#like did he escape from the hospital early or?

[dontjudgemethatsgodsjob]

As a kid I always associated Liu with scarecrows for some reason. Not the least fitting comparison at least

#liu woods #homicidal liu #creepypasta #panzart #digital art #desperately trying to remember how to draw again #this ain’t bad tho #always wondered why the stitches got left in tho #like did he escape from the hospital early or? #was it ever explained somewhere that I’ve forgotten? #anyway that’s what im choosing to believe #hence the still growing in hair

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Here we go <3

Masterlist, Part I of __

"Oh my God," someone from his right gasped loudly. "God really has favorites!"

Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as he patiently waited for the elevator door to open. It was too early in the morning for someone to be this loud, or for someone to have this amount of energy. In fact, he thought it was peculiar. Despite him being the most handsome and perfect man on this whole planet with a godlike body proportion, clear skin, the most expressive eyes, and despite him being the genius that he was, and well, despite him being flawless in everything that he did, he could not for the life of him be that energetic when it was six in the morning. For heaven's sake, he still hadn't gotten his coffee.

Jin simply did not have the energy to deal with this person.

"Good thing you're a doctor!"

Jin took the deepest breath known to man, before breaking his intense and angry eye contact with the elevator. He noted that he would have the whole system replaced by Jungkook's company. The time was just unacceptable, he thought. Besides, he hadn't gotten enough beauty sleep last night because he stayed up late patching up the man Taehyung was torturing and the asshole called him at a godforsaken hour just because he didn't want the fun (also known as Tae’s torture) to end just yet.

What a psycho, he thought.

Well, they all were, he surmised. They just hid the madness in order to blend well with the society. He meant, who would even think that the beloved and heavily awarded actor was a high-functioning psychotic shit? Kim Taehyung was just that- a master manipulator when it came to emotions. They all had their own talents, though.

"I'm sorry?" he asked in the voice he used to communicate with his difficult patients. When he turned, he could have sworn you were really a patient if not for the white robe and identification card that you were wearing. He thought you looked like someone who escaped from the ward with the way your hair was haphazardly and carelessly tied in a bun, the bags under your eyes looked heavy that he almost recoiled. It was as though you and a peaceful night of sleep were strangers

He read your name and the department that you were working in.

Department of Psychiatry.

"How can I help, Doctor Y/N? Do you need medical assistance of any sorts?"

Your smile got even wider, and he was almost certain you were losing it. However, to you, you were just elated to hear your name passed his plump lips. Ah, you thought, you really loved working here. You were on the verge of transferring to the hospital your professor owned in the province. He had been attempting to pry you from this hospital, and you were ready to say yes. In fact, you already filed your resignation.

How could you say no to a seventy-percent increase? To a greener grass? To being able to afford to pay loans your family unfortunately passed onto you and buy your basic necessities?

Well, this face would do it.

"Yes. I feel a shortness of breath and you're to blame. You just took my breath away..." you explained, the smile still present on your face. The elevator dinged open, and you waved at the frozen medical director, the highest position in this hospital, with a glee. You entered the glass box, waiting for him to get in. "The medical director will hear about this!" you playfully scolded him

Alas, it looked like you broke him today.

He was still looking at the spot you had just vacated as though his mind circuited. On the other hand, you were on your way to take back your resignation. You just found your reason to stay. You were waving at the man blushing profusely enthusiastically as the door was closing, and yet he remained there.

Ah, what a good morning indeed, you thought.

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand and for the first time in his whole life, was taken aback by the reckoning force that you were.

That day marked your entrance into his life, whether he wanted you to be in it or not. And well, that day unknowingly sealed your fate. You couldn’t leave his life, whether you wanted to or not.

You became a somehow...permanent fixture in his life.

“Tadaa!”

Kim Seokjin jumped when he heard your voice for the first time today. He didn’t even have to turn to know it was you- you made sure that your voice alone was etched in his genius brain. He was always on guard when you were near, and fuck, even if you weren’t. It was like he had an internal alarm when you were near that kept screaming that there was a foreign substance near him, rendering him a different man. One that was not confident, one that always seemed to blush when you were near and he loathed it!

He was perfect and he was used to being in control with his emotions! What was this atrocity! How was a person such as you managed to disable his flight-or-fight instinct?

Jin blinked owlishly at the steaming cup of coffee you were eagerly presenting to him. It was his from his most favored coffee shop, he noted. It was off the way to the hospital.

And it was still hot.

It was six in the morning.

What time did you wake up for this?

“I know you must be tired from that six-hour surgery,” you noted lightly, smiling up at him. He looked good in scrubs and you couldn’t help the heat rushing through your cheeks when he met your eyes. “I thought you needed coffee. I asked your staff and they said this is your favorite.”

See, every time you talked, his brain just circuited and he didn’t know why. Although he possessed extraordinary genius, he still couldn’t find the reason why. He was not a bubbling mess. No! He was the image of perfection!

“I don’t…drink coffee.”

Idiot, he thought. Why did he say that?! You saw him several times with a coffee in his hand. Your elated expression fell immediately, the glint in your eyes fading. He was beating himself inside when the door opened behind him, his colleague, Doctor Seong-Min walking out and he immediately saw you.

“Oh! My favorite doctor!” he greeted you as almost everyone in the hospital knew of you because of your extrovert personality and high energy.

“Good morning, Doctor Seong-Min,” you greeted politely, though the tone of your voice was definitely knocked down. “You were in the surgery with Doctor Jin, right?”

He nodded before slapping Jin’s back once, “This man right here saved the patient twice. He definitely didn’t give up on-“

“Do you like coffee?” you cut him off, your exhaustion from your shift plus the trip you took to buy him coffee was now taking a toll on you and you wanted nothing but to sleep on your own bed.

“Yes?”

“For you! Have a good day, doctors!” you waved at them before walking away. Ahh, your mind was filled with thoughts of food and sleep. Finally, your day off!

Kim Seokjin’s mind, on the other hand, was filled with panic that he hurt your feelings and also anger to the doctor that was now about to sip the coffee.

“Give me that!” he hissed, pulling the coffee away from the equally exhausted colleague of his.

“What?! No! I need coffee!”

“This is mine!”

“She gave this to me-“

“No. Mine,” he announced as he successfully wrestled the coffee away from the confused doctor. “Okay, goodbye.”

#yandere bts #bts yandere #bts fic #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin yandere #yandere kim seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x y/n #bts mafia

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k 

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real. 

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut  

A/N -  im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me  

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound. 

“When did this happen?” 

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”  

“Any meds?” 

“Shot of adrenalin.” 

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.   

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members. 

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital. 

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.  

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”. 

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway. 

That was where you were right now. 

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast. 

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.   

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him. 

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm. 

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.” 

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?” 

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.” 

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.  

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.  

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”  

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings. 

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation,  “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”   

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave. 

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been. 

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname. 

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.  

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.” 

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown. 

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you. 

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”     

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.” 

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?” 

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you. 

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed. 

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.” 

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe. 

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.  

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.” 

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission. 

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him. 

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say. 

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price. 

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.   

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.” 

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him. 

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.   

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.   

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

 The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious. 

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble. 

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something. 

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream. 

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself. 

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left. 

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off. 

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes. 

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion. 

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck. 

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. 

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums. 

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage. 

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.  

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. 

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight. 

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering. 

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.  

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.  

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. 

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath. 

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself. 

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered. 

“You’re fine,” he repeated. 

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.” 

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre. 

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage. 

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding. 

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan. 

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again. 

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.” 

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2 

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #MW2 #mw2 x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #soap mctavish #captain price #MistyGhosties

[saintship]

i see a lot of ghost coming home to reader after a long mission but what about nurse!reader coming home to ghost after an exhausting shift at the hospital they work at? thank you 💓

CUTE

I tried a bit of characterization here; I believe he would do this in a way that seems blunt but is really very meaningful and premeditated. He’s more comfortable with acts of service than nearly any other showcase of vulnerability.

It’s a Given - Ghost x gn!reader

Simon wasn’t big on phone calls; the only reason you picked up the phone in the middle of your shift.

“Hey. Y’Alright?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“Im just fine. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t collapsed.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath..” you shift your weight, the soreness in your feet and legs aching.

“You’re sweet, but I’m in the middle of a shift.” You speak gently. It pains you to discourage him from calling, but even now, the other residents were staring.

“Right, right, sorry. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“That’s right. I love you, Si.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“We need an ABG on a combatant child in 106.” A doctor approached you, handing you the child’s chart.

“On it, thank you.”

Aside from that eight year old girl nearly smacking the needle out of your hand, your shift was more of a drag than stressful. Until, of course, 20 minutes before it ended. Four rapid responses, a code blue, and a violent patient escaping into the lobby, all after another. After those 20 minutes became an hour, you finally caught a gap to leave. You were lucky your car had given out in the garage that morning; if you’d tried to drive instead of taking the bus, you’d be back in that hospital right now.

The sight of your apartment door was almost enough to make you cry. It opened before you could reach for your key, Simon greeting you in sweatpants and a white T shirt. His casual wear along with his mussed hair pulled a smile over your tired features.

“Hi..”

“Hey. Come in, you look like you’ll faint.”

You took his outstretched hand and let him unlace and tug off your boots after shutting the door with his foot.

“I’ve got some dinner for you for after you shower.”

He rose to take your hands again as you rested your back on the wall.

“Thank you..”

“Course.”

Each time he did things like this, took care of you, he always seemed a twinge surprised when you thanked him. As if it was a given; you had a long shift, so he’d look after you. Simple as that.

“Towel’s in there with some clothes.” He nodded with his head to the bathroom.

Since a thank you seemed to pass over him, instead you leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose gently, right over the scar there, before pressing a proper one to his lips. His hand cradled your head like clockwork, like the both of you were falling into place.

You heard the beeps of the microwave from the bathroom as you rid yourself of your scrubs. The clothes he’d picked included a shirt of his, which made you smile. It was an SAS issued long sleeve from his early days, but still comfortable on you. The hot water washed away the sweat that prickled the back of your neck, the smell of your body wash soothing your senses after hours of a sterile environment.

You wandered into the kitchen still towel drying your hair, unable to resist being near Simon when you finally had the chance again.

“I forgot you still had this.” You tug at the shirt, a warm light in your eye.

“I don’t wear it, but you do. So I keep it.”

He handed you a leftover portion of the recipe you’d both made together the previous night, entirely distracting each other from what was a simple instruction list.

You lean against the counter to eat, Simon wandering behind you to hug your waist.

“I really do appreciate it..you make it easier. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably just pass out in my scrubs and wake up feeling worse.”

“I know.” he replies gently. Knowingly. “But I won’t let that happen.”

He sets your empty dish in the sink, guiding you by hand to the bathroom to join you in brushing your teeth. You’d told him once it was easier to do something hard when he was doing it too, and you’d never had to repeat yourself. He also had a habit of ‘making sure his breath was clean’ by kissing you, which never failed to make you smile. He could be such a dork, and it made your chest hurt with affection.

“You still want to read, or are you too tired?” He asked softly, guiding you to bed.

“I can listen for a bit. I really like when you read.” You reply, settling under the sheets. He stood at his nightstand drawer, sifting through it. “Which one tonight, doc?”

You huff at the nickname, though smiling a bit.

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Y’go soft when you’re tired, eh?”

“Shut up.”

He grinned, and the sight of it could fuel you for a week’s worth of shifts.

“Alright..” He settled in beside you, lifting one arm to drape over top of you. Your head rested at the soft bit of his hip, toying with the woven bracelet on his unoccupied hand.

“‘No,’ said Darcy.” Simon began. “‘I have a made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding..’”

When Simon glanced over at you, you were asleep. He set down the book soundlessly, his heart swelling at the way you held onto his forearm in your sleep, and eventually dozed off himself.

It felt like a given.

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x gn reader

[marvelslut16]

The Flu

Prompt number: 22 "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: Age gap relationship. Dbf. Swearing. Boss and employee.

A/N: A few hours late for day 4, but I was a busy woman today. Aaron and Jack never go into the witness protection program, they catch Peter Lewis right away.

The job was just supposed to be temporary, one to help you get back on your feet after dropping out of school, and you got to help your long time infatuation Aaron Hotchner now that Jess was moving out of state. It was a win win in your eyes, and it got your dad off your back. But that was almost two years ago now, and there was no end in sight for your current arrangement as Jack’s live in nanny. 

The one flaw in your logic was how drop dead gorgeous your boss is. Not that that is new information, you’d been drooling over him since you were sixteen when you saw him shirtless at a backyard/pool party your dad threw. But now it’s so much worse, because he’s so sexy doing all of his mundane tasks. Making coffee at five in the morning with bedhead? Sexy. Making dinner in one of his tight white dress shirts when he gets home from a case early? Still sexy. Dressed down in casual clothes coaching Jack’s soccer team? The most sexy.

As you lament, yet again, to your best friend over text about how unfairly hot Aaron Hotchner is, the front door opens. As if he knew you were talking about him, he enters the house with a thud having dropped his go bag by the front door. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, where you are, and when he does you finally notice how miserable he looks. His dark hair is slicked to his forehead, his face pale- except for his cheeks which are bright red, and his eyes are bloodshot.

“Oh my god, Aaron! Are you okay?” your voice raising an octave, you rush over to him and guide him to one of the barstools in front of his large island.  

“I’m fine, the team overreacted and sent me home,” he almost sounds convincing, until he finishes the sentence with a loud sneeze. 

“Awww,” you rub your hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Did Jackers give you the flu?”

“No,” he argues, and tries to quietly sniffle. 

“That’s it, straight to bed young man,” your hands resting on your hips as you tell him the same thing you told Jack a week ago when he came home from school with the flu. “While you take a nap I’ll make you some homemade chicken noodle soup.”

“It’s fine (Y/N), you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of making my own lunch,” he looks like a petulant child, his hands balled in fists also resting on his hips. 

“When was the last time you let someone take care of you Aaron?” you ask, becoming annoyed that he keeps fighting you. “Six months ago when you were in the hospital, that’s when. And then you still fought it tooth and nail. Who takes care of you?”

“I can take care of myself,” he starts coughing as a result of lowering his voice in order to use his boss voice. A voice he only ever uses on you when you try to care for him too.

“You want to go back to work again soon right?” he nods. “So just listen to me. Take some Tylenol and go lay down. Please let me make you some soup.”

He finally relents and heads upstairs to bed, but not before you get him a large glass of water. Thankfully you were planning on making chicken for dinner, so you already have some thawing. You waste no time and start cooking the chicken in one pot, then you chop the vegetables. After the chicken has been shredded and the soup is simmering, making the whole house smell delicious, you sneak upstairs to check on your patient.

You’re happy to see that he’s laying in the middle of his bed bundled up in his sheets with little snores escaping him.Despite him being sick, he still looks far more at peace and relaxed in this moment then he has since you met him back when he was still a prosecutor. After a few minutes of taking him in, you head back to the kitchen and toast and butter bread to go with his soup. The soup is done ten minutes later, and you ladle a nice heaping bowl for him. 

You trek back up the stairs, walk into Aaron’s room and stand beside his bed. You’ve woken him up a bunch of times when he falls asleep watching movies with you and Jack or when he falls asleep at the island going over paperwork for work, but this feels different. You’re in his bedroom, you’re boss’ bedroom. Overcoming your nerves you reach forward and gently shake his shoulder, he wakes with a start whipping his hand to grasp your wrist in a bruising grip. 

“Aaron,” you startle, he doesn’t register that you aren’t a threat in his half asleep stupor. “It’s me, it’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he snaps out of it, face contorting into a frown when he sees his white knuckled grip around your wrist. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you smile lightly, rubbing your wrist when he finally lets go. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

“It’s my fault,” he argues, sitting up and leaning against his mahogany headboard. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the case at work before I fell asleep, I must have dreamt about it.”

“It’s fine Aaron, I just wanted to let you know the soup is done, there’s a bowl cooling on the island for you,” you smile as you slowly back out of his room, suddenly feeling like you’re intruding. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything else, so you slip out of the room and head back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Aaron joins you a few minutes later, wrapped tightly in his blue robe Jack picked out for him for Christmas last year. Aaron lets out an involuntary moan after taking a spoonful of soup, and you clench your thighs together at the delicious sound.

“This is the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had,” Aaron says once he’s scarfed down half of his bowl. 

“You hate chicken noodle soup,” you giggle, remembering the cute way his nose crinkled in disgust when that was the only soup at some fancy restaurant the team and their families went to last year. 

“Not this one!” he shovels in another spoonful. 

You give Aaron another helping of the soup, glad that he’s eating and hydrating himself, before putting the rest into a container and into the fridge. You have just enough time to wash the pot and counters before heading to pick Jack up from school.

“I’m gonna head out and get Jackers in a few minutes,” you tell Aaron as he starts sneezing again. “Once you finish that, go lay back down and drink lots of water.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he murmurs thinking you won’t be able to hear him. But you do, and you glare at him for his childish antics. He finally relents, “okay.”

The drive to get Jack isn’t very long, but after the whole Peter Lewis fiasco, Aaron won’t let Jack walk home or ride the bus. And you don’t blame him. Your dad told you about Jack getting stalked during one of your weekly phone calls while you were away for school, you were rattled for the Hotchner’s. 

“(Y/N)!” Jack comes running at you when he sees you, you bend down and scoop him into your arms and carry him to the car. You’ll never get tired of how excited he gets to see you when you pick him up, it’s the same happy reaction every day. 

“How was school buddy? Get all the homework you missed last week when you were home sick?” you bombard him with questions as you unlock the car.

“It was great! We got to play soccer in gym today and I scored three times!” Jack wiggles in excitement before you set him back on the ground. 

“That's great buddy!” you smile at him as he slips into his seat. 

“Yes I got all of my make up work,” he pouts once you get into the driver's seat. “Lots of fractions, and you know how much I hate those.”

“I’ll tell ya what, you do one of your math worksheets and then we can make your dad a get well soon card,” over your time with the Hotchner’s you’ve learned that bargaining is how to incentivise the both of them. “He came home from work early with the flu.”

“Dad’s home?” Jack start’s to excitedly bounce in his seat, happy that he’ll get to spend more time with his favorite person.

“Yeah, but just remember that he’s not feeling his best so he won’t be able to do a lot,” a bittersweet smile crosses your face, it’s not fair that they don’t get to spend more time with one another. It’s not fair that Aaron has to sacrifice his personal life to make the world a better place for everyone else. 

When you walk in the door you're greeted with the sight of Aaron bundled up on the couch under three blankets, the news playing quietly on the TV. Jack gives his dad a big hug before scurrying off to the kitchen to grab a snack and start his homework. You walk up to the lump on the couch that was once Aaron and reach your forearm forward to feel his forehead, and sure enough he’s much warmer than he should be. 

“I don’t feel good,” Aaron whines, making the same pouty face Jack made all last week. “Everything aches.”

“I know sweetheart,” you let the term of endearment slip without thinking, too focused on trying to comfort Aaron. “You have a fever, you need to drink lots of water and get out from under those blankets.”

“No,” he huffs, clutching onto his blankets like he needs them to live. “I don’t have a fever, it’s just cold in here.”

“Aaron it's seventy two degrees in here, it’s not cold. You need to take the blankets off, it’ll only make it worse,” he shakes his head sinking further into the couch. “Fine, if I go grab the thermometer and it says you have a fever, I’m taking both of your blankets into the kitchen with me while I help Jack with his homework.”

You don’t give him time to respond before you head to the upstairs bathroom where you had checked Jack for a fever this morning before school. When you get back to him, Aaron has sunk further down into the couch and cocoon of blankets trying to hide from the thermometer in your hand. You eventually get it in his mouth and sure enough he has a one hundred one degree fever.

“Hand over those blankets,” you reach your hand out for them, and he reluctantly gives them to you. “Now drink some water and watch the news. And no more blankets!”

You help Jack with two math worksheets before he remembers your deal, and demands you make a card. He decorates the printer paper in every color marker and tops it off with those marker stamps you got him for his birthday. Jack even makes you sign your name on the card. 

“Is this for me?” Aaron coughs and sits up when Jack thrusts the card in his face. “Aww thanks buddy, I love it!” Jack sits on the couch with his dad for a few minutes, but after seeing the news is on he gets up and leaves. 

“You feeling up for dinner?” you ask Aaron, when Jack heads back to finish some more homework. “It’s too late for me to make something, is there any take out you want?”

“Happy Meal!” Jack yells from the kitchen

“You heard the little man, we’re having McDonalds tonight,” Aaron smiles at you as you grab your keys and call Jack to come ride with you.

The rest of the night is stress free, Jack actually listens to you when you tell him it’s time to shower and get ready for bed, all because his dad is sick and doesn’t want to make it worse. Well it’s stress free where Jack is concerned, you still have to deal with the full grown baby you call your boss. 

“Time for bed Aaron,” you tell him after you’ve dried Jack’s hair and read him to sleep. “I know you don’t want to but you need to get your rest.”

“I’m not tired,” he says, even though he grabs your hand when you hold it out to him, you pull him out of his chair and lead him up the stairs and to his room 

“Now take two more Tylenol and go to sleep,” he reluctantly takes the pills out of your hand and throws them back dry.

“There, are you happy?”

“I’m ecstatic,” you deadpan, moving to fluff his pillows for him.

“Thank you,” Aaron catches your gaze when he speaks, making sure to hold it.

“It's my job,” you dismiss his praise, not wanting to let yourself think about it too much and read too deep into it. 

“No it's not, you always go above and beyond for us, for me,” Aaron gently catches the wrist he squeezed earlier making a mental image of the faint bruise marring your skin, and vowing to never let the world hurt you. 

“Aaron,” your breath catches at the delicate ghosting of his fingertips on the inside of your wrist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, leaning forward and now it’s his lips ghosting over your wrist. You swear your heart stops when he pushes down harder, leaving a trail of kisses around your wrist. 

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, the last thing you want is for him to stop, but you also need to make sure he’s in his right mind when doing this. 

“Kissing you,” the words fall out of his mouth effortlessly, like they’re said all of the time. His mouth travels up your arm and he’s kissing the sensitive crook of your elbow. 

Aaron pulls you down next to him in bed, quickly scooping you up and cradling you in his arms. You're at a loss for words, your dream is coming true. Aaron Hotchner actually wants you as much as you want him, and it isn’t a dream. When you’re lost in thought his lips descend on yours, and soon you get lost in him instead. There’s no rush to your kiss, just a slow languid strokes of his tongue twining with yours. It’s the perfect first kiss, there’s a heat to it, but no sense of urgency to get it over with. 

“(Y/N), you have my heart,” Aaron admits breathlessly, arms wrapping around you tighter. “I know it’s wrong for many reasons, but you made my heart beat again. You love Jack and you’re wonderful with him. He loves you. I love you. You take care of me even though you don’t have to, you are the most amazing person. You’re perfect for Jack and me.”

“You have my heart too, I love you too,” you grip his chin and pull him in for another kiss. “You and Jack are everything to me, I finally feel like I belong somewhere, here with the two of you. I never want to lose this, lose you.”

“You won’t,” he kisses you one more time before pulling away completely. “But you should probably go to your own room now, wouldn’t want you to get sick from sleeping with me tonight.”

“I was home with Jack all last week, I’m fine. Plus it’s probably better I stay in here and keep an eye on you,” he smirks, kissing you one last time before resting his head on your chest.  

The rest of the week is wonderful, Aaron still argues with you when you try to take care of him, but when Jack’s at school you two let the facade down. You cuddle with him and kiss him whenever you walk past him, making out on the couch like you’re two horny teenagers. Before you know it, it’s Sunday and Aaron is feeling better so he has to go into work in the morning. As the two of you say goodnight to Jack you start sneezing and the sniffling you’ve had all day rears its ugly head. 

“I told you not to sleep with me,” Aaron teases you after you close Jack's door, pulling you with him and back into his room.

“I’m fine,” your arguing falls short as you start sneezing again.

“I think the team can do without me for another case,” Aaron smiles as you slip into bed with him. “I need to be here to take care of you now.” Who would have thought the flu would be what finally got you two together?

#fictober23 #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Memories II

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury, amnesia, alcohol mixed with meds

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Hope you like it🤍

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

It was close to 8 o’clock when Simon lit a cigarette, the red end glowing in the darkness. The smoke curled up above him into the starless night, forming swirling patterns as it dissipated. He sat on the cold roof of the barracks, his legs stretched out before him and his back resting against the wall. His mask was rolled up to just below his nose, exposing his full lips set in a stoic expression.

The back of his head hurt, his muscles ached, and his stomach rumbled. He had a crick in his neck, and his butt was numb. He had been up there for almost an hour now, and the pack of cigarettes laid empty next to him. It had become a habit for him to go up there after visiting you in the hospital, a temporary escape from reality and a way to manage his worries.

His hands were rough and callused, strong, sturdy, and dependable. His hands cradled the cigarette. The tip of the cigarette glowed red hot in the night air; the paper began to burn his fingers. The heat felt good, the only sensation on his body that told him he was alive. The smoke rose slowly and smelled good, almost relaxing.

His expression was grim as he gazed into the distance. There, in the darkening sky, he saw a streak of lightning in the distance, and he thought of you, lying alone in that sterile hospital room, unable to remember him. 

The only rule he had up there on that roof was not to think about anything about your condition — it was like a game of Taboo, and he had lost again.

He mumbled a curse under his breath.

When the doctors told him that you had suffered a traumatic injury to the hippocampus, he felt like the worst kind of monster was released from his cage. His heart sank and did not stop falling. He blamed himself for not being there when it happened.

Your childhood memories were still intact, but everything else seemed blurry and disjointed. Even some of your teenage years and early adulthood felt like a fog, leaving only fragmentary recollections in their wake.

The only tangible proof that the love you two shared for each other existed was the band of gold around your finger. He had stored it away carefully like a hidden treasure after you handed it back to him with tears in your eyes, telling him that you didn’t know who he was.

 “Mind if I join you?”

 He turned to see Price standing behind him, a cigar between his fingers, igniting the end with a few flicks of a match.

 “Be my guest.”

 Price sat beside him; their two forms a perfect contrast in the dark. While Simon appeared troubled, Price was relaxed, his expression peaceful despite the gloomy surroundings.

“The storm’s almost here,” Price blew a plume of smoke. “But it won’t last for long.”

 “But until it does, it’ll be a bloody mess.”

 “How’s she holdin’ up?”

 “It ain’t good.”They sat silently for a while, the only sounds being the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind and the quiet but steady pattern of raindrops hitting the pavement.

Price took another drag from his cigar, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. “You want my opinion?”

 “Sure”

 “You’re pushing too hard.”

 Simon stared at him in silence. He couldn’t deny that Price was right — but he was struggling to accept it.

“She doesn’t remember a bloody thing,” he said. “At times, she acts as if she’s trying like there’s something in the back of her mind. But then nothing.” He tossed the cigarette over the edge of the roof and continued. “I try so bloody damned hard, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t work. And then she gets pissed off at me.”

 “I know... but giving up isn’t an option, is it? I know you’re not like that.”

Simon rested his hands in his pockets and stared at the distance, contemplating. The rain kept dropping lazily around them while the storm threw its wrath over the city.

Then, finally, he spoke. “No... no, I don’t want to give up. But it’s so hard, Price. Got nothin’ to cling on to,” He muttered under his breath. “I... I jus’ wish I could do much more.”

 Price’s voice was low and soothing, as if he were carefully measuring each word before speaking. “You can’t make her mind rush to remember. It’s gotta sort itself out in its own time.”

 Simon fell silent. He wanted to believe Price’s soothing words—he really did—but his own anxiety and frustration made it difficult, if not impossible.

 Price crushed his cigar under his foot.” C’mon. Let’s go back inside. Come on, mate.”

 As he stood, an unspoken understanding passed between them. He extended his arm in a silent offer of assistance; Simon hesitated, then leaned forward and clasped Price’s hand, letting the other man haul him to his feet. 

 They headed back inside; the barrack’s warm lights and dry air were a welcome contrast to the cold outside.

“You okay?” he asked again as Simon shook off the rain.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Go home, get an early night.”

Simon knew he should argue and tell Price he didn’t need special treatment. But he couldn’t. He was too tired.

“You’re right. I’ll head home.”

—

Coming home was particularly hard for him. The silence was deafening; it felt like it was drowning him, just as the memory loss was drowning you. 

As he opened the door to his house, a wave of cold emptiness washed over him. The home that was once filled with laughter and love seemed empty without you there. He missed the familiar sound of your voice as it echoed through the halls, mocking him in its absence while coming back from yet another hospital visit. All of your memories were tainted by your illness; your happiness had been swallowed up by the silence of your lack of speech and his inability to bring you back to yourself. His heart ached as he remembered the woman you'd been before the terrible accident and wished that he could bring back the person you used to be.

To make the atmosphere more bearable, he adopted some strategies that helped to create a better atmosphere in his house. One of them was to keep the TV always on with an old show like Buffy or some other show playing. You’d never go to bed until you had watched at least one episode.

He tossed his clothes onto a chair, the mask on the floor and climbed into bed wearing just his boxer shorts. His body ached from the long day, but it was the throbbing in his head that gave him the most problems. He sighed heavily as he lay down, trying to will away the pain.

The bed creaks and groans as he moves in it.

The sound of the TV fell on deaf ears. He couldn't hear anything but the echo of your voice in his head. It haunted him.

Lying there, he remembered the feeling of being close to you. He could feel your body against his, the curves of your shoulder and hip pressing into him, and the softness of your skin as he traced his fingers down your arm or ran them lightly through your hair. He longed to feel that closeness again, to be enveloped in the scent of you. He missed the sweet smell of your hair filled his nose as he buried his face in your neck.

Your perfume lingers in the sheets, like a ghost clinging to the pillows. 

He reached out and ran his hand along the empty space beside him, imagining that you were there. His heart ached for you, and he felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever. The realisation that he might never have you back brought tears to his eyes, and he struggled to hold them back.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He couldn't force you to remember, no matter how hard he tried. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew that the only thing he could do was to love you, always and forever, no matter what.

It took some time for him to drift off, and even then, he would wake up. Because there was no escape, he was forced to relive the mission that left him broken every night.

The sound of your crying and screaming, begging for your life.

He heard them every night. He heard them over the gunshots and the sound of grenades. He heard the sounds of your yelling at him to let go of your hand and save himself. Then, the screams went silent. He woke up like every night, drenched in sweat, the sheets wrapped around his legs.

The TV was loud, and Sarah Gellar was battling some vampires. Simon shook his head, wiping the sweat away from his forehead before shutting off the TV.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered.

He ran his hand harshly across his face, desperately trying to erase the image of you being thrown backwards from a powerful explosion and your body lying motionless on the cold ground. He could smell the scent of burnt skin and matted hair. He shivered in horror, reached for the small bottle of whiskey kept on the bedside table, and took a swig directly from the bottle.

It doesn’t help, he told himself; it never does.

The bottle was nearly depleted, having been his faithful companion during the weeks of solitude.

His head was spinning painfully, and his body was cold.

You’re a mess.

He grunted as he stood and stumbled towards the bathroom; the hardwood flooring felt cool against his bare feet.

He opened the cabinet, deliberately not looking into the mirror. His fingers found a bottle of Nembutal, and he grabbed it, his palm slick from the whiskey bottle. He tossed two pills down his throat, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

 —

He jolted awake some hours later to the buzz of his phone and immediately regretted it. A throbbing ache exploded behind his eyes and spread throughout his head and neck. He groggily fumbled for the device, holding it up to his ear without shielding his eyes from the harsh light of morning streaming through the window. 

“Who’s this?” he croaked.

“Mr Riley, it’s Doctor Badel...” The tone in his voice was tired, exasperated. “She’s not cooperating with their prescribed treatment plan.”

The words felt heavy in the air, and the silence that followed was thick with tension. It was as if the entire room was holding its breath.

Simon cursed under his breath, muscles clenching and his jaw tightening. 

“ I’m on my way.”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley angst

[gamergirl929]

Going Under the Knife (Emily Sonnett x Kelley O'Hara x Reader)

You knew surgery was a big deal, which is why you'd did your best to hide it from your teammates, particularly Emily Sonnett and Kelley O'Hara, two women who were currently dating and two women you were desperately in love with. However, a single phone call draws them to the hospital, and to your bedside, where everything changes.

Your heart clenched roughly in your chest, your anxiety spiking as the IV punctured your skin, resting within a vein that would be used to lull you to sleep so the surgery could begin.  

You knew your teammates would be livid when they realized you’d hidden your injury from them, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was to be fussed over.  

You’d assured them time and time again that the slight limp you developed after a rough tackle during the World Cup was nothing to worry about, that the grimace on your face when you walked was nothing, and that the groan when you pulled your cleat off was in relief and not excruciating pain.  

You stare at the white ceiling above you, glancing at the empty seat resting at your bedside.  

You knew you should’ve told someone, anyone, that you were about to face a four-hour surgery, but again, you didn’t want to be fretted over.  

Despite that, you knew you should’ve told THEM specifically, knowing that once they found out you were in the hospital and hadn’t told them, they would be far from happy.  

Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett had been dating for well over a year and considering this had been the first actual holiday they had together, you didn’t want to intrude on that.  

Your heart again clenches in your chest, the surgery the furthest thing from your mind when you think about the couple.  

It didn’t take long for feelings to develop between you and the couple, the light caresses, and the flirty retorts making you fall harder and harder for the pair.  

No matter how hard you fell, you knew that they would never be interested in you, how could they when they already had each other? 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a clearing throat, your eyes widening when you see your doctor standing before you, the man wearing blue scrubs. 

“Are you ready Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks and you inhale deeply, your eyes fluttering shut as you nod reluctantly. 

“I’m ready.”  

************************************************************************

Alex Morgan rolled her eyes playfully as Servando chased her daughter around the living room, Charlie giggling wildly as he caught her, swinging her up into the air and kissing her face over and over again.  

Alex’s brows furrow when her phone, which was resting on the counter begins to ring, the woman making her way across the room to pick it up. 

She hums at the sight of the unknown number stretched across the screen, a number starting with, what she knew, was the area code for Seattle, Washington.  

She clears her throat before answering, ducking into the kitchen to escape the noisy living room.  

“Hello?” She asks.  

“Is this Alex Morgan?” The woman on the other end of the phone clearing her throat.  

“Ye-Yes, this is her.”  

“Hello Ms. Morgan, this is UV Medical Center, calling in regards to a patient of ours, Y/N...”  

***********************************************************************

Considering you spent your early years on the Orlando Pride alongside Alex Morgan, she almost immediately took you under her wing, the woman becoming not only a mentor to you, but something akin to an older sister.

It was soon after that, that she became your emergency contact, the woman the only one you trusted to handle an emergency.  

Thankfully for her, she had yet to receive a call concerning your health, unfortunately, this was the day everything changed.  

The second she’d hung up with the receptionist she immediately called the first woman who came to mind, her longtime friend and teammate Kelley O’Hara, who she knew was in Seattle with Emily Sonnett.  

“Hey Al, what’s--”  

“Did you know Y/N was in the hospital?” Alex cuts her off, noting the hitch in Kelley’s breath.  

“N-N-no, what happened?!” She asks anxiously, her voice quivering, her distress alerting the blonde who’d just made her way back from the bedroom and into the living room.  

“What’s wrong?” She asks, Kelley waving a dismissive hand in her direction, the defender listening intently to the woman on the other end of the phone.  

Without warning, Kelley leaps to her feet before rushing towards the door, stuffing her feet in her shoes before grabbing her jacket, the anchor holding her into place being Emily Sonnett, the woman’s hands resting on her back.  

“Kel, what’s wrong?” She asks nervously, the woman turning towards her, her brown orbs wide.  

“Y/N’s in the hospital, we have to go.”  

And with that Emily too begins rushing to grab her things, the pair slamming the apartment door shut behind them as they rush to UV Medical Center, and to your side. 

************************************************************************

Despite the fact that UV Medical Center was MASSIVE it didn’t take them long at all to find where you were, Kelley rattling off what Alex had relayed to her on the car ride to the hospital.  

You’d gone under the knife for ankle surgery over 5 hours ago, the extent of the injury you’d entered surgery for becoming much more prominent the deeper the doctor’s dug beneath your skin, which eventually resulted in a call to your emergency contact, that being, Alex Morgan.  

“While we’re here, we’re getting added to the Emergency Contact list.” Kelley had mumbled as they rushed through the hospital towards the waiting area outside of the surgery suite you were currently located in.  

Seemingly, the receptionist knew who they were, considering the second they spoke their names, she’d waved someone over, that someone leading them out of the waiting room towards a nearby elevator.  

“The surgery went on longer than we expected, there was more damage to the ankle than we anticipated.” He explains as the elevator doors slide shut.  

“Is she awake?” Emily asks, the man shaking his head.  

“We had to increase the amount of anesthesia we used, so we’re having a hard time getting her to wake up.”  

Kelley turns to Emily nervously; the nervousness Kelley is feeling conveyed right back at her from Emily’s hazel orbs.  

“Do you know how long it’ll take for her to wake up?” Kelley asks, her fingers tangling with Emily’s, the blonde giving her hand a squeeze.  

“We don’t know.”  

The second the elevator door opens the man is leading them down the hall and into a nearby room, that turns out to be a secluded waiting room, offering the pair privacy.  

“We’ll inform you immediately when she wakes up and leaves the recovery room.” He smiles softly, leaving the pair in the empty room, a TV hanging in the corner playing softly as the pair sit side by side on a small couch.  

"Do you think she’ll be okay?” Emily whispers, resting her head on Kelley’s shoulder, the woman taking her hand, giving it a squeeze.  

“She will be.” She whispers, unwilling to put her anxiety and worriedness into words, choosing to remain hopeful for the sake of the blonde beside her.  

************************************************************************

As the time ticked away, the anxiety and fear within both women began to grow, and after an hour had passed, that anxiety was near teeming over, that was until the door clicked open softly, the man from earlier giving them a small smile.  

“Ms. Y/L/N is in her room; I’ll take you to her.” He smiles, the pair jumping to their feet and rushing down the hall behind him.  

“She may be in and out, she’ll DEFINITELY be groggy thanks to her pain medication, but she’ll be back to herself in no time.”  

It doesn’t take long for the pair to be ushered into a room, the two immediately zeroing in on your ankle, which hangs well above you, your ankle wrapped tightly in bandages.  

Kelley glances at Emily, seeing her own concern written on her face, the two slowly making their way hand in hand to your bedside.  

A soft whine draws their attention to your face, your face which is currently scrunched up as you tiredly survey your surroundings before your eyes again flutter shut.  

Silently, the doctor makes his way out of the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, the three of you now left in complete silence.  

You hum, turning towards the two, your eyes remaining shut before you peek between your eyelids. 

“They must’ve really given me the good shit if I’m hallucinating.” Your tired eyes darting from Kelley to Emily and back.  

“I’ll call and tell you guys later.” You whisper tiredly, your eyes fluttering back shut.  

“You don’t have to tell us anything Y/N, we’re right here.” Emily says, giving your hand a squeeze.  

“Alex called us.” Kelley says, shaking her head when you start to sit up.  

“Well, I better call her back then.” You grumble, glancing around the room, your eyes still shut as you search for your phone.  

“Sit still Y/N.” Kelley whispers, placing her hand on your shoulder to hold you in place.  

“But I have to call Alex, she called me.” You mumble, completely unaware that the woman had indeed NOT called you.  

“No Y/N, she called us.” Emily says, unable to bite back a smile when you turn to her in confusion.  

“She called me, she didn’t call you, you’re not real.” You slur, the older defender on the opposite side of the bed cupping your cheek.  

“But we are real.”  

You shake your head.  

“No, Kelley and Emily are on holiday together, because they love each other, not me, they wouldn’t come visit me.”  

Kelley and Emily share a glance, Emily tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.  

“What do you mean Y/N?” She asks softly and you growl.  

“Just what I said, they don’t love me, not like I love them.”  

The pair stiffen, hearts stalling in their chests as the stare at one another in not only shock, but elation.

“What do-- 

Kelley’s cut off by a loud snore, the pair turning their attention back to you, realizing you’re again fast asleep.  

Kelley gently caresses your cheek as Emily runs her fingers through your hair.  

“Looks like we have a lot to talk about when you wake up, huh?” She whispers, ducking down to kiss your temple, Emily following suit moments later.

The blonde reaches across the bed, covering Kelley’s hand with her own, the pair sharing soft smiles before turning back to your sleeping form.  

It didn’t take a genius to see that Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett were absolutely smitten with Y/N Y/L/N, the moment they met.  

The pair had been fearful when it came to their feelings for you, fearful it may end their relationship, but when they came to the realization that they both felt the same way about you, both had attempted to pursue you, something you were unfortunately not aware of.  

However, with the sudden realization that you too felt the same, they knew everything was about to change.  

“Do you think she meant it?” Emily whispers and Kelley smiles, glancing across the room at your sleeping form.  

“I think she did, high mouths speak sober thoughts. I guess we’ll just have to ask her when she wakes up.” Kelley smiles, turning abruptly towards Emily when she sniffles.  

“What if she didn’t mean it?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper.  

Kelley cups her cheeks, resting for forehead against the younger woman’s before she presses a kiss to her lips.  

“We’ll just cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?” She whispers, and Emily nods, the blonde unable to bite back a smile when Kelley kisses the tip of her nose.  

“Okay.”  

************************************************************************

It’s well into the afternoon that you begin to stir, pulling Kelley and Emily’s attention away from one another and onto you, the two leaning forwards in their seats, which they’d taken residence in beside your bed.  

Your eyes crack open, your teeth clenching in pain, the overhead lights making your head throb.  

Despite that, you keep them open, Y/E/C orbs darting from Kelley, to Emily and back.  

“Wh-What are you guys doing here?” You ask, your voice rough and raw.  

Kelley grabs a nearby cup and holds in to your lips, letting you take a greedy sip before she speaks.  

“Alex called us.”  

Your brows furrow.  

“Alex?”  

Kelley nods.  

“The hospital called her, they found more damage to your ankle then they first thought, they wanted permission to continue the surgery.”  

You hum, glancing sadly at your ankle, which is still hanging high off the bed.  

“Looks like you’re going to have a lot of down time.” Emily smiles sadly, caressing the back of your hand, causing your cheeks to flush.  

“Yeahhhh...” You sigh, leaning back, your eyes fluttering shut as your head rests against the pillow behind you.  

“Why didn’t you tell us Y/N?” Kelley asks and you sigh.  

“I didn’t want you guys to worry, I knew you planned on spending the holidays together, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”  

Emily scoffs.  

“You could NEVER ruin our holiday, honestly, we were going to come see you anyway.”  

Kelley’s hand rests on top of yours and Emily’s.  

“We really wanted you to be a part of it.”  

Your eyes double in size, your heart skipping a beat in your chest as you glance down at your joined hands, your cheeks flushing.  

“You had some things to say when we got here...” Kelley starts, and your brows furrow.  

“I-I did?” You stammer and she nods.  

“You did.”  

You swallow roughly, your heart racing wildly in your chest, the thought you may have confessed your feelings making your palms go clammy.  

“Wh-Wh-What did I say?” You stutter, eyeing your blankets nervously.  

“Well, you didn’t think we were real.” Emily smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head.  

“What else did I do?” You ask Emily and Kelley sharing a glance, which goes unnoticed by you.  

Kelley clears her throat.  

“You said we didn’t love you.” She whispers, your head snapping upwards, your eyes locking with her dark brown orbs.  

“Wh-What...?” You stutter, sliding your hand out from beneath there’s only for Kelley to catch your hand before you can rest it in your lap.  

“You said we didn’t love you, like you loved us.”  

You mouth falls open, your eyes darting between the two women as your cheeks redden, the tips of your ears beginning to burn as your gaze falls to your lap, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.  

“I-I-I'm so sorry... Y-You weren’t supposed to find out... I-I-I... I mean...” You mumble, unable to look at the two women.  

Unbeknownst to you, Kelley glances at Emily, who nods, the woman cupping your cheek before turning you towards her, your eyes glassy as they meet her brown orbs.  

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” She whispers, your eyes widening dramatically when Emily glances at Kelley.  

“What idea?” You ask, your voice quivering, Kelley tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  

“The idea that we don’t love you like we love each other.” 

Your heart stalls in your chest, your eyes darting from brown orbs, to hazel orbs and back, your breath hitching when Kelley’s brown orbs drop to your lips, her tongue running along her lips before she begins leaning in.  

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought that this may still be a hallucination still prominent in your mind, that is until Kelley’s lips meet yours for the first time, her hands gently cupping your cheeks.  

All thoughts of this being a hallucination leave your mind as the woman kisses you softly, your bottom lip trapped between hers as the two of you kiss, parting with much reluctance.  

Kelley’s forehead rests against yours the woman smiling softly.  

Moments later she’s pulling away, her forehead being replaced by Emily’s her hazel orbs locking with yours as she leans in, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips too, meet yours.  

You cup her cheek boldly, your fingers tangling in her hair as you kiss, the woman sighing against your lips.  

Again, you part, the blonde pulling back, only to turn your head, kissing your temple softly, the older of the pair resting her head against your own as well.  

“So, what do you think now?” Kelley whispers and you chuckle.  

“I’m thinking I REALLY hope I’m not still hallucinating.”  

Kelley chuckles as Emily giggles, their laughter contagious despite the pain you’re currently feeling.  

"How can we convince you that this is real?” Kelley asks and you grin.  

“I mean, a few more kisses might help.” You shrug, unable to bite back a grin.  

Kelley and Emily share a glance, the two grinning before Kelley leans back in.  

“I think that can be arranged.”  

#uswnt x reader #kelley o'hara x emily sonnett x reader #so'hara x reader #kelley o'hara x reader #emily sonnett x reader #id love to hear what you think! #ive never written for so'hara so be gentle. XD

[ohbo-ohno]

well now i can't stop thinking about reader in a depressive episode bc she's trapped in the apartment refusing to leave the bed or check her phone for texts and the only thing ghost and soap can do is helplessly watch through the cameras..or managing to accidentally hurt herself somehow in an escape attempt and ghost sends a text berating her for it but soap can see he's actually very afraid.. angst potential here off the charts ngl

ugh i looooove good angst. my favorite romance trope is second-chance because there's very little i love more than a man fucking up and begging for forgiveness.

putting a read more here bc im gonna talk about depression and thats a pretty big cw <3

it would be very difficult to not get depressed when they're both gone for days at a time. you'd go from being in their presence 24/7, constant attention, to just nothing for days on end. especially with the presence of the collar and chain at your throat? it would all throw you into a not-quite-person headspace, and that's not great when you're all alone :(

early on you don't like to interact with them. johnny spams you with texts - funny memes, stupid things people have said, things he wants to do when he's back with you - and you ignore him out of spite (except he can see you lunge for the phone every time it buzzes, and from certain camera angels he can see the way you smile when he tells you about something embarrassing simon did). simon doesn't text much at all, that's not a specific to you thing though he's just like that, so he's almost exclusively texting you little scolding messages. smirks when he sees you scowl and pout through the camera :(

they'd be really worried once you stop getting out of bed. even when you're scared of them, there's still a fire there yk? they don't want you to change as a person, they just want to keep you. when you start to give up a little, it would send them into a bit of a tailspin.

johnny worries first (he hadn't noticed first, but he worries first). he sends you a text and you don't move to look at it, which he's never seen happen unless you're asleep or two far away from the phone to hear it. so he spams you, does that thing where he sends one letter at a time so your phone is just making an endless buzzing noise. his heart lodges in his throat when you just roll onto your other side, not even looking at it or shoving it onto the floor.

simon has to stay calm, because johnny's freaking out. he's very worried about you too, but he can't be showing that with the way that johnny's hands shake as he shoves the camera app into his face.

they can't just leave, they've got a contract they've signed promising to complete x y and z, or else they'd be on their way back when you only leave the bed once in 24 hours and it's to use the bathroom. they're snippy and pushy, rude to everyone and each other because they can't help you.

the next morning you get out of bed. ghost shakes soap awake, a rare desperation in his movements as he forces him to look at your shuffling form on the little phones screen.

you're very slow moving, stiff from your day in bed and slow from exhaustion and hunger. you trip over the chain, go sprawling to the ground with a cry that echoes like a gunshot out of simon's phone speakers. you curl up, hands cradling the knee your weight fell on, and you don't get back up.

simon and johnny are gone, immediately. they break contract and just about every traffic law ever written to get back to you, tearing up the stairs at a full sprint like there's a fire on their heels.

you're still on the floor when they get there, haven't moved an inch from where you first fell (which they know, at least one of them has had his eyes on the cameras since you hit the floor). johnny wants to take you to a hospital, but simon manages to talk him down a bit when they see that your knee is only red and a little scraped.

the real problem is in your head. you don't bother reacting much when they burst in, just sort of lay limp and let them do what they want. like a doll.

johnny's cupping your face, squeezing a little too tight and making eye contact with you. he looks frantic. "lovie? c'mon, talk to me. what's wrong, huh?"

simon's stroking over your body with hands that shake, just enough for you to notice. he's leaned against the back of the couch, you between his legs and your back against his chest, legs caged by his.

"give her a second, johnny," simon rumbles, petting up and down your arms in a soothing and consistent movement. "she's alright. just gotta..." he cuts himself off for a moment, swallowing down the lingering panic in his throat. "just need a little love, huh sweetheart? little love and attention, and you'll be okay."

they slowly coax your mind back to your body, steady movements that don't jar or (for once) don't push any of your boundaries. they're warm, murmuring soft praises and kind words.

you cry when you fully come back to yourself, overcome with how comforted you truly feel. you shouldn't. they've kidnapped you, they keep you chained to the fucking floor like a dog when they leave you.

but they're so warm, and so soft. johnny's mumbling into your neck all the things he likes about you (pretty face, soft skin, perfect size, sweetest eyes, cutest expressions) and simon is breathing heavy and deep in your ear, guiding your breathing with his as it grows heavier and heavier.

that night is the first night you cuddle into them. you need them, even if they've forced it to be that way. you can't change it now.

#anyways if any of you have fics or books with a good grovel send them to me #bo writes #asks and answers #dlmliyh

[bbyblair]

small touches pink cheeks, pt.3

charles leclerc x f!reader 

pt.1 pt.2

 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: part 3! ;) I'm so glad people are enjoying this series, its so fun to write so ty to you all!

summary: the start of the 2023 season, Bahrain in early march. you'd recently joined the sky team, working as a news reporter and interviewer for your beloved sport.it's your first week and a mix of nerves and anticipation swirl together in your stomach. you're giddy to finally meet who you’d be working with for the next few months… but what happens when an instant connection sparks up between the new girl and Ferrari's golden boy? 

warnings: some cursing nothing crazy! just tensionnnn ugh slow burns ;)

word count: 2.4k

friday 3rd march, 2023. 

after returning to your hotel room, the sun had already set and the moonlight was the only thing currently illuminating you as you stood there. thinking about what had just happened in the small timeframe you were at work. on your first day. you sat down onto the bed and sighed. its not like you weren't flattered that the world famous charles leclerc was, well what you thought, flirting with you. and of course he was undeniably handsome, yet having only just met there was something in the way he looked at you, which you had never seen before. and it made an odd feeling rise up in your stomach when you thought about it. 

to try to get your mind off it, you started getting ready for bed. taking a nice warm shower and then doing all your skincare. your hotel was very nice, clearly the company you worked for had splurged out in hospitality for their employees and you were very thankful for it. with a small sigh you collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the day that you'd just had. 

lying in bed you decide to check some of your socials, to see what some of your friends from uni and school were up to. you only told your closest friends about your job when you first applied, afraid that somehow you might jinx it. a small befell your lips at how much has changed in a matter of months. 

clicking onto instagram you notice you had a new follower, your instagram was public but you didn't have many followers anyways, only people who knew you closely followed you, so you were a little surprised. you definitely didn't expect this. 

new notification- charles leclerc started following you. 

your mouth dropped open in pure shock. how did he find you? when you introduced you only gave your first name, there was nothing else that said your full name. during both of your interactions with charles your name badge was shoved into your bag. with wide eyes you clicked onto his profile. fuck, of course you were already following him. before you began your new job you immediately followed every single driver on the grid, it was your job of course to know all of the gossip. 

a small groan escaped your lips and you shook your head. he clearly had asked about you, how else did he find your instagram? jesus, this guy really isn't giving up. you weren't going to deny having a man like charles practically stalk you was flattering, but also added to your annoyance! 

you only had a handful of posts on your instagram, most of them were you with our friends. a few of you by the beach somewhere, in a cute little bikini. of course you looked great. it was your second recent photo which caught your eye, you remembered the memory with a smile. it was a slideshow of pictures with you and your best friend luke, you two were both pretty drunk and did a small makeshift photoshoot in his apartment. you had also posted the pictures that same night, and boy did you look good. wearing a little dress that skimmed over the top of your thighs, the moonlight bounced delicately across your skin, accentuating your curves in the best way. 

the first photo on the slideshow however was a picture of you and luke together, a selfie taken by you. your hand holding up the phone above you both, so you could see his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, you were smiling and pressing a friendly drunken kiss on his neck, while he laughed. looking back, the photo did really look like you two were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. he was one of your closest mates, and things never went further than that between you both, due to mutual respect for the friendship. 

today you saw how possessive and jealous charles could get, if he had seen these pictures then you were a little terrified for tomorrow. he would obviously bombard you with questions and you were definitely not looking forward to it. with a dramatic sigh you rolled over to your side, placing your phone onto the table beside you and attempted to fall asleep. 

saturday 4th march 2023 - qualifying day. 

you awoke with your alarm blaring into your ear, and a pit in your stomach. of course you were excited to witness the first qualifying of the season, and your career. but there was someone you were hoping to avoid. hopefully today you would meet the rest of the drivers, and could be preoccupied by them and their quali results. 

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

you arrived at the circuit with a smile on your face. you were determined to make a great impression to the rest of the drivers and prove that you were smart, qualified, and not in this business just for the ‘good looking’ drivers. you had on a pretty outfit, which made your confidence levels skyrocket, aiding you in setting a good first impression. light wash denim jeans hugged your body perfectly, with a little flare at the bottom and  two red stars on the butt. red boots underneath tying in with the red stars on your jeans, and a pretty white top to tie it all together. maybe your outfit was a bit much for work, but this was the first race of the season, and you had to come in with a bang. 

the circuit was even more packed than yesterday, fans eager to see where their drivers would end up on the grid. after pushing through the swarm of people you finally arrived into the sky hq, greeting everyone warmly you then sat down. your boss, then comes up to you, greeting you with a small polite smile and hands you a folder. he perches against your desk. 

“morning y/n, amelie is going to be doing the post quali interviews today, i was hoping you could tag along with her after you finish some paperwork.” he motions down at the folder now in your hands. 

“sure thing!” you reply back enthusiastically, a large smile on your face. 

“good, and also great work with the ferrari drivers yesterday, i've had some great feedback from them, all good things!” he chuckles and then began walking alway to greet the other employees. so, charles has been talking about you. god, it's been one day. Rubbing your hands over your face to snap back into work mode, you then began working through the excessive amounts of paper from the folder.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

you were finally done, it was around 12pm so you and amelie decided to go grab some food. there was still another few hours till qualifying, as it's in the evening today. after grabbing your begs you exit the small office and are hit with the warm days heat. you close your eyes for a moment, basking in how nice the heat feels on your face. 

“okay, so you've only met the two ferrari guys, so i was thinking i could introduce you to some more of the grid? so you are more familiar during interviews?”her works quickly snapped you out of your relaxed state as you listened in cautiously. you were excited to meet some other drivers, you just hoped that charles wasn't around when you did. in the way she spoke you knew she wasn't really asking you, she was going to make you go either way. 

“that sounds like a good idea.” you replied softly with a smile. 

“perfect let's go, most of them just hang around their own hospitality areas, but if they're good friends they may be sitting together.” she explained, and you listened, nodding your head. she started walking down the paddock, first we passed the mercedes hospitality, but neither george nor lewis could be found.

“most likely they are having a meeting, or lewis is in his trailer.” she explained. 

you simply hummed in agreement, your journey through the grid continued as you two walked by the red bull hospitality. you noticed max first, a group of men around him. they were all sitting at a table. then you clocked who they all  were. max, charles, carlos, pierre, lando and daniel. they were all wearing their team's shirts paired with some jeans or simple trousers. they were all sitting outside due to the warm temperature, laughing at a joke one of them had said. you didnt realise they were all good enough friends to be able to sit and chat together. they hadn't noticed you and amelie at first, although you were sure if charles back wasn't facing you he would have spotted you instantly. 

“jackpot!” amelie whisper shouted and motioned for you to follow her. you stay in your spot. suddenly feeling extremely nervous. 

“you know i'm not feeling too good actually, i think i need to sit down. you go ahead.” she looks at you like you'd just kicked a puppy. eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

“no! come on it'll be quick, just introduce yourself, they are all so lovely i promise!” she's still lightly holding your arm and sending you a reassuring smile. yet you really didn't want to face charles right now.  

“honestly amelie, its okay. i can meet them all later.” you spoke a little louder than anticipated, your words all rushing out at once. clearly one of the drivers had heard the commotion behind them because their conversation had also died down, and you could feel their eyes on you both. fuck. 

before you could make any move to leaves, amelie turns around and smiles at the drivers politely. and lets go of your hand, which she was practically pulling you with. before either of you could speak max send you a smile and nods at you both. you were scared to even look in charles direction, so you quickly angled your eyes to the floor. 

“amelie, y/n. how are you both?” max says, he then motions with his hand for you two to come over to the table. 

“y/n is the new reporter for this season. she's going to be working very closely with the different teams, so you'll probably be seeing her a lot!.” max explains to the group. you nod shyly and then all of the men start introducing themselves one by one. politely extending out their hands for you to shake. 

carlos smiles up at you and sends you a knowing nod, as you had already met. “good to see you again y/n” 

“you too carlos.” you reply politely. 

charles didn't say anything though. his eyes simply trained on you, you finally built up enough courage to look at him. he didn't smile this time. his eyes dark and piercing into you. the tension between you both was obvious to the rest of the group and amelie, who thankfully  awkwardly cleared her throat and began talking. 

“okay, we're off to grab some lunch, good luck for qualifying! great seeing you!” amelie says, a warm smile on her face, and you can tell why she is really great at her job. 

the group of drivers all mumble out polite replies, and some small waves go around the group. all except charles. he sat there, arms crossed and a somewhat angry expression on his face. eyes switching between you, or the group of his friends. he'd been watching how they reacted when they saw you, and the way they looked at you. a pit of jealousy had formed deep in his stomach. 

“good luck.” you smiled out, trying to maintain a polite expression on your face. as you both begin to walk away, you hear a deep familiar voice behind you. charles. he calls your name again. you pause, then quickly turn around, not wanting to appear rude or give an unpleasant impression to the drivers. 

“could I speak with you? just for a moment.” he informs you. fuck, well you couldnt exactly say no. 

“sure.” you indulge him, but your voice comes out a little snappy and annoyed. the group of drivers exchange some confused looks, and amelie awkwardly wavers behind, before informing you she'd meet you by the coffee stand, you send her a smile and reassuring nod and she's off. 

charles begins walking through the paddock, and you awkwardly trail behind him. the tension filled silence just fuels your nerves even more, so you feel like you must say something before you explode. 

“char-” before you could even finish his name he stopped you. and you then suddenly realised he'd stopped walking and you were both standing by his driver's room. another wave of nerves floods over your body. you know for sure you're not going in there with him. 

he spoke your name, and it broke you out of your panicked train of thought. you look up at him but stay silent. awaiting what he has to say.

“i am sorry, if i've…” he pauses for a few moments as if he's searching for a good way to phrase what he's about to say. you're just shocked that he's about to apologise for something. 

“if i've given you the wrong impression or anything. you have a boyfriend and I have a girlfriend.” another pause, and as he says those words you can tell that his ‘apology’ is half assed and clearly not how he truly feels. 

“yesterday was a stressful day, so i am again sorry if i behaved rudely.” his eyes were trained to your face while he spoke, attempting to catch your eye but you were purposefully avoiding his gaze. his words annoy you even more. why is he apologising now? what after he thinks you have a boyfriend then he backs off? does he actually think i believe him?

“well thank you for your apology i guess.” you reply. trying to switch this conversation so you have the upper side. “but I don't have a boyfriend, and even if I did that wouldn't be my reason for staying away from you” with that you send him another sly smile and begin to walk away. feeling somewhat triumphant over what you've done. yet suddenly a hand wraps tightly around your wrist and pulls you back. your body slamming against his, his breath tickled against your ear as you hear his slow melodic breathing. 

“it's rude to leave when the conversation is not finished. ma belle” my beautiful.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

pt.4? ;0

tagged: @buendiabebeta @summerslike11 @fanboyluvr @elijahmikaelsonbitch @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @gaslysainz @hanniesdawn @erikasurfer @driveswiftly13 @tempo-rary-fix

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #angst #fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #light angst #x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles leclerc f1 #female reader

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— through the storm, there’s always you + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — the one in which katsuki bakugou hates the winter, until you bring him a gift that changes his mind for the better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, strangers to lovers, mentions of injury, mentions of hospitals, pregnancy & birth ( non - descriptive ), winter babies, wholesome family content, not beta read ! - fem!reader, pro-hero!bakugou.

⭑ words — 1.8K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! merry christmas if you celebrate and happy holidays to those who don’t !! i hope you’re all keeping well and safe. here’s a little drabble for your troubles since i’m working on something longer that’ll hopefully be out in the new year !! so this isn’t beta read and i hope you enjoy !! mwah - m.list ✩

katsuki had always hated the weather around christmas time. 

as a kid it meant being stuffed into itchy, scratchy sweaters that matched with stupid deku’s and being forced into what seemed like hours of pointless christmas card photo shoots tucked in next to the green haired, green eyed wimp. it meant mitsuki dragging him out of the comfort of his all night sheets early on December 25th to swap presents— her loud, irritating voice booming out Christmas carols with the words sung wrong as his pops set up a hearty breakfast and plucked wrapping paper from between the spikes of a young bakugou’s blonde hair.

back then, mitsuki would pull the cruel joke of putting coal in the younger’s stocking for a laugh and in response katsuki would hide all of her hurts to make it look like she had none. 

in middle school, katsuki spent most of his winter break running over school choices— learning the curriculum inside and out so that he could get into U.A. friends, family gatherings, festive…none of them mattered to him as much as his aspirations did, but he still helped masaru decorate the house and put up the tree— lit the fire because he didn’t run as hot as other people during the colder season. he hardly saw his friends, his posse, his entourage, whatever they were. they didn’t understand what it was like to work for something, to want to succeed…to make sacrifices. these were people katsuki didn’t need.

when christmas roll around at UA, katsuki felt like he was really part of something for the first time. his friends, kirishima and kaminari especially, begged him to cook the dinner— getting permission from aizawa after school to buy the ingredients, clinging onto his arms to keep him warm while asking him what went in what, affectionately pissing him off. 

there’d been a gift exchange too, and he’d tried to brush it off when his group of little misfits had presented him with a few exclusive allmight merchandise that hadn’t been collectible since he was a kid. ‘thanks,’ he’d mumbled, brushing an arm over his eyes in away that covered up the tears brewing in them. ‘idiots.’ aside from the celebrations and the small twinkle of happiness being surrounded by his classmates brought him— winter still sucked for bakugou. he’d discovered his quirk didn’t quite work the same, that he’d need to train a hundred times harder to be just as efficient as his peers during the flu season if he were to succeed and become a top hero like he’d promised himself as a kid. his hero costume required form fitting sleeves and a collar up to his neck that made him think back to that time where that villain had almost ended his life and he wasn’t quite strong enough to escape its reach. 

bakugou fucking hated the winter because of it.

the Christmas season starts to become even more intolerable once katsuki breaks onto the scene as rookie pro hero dynamight. he gets stuck with all the bullshit patrols like the Black Friday sales and Christmas eve last minute rushes for gifts because he’s not quite high enough on the ranks for the ‘real’ work yet. it’s fine, the blonde tells himself, anythin’ to get higher up  in the ranks. spreading the holiday spirit isn’t exactly his forte but the singles without families to go home to for the festives seemingly love spotting the desirable and explosive hero stalking the city streets, and it does wonders for his reputation too.

after bakugou’s first year as a rookie, do things pick up. he gets his first villain attack on december 24th, a simple robbery that he gets to handle all on his own— the prick’s quirk is fast moving, strong and nearly wipes the blonde out in one clear shot, sending him flying into the nearest building while other rookies evacuate the scene. 

“m-mister…uh, dynamight? a-are you okay?” 

your voice had been soft, your face the first thing he had scene when his vision realigned. blood trickled down the roundness if your cheeks, features aglow from the fires his quirk had set to your building— your humble little tailoring shop that he’d noticed was usually buzzing with customers  on patrol. “i uh— you hit your head pretty hard sir a-and there’s a villain outside— i don’t think you can fight it like this—“ you’d tried to explain in a hurry, the situation now obvious as bakugou’s head lay in your lap. 

groaning, he’d wanted to pull away from you get back up and take the damn villain down but before he could even move it’s quirk had sent another blast in the direction of your precious shop. one minute, bakugou’s life is flashing before his eyes and the next an invisible shield flies up in front of you both, protecting you from whatever impact had been coming. “‘m goin’ back out there,” bakugou told you sternly, gathering himself back up. there was no way a civilian should be doing his job, he should be protecting you, not the other way around. “stay fuckin’ put, till i get back. then we’re goin’ to a hospital.” 

turns out, you were great at following orders, by the time bakugou had taken out the perpetrator— you were more than willing to go with him to the hospital to get your injuries checked out. he stayed with you the entire time, he owed it to you at least. you’d saved his life, and sacrificed your shop but uttered not a word of complaint in response. and in the winter days that followed the incident, he visited and brought flowers and sat with you— learning about you, learning to love you right into the new year. 

bakugou’s spirits towards winter and Christmas had certainly changed since then. well into his thirties with achy joints, silvering hair and a stomach that’s a little less toned than it used to be— dynamight sits perched on the highest of buildings, a com mic pressed into his slightly muted ear. “ai’ght fuckers, let’s get this over with. the wife’s given me only a couple hours b’fore she can’t hold on any longer.” he grunts to his fellow heroes, ready to take down their annual Christmas robbery. 

it couldn’t have come at a worse time, katsuki promising you that he wouldn’t be working on the holiday for the sake of your kids— who needed their father just one day out of the year. you’d wrapped him up extra tight, a homemade scarf you’d worked on in the last few months slipped softly around his neck as you scolded him for taking up over time when he should have been with you, with his family.

“you got it kacchan,” izuku chuckles from his end of the line— positioned some ways away, his eyes also on the target. “operation kacchan’s home for Christmas is a go.” 

“agreed. i do not like it when mrs.bakugou is angry.” todoroki chimes in plainly, also accompanying the childhood duo on their mission.

“then keep yer eyes on the fuckin’ target— the sooner we can get my ass home t’what really matters this Christmas!” the blonde scolds his long time friends, rolling eyes eyes fondly as he sets his eyes on the target who‘d ripped him away from his family.

“daddy! you’re late!” 

katsuki’s oldest just barely looks up from her phone— a gift from last year— as he rushes into the hospital waiting room still decked out in his ashy hero gear. kayako bakugou still accepts the kiss to her forehead from her father and the ruffle to her blonde curls once he’s close enough. she has his hair, the colour of his eyes but the shape of her features are undoubtedly yours— the perfect blend of two people completely and utterly in love. 

his vermilion gaze shoots to his son, kuzki— a quiet little boy who’s not quite like the rest of the bakugou bunch but equally as loving and as precious to dynamight himself. “sorry ya guys have to be here on Christmas Day, s’late too,” the man pinches his kid’s cheek, kazuki squirming happily, albeit a bit sleepy. “we can open presents later, after i see momma.” 

“s’okay papa! nana mitsuki got us candy!” he squeals, the eldest bakugou hiding her nose in her magazine at her mention. 

“ma!” 

“what?” she huffs back, nodding her head towards the door. “you don’t have time to have a go at me, katsuki. your wife is waiting for you.” 

both of the bakugou kids get a smooch on their foreheads, and mitsuki the middle finger ( discreetly and in his head because he won’t risk getting his ass kicked by his own mother in front of his offspring ). he stalks his way into your private hospital room, keeping his clunky steps unusually quiet as he spots you resting in your bed. 

“you’re lucky, she just fed and was about to go down for a nap, but it seems like she was waiting for a certain someone.” you coo but you’re not looking at your husband, instead at the tiny bundle of joy wriggling about in her swaddle, laying in your arms. 

the elder blonde approaches the two of you, curling an arm immediately— soothed by your warmth which sends the chill of winter straight out of him. “she?” bakugou questions, too tentatively for a man with such a misshapen and rough exterior. you pass the little baby girl off to him, letting him take in the scent of baby powder and fresh linen. “god, she’s pretty. just like her momma, huh?” 

“think that’s all you, kats, you know these bakugou genes wait for no one,” you breathe your words out in exhaustion, but a smile stays strong in your face like the blistering winds outside. “thirteen hours of labour and she still couldn’t wait for daddy.”

“‘m sorry i couldn’t be there, stupid fuckin’—“ the baby stirs in his hold, growing fussy as if she already knows the signature forbidden word of the bakugou household. “stupid freakin’ deku held us up at the mission ‘n i tried my best t’get here..” bakugou loses his words, staring at his his newborn princess with so much love in the world— she’s tiny in his arms, gargling sleepily as he bounces her, standing to walk the room with his new little girl and showing her the snowfall. 

the three of you are entranced by the first glimmer of the crystalline weather— the room swimming with a contrasting warmth that katsuki can bear to stand because it’s not a frosted winter. it’s a perfect love. his own oasis away from the cold. “s’okay kats, she just wanted to be the best christmas gift you could have asked for,” you murmur. “our perfect little christmas gift.” 

katsuki bakugou hums in agreement, watching eyes the colour of your own but the shape of his flutter with tiredness for the first time being out in the new world. and now with his little treasure, his darling daughter and absolute labour of love— katsuki bakugou is able to state his reason for finally finding appreciation for winter after all this time.

“merry christmas, princess.” he says to her wistfully. “and to you too, m’love.” 

“merry christmas, kats.” you whisper back, your voice to him like a call through the storm.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagines #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fic #bakugou drabbles #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugo fluff #bakugo imagines #mha x reader #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #mha fluff

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 20

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I promise we will get into the timer stuff soon but I have to build up the plot first…

Content Warnings - None!

You wake up to Finnick gone, a note left on his pillow.

Got called into training early. Didn’t want to disturb you. I’ll see you at lunch.

Love,

Your fake husband

Why was he in training so early? He said yesterday that his training wouldn’t start till after breakfast.

Maybe he was upset by what happened last night. Maybe he didn’t enjoy it.

You let your thoughts consume you as you lay in bed, completely skipping breakfast and most of your morning schedule.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Come in,” you sigh to whoever was waiting. You’re surprised to see Boggs enter.

“Miss Y/L/N, do I need to remind you that you have a schedule to follow?” he asks.

“No,” you yawn. “I’m sorry I lost track of time. What time is it anyways?”

“10:34 AM,” Boggs states. “I’ve been instructed to escort you to your doctor’s checkup, which you are very late to.”

Boggs gives you a minute to dress before he’s escorting you to the hospital. He says Coin isn’t happy that you are already disregarding your schedule and is rethinking your living arrangement.

Prim performs your checkup that morning. She clears you for the day and you make your way to the cafeteria to help with lunch prep.

11:30 rolls around and you finally have a chance to see Finnick. Twelve hours felt too long and you were anxious to face him again. He was sometimes hard to read.

“Hey love,” he says as you sit down next to him with your tray. “How was your morning?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “I got reprimanded by Boggs for not following my schedule. I guess that was a serious rule.”

“Sorry about this morning,” Finnick states. “I would have woken you up when they buzzed for me but you look like you needed the sleep.”

“That’s ok,” you sigh, thinking about how sad you were that he wasn’t there when you woke. “Why did they increase your training?”

“Katniss snuck onto a transport that left late last night for District 2,” he explains. “They’re moving up our deployment timeline.”

“Deployment?” you ask, setting your fork down. “You didn’t tell me they were sending you anywhere.”

“Can we talk about this tonight?” he replies.

“I’m not hungry,” you state, abruptly standing with your tray. Finnick calls out for you as you walk away, needing to escape for a bit.

You end up back at the hospital to talk to Prim.

“Could I get an excuse for the rest of the day?” you ask her. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh no! Do you need medicine? What’s not feeling well?” she asks.

“I’ve just had a bad day that’s all,” you shake your head. “I can’t mentally handle a schedule today.”

“Why don’t you go chat with Dr. Aurelius for a bit,” Prim suggests. “He’s available now if you want to see him.”

You had never been in therapy before. Dr. Aurelius seemed nice but you didn’t know if you could trust him. What do therapists even do?

“Nice to meet you Miss Y/L/N,” the man states as he enter the room. “I’m Dr. Aurelius. Why don’t we start with how you’re feeling today?”

“Sad,” you reply, unsure of how to properly convey your emotions.

“Do you know why you feel sad?” he asks. “Or what made you feel this way?”

“District 13 makes me sad,” you state as the man writes something down in his notebook. “I have no autonomy here.”

“They allowed you to get married,” he remarks. “Are you happy about that?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “I mean I love Finnick but it was a fake wedding for a propo that we agreed to do so we could be roommates here in 13. He’s lived with me for 5 years now. I skipped my schedule this morning and Coin is already threatening to make us live separately again.”

“I see,” the man comments. “Do you find schedules restricting?”

“I guess I do,” you respond. “I mean I’ve spent my whole adult life on house arrest so I’ve never really been able to make decisions for myself. Having a schedule feels like someone is telling me what to do all the time.”

“That’s understandable,” he comments. “I can excuse you from your schedule for today but you will need to find a compromise with President Coin. I will provide you with a list of options for your schedule so you can maybe pick out what you want to do. I apologize that the list is limited but it’s the best I can do.”

You take the list and agree to meet with him and Coin in the morning to discuss your schedule. In the mean time he gives you a “mentally unstable” bracelet to excuse you for the rest of the day.

The list seems meh. You had no interest in learning about nuclear weapons or the history of Panem, and cafeteria duty wasn’t necessarily your favorite.

Reflection time rolled around and Finnick enters your shared cabin.

“You skipped dinner,” he comments as he throws you an apple. You reluctantly take it and eat a bit to ease his worry.

“You skipped out on telling me about deployment,” you mutter.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he moves to sit next to you. “I just didn’t feel like there was a good time to tell you. I was going to tell you before the wedding but you had your breakdown and I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Where are they sending you?” you ask.

“The capital,” he responds. At this answer you burst into tears.

“You can’t leave me,” you sob. Finnick wishes he could pull you into a hug but he knows better than to touch you when you’re upset.

“It will only be for two weeks,” he states. “Three at most.”

“What if you don’t come back?” you hiccup.

“I’ll always come back for you,” he replies.

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick angst #finnick #finnick odair angst #hunger games x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games angst #mockingjay #the feral one

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VI. do you trust me?

parts: previously / next plot: things are getting messy. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, descriptions of surgery, angsty mcangsty pants as always, mentions of the christian God and religious practices, maybe you and bruce wouldn't have to keep so many secrets if you just made out a lil bit, :). words: 6.2k.

a/n: edit as of 2/11/24: replaced mistaken use of "officer" with "detective".

Your needle passes through skin to the beat of a steady metronome. It's made up of muscle memory, glazing your mind as your hands thread the tear together. With each pass, you're unblinking. There are three others in the room with you but they might as well be shadows, faceless and without sound, coloring your peripheral but otherwise of no concern.

The steady metronome beats on well into your final pull of the thread, well into your dismissal of the shadows, well into the comforts of your office where your brain falls out of rhythm. It's been 48 hours and you haven't found a clue.

You'd think after 17 years that you'd have forgotten his name, but you remember Detective Russo. About 5'9, a kinky black beard, and bushy eyebrows that took up good real estate on his forehead. You remembered sizing up every one of those officers, but he was the one you'd memorized. He was the one that promised you that no one would ever know you were there that night. And now Bruce knows.

He was a detective of little significance outside of that, as far as your research was concerned. He'd served a whopping total of 20 years on the force before retiring seven years ago, but without any social media presence or nearby family to speak of, you couldn't find him. Not an old address, not a phone number, nothing. It was like he'd wiped himself clean the minute he retired. Which meant you'd have to resort to plan B.

Your boss intercepts you before you can even get to the stairs, though. Rudy Moretti rarely had good timing, after all, "Hey! Early lunch?"

You think about lying for all of two seconds, "No. Headed to the police station."

Your boss' eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa, everything okay? Are one of those guys from the other night bothering you? I can come with you if you need-"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's something personal."

Rudy shifts awkwardly, "Oh. Well, be safe. And let me know if anything like that pops up." You nod, attempting to escape, but his hand finds your elbow and stops you, "By the way... how's everything with Mr. Wayne?"

You should've expected a question like that by now. You had been officially working for him long enough to warrant it, but you still wince. "Fine." When your boss blinks at you, expecting more, you have to bite your tongue to keep from swearing, "I actually... was invited to a celebration for the Mayor. Courtesy of Mr. Wayne. She was interested in the hospital's new wing. We had a good conversation."

Like a child on Christmas morning, your boss lights up at the good news. "Oh, that's good! That's good. Did she mention wanting to come down for a tour?"

"What happened to you should have never happened in the first place. I'm glad you were able to make it out alive."

Her hand on yours should've been a comfort, and to some extent it was, but even the softness of her palm couldn't have steadied your trembling. She had squeezed tighter when she felt it, perhaps thinking you traumatized for having to recall that night. Unaware of where you'd been. Unaware of the burning need to escape before you spilled your guts on the Persian rug.

"It happens all the time," a voice came from your right, a drunken councilman with his suit jacket unbuttoned, "and it'll keep happening so long as that thug's still running the streets."

"Thug?" The mayor dipped her chin.

"With all due respect, Bella, what's your plan to put Batman in Arkham for good?"

You watched the mayor's back straighten, her eyes narrow. It was the one thing everyone was itching to talk about, and the one thing everyone was too afraid to bring up first.

You felt Bruce's knee bump yours and stiffened.

"You think he ought to be imprisoned?" The mayor asks.

"I think he ought to be drawn and quartered! It's people like him that make this city a far cry from its glory days. Inviting violence, chaos. He's single-handedly responsible for that- that homicidal freak that nearly killed you, mayor. And he's responsible for everything else this city's suffered since he started infecting it. He's a menace. It'll be a cold day in hell before this city's safe with him still on the streets."

It sickened you to hear. People who'd done nothing since being elected calling for the arrest of the one person who's made any real change in this city.

The mayor doesn't immediately speak up and you think she's chewing on his words, preparing to respond with a bit more bite. Her pause is what prompts you to speak first, "If it wasn't for the Batman, I might be dead. He's done more good for this city than bad..." you watch the councilman turn his focus to you, looking baffled as to why you were butting in, as if you hadn't just finished recounting your brush with death moments ago, "...with all due respect, Councilman Roberts."

The councilman sobers up at the heavy gaze you level on him, "Oh, no. Of course. Of course! It's good that he was there. It would've been a- been a real tragedy to lose one of Gotham's good, fine citizens. I'm just saying that... maybe these things wouldn't be happening if he wasn't there to... encourage it."

"You think he's encouraging it?" The mayor chimes in, taking a sip from her glass. Whatever she was going to say before has been shelved for the time being, it seems.

The councilman laughs. You watch him twist so that he's facing you and the mayor, holding his glass to her like a gavel for judgement, "He's a glorified criminal! He's no better than that clown we put away years ago."

"He put away, councilman. I believe you meant to say he," Bruce's first words since he'd introduced you to Bella give you a shiver. With his one arm hanging off the back of the couch, he leans in from beside you and smiles that TV smile again, "Unless you've got something you’d like to share with the class?"

Snickers break out amongst the group. You can feel Bruce's breath on your shoulder for only a passing moment, and then he's falling back into the couch and taking a swig of his wine.

The councilman bristles, clearly not a fan of being laughed at. Or being faced with the truth, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just a silly theory of mine. It's just... it would make sense for a vigilante to hide his identity by publicly denouncing himself, especially if he’s in the public eye already. I mean, it would make most people cross you off their list but... you're making me think twice about you."

You chance a glance at Bruce's face. He isn't drunk. His eyes hold a steady gaze with the councilman encroaching on your space to meet it, and even with the looseness of his body, you can tell he's calculating. His arm behind your head feels drawn tight. You can sense it in its weight near your head. He's flashing his teeth and keeping his voice light, but he's not defenseless. He's leveraging.

Your heart hammers again at what lie beneath this tower.

The councilman flushes. Sinks back into his seat, grumbling, but all eyes on him has him forcing a grin, "You're funny, Wayne. Unfortunately for your theory, I have a real job. Making real change in this city. Something Batman wouldn't understand."

That does something to you, "Maybe I'm biased, but... I've seen what he's done for this city, sir. And in the wake of last year, I think we can all agree that... well, anyone can say they're making change. Even if they're just making money instead. Perhaps it feels like Batman is doing more because we actually know what he's doing."

Bruce's leg bumps yours again. Accidentally.

You watch the councilman's Adam's apple bob, "No offense, and I'm sure you feel offended on behalf of the man that saved you, but there are laws that make sure people like me and Ms. Reál don't cross the line. What say you, when your hero takes things too far one day, hm? Who're you going to call when the Batman beats someone's brains in because people like you justify it? Or is it only okay because at least he stopped you from getting a bullet to the head?"

You're about to spew the first thing that comes to mind, probably full of anger and vitriol and a little of whatever you had to drink earlier, when you feel a hand take hold of your inner wrist. Bruce's grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt you. It's enough to stop whatever might come out of your mouth. When you look him in the eye, he's not smiling anymore.

You stare at each other like that for a few moments, not a word shared but a million thought. It was almost like he knew what you were going to say, knew how it might've made you look, made you both look. Had imagined it coming out of his own mouth too, maybe.

Instead, he releases you and turns to the councilman, "Okay, enough. We all feel pretty spirited about the topic." When the councilman scoffs, Bruce nods to you, "I think you both make good points. He's done good. He saved my doctor, of whom I never would've had the pleasure of working with otherwise. But I have to agree with you, councilman: he operates outside of the law and that is cause for concern. I'm sure these are all important issues that our mayor is working tirelessly to address, isn't that right, Mayor?"

Mayor Reál has her leg crossed over the other, eyes cutting from the councilman's to Bruce's to yours. Eventually, she smiles and raises her glass, "Indeed. This conversation was enlightening. Much to think about."

"I'm gonna get another drink." Your announcement is followed by the most graceful exit you can muster, even though your chest is throbbing with adrenaline and you can feel Bruce following you.

You don't stop until you reach the bar and have another glass in hand, doing your best to ignore his presence as he looms beside you. He allows you a full three sips before he starts talking, "Are you okay?"

The diplomat from before is long gone. He's melted, keeping his back to the group you'd just escaped and giving you such wet puppy dog eyes that it makes you want to hurl again. How could he look you in the eye?

Your hand shakes around the stem of your glass, "You're different around them."

His eyes fall to the bar top, "I am?"

"Smiling, friendly, funny..."

He cuts his eyes back to you, smiling a little, "I'm not usually funny?"

"You pretend to be laid-back around them, and I get why. But you don't do that with me. You act like I know some big secret about you and I'm this close to spilling it," you pinch your fingers together in front of his face, "or maybe you know some big secret about me."

You watch his face for any sign of recognition, but you're disappointed to find there is none. No reaction other than a sigh. "I pretend around them because I don't trust them."

"And you trust me? Even though we barely know each other?"

Uncharacteristically, Bruce tilts so close toward you that you bend back to keep some semblance of space between you, "You're asking if I trust the person I pay to keep me alive over... Councilman Roberts." He pronounces the last two words with such incredulity, then laughs right after. You note his breath smells sweet, but nothing like the wine. Had it been wine he'd been drinking? One look at his glass and you'd think so. Two looks, though...

He was stone cold sober.

You swallow, staring up into his face. Bruce doesn't back away. Questions begin to form on your tongue... destructive ones.

How do you know? How did you find out? What are you going to do about it?

Your stomach drops as you think, surely, there's quite a bit he can do about it. If he wanted to. If you made the wrong move.

His eyes narrow on you, "You look sick. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'd like to go home."

Bruce blinks, shrinks in on himself a bit, "Okay."

"I... I drove."

Bruce nods, holds a hand up to one of the suited men near the edge of the room, and turns to you, "My driver. He'll take you home."

"My... my car. I have work in the morning." You mumble pathetically.

Bruce says something to the driver when he gets close. Another man is summoned, appearing by your side in an instant. This one holds out his hand to you and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for. You fish your keys out and drop them in his waiting palm.

It's incredibly awkward as Bruce walks you out. You think he'll stop at the front door, or the elevator, or even the lobby, but he walks you all the way to the back door of his ride and—God—even holds it open for you.

You settle in to the nice seats, blinking up at him through eyes you fight to keep dry. You wonder if Bruce would forgive you for throwing up in his car instead. "If it's any consolation," he begins, leaning on the roof of the car. You can still hear the bustle of Gotham all around you, but when he looks at you... there might as well be only him and you, "I agree with you. Councilman Roberts is a jackass."

Your boss is looking at you, expectantly. Still waiting.

"I'm sure she's thinking about it." Is your curt reply. "Is that it? I really gotta go."

Your boss deflates, but otherwise doesn't keep you.

"How can I help you?"

The cop behind the desk seems nice enough. He doesn't smile at you but his tone is pleasant, unhurried. It helps calm your nerves. "Hi. I'm looking for someone. A detective who used to work here."

"You remember their name?"

"Detective Joey Russo," you offer, watching the cop begin to type into his computer, "he retired seven years ago. I wanted to know if you could get me in touch with him. A number or a... address."

"Ah, Russo. I remember him. I'm sorry, may I ask who you are?" You give your name and the cop frowns. "You got a badge? Unless you're with the state, I can't give you anything."

You'd worried as much, "He worked a case of mine 17 years ago. Something new's popped up and I just wanted to talk to him about it."

"If it's about a case we covered, you'd have to talk to one of us about it unless he's directly involved, and even then it'd be a process." He must notice how your face falls because his own softens, "I'm real sorry. I can get you in with someone else."

You know you shouldn't be upset. After all, he was only doing his job. If they gave out personal information to every person who walked in off the street, you imagined they'd have a bigger problem with domestic terrorism than they already do.

It doesn't make it any less debilitating. Bruce Wayne had found him. That was the only way he could've gotten his hands on your file, surely. And Bruce Wayne had money, more than enough to get an ex-cop to talk.

You're thanking the man and trying not to sound as distressed as you feel when you turn and catch new eyes.

You'd only seen Batman at night, tucked into the corners of shadow of your apartment, but here he was in broad daylight—midday—standing next to a plainclothes cop who had yet to realize the vigilante was no longer listening to him. You're so relieved to see him that you actually break out into a smile.

Batman doesn't return it. Without acknowledging his partner, he stomps across the room to you, cutting off your greeting with a rushed, "Did something happen?"

You blink, unable to answer when the cop from before sidles up next to the two of you. He's got a warm, friendly look to him, even if his eyes are narrowed at the pair of you with skepticism, "You two know each other?" He asks. When Batman refuses to tear his eyes from you, the cop addresses you directly, reluctant to extend his hand without confirmation that you were friend, not foe, "Detective James Gordon. And you are?" You give your name and his eyes light up. "Hey. I know you, don't I?"

"The hostage at Gotham General," Bruce answers for him, not even bothering to glance at the detective, "they were on the news."

"You three mind moving somewhere else? The freak's making people uncomfortable." The kind cop from before has dropped all pretense now, glaring at the vigilante who, still, pays no one but you mind.

Gordon grumbles and motions for you both to follow him down a long hallway out of sight.

You struggle to keep up when the detective starts walking, much faster than he looked, and so you all but yelp when the Bat places a hand on your lower back and guides you in front of him.

A turn or two later, you empty out beside a window at the end of another long hallway, far enough away from prying eyes that the detective seems to find it sufficient.

"What are you doing here?" Batman asks immediately.

"I was looking for someone but, actually, now that you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you." You look over at Gordon, "If you're not busy."

The detective grunts but holds his hands up in surrender, slinking down the hall out of earshot, "I'm gonna go smoke, but I need him back in ten."

When he's far enough away, Batman speaks, voice at a much lower volume than before, "What's wrong?"

"I'm looking for a cop. I need to get in touch with him but he retired and they won't tell me where I can find him."

The Bat's head tilts to the side. You can tell the gears in his brain are turning, "Who?"

"Detective Joey Russo." The Bat freezes. "Do you know him?"

He doesn't answer that, something you take note of with a funny feeling in your chest, "Why are you looking for him?"

It's your turn not to answer. You should've known he wouldn't just tell you without good reason, but your throat closes up when you think about how you'll explain it. It wasn't that you didn't trust him... but... "It's personal. Please."

"That's not enough."

"I know... I know. And I wouldn't be asking this of you if it wasn't important-"

"Then tell me why."

"I can't. But it is important. To me. I promise, it's for good reason."

"A good reason that you can't tell me? That's not enough. That's not how I work. God forbid someone finds out I gave you classified information."

"If I told you why I needed it—if I told anyone why I needed it—it would defeat the whole purpose!"

"That doesn't make you sound any more convincing."

"Batman, please," and your voice breaks as you step that much closer to him, your eyes rimming with tears you're terrified to shed, "I have never asked you for anything, have I? Not for money or your identity or anything. I am asking you for this one thing because I have no one else. You... are the only person who can help me. Please."

You see his face fall, so clear it feels like you can see right through him. Past the cowl and the facades and right into his very being. For a moment, you're just seeing the person and not the idea of him. You see your fears reflected back at you in his eyes, a deep understanding there that gives you some hope.

He draws a deep, heavy breath, and- "I'm sorry."

You're too stunned to watch him walk away.

Judith's apartment has a lack of technology and an abundance of crucifixes. The first time you'd seen it, you'd thought it was overkill. Now, since you've visited enough, it was comforting in its own creepy way. A blast into the past, memories of a grandmother who was never really your grandmother.

She startles at the stove where she's just put something in the oven, "Oh! Dear, I didn't hear you come in. Is everything alright?"

You smile and kick your shoes off by the key-holder, "I knocked. You're supposed to have your hearing aid in."

She gives you a stern look, then smiles.

You can smell hibiscus tea in the air, her favorite. She'd gather handfuls of hibiscus and dry them out in the sun, and then she'd steep their petals in hot water until it turned a deep pink. The taste was always striking, tart and strong, but she'd sweeten it with honey for you and then it wouldn't be so bad.

Without asking, she waddles over to her breakfast table where you've already found your seat and pours you a steaming cup of tea. You take the honey she's brought with her and begin to stir. "You never answered my question." Judith reminds you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I'm just taking a break from work, is all. Do I need to be having a bad day to visit you?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighs, taking the seat across from you, "but you do look a wreck."

You grumble. You hadn't looked in the mirror. You hadn't done anything but busy yourself in hopes that it would stave off the wave of anxious tears threatening to fall. You busied yourself until your hands started shaking and people started asking questions. And now you were here.

"Yeah. I'm sure I do. Work's... been hard."

"And besides work?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a life outside of work anymore."

Judith frowns, "You should really make some friends, dear."

That gets you to laugh. "I have friends! I have you. Are you not my friend?"

You could see the question already brewing, the narrow of her eyes as she watched you begin to fidget, "And that demon? Is he still hanging around you?"

You cast your gaze to the tabletop, "...I don't think we'll be seeing him around anymore."

"Oh?" You don't miss the hope in Judith's voice, "Did the police finally arrest him?"

"No. I think I may have... scared him off."

She doesn't respond for a while, even though you can tell from the shift in the air that she's rather pleased with this development. It makes you feel sicker to the stomach. "It might be for the best, dear," you can tell that she's being careful, minding your upset, "he's dangerous. It's best you stick to the light for now." When you don't respond, her leathery hand clasps over yours and forces you to look her in the eye, "Come with me to service this week. I've been telling everyone about you."

You snort, "About me and the demon I'm friends with?"

Judith shakes her head furiously, as if the accusation that she might have spilled your secret greatly insulted her, "They have been praying for you ever since the night at the hospital. They'd really like to see you in person one of these days. I never shut up about how proud I am of you."

Even through the despair, you feel the warmth of Judith's love. It makes you hold her hand back, gripping so tightly that you fear she may be too fragile to handle it. She doesn't seem to mind.

You two share the rest of your tea in relative silence, taking breaks to comment on the neighbors or the news or the weather (which never really changes outside of summer, but you always have something to say with her).

After a refill or two, you feel the dread begin to creep in.

"Dear, come here," Judith calls as you button up your coat at the door, "bow your head."

You frown but do as you're told. In a blink, you feel her finger swipe across your forehead in a quick motion. The familiar scent of cinnamon and myrrh hit your senses right after. You reach up to touch it but Judith captures your hand in her own. In her other is a small vial, unmarked, filled halfway with oil. "To protect you," she says, nodding gravely, "God will watch over you. You are blessed."

You want to tell her that the anointing does nothing for the stones gathering in your stomach, that the moment you walk out of this door you will be hit with a wave so sudden that you will surely drown. But you'd be lying if you said this little woman with her God and prayers didn't make you feel, even for a fraction of a second, safe. You kiss her cheek goodbye.

It's desperate, you know that. You spend the whole evening hating yourself as you pace the hardwood floors, thumbing over buttons and weighing the pros and cons.

"For emergencies only", but this was an emergency to you. It felt like one, the way it gnawed at your very center demanding blood. Every minute dreading that you'd have to see him again and pretend like you had no idea that he knew that you... You'd also spent part of the evening bent over the toilet.

At some point, you throw yourself onto your fire escape for fresh air and nearly throw the phone across the way just to breathe.

You know you've screwed up. The tentative threads of your friendship with the Bat had surely been severed. What had gotten into you, asking him for such a bold favor without anything to offer in return? You'd already given him your hands and your mind, the two things that you'd worked so hard to hone, and you would never think of taking them away.

But maybe that would be inevitable. Maybe you'd lose your license if this got out. And it wouldn't just be you carrying that burden. Every single one of you would be dug up and exposed to the world, and with Bruce Wayne involved, you couldn't imagine the lawsuits. You just couldn't. They could put you under the prison with his kind of money.

And the cops didn't even know everything.

You gasp, sob, and wrench yourself from the railing. You clench the phone tight.

Even if you could get to Russo, and even if he admitted that he gave you up, what good would it do? Bruce had already seen it. He probably had a contact at the DA's office on speed dial. You'd seen what money could do to men like him in this city. What it made men like him do to people like you. The echoes of the accusations against his father a year ago still rang in the wind, and his efforts to make up for it all would never truly make that go away. A criminal record was just as much currency as anything else. He would undeniably own you.

Somewhere between your panicking thoughts, you hear the grates of the fire escape tremor from above. You whip your head up and see a dark shape hovering a floor up. Swiftly, it descends the stairs until your eyes adjust. Your heart catches in your throat as you choke out his name.

The strangled noise causes him to pause when he turns to you. You clear your throat, "Are you hurt?" Batman's head tilts to the side. His eyes flicker from the phone in your hand and back to you. "I'm... I wanted to see you."

His shoulders stiffen. He almost looks like he didn't mean to come. A sliver of you had actually hoped he'd changed his mind, too. "I know it wasn't fair of me to ask something like that of you with no explanation. And I'm sorry. I want you to know that."

He waits, head still tilted.

You bite your tongue, tasting the blood beginning to pool on the surface.

You could tell him. Lay it all bare. And he could drop you at the GCPD without another word.

Or he could accept you. See the you that stands before him now, who had been years clean and had saved his life on your living room floor and confessed that he was why you were a better person now.

That's what friends did. Were you and the Batman friends?

Were you and Batman... anything?

"I wasn't always like this," your head throbs as you force yourself to keep talking, clenching the railing behind you with one hand, "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I didn't just waltz through life completely innocent for thirty-something years, given where I come from. I wasn't a very good person when I was younger... and I did things I'm not proud of. And, by the grace of a very good man, a very small group of people know the true extent of that.

"But recently, I found out that someone who shouldn't know... does. And they could ruin my life if they used it against me. So I need to talk to Russo, because I need to know if he broke his promise, and then... God knows what else. I don't know. I haven't thought any further than that."

Something substantial but unclear, and if Batman were to go digging officially and find out the rest, at least you'd know Russo was the snitch.

But your heart still clenches in your chest. It feels like you are all made up of open wounds and they're all gushing blood as he watches, saying nothing. If you had really told him the truth, you imagined it would feel akin to spontaneous combustion. God, would you even be able to utter the words? It'd been so long since you'd last said-

Batman takes a slow step toward you, and the open wounds seal up at once. You are frozen.

Another, and another, until you are caged there against the railing, awaiting his verdict. Judge, jury, and... "And if he didn't? If it wasn't him that sold you out?"

You'd briefly considered that. Your friends, who were really more ghosts now than friends, had no reason to expose themselves. They'd gotten off just as easily as you did. Most of them were living lives on the other side of the country now, far, far removed from the history you shared together. Only you remained.

And who would even think to go looking into them? Outside of your history together, now sealed up and locked away, no one would look for them unless they knew what happened already.

Which only left one other option. "Then someone did—someone very close to Bruce Wayne, and there's nothing I can fucking do about it."

Batman stares at you for a while. You don't have a clue what he's looking for. "If I take you to Russo," you gasp, and he hurries his words out before you can say anything else, "it'll be the last time anything like this ever happens again. We go, we ask, and that's it."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

"And I wasn't lying to you."

"What?"

"About Wayne. When you asked me if he was corrupt." You watch his eyes waver on you, eventually falling to the grates beneath your feet, and you're dumbstruck by the shift in his tone. "I never lied to you."

"I... I didn't think you had." He looks at you again. "But there are things that maybe we don't know about him," and as you speak, you place a hand on his arm, feeling it go rigid even beneath the suit, "I mean, he's a Wayne. They're older than this city. And you've seen firsthand the kind of reach people with that kind of money have. He can smile and wave and support as many good causes as he wants, but that could all be smoke and mirrors."

"You really don't trust him, do you?"

You sigh. You could almost hear Emily asking the same thing. But Emily would be smiling, and Batman is grave. Almost... disappointed. Your frown strengthens, "He's got a lot of secrets."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but you also saved my life," you chuckle, "if Wayne pushes me out of the way of a moving car, I might reconsider my stance on him."

The Bat squints at you. To your relief, you notice a bit of mirth in his voice, "No. You wouldn't."

"Listen, I am really grateful that you're doing this for me. And I wanted to say that after today, the thought of scaring you away scared me. And I would really, really like it if you could trust me. I don't want you to think that I'm taking this for granted. I'm not asking for you to take off your mask or bare your soul or anything. I just want you to know that-"

"I gave you this," the hand holding your burner is scooped up in his, held between the two of you, "because I trust you. I keep coming back because... I like... this. It's different. And I don't trust easily. If you believe me on anything, believe me on that."

A bit of your dread is chased away, and your hero is standing in the wake. Bruce Wayne is far away from this moment. He can't stain it. You won't let him. "You wanna come in for coffee?"

At that exact moment, your doorbell rings.

You see Batman jolt backwards and reflexively reach for him, using what strength you have to keep him from escaping. He watches you, wide-eyed, as you cling to his side, "Wait, wait. I wasn't expecting anybody. I'll send them off. It'll be quick."

He turns his head to the door. "You weren't expecting anyone?"

You shake your head. He shucks away your grip as he climbs through the window and takes a few, long strides to the door. He has to bend to look through your peephole, and you rush to catch up to him. After a long moment, he peers at you from the corner of his eye, "It's an old lady."

Judith. The doorbell rings again. "My neighbor. She's harmless, I'll handle it."

You expect him to walk off, find somewhere else to hide from sight, but he backs up behind the door and waits, nodding to you. Well, he was out of sight.

The door opens. The concerned look on Judith's face melts as soon as she sees you there, and holds out a pan wrapped in tinfoil, "Oh, there you are, dear. I made too much casserole so I came to give you the rest. Just in case you haven't had dinner yet."

You beam at her, taking the dish out of her hands, "Thanks, Judith. That's really sweet of you."

She returns a modest smile, but it falls away a second later. You follow her gaze past your shoulder and into the living room where- shit. "It's winter." Her brows furrow, "You'll catch cold if you keep your window open all night."

"Right! I was just... looking out over the city. Taking a breather. You caught me in the middle of it."

She presses the back of her hand to your arm and you note the very stark difference in her body temperature to yours. She frowns hard, stepping closer to you in order to whisper, "Has that demon come to see you again?"

You can't see him from where you're holding the door open, though it's your instinct to glance, but you feel yourself warming up pretty quickly, "He's not a demon, Judith."

No matter how often you repeat it, it goes in one hearing aid and out the other, "Then why does he have horns-"

"Judith, I'm fine, I swear. Even if... he did come visit, I would be fine. He wouldn't hurt me. As I've told you before."

She stares at your window, looking for little goblins with pointed tails and pitchforks no doubt. But as the curtains blow this way and that and no shadows make themselves clear, she is forced to take your word for it. "Alright," she relents, and you try not to visibly deflate, "enjoy the casserole, dear. Keep the window shut."

You watch her waddle all the way down the hallway, smile every time she glances back at you, and wait until you can no longer hear her kitten heels click-clack-clicking on the stairway down. You immediately shut the door and drop your head against it with a dull thud.

A few moments pass. You can feel him still next to you. Even worse, you can feel him trying not to laugh. "She thinks I'm a demon?"

You stand up and shove the casserole into his hands, only a little taken aback by the smile on his face when you do, "You're going to eat this casserole and then you're gonna tell that woman you're a God-fearing man and it tasted fucking delicious."

a/n: there's a scene I'm really excited to write for next chapter if it's gonna go the way I plan for it to go :)

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[cheegu3]

hi do you think maybe you can do a yandere bully fanfic with all of enhypen and could you base it off the bully scenes from the glory like the curling iron scene? i was thinking this was a really good idea but if you haven’t seen it you can look up clips on youtube! ty 💓

hi, thank you for requesting! this is one of my favorite kdramas so I love you for this - this is not one of my best works as it's not very '' yandere '' but I hope you like it regardless :c <3

genre; yandere

wc; 2.5k

pairing; ot7!bully - enha x f.m reader

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, severe/graphic bullying, burn marks, torture, SA (forced kissing) + mentions of potential non-con sex

Enhypen - as bullies (the glory themed)

The gym hall looked eerie in its emptiness, only the sunset shining through the tall windows gave some light to the room. A lone basketball laid close to the old hoop by the wall, you could practically hear the squeaking from Heeseung's shoes as he stood by it - making shot after shot while the others tortured you.

Dread had started to fill up in your body. At the end of the day when the school-bells rang to signal it was time to go home, an arm was laid around your shoulders. It was one of the two more flirty ones of the group, Jake. He was accompanied by their scary leader, Jungwon who joined your other side shortly after.

Panic flared up, an instinct your body had after all the torture it had endured; so you immediately tried to wriggle out of their grasp, but to no avail. Jake's hand snaked down around your waist instead, and he pulled you harshly towards his body.

To onlookers you might look like a sweet couple, walking each other home at the end of a long school day. But the truth was far from that.

'' Meet us in the gym in fifteen. '' Jungwon said.

That was all they said before walking in front of you and disappearing somewhere down the halls. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding in, feeling light-headed as you found a quiet spot to calm yourself down.

Fifteen minutes was still some alone time before you had to meet them. You could either spend those preparing for the worst or escaping, but the latter would likely have very grave consequences.

There was a problem though - you very much wanted to escape. Not because of the likely torment you'd be put through if you obeyed and went there. But because you had promised your mom you would pick her up from the hospital.

It was a horrible dilemma. Either keep your promise and suffer the consequences of their wrath once they realise you won't show up - or, show up, suffer, and betray your mom.

After a few moments of thinking, you had made up your mind. The recurring teary-eyed face you kept imagining if you didn't show up at the hospital, was enough for you to gather your things and exit the quiet area.

You scanned both directions before bolting for the front door, and you ran all the way to the bike rack; throwing yourself on the bike and leaving without looking behind you.

Unknown to you, there stood Sunoo on the top of the stairs to the entrance. He had been asked to guard it in case you would try to escape, but clearly hadn't been quick enough as you went past him and were gone in the blink of an eye. The usual cheery one of the group, nicknamed sunshine didn't look very happy now. A pout formed on his lips as he thought of the scolding he'd get for letting you slip past him.

'' Sunoo? ''

He forced his eyes shut and took a deep breath before turning around to the owner of the voice.

'' Yes, Ni-ki? '' he answered the taller male, who had probably been sent to fetch him.

The two guys who had practically been attached to the hip during the early days of joining the school knew each other so well, that the younger - Ni-ki, immediately knew something was wrong by the look on Sunoo's face.

'' Did she escape? ''

Sunoo sighed again and his head hung low, but the other simply gave him a hug while patting his back slightly.

'' It's okay, I'll make sure they won't be too mad. ''

They smiled at each other before heading in together. What you hadn't anticipated was that while Jungwon was very mad at Sunoo, he was even madder at you - and as a result of this, the group conjoined a very sinister revenge plan to show you to never disobey them again.

*******

The next day you walked to school with a hoodie on, hair covering most of your face and keeping your head low. There was about a 0% chance that the group would neither terrorize you or see you, yet the low profile still provided some relief.

The first class was art, one that you shared with Ni-ki, Jungwon and Sunghoon. Purposefully you got in late, taking the last place available which was at the back.

Throughout the whole lesson you could feel eyes on you, but to your surprise none of them came up or talked to you. Not even your painting was ruined in revenge, nor a childish note passed your way.

The bell rang again, and you held your breath. The room quickly emptied out but you could almost feel their presence still being there. Silence filled up the space. Then you heard the scraping of chairs being pushed away, and heard the footsteps getting nearer.

Finally you put on a somewhat brave face and looked up. You met eyes with Jungwon, and immediately your brave face fell. He had never looked this angry before, his eyebrow was almost twitching, and his eyes were burning with fury.

You stood up in an attempt to make the height difference from you sitting while he stood less, because it seemed to only intimidate you more. He still looked down at you unfortunately.

'' Where did you go yesterday? '' he spat out bitterly.

Taking too long to answer, or avoiding to all together felt like a death sentence in that moment so you hurriedly blurted out, all slurred. '' I had to go. ''

You saw Sunghoon and Ni-ki chuckle at your distressed state being so bad, you could barely speak. But Jungwon didn't find it the slightest amusing, his lips formed a thin line.

'' I thought we told you to meet us in the gym. ''

What were you supposed to say? Whatever you did, it would end the same way anyway. You bit your lip and nodded shamefully. He scoffed, making you look up again. It was the first time he had shown any emotion except for anger in the conversation - only now, something else was behind the smirk and glint in his eye.

Revenge

'' You're coming with us now, and this time you can't run away. '' Sunghoon said, coming up to you to hold you around the waist, the same way Jake had done.

He started moving you out of the door while Jungwon and Ni-ki followed close behind. Your heart sunk with every step you took towards the familiar place.

You could hear the slight clinking of the gym-keys that Jungwon held and were once again, painfully reminded of how powerless you were in this situation - no one was going to save you this time either.

But then you finally reached the destination, despite you relentlessly praying that someone would intervene or for some miracle thing to happen. Ni-ki had been given the key as you neared the gym and he unlocked it swiftly, being too used to it by now.

Inside were the others - Heeseung, Sunoo, Jake and Jay, all smiling wide as soon as you came through the doors. You heard them close behind you and the familiar heart-dropping sound of the keys turning again.

Heeseung was the first of the group to get up. He casually strolled over to the basketball hoop like he always did, smirking as he knew all attention was on him.

You almost started to feel sick when you noticed in the corner of your eye while looking at Heeseung, that Jake was moving towards you. No amount of repetition could ever brace you for his hands roaming over your body, as one of them forced you in place so he could sloppily kiss you.

The boy in front of you rolled his eyes and groaned as he was interrupted before it went to far, like always. He gave you one last look before both him and Jay lead you to the plinth.

Jay's cold and harsh hands hooked under your thighs to lift you up and you complied, almost too tired already to fight back.

You closed your eyes and mentally prepared for the slaps you'd get as they would line up in front of you; almost like a game.

But...it never came.

You opened your eyes again, just as you heard snickers scattered across the gym. Sunoo was in front of you with Jungwon to his side, meanwhile Jake and Jay were still standing on either sides of you to hold you down.

Their fingers took an iron-grip around your wrists as you instinctively started trying to get out of their hold. Sunoo looked a bit sorry for you as he stepped up, his eyes were practically begging for mercy which was unusual. The boy usually looked embarrassingly excited to kiss you every time he was glad to be the one to do that to you, rather than hurt you. That one time he was forced to, he cried so he never had to do it after.

You gave him a questioning look before he smashed his lips against you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. As you were about to pull away to gasp for air, something boiling hot was pressed firmly against your forearm.

The sound of skin sizzling combined with your blood-curling scream echoed in the empty gym.

You continued to scream out in pain until your throat was hoarse while your whole body was squirming to get away from the fire-like sensation.

The object was removed but it continued to burn. It was a pain you'd never felt before; as if your skin was on fire. Sunoo pulled away and you had the chance to look down at the injury.

An ugly red mark had already been left after the thing, and you almost felt like crying.

Meeting his sad eyes, yours traveled down to his hand. Eyes widening upon discovering he was holding a curling iron.

'' We got it from one of the girls. '' Jay said before you felt him release his grip on you.

You immediately fought back even harder against the irritated Jake; but Jungwon quickly took over Jay's previous spot, his eyes boring into yours being enough for you to quiet down.

The item was handed over to Jay who stepped closer, it must've been his turn. Unlike Sunoo, he looked very excited; like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time and would relish the pain you'd feel. His lips curved up into a smirk as he saw you panic the closer the curling iron got to you.

'' No, please! '' you begged, despite your pride.

Tears were freely falling down your face as you struggled to breathe. They weren't holding you down entirely but it felt like they were pressing your chest down.

Your bullies just watched amusedly as you started hyperventilating, pleas spilling out of your mouth.

'' Please- please...don't do this. ''

He was now so close that your legs were on either side of his body.

'' Do you know why we're doing this? ''

You were quiet, whimpering as you racked your brain trying to come up with an explanation for the most excruciating thing they'd put you through so far.

Jay was getting impatient. The only thing that could be heard in the vast hall for seconds was the basketball bouncing, a sound you'd grown familiar with. It was like a ticking clock, the faster it bounced the more impatient the bullies got.

'' I-I didn't show up yesterday. '' you hurried to blurt out when noticing his hand carrying the curling-iron hovering closer to your arm.

He smiled again, although it didn't quite reach his eyes which sent alarm-bells ringing inside you. This was the biggest mistake of your life. You could really tell as you turned your head and stared into Jungwon's dark eyes, that they were not going to let you go until you had suffered, much more.

And then without warning he pressed the item onto your skin again. You screamed louder than before as he pushed it even deeper into your skin than Sunoo had.

Jungwon and Jake had to use all of their strength to hold you down, as your back arched and you had almost successfully gotten out of their grasp.

Finally, after seconds he removed it. But yet again it didn't prove to be much better. The two wounds burned and itched tremendously. You had the urge to scratch them until you'd see blood, however; all you could do was cry and cry, and cry. Their taunting laughs rang in your head which made you get louder.

The sobbing turned into wailing, mixed with screaming as you continued to fight against your bullies that were holding you down. Jake grimaced, a look of both fascination and annoyance painted on his face.

'' You're so fucking loud. '' he spat.

'' Heeseung, shut her up! '' you heard Ni-ki shout.

And the sound of the basketball bouncing stopped. So did your crying as you felt nauseous at the new sound of their footsteps nearing you.

This time, you knew what was coming. Sunghoon was following him behind, and you were sure they would take turns while mocking you and smirking.

'' No..No- stop! '' you were letting out panicked whimpers now as you thrashed around even more than before.

It annoyed Jake and Jungwon, who now had to push you down from the front as tried your hardest to fight them off.

'' Please...Jungwon '' you pleaded.

'' Jake? ''

'' Sunoo? ''

But it fell to deaf ears, and before you knew it - they had arrived much faster than you would've hoped for. Ni-ki picked up the ball in the background and the younger guys left to go play as Jay took back his old spot.

Ni-ki, Jungwon and Sunoo were scary, but the older ones were much more terrifying. They tortured you in such a personal and violating, psychological way.

And it was so bad, to the point that you started to hyperventilate as soon as you got eye-contact with one of them.

'' Missed me? '' Heeseung cockily asks as he gets closer to you, eying your lips like a hungry predator.

'' Stop! Get off of m- ''

He shut you up by pressing his lips against yours. When you tried to turn your head, he forcefully grabbed your chin and kissed you even harder.

Then he pulled back and you took a deep breath, shaking in fear. The soles of your shoes dug into the plinth as Jay and Jake dragged you up so you were laying on the stage.

Sunghoon crawled on top of you and gave you an evil smile as he went for a kiss much nastier than Heeseung's. Your fingers curled as your nails tried digging into thin-air.

Muffled laughs of Jake were heard in the background as he put his whole bodyweight on top of your arm so Sunghoon could kiss you without you moving one millimeter.

Jay followed suit; and then you were immobile, only your legs kicked in protest as Sunghoon's tongue explored the inside of your mouth.

You were struggling to breathe, and you weren't sure how long you were gonna last until you'd pass out.

The thought of them being alone with you like that - terrified you.

#yandere kpop #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #bully kpop #bully enhypen #kpop the glory #enha x reader #tw bullying #trigger warning

[skepsiss]

Post season 4 steddie fic with Steve helping Eddie recover? Like after hospital and he's technically "healed" but he's having trouble. Learning to walk again, shaky hands, sharp pains, things like that

I love them sm

I love them too, anon. This premise is like so many of my story premises for them, so I will try my best to keep it short cause I can see this getting way out of hand, oops. Lol. **Note, you can send me steddie prompts too! Anyone can** (tumblr keeps messing with this post and putting the read more WAY farther down. Forgive me) The idea behind this is they're not together, and neither of them quite knows that they have feelings for the other. Sort of... the blooming of a crush. Early, early stages of Steddie. -- "I can do it," Eddie said harshly as he attempted to pull himself out of the chair he had been lounging in. Steve stood there, arms hovering around the perimeter of the armchair, as Eddie struggled to stand. Maybe Steve had been a bit too attentive as of late, but Eddie had only been home from the hospital for a little over a week. After the accident, recovery hadn't been easy for Eddie--or Max for that matter, but while Max was still in hospital recovering, Eddie had been discharged back to the care of his uncle. Of course, Wayne was ecstatic to have Eddie back home, but with hospital bills and having to replace half of their trailer, Wayne didn't have a lot of time to spend at home. The Party had been volunteering around the clock to check in and help Eddie, but Steve had noticed that Eddie allowed very few of them to actually help him. Steve was one of those people, and even then, it was a fight. Eddie did not in fact 'do it,' as he tried to support his weight on his arms and stand. Instead, he managed to get up and then promptly collapse to the side, clinging to the armrest to stop himself from hitting the floor.

"Hey, woah--" Steve breathed, hunching to catch Eddie by one of his elbows.

Eddie snatched his arm away, looking frustrated and embarrassed as he kneeled on the ground. "Eddie, just let me help," Steve encouraged, sounding a bit exasperated as he tried to look Eddie in the face. "Don't mother-hen me," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to contain his emotions. He sounded on the verge of yelling, or like he was about to start weeping, but Steve tried to ignore that. He didn't need to embarrass Eddie any further. "Can I at least grab your cane for you?" Steve asked, sighing as he stood back up. Eddie took a moment, and then nodded, breathing out a gruff 'yeah,' without looking up. Steve moved to the door and grabbed the cane that Dustin had brought over a few days ago--one The Party had decorated and glued a dragon's head to the top of to make it 'cool.' Eddie had liked it, but he still didn't seem keen to use it.

Steve handed Eddie his walking stick and he grumbled before attempting to get his feet under himself again. "Just let me help," Steve said quietly, not stepping forward like he had before, but still standing there expectantly. "I need to be able to do it myself--" Eddie grouched, barely managing to get up onto wobbly knees and stand. "No you don't," Steve scolded, "not this early on---Eddie, you were in a hospital bed for over a month, you don't have the strength to do it by yourself." "Elaborate way to call me an uncoordinated nerd," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to inject some levity into the conversation.

"That's not what I'm saying," Steve sighed, keeping close attention to Eddie as he slowly started to pivot. "Just let me---" Eddie started as he tried to take a step forward and wobbled terribly. Steve was at his side instantly, catching Eddie around the waist and arm, stopping him from hitting the ground again. Eddie stilled in Steve's arms before Steve heard a small whine escaping him, that eventually turned into an angry snarl. "Don't---just--" Eddie complained, trying to pull away again, but not having the footing or the strength to break Steve's grip as he jerked back. "Just let me do it--" The threat of tears was evident again as Steve saw the frustration well up in Eddie's eyes. He didn't want to force Eddie, but this was getting ridiculous. "Why is it so important that you do it? I can help, Eddie. That's why I'm here, just let---" "Because you're not always going to be here!" Eddie snapped angrily, cutting Steve off. He looked away again but stopped struggling against Steve's grip, instead standing there with his face turned toward the ground like a dejected child. "What're you..." Steve trailed off, trying to grasp at Eddie's meaning. He didn't like how emotional this was making Eddie, and he didn't like that he wasn't able to help him. Whether that was with walking or feeling better. "You're not always going to be here..." Eddie repeated, his tone much softer as he continued to hold onto Steve, still unable to stand on his own.

"We'll... I'll be here for as long as you need," Steve tried, still not understanding what Eddie meant. "No--you... how long is it going to take for me to be normal again? A month? Five? What if it's never? What if I don't get better? You're not always---I'm not going to make any of you put your lives on hold so I can stand up and go take a fucking piss," Eddie gritted out, his voice getting tight at the end, his emotions obviously raw. Steve quieted as he stood there, understanding what Eddie meant, but not agreeing. He had to imagine that being immobilized by an injury would drive him insane too, and he understood to a degree how deregulating it was not to be able to do everything he demanded of his own body. Recovery was slow, and hard, and Eddie wasn't going to have an easy go of it, but pushing himself wasn't going to help.

"That's stupid," Steve said bluntly, watching as Eddie looked up at him, completely surprised by his words. "You almost died, Eddie. No one other than some action hero from a bad B-movie is going to recover that fast. You're just going to make it worse. You have to rebuild the muscles, man. Learn to walk properly; there isn't a point in doing it if you're going to teach yourself to do it wrong, and then have to correct yourself over and over. You'll probably hurt yourself. It'll be painful, man." Eddie seemed shocked silent by Steve's words, still hanging there as he stared. "Isn't it the same with music? You practice and practice the same string over and over again until you get it right? And then you have to practice the right way or you're never going to do it?" Steve asked, watching Eddie inhale unevenly. "Eddie... none of us are going to abandon you, that's not what we do. I'm not going to make you do this by yourself." Eddie looked away again, a choked-sounding laugh escaping him as he let his hair tumble in front of his face to hide his emotions. Steve didn't stare, instead trying to look across the room to give Eddie a bit of privacy. He knew this wasn't easy, and the emasculation of being unable to do anything by yourself had to suck, so Steve tried to preserve as much of Eddie's dignity as he could manage. "Yeah... like learning a new chord," Eddie swallowed, his voice sounding rough.

He took another beat before trying to stand up on his own again, leaning heavily on his cane, but not letting go of Steve's arm either. "Going to ruin your summer--I don't want to be a burden," Eddie breathed, obviously trying to sound a little jokey, despite his words. "You're not a burden," Steve replied easily, shifting to stand beside Eddie to help him walk toward the hall of the trailer. "What else am I doing with my summer? Swim? Actually, might be good to get you to swim. Low impact, but great muscle strengthening. Probably be good for you to swim." "I can't swim," Eddie laughed, his tone bittersweet and laced with a much deeper emotion. "I'll teach you," Steve offered, not putting too much stock in his own words. "I used to teach kids to swim all the time during the summer back in '83 and '84. It's easy." Eddie went quiet again as he took careful step after careful step down the hall toward the washroom. "Yeah... okay," Eddie mumbled quietly as he leaned on the door handle and breathed hard from the effort of walking just that short distance.

"Okay?" Steve repeated, "Hallelujah, he compromises." Steve said sarcastically as he helped Eddie slide the door aside. "Man, shut up," Eddie grouched, but he sounded charmed by the gentle tease. "What're you going to get mad about now? Not holding my dick while I piss?" "Grow up," Steve retorted, trying to sound friendly. Eddie laughed and Steve helped him as far as the sink before letting go. "Don't fall over, and don't try and stand. Just sit down, you're still recovering, man." "Don't tell me how to use the toilet, Harrington. You're not my nurse-maid," Eddie grouched, able to wobble from the sink edge to brace on the back of the toilet. "You're lucky I'm not, probably would have sedated you by now if that was the case," Steve teased again, getting another small laugh from Eddie before he turned to leave the room. "Holler if you need something." "Harrington..." Eddie mumbled, and Steve paused at the door as he held it open. "Don't... thanks... thank you." "Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, "any time man... really. Any time, I don't mind hanging out with you at all." Eddie glanced over at him, and Steve flashed him another smile before sliding the door shut and walking back down the hall. He leaned there, waiting for Eddie to call him back over when he needed him. None of this was easy, and he didn't blame Eddie for having a hard time with it. He wanted Eddie to get his freedom back as soon as possible, but he truly didn't mind hanging around with Eddie whenever he wanted him there. He liked it, actually. He liked feeling needed and helpful, and Steve liked the idea of teaching Eddie to swim. He owed a lot to Eddie, and he had meant it when he said he wasn't going to abandon him. A month, five, forever... Steve didn't plan on abandoning Eddie for anything.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #my_writing #mini ask fics

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Prejudice & Pride

[A/N: Me: has a terrible interaction with a tech. Me immediately after escaping from said interaction: starts drafting Hotch feat. praise kink bc he Would Not Stand For This 🥺 It’s consequently more fluff than my other kinktober posts, pls indulge me]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral reader (praise kink)

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Aaron can’t help the smile that graces his face when he walks in to find his apartment smelling like your newest candle obsession, bought on a whim during a recent excursion to the mall because it sniffs like your cologne. He spots the key he had given you on the hook by the door, the smile on his face widening when he drops his own set of keys beside it. “Honey?” he calls out into the dimly lit space. “We caught a tailwind, so I’m back early.”

“Living room,” you answer, tone void of your usual excitement to have him home with you.

“Hey,” he croons upon entering the living room, noting a half-empty bottle of moscato on the table by the melting candle and your body bundled up on the couch. “Rough day?”

With a sniffle, you part with your wine glass and look up at him with a pout that tugs at his heartstrings. “Fucking shit day. I’m so happy you’re home,” you sigh, reaching your hands up toward him.

Aaron takes the hint, shedding his suit jacket and loosening his tie before lifting you into his arms and settling on the couch with you in his lap. His hands immediately go to work, one softly scratching along your spine, the other carding through your hair.

“Baby,” you whisper, tracing his lips with your index finger before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know you found the missing kiddos, but are you okay? Cases with kids are always hard on you.”

“Oh, angel,” he sighs, pausing his soothing patterns to give you an affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad they’re home safe with their parents.”

“You’re so good at what you do, Aaron,” you say, voice wavering with awe and a hint of sadness, if he’s not mistaken. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He brushes a strand of hair off your forehead before tilting your chin up until your gaze meets his. “Did someone make you feel like you’re not?”

“See?” you ask, bottom lip trembling. “You’re a damn good profiler.”

“Tell me what happened.”

You launch into a blow by blow recounting of your no good, very bad day from only getting to down two sips of your coffee before being pulled into a case to working with a technician who made you feel downright incompetent. “-and the thing is, the thing is, I was alone in the OR with my patient- anesthetized okay?”

“I’m following,” Aaron says with a nod, swiping at the errant tears of frustration running down your heated cheeks.

“So clearly I know what I’m doing, right?”

“Of course you do,” he’s quick to affirm, lips tugging into a frown at the doubt blanketing your words.

“And he was fine. Stable throughout, no issues in recovery or anything. And she was kind of nice to me afterwards? I don’t know,” you sigh, voice dropping low while you distract yourself playing with his tie. “I just felt really stupid about every little decision I made. Maybe I’m not cut out for this field.”

“Excuse me?”

You balk at the subtle growl in Aaron’s voice, looking up at him meekly. “Aar, I-”

“I know you didn’t work your ass off to get into this program, spend sleepless days and nights studying, and rack up hours upon hours of experience at the hospital just to let one technician’s shitty attitude dissuade you from following your dreams.”

Overcome with emotion, tears pool in your eyes again and you shake your head at his much needed tough love.

“This-” He cups your face in his large hands before continuing, “This is your passion, baby. You were meant to do this, to help and heal those who need it most. And you are not going to let others’ bitterness stand in your way. Am I clear?”

Managing to muster up a smile, you nod and respond, “Clear, Unit Chief Hotchner, sir.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. You have your Hotch frown on,” you tease, swiping your thumb across his downturned bottom lip.

His frown deepens at your playful ribbing, and he rises abruptly so that you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him while he strides purposefully down the hallway towards the master bedroom. “You don’t understand how serious I am about this,” he accuses, and you dot his neck with kisses while assuring, “No, no, I definitely do, and I appreciate you for it.”

“But your confidence is still shaken,” he intuits, and he can feel the sigh that rattles through you in response. “Well that simply won’t do, sweetheart.”

__________

“Say it,” Aaron growls out, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead onto your flushed chest when his hips meet yours again.

You let out a pitiful moan, raking your nails down his back at the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

“Say. It.” He repeats the command, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust that has you seeing stars.

“I’m smart,” you rasp out, thighs quaking in their elevated position. Aaron has you nearly folded in half, knees practically pressed to your chest while he rails you like he can imbue confidence into you with his cock alone.

“And?” he prompts with another gasp-inducing drive of his hips.

“I’m good at what I do?” you offer quietly, somehow succeeding in looking sheepish while he splits you in half.

He pinches your nipple harshly and you cry out, now meeting his fiery gaze with one of your own. “Was that a question or a statement?”

“I’m good at what I do,” you amend, tugging on his hair as he fucks you without abandon.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, bending down to swipe his lips across yours. You whimper into his mouth, the change in angle somehow helping him drive even deeper into your spent body. He nibbles on your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “You’re brilliant, aren’t you, my little doctor?” Tucking your chin between his thumb and index finger, he moves your head into a nod. “You’re only dumb when you’re drunk on my cock.”

A moan falls past your parted lips at that, and Aaron laughs low in his throat. “Poor thing,” he tuts, “I’m amazed you can string full sentences together right now.”

“Can’t,” you cry in response. “Need you. Need you to fill me up, Daddy, please.”

He takes your ankles in his hands and wraps your legs around his torso, stalling his movements with his hips flush to yours. “You want Daddy to be nice to you?”

Driving your heels into his lower back, you moan, “Oh god, yes.”

“Are you going to be nice to yourself, little one?” Desperate for release, you sniffle and nod diligently. Aaron sucks a bruising kiss into the sensitive skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder and growls out, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you answer immediately, breathless.

“Did so well for me, baby, so well,” he praises, his hand moving between your bodies to expertly take you over the edge, and you cling to him like your life depends on it as fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids. “My good little love. So smart, so beautiful, so perfect.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sf2 takes on kinktober #our man would not stand for self slander #daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x y/n #hotch x gn!reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #hotch x reader smut #hotch smut #hotch fluff #hotchner x reader #praise k!nk #unit chief daddy

[berry-loves-yandere]

"𝐼'𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊!" pt.2

Warnings: kidnapping, abuse, obsessive behaviours, possessive behaviours, unhealthy mindset, manipulation, The Grabber

(Y/N) had been saving multiple boys from the basement but was unable to help them escape because the Grabber had upped security in the house to make sure that none of the boys ever escaped.

(Y/N) managed to sneak the boys some food (mainly her own meals) and in return they told her about the world outside of the house they were all trapped in.

When she saved the most recent victim, Robin, however, the Grabber gave her a strict warning after beating her.

"If you take the next boy out of this basement, I'll fucking kill you! Do you hear me?!" Was his threat and it lingered in (Y/N)'s mind.

(Y/N) was terrified of this, even though she was almost always on the brink of death due to lack of food and the heavy amount of beatings.

But to be able to protect the other boys, she knew she couldn't hide away the next one, it would be the end of her life and in turn, the end of the rest of the boys’ lives.

But she had an idea about how to help the boy.

She found some old walkie talkies and hid one in the basement and kept the other in the secret room with the other boys so they could give the next boy advice.

Once the next boy was in the basement, the Grabber's brother came to visit, so (Y/N) was locked in her room, since she too, was a kidnapped child.

(Y/N) was becoming very weak and it took a lot of effort to move.

So while she was locked in her room, the Grabber would barely come to see her and deliver food.

He only did that early in the morning then never came back until the next morning, so that gave (Y/N) time to talk to the boys.

They were her first friends and the only connection she had to the outside world.

She had no idea what life outside of the Grabber’s house was like, so everything they told her made her so curious to what the outside world was like.

Bruce and Robin were her favourite friends since they were always nice to her and told her about everything in detail.

Bruce found it a bit funny even that she liked fairytales so much and would often tell her that she was like Rapunzel, beautiful not knowing what the outside world was like.

This made (Y/N) smile since she didn’t feel beautiful, especially with all of her bruises and scars but Rapunzel was supposed to be a beautiful princess despite being held captive.

But then (Y/N) noticed something after a few days, the Grabber came into her room more frequently with more meals, which made her think that the person downstairs left already.

But because (Y/N) was giving the boys almost all of her food, she became weaker and weaker until she could barely give the boys food anymore.

By using the walkie talkie, the boys were able to communicate with the new victim, Finney.

They gave him advice on how to escape and Finney managed to get out the door and start running but he then was captured again.

Luckily, by using the advice from the rest of the boys, after Finney was recaptured, he managed to kill the Grabber and leave the house.

The police entered the house after Finney came out and began getting checked on by professionals.

The boys had heard the snap of the Grabber's neck through the walkie talkie, so they exited the secret room, knowing it was safe to do so.

But (Y/N) wasn't able to move due to injuries and extreme hunger.

Vance carried her out as they all quickly left the house and encountered the police, who recognized them as the missing boys.

They didn't know who (Y/N) was but she was loaded into an ambulance and driven to the hospital.

She was kept there for quite some time to recover since she had severe injuries and was extremely malnourished.

The boys who she saved often came to visit and Robin brought Finney along to meet her once.

The boys, that were kidnapped before Finney, thought of (Y/N) as their saviour and soon Finney thought of her that way too because if she hadn't intervened, then all of them would be dead.

She was making a slow recovery as the police tried to locate her parents.

But they were struggling to find her parents since (Y/N) had no recollection of her last name or her parents, she didn’t even know if (Y/N) was her actual name since it was the name the Grabber called her.

Since she managed to recover before the police found her parents, Griffin’s mother, Ms.Stagg, volunteered to take care of (Y/N) in the meantime since she noticed how attached Griffin was to (Y/N).

Griffin and (Y/N) developed a strong, sibling-like bond and (Y/N) was very protective of the small boy.

But with (Y/N) living with Griffin, he did his best to make sure that (Y/N) wouldn’t hang out with the other boys she saved, and that he could brag about all the fun things he did with (Y/N).

Like building a pillow fort together, how she would read him stories, giving him piggy back rides and how when he said he had a nightmare, she would let him cuddle with her until he fell asleep.

The other boys were very pissed off by this, they wanted to be around (Y/N) so badly, they wanted to joke and laugh with her, talk to her about their stresses, make her happy but Griffin was amazing at restricting their interactions.

(Y/N) was honestly just happy to be out of the Grabber’s house and having the feeling of a family.

The other boys thought that maybe when the police found (Y/N)’s parents, they could have more interactions with her since she’d be around Griffin a lot less.

But those hopes were shattered because it turned out that when the police were looking through the Grabber’s house, they found two bodies, two adult bodies.

They managed to recently connect the dots and figure out that these were (Y/N)’s parents.

As it turns out, the Grabber had become so attached to (Y/N) that he wanted to make sure that she never had anything to go back to, therefore he killed her parents, so he could be her only parental figure, so she really would think that he was her dad.

(Y/N) would’ve been more upset had she known her parents but it was still distressing news.

Ms.Stagg took initiative to adopt (Y/N) since she was growing to love the girl like the daughter she never had.

Griffin made sure to brag about how (Y/N) was now officially his sister and basically did his best to piss off the others with how much he was bragging.

They decided to secretly find ways to meet up and hang out with (Y/N).

They set up little ‘shifts’ where one boy would distract Griffin and the others could hang out with (Y/N).

Bruce and Finney taught her how to play baseball, or at least brought her to their games.

Vance made her watch him play pinball at the Grab ‘n’ Go as he beat his records, then would buy some kind of candy for her with the pocket change he had.

Robin would take (Y/N) to the drive in movie theatre to watch horror movies, especially if she was terrified by them, because it would give Robin an excuse to cuddle (Y/N).

Billy would take her on early morning bike rides with him as he did his paper route.

But Griffin soon found out about what the boys were doing and was furious.

He didn’t want to share his older sister!

She saved him first!

She talked to him first!

No one else should be around her besides his mom and himself!

After he found out, he would throw a tantrum every time that one of the boys tried to get him away from (Y/N) then smirk at the boy as he walked away with her.

Griffin attachment to (Y/N) was like a toddler with their favourite toy, never ever wanting to it go.

This made the others frustrated but luckily for them, Finney is a genius.

He decided to approach (Y/N) and start talking to her while Griffin was around.

Griffin whined and complained but his efforts to get (Y/N) away from Finney failed.

She would instead scold Griffin, and tell him that she was talking to someone and that they would hangout later.

Once the rest of the boys witnessed this, they began using the same strategy angering Griffin to an extreme.

Griffin then began ignoring (Y/N), pretending she didn’t exist, in an attempt to get her attention back on him.

But the boys kept (Y/N) so distracted that she didn’t even notice, which made Griffin extremely upset.

The boys just loved her big and beautiful smile, something they barely saw while she was trapped in the Grabber’s house.

Eventually, Griffin's attempt of getting (Y/N)’s attention began working, causing the others to spend less time with her as she was trying to rebuild her relationship with her younger brother.

Vance eventually got the idea that instead of sneaking around behind Griffin's back or hanging out with (Y/N) in front of him, why not become allies with Griffin?

If Griffin liked him enough, then Vance would be allowed to hang out or even ask out (Y/N).

Vance never, ever told the others about this because if it worked, then he could have (Y/N) all to himself even though he did technically need to share with Griffin.

It was all a big competition for (Y/N)’s affections but who would win this contest?

The end?

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