel as beautiful as she saw him, but for the time being, she resolved to let him navigate his own pace and find comfort in his own time.

Back in his office, Y/n wasted no time in launching herself at him. Her lips met his with a sense of urgency.

"Eager as always," Jonathan observed with a smirk, his words a murmur against her fevered lips.

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as she planted kisses along his jawline, slowly trailing down to the inviting expanse of his neck. "How can I not be?" she mused between breathless kisses, her voice laced with a playful yet sultry tone.

He ushered her towards their usual spot on the desk, pressing her down onto it as her arms entwined around his neck, locking them in a passionate kiss. Y/n's fingers embarked on an exploration, tracing a tantalizing path down his torso until they reached the bottom of his shirt.

With a determined pull, she started to untuck it from his pants. The sudden tensing of Jonathan's body was noticeable, but he gradually eased back into the moment as her hands moved to rest on his chest. Just as Y/n's fingers ventured toward the buttons on his shirt, a swift reaction ensued, Jonathan seized her wrist, holding it firmly in his grasp. Despite this, the fervent exchange of kisses endured.

When Y/n's other hand attempted a similar journey, moving from his shoulder to his top button, Jonathan abruptly pulled away. With a resolute grip, he intercepted her second hand, keeping both pinned down at her sides. A playful pout adorned Y/n's lips, a subtle indication of her dissatisfaction with the loss of control.

"Dr. Crane, please!" she whined, the plea laced with desire.

"No," Jonathan replied sternly, resisting her advances.

"Come on, Jonathan, I want to see you," Y/n persisted, her insistence evident in her tone.

In an instant, Jonathan's restraint snapped.

"Y/n, I don't want to take my clothes off!" Jonathan suddenly raised his voice, surprising both Y/n and himself with the intensity of his response.

Y/n's face fell, taken aback by Jonathan's reaction. The atmosphere shifted, and she felt a pang of regret. "I... I'm sorry, Jonathan," she stammered, genuinely feeling horrible for unintentionally causing his distress.

Jonathan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Y/n with a mix of frustration and apology. "No, I shouldn't have reacted like that," he said, taking a step back from her.

Y/n sat up, her expression reflecting a blend of understanding and concern. "No, Jonathan, I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to gently kiss him on the cheek, hoping to convey her sincerity and remorse.

She discerned the tumultuous emotions surging through him, even as his face remained as hard as ice. Y/n could sense the regret that weighed heavily on him, an internal struggle that manifested in the hardened lines of his face.

"Jonathan..." Y/n uttered, her hand gently clasping his face, coaxing him to face her.

His eyes, clouded with remorse, met hers.

"You don't have to beat yourself up. It's your right to your own body, I'm not going to make you do anything," Y/n reassured him, trying to alleviate the guilt etched across his features.

However, her words seemed to deepen the conflict within Jonathan. His gaze shifted downward, lingering on her ankles, prompting a resigned sigh from Y/n. "Everything's okay, Jonathan... You don't owe me anything."

Jonathan, though still visibly distressed, leaned in to kiss her once more, attempting to reinitiate the heated moment between them. Yet, Y/n gently pushed him back, her face reflecting a mix of understanding and empathy. His face fell further, registering a sense of rejection that permeated the room. However, Y/n managed to reassure him with a comforting smile.

"Let's go home," Y/n suggested, her voice carrying a sense of tenderness and a promise of solace.

As the night draped the deserted university campus in shadows, Y/n and Jonathan walked hand in hand, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the empty hallways. Y/n, seemingly unbothered, offered a comforting presence, her touch a reassuring anchor for Jonathan. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly serene scene, Jonathan's internal dialogue waged a tumultuous war of self-deprecation.

With each step, the distant glow of streetlights flickering through the windows painted an intricate pattern on the ground, mirroring the intricate thoughts swirling in Jonathan's mind. The hushed whispers of the night wind through the deserted corridors seemed to echo his inner turmoil.

Jonathan's thoughts replayed the scene in his office, the tension building up to a point where he abruptly halted the escalating intimacy. His own actions weighed heavily on him, overshadowing Y/n's understanding and reassurances. In his mind, the missed opportunity became a significant blunder, a moment of pleasure that he regretted losing.

Of course, Jonathan care very little about his own emotional well-being, but was consumed by the idea that he had irreparably ruined the prospect of intimacy for Y/n. The weight of her rejection bore heavily on his conscience, convincing him that any desire she harbored for a physical connection with him had been irreversibly tarnished.

Meanwhile, Y/n's soothing presence persisted, her hand in his offering a lifeline amidst the internal warfare. She couldn't fully comprehend the strom churning within Jonathan. Her focus remained on supporting him and making him feel comfortable.

Y/n's decision to stop their intimate moment was rooted in genuine concern for Jonathan's emotional state. Recognizing his internal struggle and the weight of the moment, she deemed it inappropriate to have sex, preferring to prioritize his comfort instead.

As they approached the parking lot, Y/n glanced at Jonathan, her eyes expressing care and understanding, unaware of the intricate battle taking place within him. The walk to his car continued, both wanting nothing more than to be at home.

Jonathan found himself seated at his work desk downstairs, a palpable tension lingering in the air after the incident in the office. Although Y/n seemed to have moved past it, Jonathan's mind remained ensnared by lingering doubts. His understanding of Y/n's unconditional acceptance clashed with an undercurrent of insecurity, fueled by the fear that his actions had jeopardized their connection.

The mere thought that he might have upset Y/n's feelings unsettled Jonathan. He grappled with the possibility that his outburst had tarnished their intimacy, causing him to question the foundation of their relationship. Despite his penchant for a stoic exterior and over inflated ego, Jonathan secretly yearned for Y/n's approval.

Vulnerability was a territory Jonathan rarely ventured into willingly, yet he recognized the necessity of comfort in his relationship with Y/n. Hesitant and self-reflective, he hoped that she could see past the rough edges he inadvertently revealed, seeking solace in the prospect of her acceptance.

Jonathan recognized that it was time to confront his emotions and address the lingering tension with Y/n. Determined, he rose from the couch and made his way to Y/n.

“Y/n…” Jonathan said, climbing the stairs with a certain awkwardness in his gait. His movements were hesitant, and he stopped at the end of the bed, casting a tentative glance in her direction.

Y/n lowered her book, her curiosity piqued by Jonathan's demeanor. She could sense an unusual tension in the air, waiting for whatever revelation he was about to share.

“Jonathan?” Y/n prompted, studying his expressions for clues.

“I was thinking about today… back in my office,” Jonathan began, his voice carrying a mix of apprehension and sincerity.

“It's okay, Jonathan, I get it. You don’t have to say anything,” Y/n reassured him, offering a warm smile to ease any discomfort he might be feeling.

“Y/n… I trust you, and… I want you to see me,” Jonathan confessed. His face remained stoic, but the subtle avoidance of eye contact betrayed his nervousness.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, initially puzzled. "Huh?"

“I want you to see me,” Jonathan reiterated, starting to remove his blazer.

It then dawned on Y/n, and she closed her book, chucking it aside. With undivided attention, she watched as Jonathan slowly shed each piece of clothing, revealing a vulnerability that went beyond the physical, a trust he was placing in her hands.

Finally down to his underwear, Jonathan took a shallow breath, his gaze fixed on Y/n. The air between them felt charged, carrying a mix of vulnerability and trust. He stood there, exposed in both body and emotion, waiting for Y/n's response.

Jonathan averted his gaze, a veil of shame clouding his expression as Y/n observed him. The intensity of this feeling gnawed at him, an overwhelming disdain for his own physique. Regardless of his persistent efforts to bulk up or gain weight, his body resisted, leaving him with a frame that echoed the scrawny boy he once was, enduring the hardships inflicted by his great-grandmother. A past that haunted him.

The disdain deepened with the visibility of scars etched into his skin, each mark telling a painful story. Harsh beatings from his grandmother, cruel pranks from high school bullies, and the lasting consequences of crows attacking him in the church were all etched into his flesh. The transition into becoming the Scarecrow only intensified the scarring, leaving a roadmap of trauma on his body.

Recent encounters with the masked bat added another layer to this visual narrative. Though the caped crusader didn't endorse murder, Jonathan’s encounters with the vigilante resulted in brutal injuries, vividly displayed on his scar-laden body. The physical toll mirrored the internal struggle, a reflection of the haunting experiences that shaped him.

The expression on Y/n's face, from Jonathan's perspective, spoke volumes. In his eyes, he felt repulsively hideous; regret gnawed at him for baring his body to her. How could anyone want to be with something so wretched?

Contrary to his distorted perception, Y/n looked at him with a sense of awe. The fact that Jonathan trusted her enough to expose himself left her feeling a surge of love and adoration. She was profoundly proud of him for overcoming the vulnerability that must have accompanied such an act.

While Y/n acknowledged the scars that adorned his body, they held no weight in her eyes. The marks from past tormentors were irrelevant; what disturbed her were the fresh wounds, the aftermath of recent encounters with Batman. The injustice of such brutality infuriated her; the Dark Knight ought to pay for causing harm to a man who had already suffered so much.

Oddly, the sight of his body only deepened Y/n's attraction to Jonathan. She cherished the way he looked, not in spite of, but because it was uniquely his. In her eyes, he was hers, scars and all, and she wouldn't have him any other way.

Y/n gracefully rose from her seat and approached him. Meeting her gaze with a clenched jaw, Jonathan was taken aback as she reached him and kissed him unexpectedly. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. Jonathan surrendered to the embrace, enveloping her in his arms. Y/n's hand moved, her touch exploring every inch of him, leaving no spot untouched.

She sought to understand every part of him, to shower each detail with the love she believed it deserved. Breaking away from the kiss, she fixed her gaze deeply into his eyes, leaving him with a bewildered expression.

"You're beautiful," Y/n spoke.

Jonathan's heart momentarily ceased before resuming its heightened pace. Overwhelmed with gratitude and astonishment, he pulled her back into another kiss. This one reflected his appreciation and astonishment. Never before had anyone regarded him with such kindness, and never before had he received such profound love.

He drew back, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. "Y/n, I... I..." he struggled, searching for the right words. Frowning, he looked around as if hoping the words would materialize before him.

Y/n responded with a gentle smile, silencing him with a hushed. “Shhhh,” with her thumb, she tenderly smoothed out the frown lines between his eyebrows, a soothing gesture to calm his racing thoughts. "You don't have to say anything, Jonathan. You're my beautiful Scarecrow," she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss on the hollow of his cheeks.

Jonathan closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder, finding solace in the embrace. Y/n couldn't help but smile, her arms enveloping his body. The delight of being able to hold him around places other than his neck filled her with joy.

"You've got such a pretty little waist," Y/n chuckled, her fingers delicately tracing along his waist, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake.

A blush crept onto Jonathan's face, but he tried to mask it with his own distraction. "And you have such a pretty little mouth," he teased, his finger gently gliding along her jaw. Tilting her head up, he leaned in to share a tender kiss.

He withdrew and fixed his gaze on her. "So...do I get to see your body?" Jonathan asked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Wow! That's why you decided to show me, aye?"

Jonathan chuckled in response. "It was worth a shot," he admitted.

Y/n shook her head, smiling before taking a step back. He looked at her, releasing a shaky breath as he watched her remove her shirt and bottoms, leaving her in her underwear. Jonathan's gaze remained fixed, captivated by the sight of Y/n's body.

Despite any self-conscious feelings Y/n harboured about herself, the reverence in Jonathan's eyes made her feel like a goddess. "What? You gonna start worshipping me?" Y/n teased.

Jonathan sighed, playfully getting on his knees. "If I must."

Y/n gasped as she watched him kneel, running his fingers up her bare legs. He pressed kisses to her thighs, gently squeezing her flesh, creating an atmosphere charged with admiration and intimacy.

Jonathan, mesmerized by Y/n's presence, looked up at her with an admiring gaze. "You're absolutely stunning, Y/n. Every inch of you is a masterpiece," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine appreciation.

As he continued to run his fingers along her skin, he whispered, "Your body is a work of art which I do not wish to share. I could spend a lifetime exploring every curve, every line." Jonathan placed a gentle kiss on her stomach, revelling in the intimacy of the moment.

His fingers traced patterns on her skin. "I'm in awe of you, Y/n. You're like a goddess, and I'm honoured to worship at your feet." Jonathan's words held a sincerity that echoed his deep admiration for the woman before him.

Jonathan paused, looking up at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "So, tell me, goddess, how may I continue to worship you?"

Y/n struggled to catch her breath, her usual encounter with Jonathan involved his sarcastic demeanour, and considering himself a higher being. Yet, at this moment, he was on his knees, worshipping her.

"Fuck. The best I could come up with was you got a pretty waist," Y/n quipped, a playful smile on her lips.

Y/n, still caught in the unexpected intimacy of the moment, couldn't resist reciprocating the gesture. "You know, Jonathan," she began with a teasing smile, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd be on your knees for someone."

She mirrored his position, dropping to her knees and meeting his eyes. Her hand tenderly cupped his face, tracing the contours with her fingertips. "But here we are," she continued, "and you deserve every bit of adoration you're getting."

Leaning in, Y/n pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, savouring the taste of the moment. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "You're not just the Scarecrow. You're my Jonathan, and you're worth worshipping." Her thumb brushed against his cheek, emphasizing the sincerity in her words.

Jonathan’s face was heating up, but he didn’t want to lose his dignity just yet. “My speech was better..” he said.

Y/n shoved him back, he laughed and landed back on the rug. “You asshat!” Y/n laughed, flopping on top of him. “Good thing this isn’t a competition, you competitive bastard.” Y/n kissed him.

Jonathan enveloped Y/n's waist with his arms, savoring the sensation of holding her so intimately against his bare body. Now unburdened by the constraints of clothing, he felt a newfound freedom to express the depth of his emotions.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Y/n suggested, her eyes meeting Jonathan's.

He nodded, sitting up with Y/n still cradled in his arms. Jonathan gently guided them to the bed, deftly pulling the covers over their entwined forms. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence, they settled into a cocoon of shared intimacy.

After seeing Jonathan’s body in such a vulnerable state, Y/n's thoughts were consumed by the desire to have him completely. Though she knew she had to wait until they were home, the anticipation was driving her wild. The newfound openness to nudity had ignited a spark within her, making her yearn for him more than ever.

Feeling inspired, Y/n decided to visit a lingerie store nestled in the heart of Gotham. Uncertain of Jonathan's preferences, she opted for a classic yet enticing choice – a set in elegant black. Excitement bubbled within her as she perused the options, carefully selecting a few enticing pieces to surprise him later.

Anticipating Jonathan's return later in the day, Y/n planned to surprise him by preparing herself ahead of time. With a sense of urgency, she practically sprinted to the shower, relishing the idea of being fresh and clean for Jonathan. After the refreshing shower, she carefully adorned herself in the alluring black lingerie she had picked out earlier, wanting to create an enticing atmosphere for Jonathan's homecoming.

Y/n looked absolutely stunning in the black lace lingerie she was wearing, the elaborate underwear hugging her curves perfectly. The black lace moulded to her breast beautifully, letting the top of her breast slightly peak over. The lace was just modest enough to hide her nipples, but sheer enough to show off her skin underneath. The underwear sat beautifully on her ass, the lace laying against her tightly and showing off her gorgeous body. She looked like an angel, but she was doing anything but.

With eager anticipation, Y/n carefully pondered over the details of the upcoming encounter with Jonathan. Thoughts of whether he would prefer her to initiate or if he would take the lead occupied her mind. The uncertainty only fueled her excitement further, creating a delightful sense of nervousness that she hadn't experienced before.

As she lay on the bed, adorned in the sultry black lingerie, Y/n couldn't help but imagine the various ways their interaction might unfold. Would Jonathan want to slowly undress her, reveling in the details of each moment, or would he appreciate the boldness of her initiation?

Caught up in her contemplation, Y/n was suddenly jolted back to the present as the door to the warehouse swung open. The sound echoed through the room, signaling Jonathan's return and igniting a surge of both excitement and nervousness within her.

“Y/n? Are you home?” Y/n's heart raced as she heard Jonathan's voice echoing from below, his presence becoming more tangible with each passing second.

"Yeah! I'm home," she responded, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she tried to formulate a plan.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," Jonathan's voice carried through the space.

Caught in the excitement, Y/n impulsively called out, "Wait!" She mentally kicked herself for the abruptness. "Uh... Don't you want to hang out with me, though?"

Her words hung in the air, a spontaneous invitation that she hoped would redirect Jonathan from his desk to their bedroom.

Jonathan's voice reached her ears, his words dampening her initial excitement. "You know, I'd like to hang out with you, but I have a lot to catch up on right now," he explained.

Determined not to let the opportunity slip away, Y/n took matters into her own hands. "Okay... Come up when you can," she replied, feeling a surge of boldness.

First, she pulled off her shirt, tossing it off the loft balcony. The distant sound of fabric hitting the floor was met with a brief silence. Y/n seized the moment, deciding to escalate her playful tease. Her bottoms followed suit, creating another echoing thud.

As the anticipation heightened, she heard the soft sound of Jonathan's footsteps making their way up the stairs. Y/n assumed her position on the bed, propped up on her elbows, ready to meet Jonathan's gaze. Her new lingerie adorned her figure, a visual cue waiting to capture his attention. The air in the room thickened with anticipation as Jonathan's approaching footsteps signaled the imminent connection.

Jonathan ascended the staircase, his gaze locked onto Y/n as if he had stumbled upon her body covered in lace. His sharp inhale was audible, portraying the intrigue in his expression. Y/n, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, maintained eye contact, awaiting his response.

"Do you... like it?" she ventured, seeking affirmation.

Jonathan, seemingly entranced, dropped her discarded clothes onto the floor. Closing the distance, he approached the bed where Y/n lay. Without hesitation, he began to climb onto the bed, prompting a playful intervention from Y/n.

"Take your shoes off, Jonathan!" she insisted before he could settle in fully.

Rolling his eyes, Jonathan listened, pushing off his shoes with his feet in a nonchalant gesture. Once shoeless, he resumed his position, hovering over Y/n, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/n seized the moment, encouraging his touch. "Take your time, Jonathan," she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips. His hands, warm and gentle, started at her shoulders, tracing a tantalizing path down her body. Each caress sent shivers through her, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them.

Jonathan's fingers delicately traced the intricate patterns of the lace, a thoughtful expression adorning his face. His words, steeped in genuine admiration, painted a vivid picture of his appreciation.

"You transcend beauty, Y/n," he murmured, his gaze never wavering from her form.

As his fingers continued their gentle exploration, he added, "In your vulnerability, I find strength. In your imperfections, I discover perfection. You are not just a sight to behold, you are a marvel that elicits awe and wonder. And to think, I get to share this moment with you, appreciating the extraordinary artistry that is you."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Y/n whispered, a mix of surprise and gratitude lingering in her voice.

Jonathan's words had caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She couldn't recall anyone ever expressing such admiration for her, and she found herself grappling with a mix of emotions. Before she could stammer out more, Jonathan seamlessly continued.

Jonathan's fingertips continued their exploration, tracing lines of admiration across Y/n's skin. As he gazed into her eyes, his words flowed with sincerity, a testament to the profound connection they shared.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and reverent, "I may not believe in deities or divine forces, but in you, I find something truly extraordinary. It's not about worshiping some higher power; it's about acknowledging the sheer brilliance and beauty that exists in the tangible, the real."

His hands moved with purpose, fingers trailing down her arms and across her abdomen. "You are a masterpiece, a symphony of complexities that defy any preconceived notion of divinity. In your presence, I discover a profound sense of wonder, a recognition of the marvelous intricacies that make you uniquely, breathtakingly human."

Jonathan's gaze intensified, the passion in his words mirrored in his eyes. "I don't need gods or rituals to find the sacred, it's here, with you, in this moment. You are the poetry I never knew I craved, the embodiment of everything that makes life extraordinary. And I, in my own way, stand in awe of you."

Y/n's head spun, the weight of Jonathan's words leaving her feeling light-headed. She had never imagined deserving such praise. The paradox of Jonathan, a man rooted in logic and rationality, now worshipping her, added a surreal touch to the moment.

Kneeling above Y/n, Jonathan's eyes traced the contours of Y/n's form with a reverence that transcended spiritual boundaries. His hands, guided by a devotion that defied any higher power, explored her body with deliberate tenderness.

"Who knew the big bad Scarecrow would be one to worship," Y/n smirked.

"Well, even I cannot deny the presence of such a goddess," Jonathan said, his words causing Y/n's heart to swell with warmth.

As Jonathan sat up, he removed his blazer and woolen jumper. Y/n wasted no time pulling him into a passionate kiss. Jonathan, ever the gentleman, held one of Y/n's hands gently and guided it to his tie. A smile played on Y/n's lips as she loosened his tie, reveling in the intimate connection between them.

She pulled the tie from around his neck, enjoying the subtle shivers running through Jonathan's body. With the tie removed, her fingers moved with purpose to the buttons of his shirt. Each one undone felt like a step deeper into intimacy, and Jonathan's breath grew more unsteady with every button released.

As Y/n reached the last button, a swift motion followed, and she yanked the shirt off Jonathan's body. The fabric slipped away, revealing the intricate details of his physique. Jonathan's chest rose and fell with a mix of anticipation and desire, creating an unspoken connection between them.

Y/n rolled them over so that she now straddled Jonathan. Her fingers traced a deliberate path down his scarred chest, causing a shiver to ripple through his body. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before, someone genuinely appreciating his body. Few had seen his body, and none had regarded it with the reverence Y/n displayed.

"Such a pretty boy," Y/n murmured, leaning down to grace Jonathan's chest with kisses.

He surrendered, letting his head fall back onto the plush mattress beneath him. The vulnerability and beauty of the moment intertwined, creating an intimate dance between their bodies.

Y/n was sitting on Jonathan's lap, her body warm and inviting against his. She leaned in close, her lips just inches from his ear as she whispered, “I want you.”

Jonathan felt his heart race with excitement, his member growing hard in his pants. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch her, feeling her soft skin underneath the lace of her lingerie.

As Y/n leaned in closer, her hips grinding against his, Jonathan knew he couldn't resist any longer. He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving down to squeeze her ass through the lace.

Y/n broke the kiss, sitting up and reaching for the button on Jonathan's pants. She smiled as she popped it open, sliding his underwear along with his trousers off and revealing his hard member. Y/n couldn't help but admire the sight of Jonathan's member, thick and hard in front of her. She grinned as she wrapped her fingers around it, stroking it gently as she leaned in for another kiss.

Jonathan was panting into their kiss as Y/n stroked him, her hand moving up and down his shaft. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure growing in his groin as he moaned into her mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re already close,” Y/n teased.

Jonathan felt himself getting embarrassed as he felt his orgasm already building, his member twitching in Y/n's hand. He tried to pull away, but she held him close, her eyes burning with desire as she whispered, “Don't fight it.”

But Jonathan was determined not to cum yet. He pushed Y/n's hand away, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to resist the urge to explode. But as he looked into her eyes, filled with both passion and frustration, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He reached out for Y/n, pulling her close as he whispered, “Ride me.”

Y/n was about to remove her underwear, but Jonathan stopped her with a grin.

“Leave them on,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “I like the way they look on you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she moved up and down on his member, the lace of her underwear rubbing against his skin. Y/n moved her underwear to the side, baring her pussy for Jonathan's pleasure.

She leaned down, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “Ready?”

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to groan, his member twitching with anticipation as he nodded his approval. Y/n sank down onto Jonathan's dick, her body warm and wet around him. He groaned, his hands clenching into the sheets as he felt her tight muscles grip him, pulling him deeper inside.

Y/n began to ride Jonathan, she ground her hips against him. He couldn't resist the urge to grab her hips, pulling her close as he thrust up into her, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Y/n moaned, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

He couldn't resist the urge to groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl.

“You want it?” he whispered back, his voice rough with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member twitching with anticipation as he thrust up into her. Y/n cried out, her body arching back against him as she pushed down onto his member, their bodies moving together in a rhythm of pure passion.

Y/n's eyes were bright with excitement as she looked down at him, her chest heaving with each breath.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispered, her voice raw with desire.

And with that, Jonathan knew he couldn't hold back any longer. Jonathan flipped the two of them over, his member still buried deep inside her. He moved his hands up to hold her waist, his breath coming in short gasps as he thrust into her from behind, their hips moving in a frantic rhythm.

Y/n watched in awe as Jonathan fucked her in missionary, his member pumping in and out of her. She couldn't help but admire the sight of him, his muscles tense and defined as he moved above her, his eyes burning with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “You feel so good.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

Y/n kissed Jonathan's neck, her lips moving up to his ear as she whispered, “Dr. Crane.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together in a frenzy of passion.

Jonathan moved up to kiss Y/n, his member pumping in and out of her with a steady rhythm. He couldn't resist the urge to worship her, his lips moving down her body as he kissed and nippled at her skin, the sound of her breath coming in short gasps filling the room.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty little patient.” Jonathan kissed Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n and Jonathan were both nearing their orgasm, their bodies moving together frantically. Their breath came in short gasps, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together towards the brink.

Jonathan looked down at Y/n, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “Come for me.”

Y/n cried out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her breath came rapidly, her inner muscles pulsing around him as she came to her ultimate release. With Y/n’s orgasm, Jonathan could barely hold back. He squirted is cum deep inside of Y/n’s cunt, filling her hot cavern.

Jonathan sighed, his lips finding the soft expanse of Y/n's forehead, leaving a lingering sweetness in the air. With a gentle ease, he settled down beside her, drawing her delicate form into the comforting embrace of his arms. The world outside seemed to fade away as the warmth between them created a sanctuary, and for a moment, time stood still.

Y/n's smile radiated in the aftermath, their bodies glistening with the shared exertion. "So... how about we indulge in the bath together this time?" she proposed, a playful glint in her eyes.

"That sounds absolutely perfect, my Dear," Jonathan replied.

Jonathan's arms, held Y/n securely as he lifted her off the bed and descent down the stairs. Each step taken with a deliberate grace, he seemed to effortlessly carry her weight. As he entered the bathroom, the light played on the contours of their entwined bodies.

Once in the bathroom, he lowered Y/n down on the edge of the bath. Their eyes locked, sharing an unspoken connection that spoke volumes. The room filled with a gentle hum as he turned on the faucet, the water slowly filling the bath.

Jonathan, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his fingers traced the edges of Y/n's lingerie, hooking onto the fabric delicately. The room was filled with the soft echoes of water, the ambiance saturated with an intimate warmth.

As his hands began to peel away the lace and silk that adorned Y/n's body, a silent exchange of sensations unfolded. Each gentle movement, deliberate and unhurried, spoke volumes about the connection they shared. Y/n's skin, now exposed to the ambient glow of the bathroom, seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Jonathan adjusted the temperature, holding his hand under the stream, testing the temperature. The inviting warmth of the water welcomed them as Jonathan carefully lowered Y/n into the bath, their bodies meeting the comforting embrace of the liquid sanctuary. He followed, seamlessly joining her in the tranquil pool. The water rippled gently, mirroring the serenity that enveloped the room.

As Y/n settled back against Jonathan's chest, the warmth of the bath enveloping them. The steam from the water curled around them, creating an intimate atmosphere that mirrored the connection they shared.

“You like the bath?” Y/n asked.

“I do, I like it very much. Such a handy little thing you are,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan's lips found solace on her temple, planting a tender kiss that echoed the affection between them. Y/n, in her attempt to find a more comfortable position, earned a groan of protest from Jonathan.

"Easy there," he teased, holding her securely around the waist. Y/n laughed, the sound echoing in the bathroom, mingling with the gentle flow of water.

"It hasn't even been 5 minutes!" she exclaimed, enjoying the playful banter.

"Well, it doesn't have to be with you," Jonathan murmured, his grip tightening slightly, the subtle embrace reflecting a silent promise of closeness in every moment they shared.

Y/n teasingly rubbed her ass against Jonathan's hard dick, eliciting a groan of pleasure from the man beneath her. Y/n couldn't help but laugh as she watched the effect she was having on Jonathan. His moans of pleasure only turned her on more.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Y/n's hips and held her still, his voice strained. “Stop teasing me.”

“Fine, I won’t tease you!” Y/n said.

Y/n's hand curled around the base of Jonathan's dick, guiding it inside her slick pussy. He had no time to think before her was inside of her again, his head falling back. He felt his cock slide past her tight entrance and into the warmth that awaited him. She was so wet, and he could feel how much she wanted him as he thrust up into her.

Y/n's grip on the side of the bath tightened as she rode Jonathan, her hips moving in a smooth motion that drove him wild. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her body sliding up and down his dick.

Jonathan couldn't help but tease Y/n as she rode him. “You're so horny, fucking me in the bath” he said, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n grinned as she looked down at Jonathan, his face flushed with pleasure. “Don't complain,” she said playfully. 'You're the one getting to fucking me.'

Y/n was right. It was Jonathan who couldn't get enough of her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a ferocity that left them both panting. She could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge.

The water in the bath was splashing around them, creating a sense of intimacy that only added to the heat of the moment. They moved together as one, their bodies twisting and turning in a dance of pleasure.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to kiss Y/n's back. He moved her hair aside, his lips trailing along her spine and up to her shoulder blade as she bounced on his dick. Y/n couldn't help but shiver as Jonathan's lips left a trail of fire along her skin.

Jonathan couldn't help but growl as he felt Y/n's tight pussy clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into her ear.

Y/n couldn't help but moan as she felt Jonathan's words shoot straight to her core. She tightened around him, her body demanding more of the intense pleasure he was giving her.

Jonathan couldn't help but feel his cock pulse with excitement as he felt Y/n's body clench around him. He knew he was close, and the thought of how good it would feel to come inside her only made him move faster.

Y/n couldn't resist the urge to tease Jonathan. “Come for me, Dr. Crane” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

Jonathan couldn't hold back any longer. He felt his cock jerk violently as he came, his body shuddering with pleasure as he emptied himself inside Y/n. His cum filled her walls as her cunt squeezed every last drop out of her.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to make Y/n feel even better. He moved his hand between their bodies, rubbing her clit with a gentle but firm pressure that made her gasp and moan. Y/n's body tightened around Jonathan as she felt the first waves of pleasure wash over her. She cried out his name, her voice filled with ecstasy.

Y/n's breaths lingered in the steam-filled air as she reclined against Jonathan in the warm bath. The ripples of water played a delicate symphony around them, echoing the harmonious cadence of their intertwined bodies.

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, pressed a tender kiss onto Y/n's shoulder, savoring the closeness between them. As Y/n pulled his dick out of her, watching as his cum too came out with it.

Y/n couldn't resist a cheeky comment, "Mhmm, I love bathing in cum water!" she exclaimed, playfully splashing the remnants of their shared experience.

Jonathan's expression tightened slightly. "Don't say that, that's disgusting," he spoke gently, attempting to maintain his composed demeanor.

"You were thinking it!" Y/n retorted with a mischievous grin, her playful banter dancing through the steam.

"I can assure you, I most definitely was not," Jonathan asserted, a subtle smirk betraying a trace of amusement beneath his composed exterior.

Y/n chuckled, her laughter echoing in the intimate space. "Let's get out now, before I lose control again," she suggested with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his patience still intact. He patiently waited for Y/n to stand up first, a gesture of chivalry that spoke volumes about his nature. Once she was on her feet, he rose from the bath as well, extending a hand to assist her in stepping out, her legs weak from their intimate moment. The quiet tenderness between them lingered in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the deeper connection they were exploring.

Jonathan wrapped a plush towel around Y/n's body, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. The air was thick with a mixture of steam and the sweet afterglow of their shared bath. With a gentle touch, he began to rub her arms, the towel absorbing the remaining droplets from her skin. Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the tender moment, feeling Jonathan's careful attention.

Suddenly, with a playful turn, she faced him, her eyes sparkling. She grabbed another towel and, to his surprise, started helping him dry down. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, a hint of vulnerability touching his expression. In that moment, their laughter mingled, creating a melody that resonated with the newfound intimacy between them.

In the bathroom, Jonathan experienced an unusual warmth within himself. Y/n had achieved the seemingly impossible, making Jonathan Crane feel cared for and, dare he admit it, beautiful. The residue of the bathwater clung to their skin as they made their way back upstairs, unencumbered by the weight of clothing.

Lying in bed, their naked forms tucked beneath the covers, they faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Y/n wore an infectious smile that seemed to radiate joy.

Jonathan, curious about the source of her happiness, asked, “Why are you smiling so much?”

The laughter bubbled from Y/n as she replied, “Because... I’m happy.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and pressed further, “I get that much, but what has you so happy?”

Her answer was simple yet profound, “You trust me…”

As the words hung in the air, Jonathan allowed the realization to settle within him. Yes, he did trust her. In that moment, Y/n had succeeded where others had failed, creating a space where Jonathan could be comfortable in his own skin. Moved by the significance of the moment, he kissed her forehead, silently expressing gratitude for the newfound connection.

“Go to sleep, my Dear,” Jonathan whispered, his voice a gentle caress.

Y/n nodded, allowing her eyes to drift shut. In the quiet embrace of the room, she inched closer to Jonathan, seeking the reassuring warmth of his presence. His breath caught momentarily, a subtle reaction to the newfound closeness, before steadying again. It was a moment of vulnerability for Jonathan Crane, a man more accustomed to fear than comfort.

He felt safe. For once in his life, he was encircled by a sense of security in the company of another person. As the night enveloped them, Jonathan held her close, his protective embrace a silent promise. Their breathing synchronized, and in the cocoon of each other's arms, they succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep.

A/N: So proof reading this, I noticed I repeated a lot of things, but decided to ignore them 💀 because it really doesn't matter and doesn't change much of the story. I took a LOT of breaks between writing so forgot what I had written and just continued blindly.

I made Jonathan insecure and shit because I was basing him mostly off himself in the comics rather than Cillian Murphy, although, I use him for like everything else. I just love comic book!Jonathan Crane.

I hoped you enjoyed this part and look forward to the next part, whenever that might be. 💚

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