🎐Máire🌄

The quiet of the apartment always felt a little overwhelming whenever Jonathan brought his work home. Which happened almost all the time. Your boyfriend was a hardcore workaholic so that usually ended up with you spending nights alone while he worked away in his study. By the time he'd end up coming to bed, you'd either be asleep or he'd be too tired to talk.

You sat on the bed, burying your face into the collar of one of his oversized, pressed white dress shirts. Well it wasn't exactly mean to be oversized but it was on you. The shirt completely swallowed your frame, pooling around your bare thighs. It smelled so heavily of him, that sharp, clean cologne mixed with the sterile scent of the asylum, and it was the only comfort you had against the heavy Gotham rain beating against the window. You pulled the long sleeves down past your fingertips, feeling a heavy ache of loneliness in your chest. You just wanted to be near him.

Slipping off the mattress, your bare feet made didn't make a sound against the hardwood floors as you wandered down the narrow hallway of your shared apartment toward his study.

You opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Jonathan was sitting behind his desk, medical journals and patient files piled on the surface of it. He sat upright at his desk, his attention focused on his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. Despite being at home he was still in his clothes from work: dark trousers, white crisp dress shirt under his dark blazer, his tie still knotted tightly.

You pushed the door open just an inch further, hovering timidly against the frame. You didn't want to disrupt him, but you couldn't bear the distance anymore. Jonathan didn't look up, his eyes tracking lines of text on the screen with cold and unblinking focus. "I have two more evaluations to type up tonight." He murmured. His fingers didn't miss a beat on the keys, his tone completely level and detached. "Unless the building is on fire, I need you to let me finish."

An anxious flutter stirred in your stomach, but instead of retreating back to the bedroom, you took a hesitant step into the room. The quiet rustle of his oversized shirt against your skin finally made his hands pause over the keyboard. Jonathan slowly raised his head. Behind his glasses, those icy blue eyes locked onto yours.

His gaze instantly flicked down, taking in the sight of his own crisp white shirt drowning your frame, before snapping back up to your face. He leaned back in his leather chair as you walked right up to the armrest, looking at him with trusting eyes.

"Well?" he asked softly. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, but his blue eyes darkened with a sudden, intense possessiveness. Your sweet and gentle nature always did something to him. It was such a vast difference to his cold and clinical demeanor. "Are you going to state your business, darling, or did you just come in here to test my patience?"

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers nervously curled into the oversized cuffs of his shirt, the fabric bunching up in your fists as your heart did a small frantic flutter against your ribs. Under the weight of his unblinking stare, you felt small, but you didn't look away. "I was lonely," you whispered, the truth slipping out in a quiet, timid breath. You took one more hesitant step forward, your bare knee lightly brushing against the armrest of his leather chair. "You’ve been working for hours, Jonathan."

Jonathan’s gaze softened by a fraction, a microscopic shift that only you could ever catch. His analytical mind always struggled to process how someone so gentle could completely disarm him without even trying. He looked down at your hands, tracking the way you nervously played with his sleeves, before his eyes traveled up the loose collar of the shirt exposing the soft skin of your collarbone.

"Is that so?" He murmured, his voice incredibly low. Slowly he reached out, his slender fingers capturing your wrist, his grip firm but careful. He didn't pull you away, instead his thumb began to stroke your wrist, feeling the rapid pounding of your pulse. He loved how easily he could make your heart race, even when he was being gentle. Even when he wasn't trying to frighten you.

"You are a distraction to me, sweet girl," he whispered, a dark smirk playing on his lips as he gently tugged your forward, guiding you closer until you were standing between his legs. "Here I am, attempting to finish these asylum profiles, and you walk in here looking like this, demanding my undivided attention."

You felt your cheeks heat but before you could pull away, his hands slid up to your hips as he tugged you into his lap. You let out a soft gasp as he reached behind you to close his laptop, his other arm wrapped possessively around your waist. He leaned back in his chair, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Well you have my attention now."

You settled against him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jonathan’s arm remained locked around your waist, holding you firmly against his chest. He looked up at you, his gaze tracking the soft flush that had crept up your neck and bloomed across your cheeks. A deeply satisfied look settled over his features. He thrived on having this kind of power over you, knowing he could make you flush or squirm by simply touching you. He slid his hand up to your jaw, his thumb pressing gently into the soft skin beneath your chin, tilting your face down so you had no choice but to look directly into his piercing blue eyes.

"Tell me," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips before snapping back to yours. "Did you wear this specifically to tempt me away from my duties, or did you truly think I would just let you stand there and watch me work while wearing my clothes?"

"I just wanted to be close to you," you admitted softly, your voice barely louder than the patter of the rain outside.

His hand slid from your jaw down to the tightly knotted tie at his own throat. With a few fluid movements, he loosened the silk, pulling it over his head and tossing it carelessly onto the desk alongside his closed laptop. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt as his gaze darkened with a sudden heavy heat.

"Then I suppose I'll have to make up for lost time." Jonathan whispered against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction as he leaned up to close the distance between you.

❀ end note: ugh i love jonathan so much 😭🙏

They lowk be addicting sometimes

Also! Stress tolerance is such an important skill that having a learning disability in that area is a major symptom of a whole lot of other disabilities/mental illnesses! Struggling with it is a huge part of life! It sucks!

Am I saying everyone with misophonia needs to listen to chewing noises all day? No. But you need to find ways to tolerate it enough that you don't treat others like shit if they make a mouth noise near you.

No, you don't have to read the fic with your trigger tags. But you do need to be able to handle scrolling past the tags without being upset.

It is hard! But not having it also makes you so so so easy to manipulate. That grandma is racist AF because her mom raised her to be uncomfortable around black people and she never fought that discomfort. Trans people make so many cis people uncomfortable and that discomfort turns into bigotry real fast.