Julian Devorak x Reader- Oneshots

Rub Me The Right Way

Prompt 12: "Let me give you this massage dammit!"

You opened the wooden door to the doctor's small but comfortable house. It was snugly placed in the southernmost side of town, which was a long while from your day job. You worked a twelve-hour shift at a flower shop. Not exactly the most pleasant of careers, but it paid decently and was something you were passionate about. As you entered the cluttered dwelling, you noticed Julian scribbling away at his desk. He shot up from his writing and beamed with joy at the sight of you.

"My darling Y/N! How was work?"

You chuckled under your breath, placing your satchel on a nearby hook as you closed the door with your foot.

"It was..." you grimaced, "fine."

You decided it wasn't necessary for him to hear you complain, he was a convict after all and had bigger problems than a florist with a sore back.

"It was 'fine'? You don't look very fine. Well, you are fine," he snickered at his own joke with a playful wink.

"Julian..."

"Sorry, sorry! What I mean is, you look tired," Julian frowned sympathetically, getting up to help you unwind.

You smiled reassuringly, letting him assist you in shucking off your robe.

"Really, I am fine. Don't worry about me," you insisted, kissing his pale cheek.

Julian shook his head softly, holding your hands. He studied your appearance with concern, taking note of your dark under eyes, your bruised arms, and your frazzled hair. He began tutting before swooping you up in his arms gently. You gasped in surprise as you looked at him with confusion.

"Let me spoil you, you look completely worn out! I'll make you a hearty dinner tonight," he proclaimed in a nurturing manner.

You shook your head, "I'm fine!"

You repeated this in an attempt to discourage his generosity, but it only made him more inclined to smother you in affection.

"Ah, ah, ah, missy," he wagged his finger with a jestingly stern voice. "I'm not going to buy any of that! And just for trying to lie to me, I'll throw in a free massage," he asserted in a playful tone.

"I can't accept this in good conscience, you're dealing with so much right now," you brought your hands to his cheeks as you declined his offerings persistently.

Julian shook his head once more, "I'll be okay, lovely. I'm not the one busting my back and working all day."

He laid you down on to his sofa, kissing your forehead amorously. You pouted, sighing deeply as Julian parted from you to make dinner.

"What would you like? I'm quite the chef you know," Julian remarked from the kitchen.

"Nothing," you replied haughtily.

"Oh, come now! Pick something," he urged, wrapping an apron around his waist that was most likely borrowed from Mazelinka.

"Ok, a sandwich."

You crossed your arms smugly, eyeing him from your place on the couch. Julian chuckled deeply, shaking his head.

"You underestimate me, my lovely. But very well, I'm going to make you the best damn sandwich you've ever tasted!"

Julian declared this before immediately beginning the process. You chortled inwardly as he began slicing a hefty loaf of bread in half, before dividing them into two slices. He grabbed various vegetables, such as tomatoes and lettuce, and chopped them into thin portions. You watched with amusement, cheekily biting your lip.