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shadesoflsk · 3 months

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YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has.

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is.

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon.

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man.

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better.

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature.

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it.

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon.

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging.

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him.

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience.

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air.

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.”

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew.

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having.

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence.

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy.

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye.

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings.

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret.

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk.

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you.

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up.

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?”

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time.

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish.

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date.

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror.

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations.

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do.

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario.

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope.

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret.

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret.

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself.

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry.

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle.

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you.

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep.

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose.

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter.

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur.

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you.

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior.

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this.

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it.

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world.

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess.

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now?

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you.

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have.

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted.

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession.

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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viennakarma · 8 months

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Satisfaction [Part 1]

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Four times you tried to befriend Lewis, and one time you didn't.

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: female!reader, asshole!Lewis (he will get better), physiotherapist!reader, no romance yet, Lewis is being rude, reader is trying, cursing, a bit angsty, not beta read

Note: Lewis is being kind of an asshole, but I promise he will grovel a lot. This is a two part story. Gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots (at this moment I'm writing for Lewis, Fernando, Max and Toto Wolff).

Find me on Twitter!

You drank the rest of your iced tea in one gulp, pushing the nervousness away. It wasn't exactly anxiety, but more first-day jitters at a new job. Adjusting your ponytail, you stood up as one of the team approached.

“Y/N? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Ellie from the HR team, we spoke on the phone. Lewis is around, so we thought we’d introduce you two now, okay?”

“Of course, of course, it’s nice to meet you, Ellie.”

Ellie showed you around, giving you a tour of the entire motorhome. You were aware that it was difficult to join a team after the season had already started, especially to take the place of a person who was very loved by everyone and who had been there for several years, but you were willing to do your best to get along with everyone.

Finally, Ellie took you to a training room, where Lewis was inside. He was sitting in an armchair, drinking water from a bottle when Ellie introduced the two of you. You smiled and offered your hand for a shake, but he just ignored his hand with a blank stare.

“Lewis, this is Y/N Y/L/N, your new physical therapist, you'll be seeing each other every other day” Ellie introduced them, not seeming to notice the cold way Lewis greeted you.

“Nice to meet you,” you murmured, trying to ignore the awkwardness between the two of you. Lewis just nodded his head briefly and turned to pay attention to his own cell phone.

Ellie then went over your entire routine for the next few weeks, as well as giving you a short guide to Lewis's physiotherapy sessions over the past two years, and required exercises from fitness to pre-race and post-race.

Your official working day began the following Tuesday at seven in the morning at one of the Mercedes workstations in Brackley, where the entire team was gathered. You needed to be there to look after Lewis' fitness as he had team meetings, and you needed to follow him wherever he went to be able to do your job. Honestly, it wasn't a big problem since you used to work with the Real Madrid football team, so you were used to the traveling routine.

As soon as you entered the building's small gym, Lewis was already inside, tying the laces on his shoes.

"Good morning!" You walked in with a smile, setting your bag aside and holding the two glasses of iced tea you had purchased on the way, “the weather is kind of warm today, huh? I bought iced tea for both of us.”

“No thanks,” Lewis said, standing up, “can we get started?”

The sharp tone left you speechless for a moment, but you soon recovered, tying your hair into a ponytail. You had hoped that the mood on the day you met Lewis was just because he was stressed or had some problem on that specific day. But it seems that today he also wasn’t very interested in being polite to you.

You took a deep breath pulling your iPad out of the bag where you had prepared the day's entire session. Okay, you were patient, you could win him over with time and maybe you could even become friends, or at the very least, on friendly terms.

“Alright, let’s start today’s session with some intense stretching to prepare your body for the intensity of the next few days’ sessions,” you murmured, pointing to the mat on the floor.

“Angela didn't use an iPad during our sessions,” he commented casually.

“Because Angela had been with you for years and had already memorized her exercises. Can we start?"

II.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, entering the gym, plopping your bag on a nearby table.

“You could have a little more respect for other people’s time,” Lewis said, suddenly. You froze in place, your eyes fleeting to the watch high on the wall, that showed you were barely ten minutes late for the session.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you repeated, pulling your iPad open.

You were a few weeks into your new job, and acquaintanceship with Lewis had not gone better in the slightest. If anything, it had gone even worse. Lewis was adamant in not opening up to you, not even in the professional sense of your work relationship. Every time you tried small talk, or even professional talk, he had shut you out barely politely. He was constantly annoyed by your presence, and didn’t engage in anything other than the exercises you were helping him with. You noticed his performance was going bad in the season, and you attributed his bad mood solely to that. That’s why you usually brushed off his rude remarks and his questioning of the quality of your work.

“We’ll do core strength today, Lewis.”

You spent the next two hours walking him through every exercise you had for the day. Sometime during your session, you tried to help him fix his posture by pressing a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed you off, only saying he was able to do it himself.

By the end of your session, he was visibly tired, and you reached in your purse to your small stock of protein bars. You grabbed two and tossed one to Lewis. He caught it in the air, staring at it with a frown.

“It’s a protein bar. It is healthy, vegan, and doesn’t taste like cardboard, for once,” you giggled, trying to strike up conversation, “honestly, I found this small brand from Hungary out of sheer luck and my life hasn’t been the same ever since, now I just order like this crazy-”

“Are we done?” He cut you off, you stopped smiling.

“What?” you said, staring at him going to his bag.

“Is our session done?” he insisted.

“Yes,” you said, deflated. Lewis walked away, and on his way to the door, he dropped the little protein bar you gave him in the trash.

You felt a lump in your throat, defeated. You had never had a client so difficult to deal with. Most of them were usually standoffish in the beginning, but they became friends with time, some of them you had a great relationship even now, years later.

Lewis just- he just hated you for apparently no reason, and it was making your professional life pure hell. It was hard not bonding with someone you work so physically close with. And honestly, you had tried everything in the book to help him acclimate to you, but he was just- immune. He didn’t like you, you had no idea if he even liked your job because he refused to give you any feedback whatsoever.

You refused to go to HR because it would make you look like a kid throwing a tantrum because the other kid doesn’t like you. What would HR do? Force Lewis to tolerate you? He would probably hate you more if that happened.

You just sighed, swallowing the tears as you left.

III.

“I was considering adding pilates sessions once a week, we can do reformer and clinical pilates alternating” you told Lewis as he did the final stretching of the session.

“I don’t like sudden changes in my exercise routine,” he said, getting up.

“Well, I believe it would do you good. And we can start slowly for you to adapt better. Does every other week work for you?” You taped your schedule on the iPad.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he muttered, visibly annoyed now.

“I can forward you a few articles I have been reading to show you, why I think it-”

“No, I don’t want that,” he shut you off completely, “can I go now?”

You sighed, enough was enough. You were pissed at him, being difficult, being annoying, fucking up your routine by being rude and being a fucking asshole.

“No, you can’t,” you said, voice firm, which kind of surprised him, since it was the first time you ever used that tone with him, “what is your fucking problem?”

“What are you talking about?” He folded his arms.

“What is your problem with me? Is it something I did? Or maybe something I said?” You pressed, walking towards him, the closest you have ever been to him.

“I have no problem with you,” he said and you scoffed, “we are not friends, you’re just my physiotherapist, nothing more, nothing less.”

You felt grateful he left as soon as he said that, otherwise he would have seen the tears filling your eyes.

IV.

“I went back to therapy, because I’m feeling like a failure,” you told Angela over the phone.

“Is he being so difficult?” She asked, sounding worried.

“You have no idea…” you whispered, pressing your temples.

“You want me to talk to him?” Angela said, concerned. You stared at your own reflection in the mirror inside the gym, seeing the dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep. The last encounter with Lewis was enough to take a toll on your mental health and trigger a bit of insomnia.

“No, I think it would make it worse, but I appreciate the offer,” you sighed, exhausted, “I’ll work around these difficulties, and if it gets any worse, I’ll call you so you can talk to him. Deal?”

“Deal. Just- Don’t burn yourself out, ok? I know how he can be hard to deal with. Let me know if you need anything.” Angela offered, and you wanted to cry with the kindness in her voice.

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much for letting me vent, yeah? Talk to you later” You said, and noticed how Lewis entered the gym, seemingly surprised that you even were there.

That would make two of you.

This time you went through your training session in complete silence, only talking about his physicality and the exercises. You didn’t joke with him, nor did you make commentaries on the session. You just did your job silently, staring at him with a blank face.

As you finished, you packed your bag and left without a word, going straight to HR to put in your resignation letter you had written during your day off.

Lewis noticed your absence as soon as he entered the gym for your session. You hadn’t been late ever since that time he called you out the first and only time you were late. Since then, you were always there when he arrived. But you weren’t there and he felt something was off. Maybe you had a cold or something and HR forgot to tell him.

He walked up to Ellie’s office, knocking lightly before entering.

“Hey there, Lewis! Can I help you?” She asked, putting away a few papers.

“Hey. Where is Y/N?” He asked, sitting down.

“Oh, I thought she had told you… She resigned two days ago.” With Ellie’s words, Lewis felt his stomach drop, but Ellie just continued talking, “she said she didn’t adapt very well to the routine, which is sad considering she is such a big fan of Mercedes and Formula 1. And, you know, since she was a recommendation from Angela Cullen, I really thought she would fit perfectly with the team.”

Lewis felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t know any of this. He didn’t know you were a fan of the team, as he didn’t know Angela had put you in her own position after leaving. He felt so, so bad, he was suddenly nauseous.

“Did she say exactly why she was leaving?” Lewis asked, heart beating in his ears.

“She said she wasn’t adapting to the traveling routine and it took a toll on her. She also apologized profusely, but I told her it was alright, it happens more often than she thinks.”

Lewis knew exactly the reason you left. He had made you go through living hell by being a stubborn asshole. You tried to befriend him, to be nice, to start small talk, to be kind and his only response to your attempts were flat out rudeness.

“Well, these things happen, right?” Ellie shrugged, sympathizing with you more than Lewis ever did. “So, while we find someone to fill her position, you’ll do your pre-race and post-race with George and his physiotherapist.”

Lewis didn’t hear any of the other stuff Ellie said, guilt eating up at him with such force he was out of breath. He didn’t even think before treating you that way, his brain just turned to that everytime he remembered he was alone now, that he had lost his best friend and confidante. Stress of the season had also caught up to him making him more irritable than ever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered as he left Ellie’s office, he needed to do something.

He called your phone, but you had blocked him already.

“Fuck, I need to fix this.”

[Part 2]

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one

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oceantornadoo · 2 months

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IDK! HEAR ME OUT THO!!!

Simon, staging the break in and what not so he could push you back into his arms??? INSANE!

Delicious story. Thank you for the food! <3

so originally when i made that last fic (which unexpectedly blew up tysm everyone) i added in the creepy elements almost on accident?? but this and another reply has me thinking...

tw: slight humiliation (but you'll like it)=

simon riley wasn't a bad man. he also wasn't a bad husband. at least that's what he told himself.

when you had presented him with those divorce papers a bit ago (13 months and 4 days, but who was counting), he thought it was a bluff. a joke. he had gone too far in your last argument, and that was your reaction. when he told you he'd go to therapy, you stared at him with a look he'd only see on men in the battlefield. dead all the way through, a walking husk. so he signed them and went to therapy anyways.

the whole time, this whole 13-month break, where you had been 'building a new life' or whatever, he had been planning. internalizing the commentary his therapist would make, and then spitting it back out to you while you moved out of his place. every time you seemed to forget one extra box, and who's to say if he hid a couple in his room? he had a plan.

over time, simon really seemed to have learned so much from therapy. so much about communication. he had become open and welcoming, far from that man who would respond to your complaints with hard stares and a lack of words. so maybe you met for coffee a couple of times and that's how he knew about the cafe by your new place. maybe that's how he tailed you one night after a date, just to make sure this new guy didn't try anything (and not to figure out your unit number). whatever he did, he played a dangerous game by letting you have this illusion of freedom while balancing his presence in your life, just enough to make you want more. after weeks and week of stagnant progress, he needed one extra push. something small, not even a shove.

and if he happened to mention your unit number to a bunch of shady guys that hung out in the alley by your building? happened to brag about your pretty pussy and sweet-smelling panties? maybe mention your habit of not locking the window when you left for work? who's to say. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and now here you were, back in his arms where you belonged. a little frightened but comforted in the knowledge that he could protect you. the ghost wasn't shed when he took his mask off, but you didn't need to know that.

your body was so used to being in simon's arms you didn't even realize you had been grinding on him for the past ten minutes. his boxers you wore were sticky with arousal as you grinded against his clothed cock in the dark. even in your dream, it was simon underneath you, no one else. "si." you panted, a near-whisper that only a military man could have heard. "dove?" he adjusted your sleeping positions, tossing the covers to give you more room to maneuver against him.

"i know i said that thing about the line not being crossed." he gave you a low chuckle. silly little girl. you had finally realized how much you needed him and he was going to milk you for all you were worth. "and?" you stopped. shit. he needed to seem more responsive. he moved you from his thigh to his boner using one arm, the other one snaking its way under your shirt to stroke your back. you moaned as he massaged the tension from the day's earlier events away, giving you sweet relief. the sweetness of the massage made a hard contrast to the friction in your core as he rubbed you against his hardened cock.

"spit it out, baby." he growled. "can you-fuck." his hand had moved to the back of your neck now, holding it in a tight grip. his hand was so large he could feel the pulse points on either side of your jaw, heart racing. finally. "can you get me off? just this once?" he snorted, moving you up and down against him faster, dragging your sensitive clit over and over. "what's the magic word?" he flipped you both around, pressing his body weight on top of you.

simon turned the light on, wanting to see how needy you were. you were panting, shirt sticky with sweat as your chest moved up and down with exertion. he hiked up your shirt and took off your boxers, exposing your sticky cunt to the cool air. he took a sniff of the fabric, noting your small gasp as if you didn't know how obsessed he was with you already. "magic word." your mouth dropped. guess you weren't getting off that easily. "please, simon." he clucked his tongue at that. "ghost?" he left out a short laugh, arms reaching out to tug his shirt off of you. your nipples were so hard, aching to be pinched and sucked just how you liked them. "not ghost." he reached over to his nightstand, pulling something out of the drawer. he fumbled with his hand for a second, then held yours up to the light as he slipped something on it.

"husband." the words left your mouth in a whoosh, eyes transfixed on your wedding ring that was on your hand. the one you had flung at him after he complained about the divorce papers, the one you said you'd rather die than wear again. and here it was, right back on your finger, sparkling in the lamplight.

simon captured your mouth in a rough kiss, entering you with his ring and middle finger at the same time. "so willing for your husband, hm? all puffy and wet. look at your cunt, darling." you both looked down at your pussy at the same time. it was squelching, your vibrator sessions not holding a candle to what your ex husband could do to you. you were almost embarrassed by how desperate your pussy looked, clit enlarged from its earlier friction. his fingers worked in and out of you, wedding ring covered in slick. you watched as he pressed his thumb to your clit in small circles, a tightening sensation in your lower belly rising to the surface. "simon, si-fuck" he gave your pussy a small slap, pulling his fingers out as you addressed him incorrectly. "husband, please." he entered you again roughly, drawing a low moan from you. he captured your nipple in his mouth, teething it just enough to make you hurt. punishment.

"please please please i'm right ther-" he pressed hard against your clit and sent you careening off the edge into your orgasm, back bowing off the bed. simon gave you small love bites as you recovered, hand still working your cunt to draw out your orgasm.

finally, he removed his fingers and drew back from you, forcing eye contact. he put both in his mouth, moaning at the taste of your arousal mixed with the metal from the wedding band. your jaw was still open, looking at him like you had never seen him before. like the sheep's skin had finally been removed, and now only the wolf remained.

"let's get you to bed, wife."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley wife #fluff #ghost call of duty #ex husband ghost #tornadothoughts #yandere simon riley

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doobea · 10 months

Text

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content (fingering, fondling, heavy petting, public indecency, and makeout sessions), suggestive themes, mainly written in rin's pov, characters are all in their mid/late-20s, his teammates are just trying to help (not really), romcom, he has a therapist!!, idk probably secondhand embarrassment, mutual pinning and they are both awk, mdni word count: 3K a/n: tbh i actually have no idea how to write smut scenes so apologies in advance ps due to popular demand... there IS a taglist below haha just comment on the fic if you want to be added to the next batch c:

二 : Baby, wanna spend it all on you -> prev. ->next.

When Rin thought about his life after college, he'd imagine things a certain way. He'd expected to move abroad, a new city, a new life. He'd expected to play alongside his older brother and for a football team of a different caliber, offering different techniques and skill levels that would promote a challenge to him.

What he didn’t expect was staying in Japan, getting married by the age of 24, playing alongside his teammates from the Blue Lock academy, and representing his nation in the upcoming world cup. It wasn't bad by his standards, just not ideal - more so over the team rather than the location and marriage, surprisingly. He's currently stuck with the same teammates that love to tease him endlessly. But a voice in his head tells him that they're probably the only people who could mesh well with his play style; so he tolerates them.

Here's what Rin Itoshi's teammates know about him: he's married to a famous author, he's fluent in English, he's the most Virgo man out there, he always keeps his phone on 'Do Not Disturb', and his favorite movie is The Shining.

And here's what they don't know about him: he's in an arranged marriage, he's madly in love with you so much to the point where he has all your favorite food orders listed in his notes app, he carries around a physical signed copy of one of your novels at all times (you have no clue and he's never going to tell you), and he's a virgin.

Shocker!

Not many people could crack Rin and not many try. The football player had a reputation for being anti-social, rude, and extremely blunt. But Isagi Yoichi is not like many people. Being one of his long-time teammates (friend - Isagi would like to correct him from time to time), he would always find a way to make Rin slip up more details about his 'top-secret' life. It wouldn't always work and often times the conversation will end with Rin kicking a ball to his head - ouch.

But today felt different, Rin had noticed the shorter male peering at him with mischief laced in his eyes when he had walked onto the training grounds early morning. Rin was prepared to kick the ball extra hard this time around.

"What genre does your wife usually write?" Isagi asks nonchalantly as he begins routine stretches on the turf.

"Why does that matter to you?" Rin bites back while doing his own sets of warm-ups next to him.

Isagi is unfazed and continues, "I've been trying to find something new to read nowadays. It's hard to find good books!"

Sarcasm, Rin notices.

"Even if you did read her books, I highly doubt you'd understand the words."

"Pfft, what does she write physics textbooks or something?"

Before Rin could even insult back, he hears a loud bang from the locker room and one of his teammates running out. Karasu jogs to the field and Rin feels all the color wash off his face. In Karasu's hands held the physical copy of your best-selling novel, 'Pleasure Master Prejudice', the book that Rin always carries in his sports bag.

Suddenly, Rin wants to take back all the harsh insults he's said to his team's face. He starts praying, half expecting the football player to run towards him with flowers instead of your dirtiest erotica story known to man, he will repent all of his sins in this moment.

"Yo," Karasu smirks and waves the book around for everyone else to see, "check out what I found on the locker room floor!"

Rin makes a mental note that he is definitely going to schedule an emergency call with his therapist later.

Otoya is first to make a beeline toward the taller player, immediately snatching the book from his hands and flipping through the pages. "Holy shit, this is nasty!"

"Wait let me see–"

Rin blinks in disbelief as he watches his team of fully grown men scramble to the center of the field, all of them attempting to read out loud the pages and giggling like little schoolgirls. At this point, Rin thinks that the higher beings are out to get him.

"Gross! Gross!" Ranze chokes at the print.

"Guys, what the fuck is a vulva?" Igarashi screeches.

"Read this one, Reo." Nagi eagerly points to a paragraph on the bookmarked page and everyone laughs.

Reo suppresses his laughter and clears his throat, "He spreads my dripping cunt wide with his slender digits, eyes keeping in lock with mine as he hovers over my voluptuous ti–"

"Can you guys fucking stop?!"

All turn to face their redden-faced striker, surprised by the volume coming from his usual monotone voice. Rin is also surprised himself. A pregnant silence falls over the team followed by the sounds of the book cover closing.

"Was that yours?" Isagi finally says.

He can't find the energy or space to punt a dozen footballs in everyone's face so today, safe to say, Rin leaves practice early.

"What brings you in today?" Anri adjusts her glasses and steadies her clipboard in her lap before looking into the camera. "It must've been pretty serious for you to call me last minute."

The football player sinks into the living room couch and tilts the laptop screen back to avoid looking at his agitated expression. He usually schedules weekly therapy sessions every Monday to decompress from his work stress and improve his social anxiety, but today is Friday and he needed Anri to hear him out. He's thankful that her schedule turned out to be flexible last minute and equally as glad that you were currently out drafting another story at a nearby cafe.

"I think I need to move out of the country or just disappear for good." He groans into his hands.

"Rin," She says with a controlled tone, "what triggered this event? Tell me how you're feeling right now."

He bites his lips, "My team knows that I read erotica." Rin shyly admits.

Anri hums on the screen, scribbling her thoughts down on the notepad, "And how does that make you feel?" She repeats.

Embarrassed? Ashamed? He didn't know where to start. He can handle the flack from his teammates tomorrow as cringe as it was today but the main reason why he feels the way he does is–

"It reminds me how I'm being physically avoidant in my marriage."

"Ah," Anri beams as if she's found gold, and Rin hears her flipping through her notepad, "are you two still talking? How long has it been since that incident?"

"A week. I'm still not sure what inclined her to go into my room since we usually keep things separate. We both chose to not talk about it and things have more or less gone back to normal."

"But is that what you want?"

"No," He removes his hands and glances at a framed wedding portrait above the fireplace, "but I'm not sure how to initiate anything with my wife. She doesn't know that I read her stories and I'm not sure if she picks up that I'm inexperienced."

"Do you think reading her published works will help you gain confidence in how you approach her?"

Rin hums in deep thought. He only started reading your novels and short stories around eight months back out of curiosity on a slow practice day. When you guys initially got together, he never really asked about your background due to his ignorance of 'she's probably just another YA novelist'. So, when he typed in your alias into the search bar, he was absolutely taken aback by how lewd and explicit everything was. He felt a sense of insecurity knowing that you've probably had most of these acts done to you (how else were you able to write a detailed bondage scenario) and he couldn't live up to that nor see your evident disappointment if you ever find out that you're his first everything.

"Not sure." Rin answers.

Anri flashes the male a pondering look in her eyes before deciding to leave the lingering topic for their Monday session. They briefly exchange their goodbyes, ending the call with her advice of 'trying to approach things in her shoes', Rin isn't exactly sure what Anri meant by that.

A light buzz comes from the coffee table and he sees your contact flash in his notifications. He sometimes feels like you're taunting him with your comedic timings.

my love hey babe if you're free later do you wanna come shopping with me?

It's already been one hell of a day, why not relax in some retail therapy with your wife? Maybe he can try to attempt whatever Anri was suggesting.

When you told him to meet you at the new corner store located next to a ceramics store, Rin was half expecting it to be another bookstore or beauty outlet. Never in a million years would he have predicted that you brought him to a sex shop of all places.

The boutique is painted in blotches of purple and black circles with two towering rose bushes on either side. Grey mannequins are on display by the arched windows facing the street and they are covered from head to toe in a series of lace, leather, and chain underwear sets. And he spots you, already inside the store staring intensely at your phone with your tote bag in hand before locking eyes and sending over a coy smile.

Rin has been in many unpredictable and hard situations, in football of course, but he couldn't see where this outcome might lead. He finds the strength to wave back after gawking for who knows how long, unaware of his sweat-covered palms, and steps inside a world he's alarmingly unaware of.

"Did you wait long?" He manages to remain composed and refuses to look anywhere else but your face.

"Nope," You reach out to interlock your fingers with his, "I just got here a minute ago. How was practice?"

Rin can't help but roll his eyes, "Wasn't the best, let's talk about something else?" And you nod. "Did you need anything from here, hon?"

"Ah, well..." You scratch your flushed cheeks in thought before nudging him towards the floral pattern-laced body suits in the corner. "I want to incorporate something similar in my writings but I want a personal opinion of them first."

Suddenly, Anri's words pop up in his mind again. How could he see himself in your shoes and what should his response be? Was this strictly for your work or is there a hidden meaning behind it, he thinks to himself. Before he could provide you an answer, a male sales associate interrupts.

"That's a wonderful choice, miss!" The blond male's voice booms through the store’s walls as he struts his way over, wearing a pair of obnoxiously shiny brown loafers, tight black leather pants a size too small, and a white collared shirt with the first two buttons popped open, exposing just a bit of chest hair, "Our Forget-Me-Not Floral collection is seasonal right now and it's been a fan favorite since release!"

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkle at the fact, “May I try a few on?”

Rin feels oddly annoyed, and it's a different type of annoyance compared to Isagi and the rest of his team. He subconsciously tightens the grip around your hand but doesn’t say anything.

The male nods vigorously and shuffles through the drawers, quickly selecting the most revealing ones that the collection has to offer. There was hardly any coverage other than thin white straps and embroidered flowers barely covering where the breasts and vagina would be. Why is this boutique charging so much for something that covers so little? But for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind and happily took the associate’s suggestions.

“Plenty of people like to get the nightgown version, but these are my personal favorites.”

“Thank you so much um—”

The male winks, “Chris Prince.”

And Rin thinks to himself, what an obnoxious name for an obnoxious guy.

You swiftly march yourself to the dressing room with the items in hand, assuring Rin that it’ll only be a short while, and he takes a seat on their small ottoman right outside. He feels Chris’ gaze burn at the back of his head but he pays no mind to it - Rin didn't want to cause headlines tomorrow on top of the series of unfortunate events for today. So, to busy himself, he pulls out his phone and texts you instead.

Rin "Everything alright?" my love "Yes! Getting it on is a bit challenging, trying to figure that out rn haha" Rin "I’m sure it’ll look fine regardless how you wear it" my love "Thanks, Rin :) "

Another notification comes through making Rin frown immediately as he recognizes the name of the sender.

shithead "We’re still cool?" Rin "Fuck off, Isagi." shithead "Lol glad to hear that. See you at practice tomorrow then?" Rin "Sleep with one eye open tonight."

“Hey, honey?” Your voice calls out in the distance, “Could you help me with something real quick?”

He isn't sure what's more revealing - the fact that you're practically almost naked with just lines of sheer fabric barely covering anything up or the face he's making right now. You seem to catch on to his discomfort and quickly hug the front part of your body with your shirt, mumbling an apology afterward. He rushes to close the dressing room curtains, hoping the weird sales associate isn't listening in.

"I can't get the neck part to look right..." You turn around slowly, exposing your bare back and bottom. He thinks you should've worn a hospital gown because this might be too much for his little innocent heart to handle.

Rin feels a lump forming in his throat and knots churning in his stomach while trying to take everything in. He couldn't help his wandering eyes and stood there for a bit, simply admiring what was in front of him. "You look amazing." And it comes out breathier than what he wanted it to.

This is the first time he's seen you almost naked and, the fact it's in a lingerie store, makes him feel terrible as a partner. This brings him back to Anri's wise words from today's session and the past eight months of solid 'research' he's conducted.

Your body flinches at the touch of his slender fingers reaching for the two strands dangling around your neck that were failing to support your breasts. You feel your face reaching concerning levels of warmth as Rin moves closer, his chest practically pressing up from behind, whispering that he needed to get this knot just right. Your eyes go wide when you peer into the mirror, catching Rin's sudden sharp expression and you could've sworn his eyes went dark.

"Is this okay?" His hands rest on your shoulders and looks into the reflection with you, appreciating the finalized look. You gently drop the t-shirt to the floor, mouth agape. The sheer, embroidered cups now fit your breasts perfectly and the bottoms are snug against your lower half but still breathable. The lace hugged and accentuated your curves just right without it being too over the top.

Suddenly, you feel painfully small in his presence.

"Y-Yeah, thanks."

Rin hums in contentment before placing shyly his hands on either side of your hips, "Is this also okay?" He drawls, breath hitting against your ears.

You merely nod in response, having a loss for words at the sudden boldness, and melt into your husband's touch. You screw your eyes shut as his hands sweep lower, fingertips brushing the fabric of the bodysuit and barely skimming your exposed thighs. He stops over where your lower region resides and presses gently against it.

"Rin," It comes out as a whisper.

He kisses your temple and smiles against your skin, "Try and be quiet, my love."

Rin's fingers continue to press against your mound with increasing intensity and you struggle to hold back any form of reaction. His other hand travels from your hips to your breast, giving it a small squeeze.

"They're so soft." He continues to grope, playing with your nipple through the lace fabric, and you feel as if your head is filled to the brim with static.

You find yourself grinding against his fingers, trembling and panting out the quietest of moans you can. "Please." It sounds ragged and raw to Rin's ears.

He tilts your head back by the jaw and sloppily pushes his tongue down your throat. Your desperate hands immediately reach for his hair and the other down to feel for his aching length growing against his pants.

"Grind against it." Rin grits through his teeth, fluttering his eyes shut as you did what he's told and he feels like his body is burning alive.

Rin ravages your lips once more and, feeling a surge of confidence, he slides the bottom of the bodysuit to one side, allowing his digits to fully feel the extent of his work. You moan loudly into his mouth, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of your eyes. He takes that as permission to enter into your folds and the texture and scent emitting from it is addicting to his senses.

"You're so wet."

"It's because of you."

His lips find their way to your shoulders and his hand on your chest grip tight against your now trembling figure as he rapidly pumps in and out of your folds. Your hands clamp over your mouth as a burning sensation tightly builds up.

"It's okay," He murmurs, "you don't have to hold back."

And just at the right angle, you watch as fireworks explode right in front of you. Your mind rewires itself slowly and suddenly everything is over-stimulating. Everything is either too bright or not bright enough. You've become hyperaware of the mesh material against your hot, sweaty skin and the sounds of poorly curated indie music that played in the background. You couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror.

Rin groans at your mess and slips out his fingers with a loud pop before setting your fatigued body against his.

"I think your readers will like it."

TAGLIST

@wtfsaekyuny , @jukey , @broeagleblog , @freakingdinonuggies , @damutaaa , @idk-bro-gay , @saharei , @yesurmajesty , @vvi-site , @saeswifeeee , @marilover69 , @izayumi-chan , @whostakara , @talleythesimp , @short-black-diamond

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impishjesters · 7 months

Text

Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

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deadghosy · 1 month

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🌊⛰️🔥🌪️

MODERN! READER WITH GAANG

𖤓PROMPT: you fell inside your comfort show.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩it was during book 2, you were happy to see toph show her father that she can take care of herself. You had wished to see it in person. And booom! You were suddenly in the show where you can see Aang get busted free from the metal cage.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩after the whole fight scene, toph noticed you and pointed you out. You knew there was no chance in running, so you outed yourself out. By calmly saying you are from another world. As much as you sounded crazy, they laughed while Toph knew you weren’t lying by your heart rate. You showed them your phone and that’s when the main Trio stops laughing and got curious

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩Sokka most definitely will ask if the ladies back in your time era are attractive, you said yes and this boy was asking to see what they look like on your phone 😭

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩and that’s how you got into the gaang. You were the therapist of the group, always listening to their troubles and helping them with all the knowledge you knew about their characters.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩katara always likes to rant about her day to you, and you don’t mind which makes her feels comfortable around her. Book 1 katara was very open on making friends. Book 2, I’ll say the same. If you had meet book 3 katara, YOU BETTER HAD PRAY FOR MERCY LMAO.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩aang likes to play with you with his airbending, and you enjoy the hell out of it. Literally you would smile with the brightest smile, and Aang smiles with you along. Just two sunshines having fun.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩toph likes how you taught her swear words. You and toph curse like sailors😈 lmao. Aang accidentally got influenced and that make katara step in and shut shit down 😭😭.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩you love appa and momo! These furry cuties love you too as appa always licks your face when you show up. Momo sometimes leaps on your shoulders, maybe even trying to share a fruit with you.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩Aang steals your big shirts, and you would try to match with him which makes him even like you more as a friend. You turn into his best friend right there and now.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩with you being a non-bender..protectiveness is to the roof! Literally even if you can fight. There’s still bending that can take you down without a single thought. The people who at your body guards are Aang, toph, Katara, and Zuko. The four powerful benders. But the ones who stick the most are Zuko and toph. Toph because she likes how fierce your personality is. Zuko, Zuko is just himself. Plus he needs more friends.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩Zuko awkwardly ask you a lot of questions from your generation. Like a lot to the point you grabbed his lips shut. That’s when Zuko knew, you weren’t playing games.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩headcannon on zuko and you just being awkward teens not knowing how to start the conversation so all he starts off is, “so, is war a thing in your world?” The way you gave him a wild side glance.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩I can see you making the gaang learn slangs LMAO. You made katara understand the wordings of “What you being messy for?” And she started to use on toph and Sokka 😭😭 you’d probably give Aang a short ass but wholesome slang.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩if you had curly hair, and not some katara curly hair iykwim. I mean like 4c ass hair that I possibly have 😭. I can see katara just amazed and ask in g to comb it which you quickly say no to. Toph, just stands there but probably does touch it when bored. People who ask to touch it is suki, Zuko, and Aang. Those three are people who I can see ask before doing it. Sokka will ask, but will touch it as it ask after 🧍🏾

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩big headcannon Sokka training you on sword fighting, but then Zuko comes in because Sokka is apparently “showing” you the wrong way lol.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩suki most definitely would love to teach you her ways of fighting. Plus chi blocking. Once you mastered it, she would take it up a notch and have you spar with her. In honor of her teaching, you agree. You had the upper hand until she practically cheated by distracting you. Making you lose your focus, she nailed you down. But in all warfare, it was full of laughter and friendship.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩imainge you showing them that “car” comercial..(of course toph can’t see it lmao) 😭 ZUKO PROBABLY BURNT YOUR PHONE 😨 ALL BECAUSE HE GOT SCARED

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flintoaster · 6 months

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Let's talk about Branches trauma for a hot second-

*I know it was like all silly goofy because he's a cute baby in a boy band and they didn't plan three movies ahead, but that doesn't change the fact that they were still using their baby brother, I'm guessing 3 to 5 years old, to make money and fame. I don't care if your 3-year-old has the most angelic voice on the planet, but you can't be putting all that work on a child so young. That is a child. That's child exploitation!

*Then on top of that, there's the toxic work environment and the toxic family environment. His brother was being bossy and perfectionist, which is harmful to everyone, but especially the child in his formative years. He's a little baby! He grew up to internalize what he said which manifested as severe anxiety and OCD tendencies. That's potential child abuse. That's one reason he has such severe anxiety because he felt like he needed to be perfect. He blamed the family's breakup on himself.

* even before his brother's abandoned him, he was clearly not being treated like an actual kid. They were babying him sure, but they didn't seem to give him enough emotional support except his pep talk before the show. They still treated him like a colleague which is inappropriate if he's a literal baby.

*And then they left after blaming him for the breakup, and leaving him to take care of his grandma! Yes she did watch over him and was his guardian, but he still felt responsible for taking care of her. He felt alone and like he had to be a grown up from that point on. Before she was even eaten, he had to be his own parent and his own support. I don't know where his parents fit in all this, but clearly they're out of the picture enough for his brothers to know that they are the ones responsible for Branch. I know he loves Floyd the most because he saw him for who he was but he still left him. You can't leave a kid and say "I'll be back eventually like bye take care of your grandma." That's child neglect and child abandonment.

* he thought he was the reason his family broke up, and the reason his grandma died. He probably made the bunker not only to hide from the world, but to protect the world from himself.

*Later in the movie he thinks that Poppy is going to abandon him too, and she's like "I can see why you're afraid of that but I'm not going anywhere" and that's why I love them.

Get this boy a therapist. (I love him your honor)

#broppy #trolls #trolls band together #Branch x poppy #John dory #floyd #Trolls 3 #Trolls 3 spoilers

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scribbledghost · 3 months

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Hurt

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Reader, gender neutral, no Y/N)

Rating: T

Word count: 1850

Warnings: nightmares, descriptions of violence, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of vomiting

Note: This started out as a relatively simple idea and then it morphed into more Character Study because that's who I am as a person I guess.

Simon jolts awake, sharply inhaling as a telltale churning in his stomach sends him rushing for the bathroom across the hall. He knows he's woken you, but he's sure you'd rather him scramble out of bed in chaos than vomit on you.

A few moments later, when the contents of his stomach have been sent back up his throat and he's left panting and coughing into the toilet bowl, he feels your hand gently place itself on his back.

He doesn't mean to flinch. Really, he doesn't.

But he does anyway, and he feels your touch leave him.

Simon tries to even his breaths as he leans back on his haunches, but it's difficult. He wants to turn to you, to tell you that he's fine, but an irrational part of him is still convinced that he'll find you bruised and beaten when he looks at you. That he’ll find his own knuckles raw and covered in blood that isn’t his. The thought alone is enough to send another wave of nausea through him.

Instead, he closes his eyes, and takes several deep breaths.

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask softly.

"No," he blurts out immediately. He doesn't think he could bear to explain to you what's brought him to where he is right now.

"Need space?"

This time, he has to pause. Does he want you to leave him alone? No. He wants to go back to bed, pull you close, and softly tell you how he'd never hurt you. How he'd rather die than ever lay a hand on you in malice. How he'd never forgive himself if he ever marked your body with anything more than gentle love bites. He wants to hear you say 'I know' in return.

But he doesn't know how to ask for that. Not right now. So instead he says -

"Yeah."

He clasps his eyelids shut as you give him a soft and gentle "okay" before walking from the bathroom. His hands twitch, desperate to move and grab you and bring you back, but he dutifully keeps them in place.

Simon stays where he is until his legs begin to go numb beneath him. He then cleans up, brushes his teeth, then returns to find an empty bed. He leans back towards the hallway and notices the guest room door is closed, a soft glow emanating from beneath it.

He begins a practiced routine, though he’s acutely aware that this time will require much more effort to get his mind to settle. He pads into the kitchen, gulps down a glass and a half of water, and sits at the table with his head in his hands.

His stomach roils when he remembers back to the nightmare, how it had started with the memory of him nearly beating his good-for-nothing father to death. It had been satisfying, feeling his old man’s nose break beneath his hand again. But somewhere along the line, the face beneath Simon’s fist changed. At some point, he wasn’t punching his father anymore, he was punching you.

He nearly gags when he remembers how he had noticed the change, how he had recognized that it was now you with the black eye and bloody nose, but he had simply kept going.

His subconscious self had known it was you he was hurting. And he hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d jolted awake after feeling your throat constrict beneath his hands.

He’s listened to enough therapists tell him that there’s no deeper meaning to his dreams, that his subconscious violent outbursts don’t determine what he’s like in his waking life, but it still rattles him every time he experiences it. Especially this time. He continues to waste time trying to make sense of something that can’t be untangled.

Why had his subconscious changed the target of his rage from his father to you? Why had he not bothered to stop as soon as he realized what he was doing? Why did that version of himself not seem to have a problem with hurting you?

He doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions, and he hates himself for it.

The next time he bothers to look up from the table, the digital clock on the stove reads 4:34 in the morning. Realistically, he knows he should go back to bed and at least try to get another hour or so of sleep before he has to be up for work. But he can’t bring himself to move.

Simon has done this song and dance before, and he knows roughly how it will play out unless he willingly changes the tune or adjusts his steps. He knows that if this continues like any other time he’s suffered from a particularly bad nightmare, he’ll drag himself through his morning routine, zone out during important meetings, then limp back home to your arms that evening. But something tells Simon he won’t be able to get away with doing the bare minimum this time.

He’s never hurt you in his nightmares before. Even the worst ones pale in comparison to this one. Even the ones where he’s back in Mexico with sharp hooks digging into his ribs or the ones where his mother’s bloodied face screams at him, telling him that he killed her.

He’d take any of those in a heartbeat over the one he just had. Because at least with the others, he can rationally explain to himself that they'll never happen, that Roba is dead and so is his mother.

But this… this feels more real. Like there's some sort of sick chance that he could be at the punching bag later only to blink and realize he's really been beating you the entire time and has simply hallucinated being at the gym.

He thinks - no, he knows - he'd destroy himself if such a thing ever happened. If he ever laid his hands on you in such a manner, whether it was intentional or not, he knows deep in his bones that his first reaction would be to head to base, go to the shooting range, and immediately turn his rifle on himself.

Simon shakes his head, trying to dislodge the line of thinking he's managed to go down. He heaves a sigh from his chest and pushes himself to stand from the kitchen table, knowing his usual "keep quiet until the unsettling feeling in his gut goes away" routine won't help him this time.

He needs you.

As scared as he is as he approaches the now-dark spare room, as terrified as he is that he'll see you broken and ruined by his hands, he needs you.

"Love?" he asks softly as he knocks. "You still awake?"

"'M awake," comes your groggy voice from beyond.

He steps in, closing the door behind him as he uses the dim moonlight streaming in from the curtains to navigate. You lift the blanket for him, and he crawls beneath it and curls into you. After running a thumb along your cheek, he discreetly holds it up to the light.

He finds no blood there.

“Sorry I woke you up,” he mumbles.

“Don’t apologize.”

The quiet extends, and for a moment Simon thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

“Wanna talk about it now?”

He pauses.

“‘S’okay if you don’t.”

He knows. He knows if he tells you no, you won’t push it any further.

But he doesn’t want to tell you no.

“...I hurt you,” is all he says at first.

You drape an arm around him and pull yourself closer to his chest.

“It was my old man at first. Was beatin’ the hell out of him. Then it… it wasn’t him anymore. ‘S not like I didn’t realize it was you either. I knew. An’ I… I kept doing it anyway. I kept hurting you.”

You’re still quiet, and Simon worries that he’s scared you. Not that he would blame you, hell, he’s scared himself.

“I wouldn’t,” he breathes quickly into the dark. “I…”

He swallows thickly.

“I’d rather die.”

It’s a soft, vulnerable confession. One he’s never said aloud before, but he hopes he’s made abundantly clear nonetheless.

“I know, Simon.”

He releases a breath and closes his eyes.

“Just… I don’t know why," he says. "Aren’t dreams usually… I dunno, a reflection of yourself or whatever?”

“Not really,” you say. “Sometimes they can help you process stuff, but I don’t think it really has any bearing on who you are when you’re awake.”

“Sure felt like it had bearing.”

You don’t answer at first, and Simon feels you tracing the skin of his back, fingertips feather-light against him.

“I think… you think that you’re hurting me. In real life, I mean,” you start slowly. “Not physically, but in some other way. And I think maybe that translated into your nightmare.”

Suddenly, something clicks into place in Simon’s brain.

You’re right.

He knows he hurts you frequently. Never because he wants to, but because he has to. He knows he hurts you every time he tells you he’s been called away for another deployment. He hurts you every time he’s away longer than he anticipated. He hurts you every time he returns with just a little bit more of him missing than when he left.

He hurts you often. And he can’t bring himself to stop. Because the only way he could stop would be to leave you, and such a thing is not an option.

The guilt consumes him frequently, especially when he’s in the field, knowing you’re at home alone waiting for him to return. Hoping he returns standing upright, not lying down in a pine box.

You deserve better. You deserve someone who isn’t so goddamn hard to love. He knows that. But he refuses to let you go.

“You’re thinking too loud,” your voice calls to him through the fog.

A short hum leaves him as he feels you kiss the column of his throat.

“I knew what I was signing up for when you asked me to be yours,” you murmur against his skin. “I know you don’t control your job, or where it sends you, or when, or for how long. But I do know I’ll be waiting here whenever you come home.”

Another kiss at his throat.

“And I know you’d never lay a hand on me in malice.”

Simon pulls you closer; holds you tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You deserve better,” he mumbles.

“I deserve you. And you deserve me.”

“No I don-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt, shimmying up to kiss his lips, “no arguing, it’s late.”

He smiles against your lips, conceding defeat for now as he tucks you against him. He soon notices your breathing even out and deepen, and he presses another kiss to your crown.

Simon doubts he’ll get any more sleep tonight. But for right now, he’s content to stay awake, keeping watch over your sleeping form and ensuring no harm comes to you in the dark.

He may not be able to chase away his own nightmares, but he can at least protect you from yours.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

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gallifreyanhotfive · 3 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 21

Missy was one of Amelia Pond's childhood therapists. She was looking for the Doctor but came too early.

River Song knows Venusian aikido.

Raj Kahnu, one of the Rani's favorite experiments, considered the Rani to be his mother. The Rani never acknowledged this.

The Master once tried to combat the Third Doctor's Venusian aikido with Martian kendo but was defeated when the Doctor switched to Mercurian kung fu.

The Battle of the Bands Beyond the Stars was an intergalactic televised music competition where the losers get incinerated by a laser cannon. Clara and the Twelfth Doctor were forced to compete after Clara accidentally insulted the monarch. During their episode, a band composed of five different versions of the Master also played (Missy, Crispy Master, Bruce Master, Tremas Master, and Saxon Master), trying to hypnotize the viewers, but they were disqualified after they started fighting each other.

The Twelfth Doctor thinks of his Tenth and Eleventh selves as "Manic Pixie Dream Doctors."

The Tenth Doctor, meanwhile, is very concerned about where the Twelfth Doctor got extra regenerations from and believed he might be the Valeyard.

In his Masterplan Journal, the Saxon Master admitted that living as all the female Masters in woman's clothes felt "strangely liberating" and that he should get more in touch with his feminine side.

You can listen to the Fifth Doctor speak Gallifreyan in the audio Cold Fusion.

The Eighth Doctor meant to visit the opening night of the Braxiatel Collection but was prevented from doing so by the Kotturuh Crisis.

The Doctor spent his 1000th birthday with two broken ribs on board a spaceship.

Chloroform is effective on Time Lords.

The Seventh Doctor once broke the galactic record for continuous spoon playing at 67 hours.

The Doctor once took seven people who were so wealthy that they were bored of their lives to a place he called "Purgatoria." He brought each of them one by one into a separate room where he brought them to their breaking points and let them experience a story from his life first hand.

Galileo Galilei discovered what he thought was a planet between the sun and Mercury called Phaiton. It was actually a stellar manipulator that had been forgotten about by the Time Lords and lost until the Eleven found it.

Gender is subject to fashion trends on Gallifrey. For example, during some eras of Gallifrey, the female gender went out of fashion to such an extent that women were completely absent.

The Doctor used to sing songs about windmills to his daughter Miranda.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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battymommastuff · 1 year

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The Accident (Pt. 2)

Batmom x Batfamily Prompt: At least you did something...

TW: VERY DARK!!!!

Part 1

"She isn't making any progress. We've tried everything from electroshock therapy to simply giving her a journal to write her feelings."

You could hear your personal therapist talking to your husband...well ex husband by now. Your marriage died the day he put you in this damn place. What place? None other than Arkham Asylum. At first he could live with what you did, he understood what you did. Everyone understood why you did it, but what happened after...he couldn't live with it.

Bruce watched as his wife shut down. You became a shell of what you once were. The warm, welcoming mother that everyone knew you to be died. Something cold, and sinister was left in her place. The Gotham criminals began to fear you more than Batman himself. Batman held back...he pulled his punches. You...you didn't. You couldn't. This life, the scum of Gotham took your son away from you. How could Bruce just sit there and be okay with it?

Everything came to a boiling point when he walked into the manor with his newest sidekick, Tim Drake...

"Y/N, this is Tim Drake. He will be assisting us in our...work." Bruce said and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder. Instead of a warm greeting or a smile that one usually got when meeting Y/N Wayne, Tim got a stone cold glare.

"Jason's grave isn't even covered in grass, and you're already replacing him?" You growled as you stood from your seat on the couch. Tim flinched at your tone, and moved back a bit. He heard such good things about you. This wasn't how he was expecting things to go.

"Good job Bruce, get another kid...let's see how long he lasts before he's in the grave too." You spat before storming off. That night, you chose to go on patrol alone. While Bruce and Tim were doing their own thing, you were spending your night alone. As you sat perched on a ledge, watching the city that you've grown to hate, all you could think of was Tim. How could Bruce just move on so quickly? You weren't surprised. He spent most of that night scolding you and lecturing you for nearly killing the Joker. Now the bastard was in a coma, and you wished he was dead.

The sound of a woman screaming knocked you from your thoughts, and you looked down seeing the said woman blocking her young child from an attacker. You don't know what happened at that moment, but something snapped. You weren't going to let another mother's heart be broken, or the child's. No more families were going to be broken because of scum like this. You blacked out again, and this time you came to be pinned to the brick wall by Batman. Robin was hovering over the man you'd just beaten. He pressed two fingers to his neck then looked at Batman. Robin shook his head, and then looked at you. Instead of horror, or remorse...you smirked, "At least I did something." You whispered to your husband.

Now here you were, wasting away in the cells of Arkham. Eating food that was stale, and cold. It made you miss Alfred's cooking. Several inmates tried to gang up on you, and quickly learned why that was a bad idea.

"The doctors are beginning to fear her. She's got a rage inside of her that can't be tamed. Whatever set her off...doesn't seem to want to fade away." Your therapist looked over at you, chained to the table that you were forced to sit at. Bruce clenched his jaw as he looked at you. You'd lost weight, and your face was sunken in. You looked half dead.

"Then we'll find something new. I'm not giving up on her. If you can't help her, then I'll have to find someone who can." Bruce snapped. He knew that keeping you here would kill you in the end. You weren't made for a place like this. He wanted you home with him and Alfred. It was where you belonged.

Little did he know that the solution to his problem was going to be solved...

It would be several weeks later, close to when visiting hours would end. You were sitting in your cell with your back facing the door when you heard it open.

"Mom?"

That voice made your entire body go cold. Yes the tone was deeper, and a little gravely, but you knew that voice. The Gotham accent...it couldn't be anyone else. Slowly your head turned, and you nearly fainted when your eyes met the ones staring back at you...

To be continued...

(I know most wanted a pt.2 with Jason's reaction, but I got a little carried away lol. I promise I will make a pt.3 with his reaction!)

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hyewka · 1 year

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YANDERE!BEOMGYU who isn't one at first--someone who, as far as anyone knew, was normal. in fact, he's sociable, charismatic, befriended almost everyone thrown his way, and is on good terms with all of his exes. yandere!beomgyu who's so nice, so charitable, so aware of his surroundings that most people who find themselves disliking him can't continue, falling into his natural charisma.

so his surprise when he met you, so closed off...continuing to be this way even after his various attempts of trying to talk to you. after a while, he deemed it to be useless. not everyone was going to like him, he was okay with that. he was sure you were uncomfortable too with him being so pushy, so, he backed off.

temporarily.

after hearing about your meltdown from his friends, rumors about you being insane and unstable--it drew beomgyu in, for some reason.

at first, it was because he was curious. hanging around you every lunch break, getting you strawberry milk--even when people would wound up whispering about him too. why was he hanging out with you? you were practically an outcast at work, the crazy person who somehow didn't get fired. and he was...beomgyu.

but he didn't care. even when most of his lunches with you would be completely silent, no words exchanged as he ate his lunch along with you. then you'd get up to leave after finishing your meal, he'd quickly eat--sometimes choking in the process, to follow behind like a puppy.

yandere!beomgyu who ends up becoming your friend, even when you deemed his sweetness and pure warmth to be annoying, you couldn't help it. you enjoyed it when he'd eat lunch with you--at some point, the silence being first broken by beomgyu, who was just so curious.

the rumors about you being unstable weren't far off, you were in your right mind but you sometimes felt detached from your own self. past experiences so traumatizing making you breakdown at the trigger of them. you wanted to believe you were better, especially after getting the pass to get a job, reintegrating to society again.

you were socially illiterate, unable to talk to people outside of necessities. after all, you've learned to think that it was useless to engage anyway.

beomgyu, who was now your best friend, your only best friend, never seemed fazed by the occasional breakdowns that you'd have-- he never got mad when you'd go off the grid, needing time to be by yourself.

after a while, beomgyu was by you almost every hour of the day. people would ask you where he was if he didn't come to work, and people would ask him where you were when you didn't come.

beomgyu who is now so familiar with your irregular patterns, that he knows exactly how to calm you down, how to soothe you with his hand against your back. who knows how to count down to five, getting your breathing controlled.

beomgyu who first felt curiosity, then pity, then the need to protect you, the need to be your guardian angel. beomgyu who finds comfort in holding you close to his chest, on your bed, as you sob--incoherent rambles of a hallucination.

gradually, you'd get better, the breakdowns becoming so rare your therapist had asked you what you've done different, genuinely astonished at your progress. at the news of this, beomgyu celebrates with you, pulling you into a hug about how proud of you he is.

but inside, he's confused. so torn because of a wish so horrible and disgusting--what would happen to your relationship now? would he get to hold you as often as he did before? but those thoughts are quickly pushed down, as he flashes a smile he knows you love so much. pretending that everything was okay.

yandere!beomgyu who notices that you start getting distant. not in a off-grid way, but in a you getting closer to people around work, opting to go out for work dinners instead of going home with him now.

yandere!beomgyu who has never felt so much blinding rage until he sees his friend and coworker, yeonjun, talking with you, making you laugh. yandere!beomgyu who can't stand seeing you expand your friend circle.

until now, hes been quietly observing because at least he can still hold you against him as you lay on your bed. his feelings growing stronger, the nights he spends by your side--even if you insist that you don't need him anymore, that you don't get those haunting hallucinations, and that he should go home and rest--so intimate.

when else can he grind against your ass, his bulge rubbing between your leg, as he whines lowly, getting off at the way you stir--probably dismissing the feeling as another hallucination.

every night, he wishes that instead of cumming in his pants, he could cum inside you--his idea of intimate skinship--of making you stay with him forever instead of running off to the likes of yeonjun.

yandere!beomgyu who gets told that he can't come over anymore, and not because you're worried about burdening him but because you have a boyfriend--who doesn't appreciate a grown man sleeping with his girlfriend every night.

beomgyu didn't know about this, about you getting so close to another guy that you started a relationship. what else were you hiding from him? did he even know you anymore? were you the y/n he met a year ago?

you changed. you didn't need him anymore.

beomgyu could back off again, like he did last time when he first knew you. he should do that. that's the only sensible thing to do. thats what the old beomgyu would've done.

but beomgyu changed, just like you.

yandere!beomgyu who knows that you take your medication every lunch break, who knows where you put them in the first place--switching them out for tylenol instead when you quickly go to the bathroom.

yandere!beomgyu whose memorized your triggers, who knows what sets you off.

in no time, your mental state deteriorates, all progress the past year, undone. you have no idea why! your therapist accuses you of not taking your medication, but after a point, you go insane from her not believing your word.

beomgyu who tells you to stop seeing her, that she's doing you no good, that she's a bad therapist if shes not willing to listen to her clients. you agree, you can't see her anymore.

this isn't good for you, you pretend you're okay, but you're not. the hallucinations are back--dates with your boyfriend become a nightmare, you reject every offer to go out for work dinners, youre back to square one.

even when your boyfriend assures you that he'll stay by your side no matter what, that your breakdowns won't ever scare him, that he'll hold you and never let go, that he'll stop the nightmares for you, you can't help but feel that you're a burden.

so, you don't call your boyfriend anymore whenever you need someone by your side. instead, the next best thing--beomgyu. your beomgyu.

it's like the old times, beomgyu holding onto your waist, head buried in the crook of your neck. it wasn't long before beomgyu started again, dry humping your ass, cumming in his pants.

he goes further this time, proud that he managed to get you back to your old self--he takes off his pants, only in his boxers as his hard cock grinds against you--you, still unaware, sleeping.

then, further. his bare dick feverishly rutting in you, moaning against your neck. further. you're only in your underwear, his cum spurting on it--he'd have to clean that up later.

further. he's in you--finally. it was better than all the nights hes spent humping you. its far better.

your eyes are open now--reacting with incoherent moans, beomgyu climbing on top of you, fucking into you ruthlessly, movement erratic as he repeats his i love you's, his pure declaration of his love for you.

beomgyu's going to make sure you don't chalk this up to hallucinations, not anymore.

when the breakup with your boyfriend happens, it was inevitable. he found out that beomgyu comes over somehow, even when your boyfriend previously expressed his uncomfortableness over the arrangement.

yandere!beomgyu who has you crying in his arms, but this time, he doesn't like it. because you're crying over your breakup. how could you? you should be happy! ecstatic! like he was.

beomgyu who fucks into you the night of your breakup, harder than hes done, overstimulating you, as he cums in you, over and over again--he'll make you forget about that bastard. he didn't understand you like beomgyu did. he didn't know you like beomgyu did. he didn't know about the small mole under your right eyes, nor did he know that you had three hundred and forty two lashes in total, that you'd often lose six a day.

no one knew you like beomgyu did. no one could take care of you like beomgyu could.

a/n: lol sorry very unexpected yandere!beomgyu brain rot. i just came back from watching a movie and i got inspired. now ill get back on track, working on my sub!beomgyu smut 😂

#txt smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #yandere!beomgyu #🌷. rana thoughts

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chaoticace2005 · 3 months

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Why Alastor has a cane:

1. It doubles as a microphone and looks cool.

2. It’s a power tool that he has to carry around to maintain his strength.

3. Gives him an air of authority.

4. He heard Lucifer had a cane. He needed a better one. Alastor’s has multiple functions!!

5. It’s just the style!

6. Lilith gave it to him and said he’s never to let it out of his sight.

7. It’s his emotional support cane.

8. The cane owns his soul. He has to carry it around where ever he goes as part of their deal.

9. Lucifer broke his ankle once when he kicked him. He has to use the cane for support.

10. That cane is actually sinners whose soul he owns. This is the final form of the first soul he owned. He took their energy until they became one with him and an inanimate object. Now this is where he keeps all the souls he contracts, taking more energy from them until they too become one with the cane. Husk is next :)

11. He was shipwrecked on an island. Completely alone (after eating everyone) he found the cane and named it “Wilson”, developing a parasocial relationship with it. Wilson died but when Alastor went to hell they were waiting for him.

12. When he fell to Hell he landed the wrong way and now his knee is perpetually messed up.

13. Husk told him he should “talk to somebody” so Alastor just grabbed the cane and said “fine.” The cane is now his therapist and he talks to it when he’s alone. His voice keeps everyone up at night.

14. Twisted his ankle from his heeled boots.

15. That bitch Susan seemed to think she was all that because of her cane.

16. It’s his pet.

17. It’s his one true love and the only thing that actually understands him.

18. He thinks his mother got cursed “Beauty and the Beast” style and turned into that cane. Whether this is actually the case remains to be seen.

19. ITS A BOMB

20. It acts a device to scramble signals, which is why he can’t be captured on camera.

21. So if he comes across something gross he can simply push it away with his cane.

22. Automatic weapon when you’re in a jam.

23. So he can say “STICKS and stones may break your bones!” as he torture and kills someone.

24. So he’s always show ready!

25. He just has chronic pain okay?! YOU try living over a hundred years, being a serial killer, and then getting shot!

26. The microphone actually gives off some feedback that is unbearable to some demons (like Husk) as another way to torture them.

27. The cane is actually Alastor. The body we thought was Alastor is being puppeteered by the cane.

28. It’s a palisman he stole from Emperor Belos and has been trying to keep hidden since someone ate all the others.

29. Vox once said canes were outdated and tacky, so of course Alastor had to prove him wrong.

30. It was a gift from Rosie!

31. So he has even more reach to wack the wings of flying ex-Angels.

32. It’s his soulmate.

33. You know those little blankets little kids carry around with them? The ones they’ll freak out if they’re missing. Yeah it’s like that.

34. He has crippling depression.

35. His therapist told him he needed to get some supports in his life.

36. It’s been the only one there to SUPPORT him this whole time. At this point he has to keep caney around. He’s moved so much in life with them, so to leave them behind would be immobilizing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #radio demon hazbin hotel #the radio demon #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #Alastor’s cane #vox hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel

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btsworldz · 4 months

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MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE (Part One) - Taehyung x Reader

yandere idol! taehyung x reader

delusional taehyung, taehyung x reader, idol taehyung, bts x reader, yandere taehyung, taehyung is in loooovee

Part 1 - Next: Part 2

The cameras, the blinding lights. It was all just too much. Smile.

Smiling on cue, Taehyung entered the red carpet and wave his hand before he moved towards the hallway where the cameras are not blinding him anymore. The hallway was packed with different artists and they were all throwing that same smile when he entered the room. Like they were out to get him, be with him, or take anything from him.

“Hi, Taehyung! So how’s the event for today?” A microphone popped right in front of his face, and the recording camera was behind the person holding it.

I just got here for fuck sake.

Taehyung smiled at the reporter, as if he was not caught off guard at all. “It was great. I’ve been looking forward to attend this Gala, and I’m glad that I got the invite so here I am.”

“Of course you’re going to be invited! You’re the Kim Taehyung. Everyone would want you as a guest. Well, I would.”

Cue, laugh.

Taehyung laughed a little showing his pearly white teeth, the reporter laughed along with him. And after the short (but long enough) interview he got to his seat, politely bows and smile, and if he was talked to he responded as normal as he could. He always skip the after party, and went straight home. Saying he can’t hold a drink and people would coo at him, but shit can he drink a lot. He just didn’t like people.

Especially drinking with people.

His therapist and PR coach had troubles training him when he first rise in fame. They both think that he lacked empathy and has antisocial tendencies. So his therapist begin to work with his inner mind and his PR coach work with his gestures. It was clear one was a success and the other was far from it, turned out empathy was not his strongest suit. But he still keeps his therapist around as a way to keep him silent.

When he arrived at his house, he immediately changed his attire to all black from the top of his head to his soles. He masked himself with a pair of glasses, mask, and a hat covering all of his hair. He took a peak from outside of his window. Perfect, he had thought as he looked at the grey sky. He called his driver to take him.

He went to a restaurant that he visited often, it was actually a walking distance from his house but he wouldn’t want to risk walking here and be caught by paparazzi. It was run by an old man, old enough that he never said anything to Taehyung and Taehyung wasn’t sure if he understood the currency because he sold the drinks in a concerning price. But Taehyung didn’t complain, he loved this place and to make sure the business is running he always pays double the amount. He sold traditional drinks and privacy, both of them are what Taehyung wanted.

The place was not an ideal restaurant whatsoever, deserted with no customer inside almost all of the time. Taehyung can only guess that the old man has no energy to do marketing or even interact with customers. Only sign he knew that the old man is still there somewhere was every time Taehyung came here he always points upstair, he’s guessing that the old man was letting him know his usual spot was empty. And Taehyung would just bow to it and ventured upstair.

It was a decent spot for him, a balcony where he can sit and there’s a long table on the railing. The view was quite nice and most of all quiet, just some hills and a little green but with city from a far. He heard the stairs creaked one by one slowly from the inside. The old man was getting up here. Taehyung was in no rush as he pulled up a pack of cigarettes and begin lighting one up. In here he paid no mind, no one’s rushing him.

Ting!

The old man finally arrived with the set of drinks that Taehyung usually drink. He bowed to him and the old man nodded before he headed back inside.

After a while he started getting tipsy, his body felt warm despite the cold weather from the rain. The scenery was calming him down and the quiet-

Ting!

The bell behind him chimes signing someone just opened the door to the balcony. Taehyung froze, the door never opened twice.

He lifted up his drink to his lips in a poised manner to make a sort of covering for the bottom half of his face. But before he turned around, a voice interrupted his hearing again.

“Sorry.” It said.

The person entering his view was a girl holding one bottle and one cup in her hands. She took a seat two seats right besides him, as there are only three seats including his.

She nodded in a polite manner towards Taehyung, which he nodded back with a drink still on his lips. But contrary to what he was used to, he was met with a nonchalant expression on her face. But he was no fool, there was a slight chance that the girl was a fan of him or a journalist.

To be cautious, he slides of his cigarette pack and lighter from his table.

“Hi, are you from around here? I never noticed anyone here before.” Taehyung started a conversation without fully thinking. But he was avoiding a future hassle, one where he would be portrayed as a cocky artist (worst, one who smoke cigarettes too, if she were to notice earlier).

“I’m not. This is my grandpa’s house,” she replied, casting a ghost smile without meeting him in his eyes. Her expression almost guarded as she didn’t seem like too happy to be talked to.

Taehyung was confused. He didn’t want to be rude either. He didn’t know what to do, he had never actually had an unprompted meeting with anyone like this and he didn’t have the thinking gears to read the room. It was his PR team’s job.

He bit his lips in a silent thought. The girl didn’t even look at him, and when she talked to him she wasn’t even facing him fully. Was she just aloof? or was she feigned to be one in order to get him. She seemed guarded for some reasons.

“Oh, the man from downstairs?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Taehyung was thinking what to say next. He didn’t know why he gave a ton of shit right now, but maybe it’s the fact that this was the only place where he can enjoy drinking and he was not about to give it up to some crazy journalists.

“I’m a frequent visitor here. He makes good traditional drink.”

“Indeed. Thank you.” She bowed a little, which Taehyung quickly respond to bowing back a little too quickly for his own liking.

“Where are you from?” He asked again, making sure his tone is super friendly, that friendliness was puking out from it.

“I’m usually, uuh, out there, but I stay with my grandpa when I’m in Korea.” She gave a curt smile.

Taehyung faked a gasp. He didn’t know if he should stop because it seemed like she was uncomfortable but he didn’t want to risk it either.

“So you’re serious when you said that you’re not from around here,” Taehyung said. “I see,” he said. He was at loss at what to say next, usually he was the one bombarded with questions.

Silence again.

“Sorry if I was bothering you, I just really liked it here. The place is nice.” It would suck if I can’t go here anymore.

The girl’s eyes widened. “No, no, no. Thank you for the bother- eh, I mean thank you for coming here. And liking the place. Shit.”

Taehyung laughed a little. It was actually funny for some reason. She was bothered but she didn’t want to admit that to him, and it was entertaining to him.

“My name is Taehyung. What’s your name?” Taehyung surprised himself as he reached his hand out for the girl to take.

“Y/n. Err, Jun- just Y/n.” She takes his hand.

Taehyung was beyond amused by her response. He also noted that her hand is cold and was smaller than his. Before he can think any further she let go of his hand pretty fast. He chuckled.

“Okay, just Y/n. I’m just Taehyung, guess we both have the same surname.”

“Hahaha,” she laughed. Her face has embarrassed written all over it, Taehyung smiled a little at being able to get her caught. “I’m Jung Y/n. Sorry.”

“And I’m Kim Taehyung,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jung Y/n.” And he didn’t know if he actually was faking it, at this point it was a surprise that he had meant what he said.

The girl laughed awkwardly. Taehyung was skeptical at first, but now he wasn’t sure anymore about what he thought before. He actually believed someone random that have a conversation with him is not a fan.

“So… why did you drink?” Taehyung initiated a conversation. Just to get more information and proved to himself that she is a fan.

“I… I just something came up at work.” She smiled awkwardly, shifted a little as she said that. She looked damn near uncomfortable, but Taehyung wanted to pry more.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but getting the girl to talk more was like scratching an itch. It was damn near satisfying and he really wanted to listen to what she has to say.

“Well, that something must have been a hell of a something to get you drinking that much.” Taehyung laughed, before he realized a little too late that the girl was probably embarrassed if he didn’t correct himself quickly. “I mean I was the same you know, no judging here.” Taehyung raised his hand in a surrendering motion, sending one cheeky smile.

The girl looked away, her cheeks had a red hue in it. She was embarrassed. It was weird that Taehyung’s smile stretched the longer he stared at her emotions. She didn’t say much but she was expressive. And Taehyung would like to think that it was genuine, which was something that he didn’t come across often.

Taehyung shook his head, feeling momentarily distracted.

“Your grandpa made an awfully good drinks though,” he said trying to lighten the mood. Y/n looked at him and Taehyung stopped for a moment to catch his breath with the stare he was getting from her. Her eyes light up, he didn’t know it was possible to really tell when someone’s eyes lit up.

“He was very passionate about his drinks, more than the marketing itself.” She shrugged after she said this, looking around the room to get her point across. “And he had a looooot of knowledge in this industry, he had been working under a guru for about 20 years before he started making his own drinks. After that it was just experience.”

Taehyung was agape at his own ability to actually listen to a full sentence from somebody else and not zone out. It has been years that he actually listen to someone else, he can’t even recalled who and when he started zoning out a lot. “Please do continue,” Taehyung said. He wanted to test himself more.

“I… sorry if I talk too much?” Y/n unsure if she should continue, her expression went from excited back to embarrassed again. Taehyung was at awe, how can someone be this readable.

He smiled at his own thoughts about her. She was interesting.

But then maybe it was the drink in his hand.

“No no, please continue I want to hear the rest of it.” Taehyung laughed as he slouched in his own seat, fully turning his chair towards her.

Without him realizing, he was having a full conversation until the sky turned dark and the rain subsided. Y/n. He was memorizing her name, testing it in his tongue and planting it on his brain.

It was like the God was playing at his life, maybe this person would somehow disappoint him in the long run. Taehyung had to just wait for another conversation to prove that he was right all along.

But for now, another drink and another laugh from the girl seemed like a good idea.

#taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts x reader #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere #angst #taehyung #bts fanfic

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