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kookslastbutton · 1 month

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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ew-selfish-art · 6 months

Text

DP x DC AU: Letters and Paper goods are easy to store, and therefore, easy to hide. Danny has drama to monger though.

Tim Drake becomes a ward of Bruce Wayne at the same time the Drake Corporation is crumbling, and his father's health is declining. Dana, his father's physical therapist turned new wife, isn't optimistic these days, and Tim can read the writing on the wall.

Times have changed and Bruce and Dick are treating him with kid gloves. Jason Todd is alive again, been there suffered that. Young Just-Us has proven yet again to be his true family... But Bruce 'welcomes' him home the second the fake uncle is sniffed out.

So, Tim rationalizes, If Drake Corp is going down, then so shall the reason he spent his childhood abandoned. The many, many archeology digs his parents left him for over the years and their many, many stolen historical pieces. Tim is ready and able to get rid of them all.

He first returns the artifacts that have obvious origins to the people with whom they belong. Then it starts to get a little hazy as to where each item stolen is from. The paper goods are the hardest to place.

Years later, Tim has almost completely emptied his parent's old home of their stolen goods. By now, he runs a fortune 500 company and is working as Red Robin. Going through the last of the archives means going through the very last objects his parents ever preferred over his company, and he can't wait to be rid of them.

A glowing green envelope however... this one he feels compelled to keep. He hadn't known it back when he started this project- but somehow his Parents had found objects drenched in the essence of the Lazarus Pits. And it wasn't just one letter, it was dozens and dozens.

Tim Drake knew it would be risky to move them, but he needed to get these letters to an ex-league member to understand what the language of the dead was trying to proclaim.

_____

Danny hates a fetch quest but apparently Ghost Writer is having a bad day. It starts with Danny running by the guys library to have a chat when all of a sudden, the question of certain... ghost relations... came up. Danny is always more than thrilled to hear about how the various ancient-as-in-old ghosts interacted with the Ancients-as-in-yikes ghosts.

Ghost Writer finally admitted to the monarch in training that if he wanted to know so badly, that he could track down Clockworks old letters. They'd been scattered well before Ghost Writer could properly work on the ghost archives (read: was still alive), and it wasn't until he'd long worked on the library that such affairs were noted as missing.

The potential for gossip was just too good! A call home to Sam, Tuck and Jazz to let them know he was on an adventure, and then Danny flew off with little more than some hints by GW and an annoyed nod of cryptic agreement by CW.

Danny goes about wondering Gotham as himself, not yet seeing the need to be Phantom, when he runs into the very guy he was looking for.

"Hey- you don't happen to have a shit ton of letters written in the language of the dead do you?" Danny smiles as innocently as possible as he watches all seven stages of grief play out on the guy's face. Then something changes and Danny can tell that this guy is like, scary competent.

"I do, however, I was double crossed and a shit ton of assassins are on their way to try and take them."

"Uh... Bummer for them I guess? I'll just take them and go- I don't even really need to keep them if you want em back-"

"Assassins. They won't exactly leave empty handed."

"Huh. Well... Wanna come with? These are supposed to have some pretty juicy drama in them." Danny awkwardly places a hand on the back of his neck.

A knife being thrown in their direction was enough to get this guy to make a decision.

"Let's go spill some tea then."

Danny grins as he pulls the guy through a rapidly drawn portal, ignoring the wide eyes he makes. Turns out his name is Tim, and walking him through afterlife drama is the best- how does he know so many dead assassins??? One of these letters is about a guy who took Tim's spleen??

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #long post #tim drake

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cuubism · 2 months

Text

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

#i really am writing the most random indulgent shit this week XD #you know this was a missed opportunity to do 'forbidden romance between a physical therapist and a ballerina' like that ridiculous romance #novel that was going around XD #anyway don't take physical therapy advice from this #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #cw abuse #long post #perhaps i'll write more after my next appointment XD #physical therapy fic

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cupcakeslushie · 3 months

Note

Some Timothy questions because I am Intrigued by him!

Does he usually stay in his slime form? How long did it take him to get comfortable with it? You mentioned he was adopted by Sunita’s family, how did they find him?

Before he saw Donnie again, did he miss him, or wonder what had happened to his turtle friend? Did he get therapy after his sudden and dramatic mutation?

Franky worked construction before he got his job at Run of the Mill. He came across Tim while he was working on one of the roads near Draxum’s lab. Timothy was pretty traumatized, and had a really hard time communicating what had happened, so the hospital Franky brought him to wasn’t able to get much information from him.

When it was time for Timothy to be discharged, he’d be going into the system, but Franky hoped Timothy would feel more comfortable with other slime yokai, and offered to foster him. He calls Franky “Uncle Frank” and thinks of Sunita as a sister/close cousin and calls her “Sunni”. He’s pretty much given up the idea of ever seeing his real family again, which isn’t too heartbreaking, as they were pretty absent and didn’t even seem to worry about how often their son would disappear for hours at a time, before vanishing for good.

By age 11, Tim was able to keep his form consistently stable. Timothy had these crazy, big dreams of getting strong enough to use his mutant powers against Draxum, and saving Three. It was a little worrying how obsessive he could be, and something his therapist tried to get Tim to be realistic about.

When Tim finally sees Donnie again, he’s so happy Don is just safe and away from Draxum. All the training (boxing, weight-training, etc) to get stronger, didn’t really feel like a waste though. It still helped him work through his trauma, even if he first started doing it with the intention to rescue Donnie.

There’s a quiet guilt every time Donnie looks at Tim without his cloaking broach, so he wears it any time he’s around the Mad Dogs. But Donnie does eventually get over it, and loves Tim in either form. Cuddling is cuddling.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #tmnt #tmnt fanart #timatello #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie #rise timothy #rise sunita #Donatello x Timothy #ask slushie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt separated au #separated au #my art

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viennakarma · 7 months

Text

Satisfaction [Part 1]

Lewis Hamilton x reader

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

Word count: 2.1k

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

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

Find me on Twitter!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is our session done?” he insisted.

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

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

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

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

You just sighed, swallowing the tears as you left.

III.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would make two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I need to fix this.”

[Part 2]

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

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specialagentlokitty · 3 months

Text

Hannibal lector x teen!reader - ensure you’re safe

Hi 👋🏻 Saw you wanted to try to write for Hannibal characters and for me the easiest way to start writing for Hannibal was to write like a therapy session with Hannibal. So thought maybe you could write teen!reader or just regular reader at a therapy session with Hannibal, of course there’s no worries if you don’t write it, just thought it might help you out <3 I will probably request something with Will later as he’s my fave character but can’t come up with anything right now - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

TW: mentions of abusive parents

Sitting outside in the waiting room to your new therapists office, you sighed heavily, pulling your headphones back over your head.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, a large part of you wanted to just leave, but you had to be there, the officer sitting next to you was there to make sure of that.

But just because you had to be there didn’t mean you had to say anything, or actually take part, you simply just had to attend the session.

You watched as a bit of paper was held out in front of your face, and you sighed, turning your gaze to the man sitting next to you, pulling your headphones back down.

“What?” You snapped.

“Don’t be rude, keep your headphones down, and please try take part.”

“I don’t see why I have to, I didn’t do shit wrong.”

“Well, apparently everybody else sees differently kiddo, so please try.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him, pulling your headphones back over your head to carry on blocking out of the world.

You weren’t paying all that much attention, but you did notice when the officer next to you stood up and you turned your head to look at him in uninterest as he spoke to the man who came out of the office.

Then he turned back to you and pushed your headphones down.

“You’re up kid, I’ll wait out here to take you home but then you’re on your own to make sure you come to these sessions, got it? Twice a week.”

“Get lost Daniels.”

“Alright, but remember no wondering off because we’ll know.”

You just scowled and he grinned a little at you, holding up your bag for you to take as you stood up.

“This is Doctor Hannibal Lector, he’s going to be your new therapist, be polite, respectful, and remember to keep your temper.” Daniels warned.

You said nothing as he left, and you turned to the therapist.

“Hello (Y/N), would you like to come in?”

You set your bag down and sat down back in the chair you were waiting in.

Hannibal smiled slightly, and closing his office door, walking over to sit next to you, sitting forward slightly, clasping his hands together.

He took a moment to study you, how uninterested you were, the fact you wouldn’t even look at him, you were dressed in ripped jeans, well worn trainers, a hoodie.

But it was your face that he was drawn to, the stitches on your eyebrow, a little bit of dried blood just at the side, clearly you had ripped one or two earlier that day. What looked to be a broken nose, split lip, and from the brief glance of your knuckles he had gotten they were bruised and blooded.

He made a few mental notes before he finally spoke first, seeing you weren’t going to initiate a conversation with him.

“Would you like to start by telling me a little bit about yourself?” He asked.

“No.”

“Well, how about we start with why you’re here. Why have you been referred to me (Y/N)?”

“You have my file. You know why.” You grumbled.

“Yes, I am aware this is court mandated therapy. I would like to know why you think you were sentenced to therapy, what are your thoughts about this?”

You didn’t say anything, you just slumped down in the chair, pulling your hood up so he wasn’t able to look at you.

“You have no interest in being here.” He noted.

“Nope.”

“I see, yet you’re staying for what reason? What happens if you walk out of those doors before our session has ended?”

You didn’t say anything, and he just sat there silently for the rest of the session with you.

Every session went the same, you would sit outside, refuse to come in or answer his questions, then the pair of you would sit outside the office while he read or made notes and you listened to your music.

It went that way for nearly two months, and Hannibal followed the same routine this time around, opening his office door and you looked up at him.

He paused, taking in your bloodied hoodie and nose.

“(Y/N), what happened?” He asked.

You got up, and he stepped aside, holding the door for you as you walked in for the first time since you began to see him.

Hannibal carefully closed the door, watched as you walked around until you stopped by the ladders and you sat down on them.

“There are more comfortable places to sit if you would prefer.”

“I’m fine.”

He hummed a little bit, sitting in a chair as he looked over at you.

You were one to keep your distance, so he wanted to respect that boundary and stayed where he was on the other side of the room.

“Are you? In the two months that we have known one another you have never stepped foot inside my office until now. Today is the only day you have come in looking as if you were in a fight just before arriving.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I have read your file numerous times, you’re known for your rather unpleasant temper, you have been arrest on multiple occasions for assault, your most previous charge is listed as aggregated assault.”

“So what?” You snapped slightly.

“There is no need to get angry, I am not here to judge you. I am simply here to assist you, find out why you are so angry all the time and what led to your anger.”

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie down, pressing it to your nose, wiping some of the blood on it.

Hannibal got up, walking over he took the handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to you, making sure he kept his distance.

“I don’t need your help…” you grumbled.

“Well, blood can be rather hard to wash out of clothing, you may ruin your jacket if you keep that up.”

“It’s a hoodie.”

Hannibal chuckled slightly.

“Very well, you will ruin your hoodie.”

“Like I said, don’t need your help.”

Hannibal sighed, laying the handkerchief down on the floor just a few steps away from your and he clasped his hands behind his back.

“You are a deeply mistrusting person, I understand that. But perhaps if you are willing to give someone a chance you will see that some people can be trusted.”

You glanced up at him, then quickly averted your gaze, going back to looking at the floor instead, but he knew you were watching him.

You had your head lowered, but just barely high enough to look at his shoes.

“Who hurt you?” He pressed carefully.

“What makes you think I didn’t start it?”

“The lack of bruises or scrapes on your hands, your clothes are rather dirty, defensive wounds I would say. Am I correct?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Maybe I just like it, getting into fights and all.”

“I have a reason that perhaps you don’t enjoy it.”

You looked up at Hannibal, getting up and you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“Maybe I do. Maybe it fun, beating the crap out of someone until their blood is all over their face, watching as they beg me to stop, to leave them alone. Maybe I like the fear in the eyes.” You taunted.

“Is that so?”

Hannibal watched as you studied him, getting a read on him, trying size him up to see if you could take him on in a fight or not.

“Do you want to hurt me (Y/N)?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Who do you really want to hurt? When you get into all these fights you claim to enjoy, who do you think off when you’re knocking them to the ground and beating them within an inch of their lives?”

“No one.”

“Anybody with that much rage thinks of somebody, targets somebody.”

You just scoffed, making your way past him to head to the door.

You left without another wait, having reached the exact time limit of the session and Hannibal walked over to his desk, opening his book.

He wrote down what you had told him, and sat reflecting on it.

Clearly you were an angry person, you were a teenager with a lot of anger and hatred, but not at the world.

It was directed at one single person, because if your anger was random he had no doubt in his mind you would’ve already tried to attack him, but you didn’t.

You simply just refused to acknowledge whatever he said, you didn’t attempt to hurt him.

Intimidate? Yes. But not hurt.

It was a few days when your next session came around, and you walked into the office once more, taking a seat in your usual spot, this time a little more slowly.

Hannibal frowned, but carried on his session.

And he began to pick up on every time you came into the sessions either hurt, or fresh out of a fight.

And the timeframe between these seemed to get smaller and smaller, up until the point today.

Hannibal opened his door and you looked worse than ever as you pushed past him, dripping some blood on to the floor, limping into the middle of the room.

You took a few shoe breaths and he closed the door, making his way over to you.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?”

You slowly turned to him, nodding your head, stumbling a couple of steps.

“Tell me what happened? Who did this to you?”

You shook your head, slowly sitting down on the floor so you wouldn’t have to get blood on any of his furniture.

“Stay here, I will call the police, and for an ambulance.”

“No!”

Hannibal turned at your outburst, and you looked at him, rage with slight fear mixed in your eyes.

“Don’t you dare, don’t… don’t call anyone…” you warned.

“Alright.”

Hannibal set his phone back down and he walked over, kneeling down in front of you, resting an arm on his leg.

“Tell me what happened.”

You took a small breath, leaning back on one of your hands.

“I fucked up… real bad doctor Lector… like.. like real bad…”

“I need you to tell me what happened.” He pressed carefully.

You sighed a little bit.

“He got drunk again, got pissed, I talked back. He swung for me so I fought back, hit him with a chair. She got pissed at me, pushed me down a few stairs.”

“Who is the ‘he’ you keep referring to?”

“My dad.”

Hannibal nodded his head.

“I assume the ‘she’ would then be your mother?”

“Bingo, right on the money doc. I can see why you’re a therapist.”

Hannibal noticed how you deflected the serious topic with unserious remarks or a slightly snappy tone towards him.

“I see, you are aware that I have to call the police, and I strongly recommend you allow me to take you to the hospital. A fall down the stairs is not something to take so lightly.”

“You call police and I’m gone.”

“Why?”

You stayed quiet, shifting a little with pain and he sighed.

“You have strong issues with authority, but unfortunately I have to call them, I have a duty of care to ensure your well-being. Which means if I suspect that someone or yourself will cause you harm I have to report it. I can request to be with you every step of the way if that makes you comfortable.”

You pushed yourself up with a grunt of pain, stumbling a few steps backwards and Hannibal quickly stood up, placing his hand on your back to keep you stable.

You moved away quickly, and made your way to the door.

“At least allow me to take you to the hospital.” Hannibal said.

He turned around to get his keys from his desk and when he turned around you were gone.

He sighed, picking up his phone in order to call for your parole officer.

He had had the number his his phone since the first session, but he had never had to call the officer about you.

Not until now.

He quickly relayed on the fact that you had come into his officer severely injured.

You hadn’t made it far when Daniels picked you up, despite the fact you tried running you couldn’t exactly outrun a police officer in your injured state and you were taken to the hospital.

The ran some tests, stitched up your cuts, and placed you in a room while you awaited the results of your tests.

“So, want to tell me what happened?” Daniels asked.

“Go fuck yourself.” You growled.

“Hey, I want to help kid. But I can’t if I don’t know what happened to you.”

“You know what happened you prick, you all know what happened but you won’t do fuck all about it!”

“Calm down right now.”

“Or what?!”

You ripped the IV out of your arm, and you stood up, nearly falling to the side but you didn’t falter.

Daniels stood up as well.

“You can’t do shit.”

“Look, doctor lector is on his way, and they’re taking your parents in for questioning right now but you need to stay here.”

“Like fuck do I have to stay here. You can’t hold me for shit.”

You barged past him, throwing down the tray as he tried to follow you.

It would stall him for a few minutes while nurses and doctors quickly tried to gathering everything up so nobody would get hurt.

You left the hospital, making your way to your usual hideout spot when you didn’t want to go home.

It wasn’t the best, an old and abandoned construction site, but it was full of more than enough hiding places, and you went to your favourite one.

Sitting in the concrete pipe, you rested your back on a blanket you had in there, closing your eyes as you breathed through the discomfort.

Your phone was ringing endlessly, and you turned it off, getting bored of hearing the sound.

Though the silence was helpful when it came to hearing the creaking of the large metal gate being opened and closed.

“(Y/N), I know you’re here, come out so we can talk!” Hannibal called.

You stayed quiet.

You knew he would eventually and it only took a few minutes for him to appear at the entrance to your hiding spot.

He offered you a gentle smile.

“You need to go back to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Your parents are currently in custody, you’re safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you, nobody there will hurt you either.”

You scoffed.

“You really believe that? Give it a day or two, they’ll be back out.”

“Yet you always go back, why?”

“Because I have to, court order. Every. Single. Time.”

Hannibal sighed, and he offered you a reassuring smile.

“Come with me, I assure you that no more harm will come to you.”

You didn’t believe him, you simply just left the other end of the pipe you were sat in and Hannibal got up to follow you.

“You have internal bleeding, if you do not go back to the hospital you’ll die within hours.”

“Great, makes life easier for everybody. Gives me a way out.”

“Do you wish to die?”

You paused, giving the man a chance to walk over to you and stand in front of you.

“Do you wish to die (Y/N)?”

“No.”

“So, allow me to take you back to the hospital then. We will let the surgeons fix whatever inside you is bleeding, then when you wake up I will be right there waiting.”

“Yeah, and they’ll be there too.”

“You have my word, you parents will not be allowed in the room.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances bleeding internally.”

“What if I can prove to you that they won’t be allowed in the same room as you?”

This seemed to gain your interested, and he gestured to the front of the construction sight.

“Do you see that man over there?”

You nodded.

“His name is Jack Crawford, he works for the FBI. He has read over your case file, he along with another agent will be outside your room the entire time you are there in recovery while we sort a safer place for you.”

Hannibal held his hand out to you.

“Do you trust me, even just a little bit?”

You looked at him, and you slowly nodded your head.

Hannibal smiled, walking over and he reached out, wrapping his arm around you, letting you hold his other arm to steady yourself while you both walked.

“They will never hurt you again (Y/N).”

Hannibal helped you into his car and got into the drivers seat, adjusting the mirror, wiping the little bit of blood that was on it so you wouldn’t see it

#hannibal #Hannibal x reader #Hannibal x you #Hannibal imagine #Hannibal lector #hannibal lector x reader #Hannibal lector x you #Hannibal lector imagine

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weeknd-ogoc · 6 months

Text

4EVER・。.・゜✭・. LANDO NORRIS

SUMMARY: in which lando finally comes to his senses after seeing pictures of ferrari's golden boy and you. FACE CLAIM: claudia tihan CONTAINS: jealous!lando, unprotected sex, the guys being lando's therapist, some charles x reader, toxicness on both sides, some fluff and angst! AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's our king's 24th birthday! i felt like this was a bit messy but i hope you guys like it anyways!

lando had been in the worst mood all week after seeing photos on twitter of charles and you leaving a hotel in brazil, just last week. what makes matters worse was that you weren't answering any of his messages or calls and you hadn't stopped by to visit him like you usually did.

he kept looking at the picture of you on his lock screen of you smiling with a burger in your hand — he had planned to take you out to a fancy restaurant but forgot to make reservations so you guys ended up in a burger king parking lot, eating french fries and greasy burgers.

"this is like a date..." you had said as you shoved a french fry in his mouth.

he shook his head and finished chewing. "not a date, trust me i'd go all out for our first date."

that had been the very beginning of your relationship.

the two of you had started off as good friends — he had followed you on instagram after seeing a post of you modeling in lingerie for victoria's secret and just a few hours after you had followed him back.

a few months of talking nonstop, he had taken a serious liking in you so after a race he decided to hang around with daniel and he ended up showing him your photos.

"man if you don't fly her out for our next race, best believe i will." he had said as he continued scrolling through your photos. "how the hell did you pull her? if i wa-"

lando rolled his eyes and snatched his phone back from him. "first of all, you're so old you wouldn't even know what to do with all that."

two days later he had flew you to texas where lando spent most of the time showing you some cool places. he had invited you to stay in his hotel room and you gladly said yes since the two of you were friends but with all of lando's flirting he was finally able to pass the friendship stage.

after he had taken you to an amusement park, he had taken you to an empty parking lot where you guys found yourselves in the backseat of his mclaren — he had the top of your dress half off and his pants was unbuckled. "trust me when it does happens..." he mumbled in between kisses as he had two of his fingers deep inside you. "i'm going to rock your world."

a month later when the time came of lando “rocking your world” he had struggled to find a condom in his room while you were there laying completely naked, wrapped up in his blanket.

he went through every drawer he had but nothing. "i mean are you sleeping with anyone else?" he asked and you shook your head no.

"are you?"

"no, just you as of right now..."

"you don't have any diseases do you?" you now asked him and he shook his head.

the both of you stared at each other for a few seconds before he jumped into his bed and began roughly kissing you — he put the work in for a few minutes before busting a load right into you.

"that's never happened before..." he mumbled. "i swear i can last longer than that!"

“c’mon lando, i thought you said you were going to rock my world.” you giggled as he slid out of you. “pretty sure it’ll take longer than three minutes.”

“c’mon baby stop making jokes.” he whined as he hid into the crook of your neck. “give me a few minutes and this time i will.”

the both of you had considered yourselves as casual fuck buddies those first few months so whenever the both of you were coincidentally in the same town he was giving it to you raw since you were the only one he was being sexually active with.

“fuck you’re so wet…” he moaned into your ear as he thrusted up into you. "you feel that? it’s all for you, so hard just for you."

it was going good but then you started questioning the whole thing, making him also question if he was truly ready for a serious relationship with you.

"i just want to know if this will ever be serious..." you had asked him as you slid on one of his shirts and sat back down on his bed. "i mean its been a year already of doing whatever this is."

"i like what we have why ruin it?"

for months he was able to creep around that same question — until last week after you found out that he went to the club, which was fine you were able to go out also but he had a certain girl around him all night that wasn't you. by the next morning twitter had posted the pictures with this girl on his lap, kissing and hugging him.

when you went to go visit him later that morning he had a hickey on his neck that he supposedly didn't even know he had. "i was drunk but i swear nothing happened!"

he was lying and he truly felt bad for what he had done, you out of all people definitely didn't deserve that. he had tried to get close to you multiple times but you kept backing away from him.

you weren't dumb, you knew that he definitely hooked up with the girl.

after going back and forth you had began crying out of frustration. you wiped your tears with the ends of your sweater. "i mean i don't know, i thought i was the only one..."

"you are, y-"

he then received a call from oscar making him remember he had to go to the paddock for media day. "fuck, i have to go but please just wait for me here and i'll make it up to you."

you sighed as you grabbed your phone from his bed and stood up. "i'm actually meeting with someone later so i have to go but i don't know if i want to work this out this time."

unfortunately for him the conversation couldn't continue because he had started getting messages and missed calls so after his interviews he tried texting you whenever he could but you never replied, just leaving him on read.

he knew you probably needed some cooling down so he left it as is.

"i honestly think you fumbled..." max butted into the conversation lando was having with the group. "let it be known that before you y/n and charles had a little fling going on."

charles choked on the water he was drinking and glared at max.

"woah hold on, you and y/n?" lando asked charles as sat up straight. "has she texted you since we started talking?"

he cleared his throat as max smiled at him, already knowing the truth to that question. "um well it wasn't really anything too serious and we haven't talk-"

"but there was that time they hun-" max butted in again and earned an elbow to the arm from charles.

"there was a time that we hung out after some argument you guys had about you and your ex talking but nothing happened."

lando tensed up after that he remembered that fight, you had left his house that day and didn’t talk to him for a whole week. he made sure to send you flowers and gifts throughout that week as an apology.

he knew he had no right to be jealous of you hanging out with charles. you were obviously allowed to have friends and hang out with whoever you wanted but he now understood how you felt when he would talk to his ex girlfriend.

"she made me cookies once, i love her!" daniel then announced as he looked up from his phone. "and i think you love her too but you're scared of telling her that, why is that?"

"i'm not scared it's just cause she makes me nervous, she makes me feel things that i don't want to be feeling."

"like?"

at this point lando knew he had strong feelings for you too, except his feelings might've been a little different than yours so maybe that's why he did what he did.

lando groaned before putting his head down into his hands. "well maybe because i love her and i feel like i could may- potentially marry her or something along those lines." he quickly muttered out. "i hate these stupid feelings."

daniel smirked and patted his back. "there you go buddy."

now he had finally realized why he was scared of commitment because you made him really think about his future with you, his whole life he wanted to be a formula one racer and he knew that getting married and creating a family was supposed to be for after but you made him change his mind about that.

that had been a week ago and since then lando was pissed.

"yes it was wrong for charles saying it was nothing serious and later that day bringing her to his hotel room but i mean she did tell you she didn't want to work it out anymore." max told him over the phone. "just let her go man."

max saw the way lando looked at you with hearts in his eyes whenever you were around but he also knew you were starting to get inside of lando's head, he was no longer thinking of his career the way he used to because of you.

"you're only saying that because you don't like her..." lando said as he sat himself on the couch and hugged on a blanket that you had gifted him for when he traveled. "if it was luisa, you would've told me to get her back."

"i do like her but i just feel like this is all happening so fast."

he continued to listen to max's rant as he went to go open the door after hearing someone knocking.

"just a few weeks ago you were just hooking up with her and now it's you're in love with her."

"umm max, i'll call you later."

before max could even register his words, lando had already hung up and was now looking at you standing in front of his door.

the both of you hadn't spoken for almost two whole weeks and now here you were — your hair was perfectly curled, you had on his sweatpants that he left at your place awhile back and a hoodie on.

"you look beautiful..." he mumbled as he opened the door wider for you.

and instead of going right in, you wrapped your arms around him and he immediately wrapped his around your waist. "stop lying, i look homeless."

he chuckled before hugging you even harder. "even so, you still look beautiful."

you softly pinched his back at his joke and after you guys ended up in his living room, he held onto your hand not wanting to ask you about charles because he didn't want to risk that possibility of losing you to him.

but he had to.

"i saw the pictures with charles in brazil, did you..."

the truth was that you had gone to charles's hotel room because he wanted to talk to you about lando and at the moment you didn't so you had kissed him — charles kissed you back but before it could have gotten any further he stopped it and rested his forhead onto yours.

"are you and lando over?" he asked you.

you shrugged your shoulders. "i think so."

charles had grown to love you in the short time of knowing you but he knew you always went to him to get back at lando in a way.

"you know he loves you right?" he sat up and sighed. "daniel was able to get it out of him."

when you didn't say anything, he knew you what you wanted in this moment. "go, i'm sure he's probably waiting for you."

yet, you didn't go and instead you kissed him again.

"if he did love me, he wouldn't have done what he did." you whispered.

charles knew that he shouldn't let it get any further since he knew you were most likely going to go back to lando after all of this and it'll leave him heartbroken once again but if he could have you for just this short time, he'd take it.

"no of course not." you told lando and he sighed before hugging you.

"promise?"

you nodded. "i promise that's all that happened."

lando wasn't dumb, he knew that you had definitely hooked up with charles.

he just wasn't going to say anything about it.

before the both of you knew it, lando was once again inside of you — one arm on the side of your head and the other on your waist, his hips moving in hard thrusts.

"i love you, you know that right?"

you moaned out a little yes. "i love you too, so much..."

"i'm going to marry you, i swear and give you babies..." you nodded along as he continued to thrust into you. "we're going to be together forever."

you nodded knowing his words were true while creaming around him and he pushed into you with a final groan. "forever."

thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

f1 and f2 masterlist!

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sl-ut · 11 months

Text

ceilings

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

description: ellie and y/n are together when they’re in private, but she’s not sure if she’s ready to be with her in public. A newcomer to jackson might be the shove that she needs to decide whether she really wants her or not.

warnings: UNEDITED!!! slight hint of smut, reader has a bad rep, reader is a lil slutty (in a fun way), mentions of bad parenting, slightly mean!ellie, jealousy

words: 4.8K

date posted: 08/06/23

part two

Early morning patrol was going to kill Ellie someday, that she was sure of. The urge to stay in bed all day only worsened as the wind grew increasingly bitter with the oncoming winter. More often than not, she would be paired with Jesse or Dina, who both took their time apart to use Ellie as their unpaid therapist. At that point, she would almost rather have tense smalltalk with Joel or even suffer through Eugene’s ramblings–at least Eugene almost always brought weed to share between them. Plus, waking up before the sun had even risen halfway into the sky was easily one of her least favourite things to do, and her thighs were always sore after riding all day, no matter how often she was on horseback.

The only thing that made it even worse in the more recent weeks, was that she found it so hard to drag herself out of bed while knowing who was still tucked into the numerous blankets.

She made an effort to wake up early every morning, turning over as slowly as she could manage in hopes of not disturbing the slumbering figure behind her, settling onto her side as her fingers itched to reach out and feel the smooth flesh beneath the hem of her shirt. In such close proximity, she was able to feel the warmth of her body, blistering beneath the mountain of blankets. The girl was curled onto her side, shoulders rising and falling with every deep breath that escaped her parted lips. Before noticing her own movement, Ellie’s fingertips stroked against the softness of her warm cheek, stroking the sleep-swollen flesh in admiration with slow, gentle movements until the girl’s long eyelashes began to flutter.

Y/n blinked a few times as she pushed through the grogginess, a dopey grin crossing her features sleepily as her eyes fell on the figure next to her. She tugged the blankets in closer to her chin as she readjusted her head on the pillow, smacking her lips a few times before mumbling out a warm ‘mornin’’.

“Sorry,” Ellie hurriedly pulled her fingers away, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” Y/n yawned, “I don’t mind waking up next to you.”

Ellie flushed, chest burning with the desire to snuggle so close to the girl that they became fused together. Her fingers moved down, searching blindly beneath the blankets in search of Y/n’s own hand, and tangling them together tightly.

The night before had felt unreal. Ellie had invited Y/n over, having made sure that they would be uninterrupted, to watch a movie on the shitty little box TV that she had brought out to her garage. In the dim lighting of the battery-operated lantern in the corner and the flickering TV, Ellie had admired Y/n’s features up-close in a way that she yearned to on a much more regular basis. The night had, of course, ended with Ellie tripping over her own feet in excitement as she was leading Y/n to her bed, wandering hands finally finding their purchase beneath the covers.

Things had been that way for a while now. Ellie had known Y/n from a distance for quite some time before they started seeing each other, but hadn’t truly gotten to know her beyond a few things until Dina and Jesse ditched her at the Tipsy Bison in favour of Jesse’s bed. The two girls had a short conversation that night, and their relationship quickly snowballed from there. Small talk quickly turned into stolen kisses, and kisses turned into experimental touches–though it was always in private.

“I have to go soon,” Ellie whispered to her, “Patrol.”

Y/n let out a quiet groan, “Just skip today, I’ll do the same. Let’s just stay in bed all day.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped Ellie and she rolled her eyes, “Yeah, and risk us both being skinned alive by Maria?”

The girl shrugged lazily, shifting a tad closer to Ellie and nudging at her nose with her own playfully, “I can make it worth your while…”

Ellie’s fingers twitched, a knowing smirk crossing her dry lips, “Yeah? And how’s that?”

“Well, I was thinking…” She lowered her voice, as if they weren’t completely alone in the privacy of Ellie’s renovated garage, “I could get on top of you, and, you know…”

“I’m listening,” Ellie prompted her to continue with a wolfish grin.

“Well, I would get on top of you, get nice and close,” she giggled, “and then we could go back to sleep for a few hours.”

Ellie chuckled, pinching at her side playfully, “I should’ve known you were full of it when you said you would get on top.”

Y/n scoffed, swatting at her as she cackled at her own joke, “Uh, excuse me! I would get on top if you would let me!”

“Oh please, you wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“You wanna bet?” Y/n wasted no time in crawling on top of the brunette, grasping at her wrists and pinning them above her head with as much strength as she could manage, “What do you think of that, huh?”

Ellie’s eyes dropped from Y/n’s own to her lips, then down to the plush of her thighs from beneath the large shirt that she had worn to bed. She could feel the warmth of her centre through the thin fabric of her panties against the firm expanse of her abdomen, and she could make out the shape of her breasts through the worn fabric of her shirt. Her breath caught in her throat at the intimate position, fingers stretching out as she gauged how difficult it would be to break her hold.

“I think you’re in over your head. You’re nothing but a little pillow princess, aren’t you?”

Y/n pouted, shaking her head in defiance as she bent down further to ghost her lips over Ellie’s before finally dropping them together in a firm kiss. Slowly, she began to rotate her hips against her, mewling against her lips excitedly and easily becoming overwhelmed at the slightest of touches.

Ellie took the opportunity handed to her, wrenching her hands free and manoeuvring herself to be propped up against her pillows while grasping Y/n’s hips in her strong hands while forcing them to continue on with her movements. Y/n shrieked in surprise at the jostling movement, but didn’t fight Ellie’s clear show of dominance and allowed the girl to guide her hips in grinding down against her abs.

Small gasps fell from her lips as she urged Ellie to let her go faster, their lips moulding together to a series of sloppy kisses.

“See?” Ellie panted as their lips separated for air, “You can be on top all you want, but you’ll never be in control.”

Y/n moaned as the sensation of cotton rubbing against her sensitive bundle of nerves, the contours of Ellie’s abdomen acting as the perfect surface for her pleasure, murmuring out little incoherent sentences under her breath–a result of both the warm feeling that had begun to pool in her belly and the sheer exhaustion that still gnawed at her brain. Ellie whispered little praises to her, watching impatiently as her face scrunched up with every movement of her hips.

Her peak was torn away as a knock sounded on the door, Y/n finding herself falling face-first into the mattress as Ellie pushed her away as if she had burned her, tossing the blankets over Y/n’s body as the door swung open.

Y/n peeled the blankets off of her face, scowling at her unofficial girlfriend for throwing her to the side so haphazardly, though Ellie hadn’t even spared her a glance as she rushed out of bed and towards the door.

“Yo, Ellie!” Jesse marched straight in after knocking only once, “We’re gonna be late if you don’t drag your ass outta–oh.”

His gaze had quickly shifted past his friend’s alarmed expression to the flushed figure in her bed, a knowing look crossing his embarrassed features.

“Jesse, what the fuck man?”

“Sorry,” He flickered his eyes to Ellie, not wanting to let his gaze linger on the half-dressed girl longer than necessary, “We’ve got patrol, so I guess I’ll just, uh, wait outside.” He paused at the door for a final remark before closing it behind him, “Hi, Y/n.”

Ellie dropped her head in embarrassment, hands on her hips as she shook her head, “Fuck.”

Y/n crawled out of the bed, cringing as her bare feet met the cold floor. Her fingers reached for Ellie’s back, barely ghosting her spine before the brunette ripped herself away, rushing around the room to collect her things.

“Hey,” Y/n called out to her, “I know you’re probably embarrassed over that, but it’s okay. I mean, he didn’t really see anything, but–”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure he’s not dumb enough to not figure out what we were doing,” Ellie remarked as she slid her jeans up over her thighs.

“It’s not the end of the world, now is it? I mean, you know what he’s doing when he and Dina sneak off, right? What’s the difference?”

“Difference is that I know that he and Dina are dating. This isn’t exactly something that I planned on telling people about.”

The blood drained from Y/n’s face, “Oh my God, Ellie. Are you not… I had no idea that you weren’t, you know, out to everyone. I’m so sorry, I would have taken it more seriously if I–”

“What?” Ellie scrunched her face up, “Are you kidding me? I dated Cat, everyone knows that I like girls.”

Y/n paused, the sinking feeling in her stomach returning, only significantly worse than before, “So, you weren’t planning on telling people about me?”

Ellie stood up from lacing up her boots, turning to shrug into her jacket and backpack quickly as she turned back to face Y/n with a sigh. Her shoulders dropped as she took in the wide, teary eyes of the girl she had been quite intimately embracing only moments before, “Jesus, I don’t have time to deal with this right now, ‘kay? We’ll talk when I get back.”

Ellie disappeared out the door without another word or glance, leaving Y/n to collect her things and flee back to her own home.

* * *

Jackson was not a very big community,meaning that Ellie had come to know who most people were within the first three weeks of her and Joel settling into Jackson for good. Seth was a cranky old asshole, Big Frankie had a bad temper, and Jennifer was cheating on her husband with his brother, only he was too blind to see it. Joel wasn’t exactly one for gossip, so she did her best to follow by example and ignore the kinds of reputations that people held until she could judge for herself. That was until she met Dina.

Dina was the kind of girl who people aimed to please. Generally everyone was instantly drawn to her; pretty, smart, and confident, the kind of girl that everyone wanted to be or wanted to be with. She was the first person that Ellie seemed to actually click with, so of course she was willing to hear and trust her opinion of other Jackson locals. With older people, the general consensus was that they were either nice or absolute dicks with no in between, though things were much more complicated with people closer to their own age.

There was a clear social hierarchy among the Jackson youths. Dina, of course, was among the top of this status quo, and had very strict opinions of those who she personally did not like. There were a handful of people who Dina wasn’t the biggest fan of, but there was no one else in Jackson that Dina seemed to dislike more than Y/n, though she was never very open about exactly why she didn’t like her, beyond several petty comments or calling her mean names when she passed by with a smile. Jesse had even let it slip one night just before greening out that Dina had once been friends with the girl, but was too out of it to tell her anything else.

Ellie decided that anyone who could have caused such hatred in Dina must have been the scum of the earth, and that it was in the best interest of herself and the relationship that she had with Dina to take up similar opinions, though she still couldn’t quite figure out how that kind of dreadful personality could exist within such a cheerful facade. Of course, Ellie was aware of the reputation that she had around town, and she had taken notice of how she seemed to hang around with different guys every few weeks, but did that necessarily mean that she was an awful person? She had also seen the way that she interacted with others around town, and had heard from Maria how sweet she was with the dogs when she worked at the kennels–things just weren’t adding up.

When she asked Dina, she was quite vague about the actual issue that she had with the girl, instead choosing to explain why Ellie shouldn’t like her.

“She’s slept with half the guys in Jackson, and tried with the other half. Guess they weren’t desperate enough to stoop to that level.” Dina had scowled, “Plus she’s such an airhead. Like, I figured that people nowadays needed to have some kind of common sense, but jeez.”

To be quite honest, Y/n was one of the first people who she had taken explicit notice of in Jackson, aside from Tommy and Maria, of course. She was the kind of girl that Ellie just couldn’t look away from, and always seemed to have a peaceful and soft aura about her. Whenever they happened to run into each other, she always greeted her with a smile and a soft hello, only to turn beet red and retreat when Dina came sidling up beside her. Whenever they were both at the Tipsy Bison, Ellie’s eyes couldn’t stop themselves from following her movements, internally cringing as she watched guys run their hands over her body and pulling a boisterous laugh out of her.

“Can’t believe Keith is the guy of the week,” Dina raised her brows at the sound of the obnoxious giggling.

Jesse shrugged, keeping a neutral position that would only prove to piss his girlfriend off even more, “He’s a nice guy. Seems to like her.”

She snorted, “They always seem to like her, until they get what they want. After that, I guess she lets people see the real her.”

Later on that night, Ellie did actually get to know the real her after Dina and Jesse pulled their infamous disappearing act, and she still couldn’t figure out what kind of person could be so awful under such a starkly opposite front. She quickly grew to like Y/n much more than she wanted to–she wanted to be a loyal friend, to hate the same people that Dina did, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to. But what Dina didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

It hadn’t seemed to be in the best interest of anyone to be open with her relationship with Y/n just yet. Dina would likely have given her the cold shoulder for God-knows how long, as she so often did with people, Jesse would have been forced to ignore her wherever possible, and Y/n would have faced some serious consequences from Dina and, by association, Jesse.

Y/n had a reputation around Jackson, and it wasn’t as if Ellie was put off by it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was just the latest obsession and would soon be kicked to the curb. As much as she liked Y/n, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk losing Dina and Jesse if what they had was nothing more than a passing fling, so it only made sense that she hadn’t told them yet. Plus, that stupid grin on his face was enough of a reason not to tell them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” She drawled, trotting alongside him on Shimmer, “Seriously, I’ll punch that smug little smile right off your stupid face.”

Ellie was honestly surprised that he had contained it this long so far, waiting until they were a fair distance from Jackson to even prod at the questions he’s been dying to ask.

“So…” Jesse paused, unsure of how to approach the conversation without being maimed by his best friend, “How long have you guys been… Are you together?”

“No,” She answered sharply, “We’re–I don’t know. A few weeks, I guess.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think she liked girls. Does…anyone else know?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “No, Jesse, Dina doesn’t know. She would probably kill me, which is why I didn’t tell you, and why you can’t tell her. Don’t bother asking anything else, ‘cause I’m not gonna tell you.”

Jesse grunted in response, nodding in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and leaned towards her ever so slightly as he muttered out his question.

“How is it?” He laughed at her incredulous expression, “What? It’s not like you can talk about this with anyone else, can you?”

She shook her head at him, turning her face away to keep her eyes on the path ahead of them, “I don’t–I mean…” Ellie sniffed, deciding to answer now rather than be bothered by him for the rest of patrol, “Yes, it is.”

Jesse howled in amusement, “Holy shit, you like like her, I can see it on your face.”

“I do not, I just–”

“You didn’t even look this smitten with Cat, and you were down bad for her too,” He continued, “So are you gonna ask her out?”

She shrugged in response.

“I don’t see why not. I mean, people talk, but she’s actually really nice, funny, not to mention that she’s like–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Ellie pointed at him accusingly, “And you know why.”

“Because of Dina?” Jesse asked incredulously, “C’mon, don’t let her stop you from being happy. What happened between them, that’s like ancient history now, D will get over it.”

“Will she? I mean, she’s never even told me why she doesn’t like her.”

Jesse paused, almost as if he was unsure of how much he should actually reveal about the situation without betraying his girlfriend’s trust, “Listen, it’s really nothing. Just drama from when we were like thirteen, and you know that Dina can hold a grudge, but I really don’t think that she would be willing to just stop being friends with you because of it.”

Ellie shook her head once more, “Just forget it. This is supposed to be patrol, not therapy.” She chuckled at her own words, nudging at Shimmer to get her to pick up the pace and leaving Jesse in her dust.

***

The morning had progressed very slowly for Y/n. She had been left in quite a state; still frazzled from Ellie’s touches, while also distraught from her words. They hadn’t been very public about their relationship, if you could even call it that, but it hadn’t even occurred to Y/n that there might have been a reason behind the secrecy aside from Ellie’s preference to keep her life a bit more private. She knows that Ellie had been upset this morning, and she likely wouldn’t have said the things that she had otherwise, though that didn’t make it any better considering that she was upset because someone had seen them together.

Y/n knew what kind of reputation she had around Jackson. From a young age, she knew that she had issues with being alone–it terrified her to no end. Her father, while still doing the bare minimum, was not very present in her life beyond making sure that she was still breathing and punishing her for getting in trouble. Aside from that, he would have nothing to do with her, and more often than not, didn’t even spend the night in the same house as her. In truth, it would be more surprising if she hadn’t sought out comfort in others, and it was incredibly easy for her.

The first boy she ever kissed was Frank Cahill, who was a year older than her and just happened to be there at the right moment. She had been crying to herself silently after a fight with her father, curling into herself on the front step of the empty house. Frank happened to be walking by and said the right words for her to fall so easily into his arms.

From then on, Y/n fell in love with just about every guy she had ever been with. She needed companionship, and guys were willing to give it to her for the price of her body. The only issue being that not many stuck around afterwards, and some weren’t willing to “work for it” beyond what they deemed necessary, so she truthfully could not deny most of the rumours that had gone around about her. Of course, she wasn’t stupid and knew that many of these guys didn’t really like her, but those who were good enough at acting to trick her into believing their sweet whispers truly took a toll on her.

Which is why she was so caught off guard by Ellie’s treatment. Ellie had criticised the way that she allowed guys to treat her in the past, but made it clear to her that she didn’t think of her any differently because of it. If the embarrassment hadn’t been caused by the fact that she was a girl, it left her with no other reason other than that she was Y/n. Ellie was embarrassed to be seen with her, not because she wasn’t out yet, but because she didn’t want to be seen with Y/n in general.

Ellie was the first girl that she had ever been with. In fact, she hadn’t even considered the fact that she might like girls until she found herself seeking Ellie out and eventually beginning to fall for her. She was different from the others, seeming to actually be interested in her as a person rather than just another warm body, and even after they had slept together for the first time, she still stuck around. She was the first person to make Y/n feel like she was worth more than what she actually believed, but their interaction during the early hours of the morning made her question whether Ellie was actually as trustworthy as she had believed her to be.

Her eyes were droopy as she brushed through the soft chestnut hair of what felt like the thousandth horse of the day. She hadn’t managed to fall back to sleep after returning to her own house and needed to be at the stables for her shift only a few hours later. She was dreading the fact that Ellie would soon be returning from her morning patrol and would be coming straight there to return Shimmer for the night.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her name being called, managing a cheerful smile as her eyes fell onto Maria’s figure, then onto the shy expression of the girl behind her.

“Y/n, this is Erin, she and her brother are new around town. I figured that the stables would be a good place for her to start out, so would you mind giving her a little show around when you’re done here?”

Y/n turned to face the girl, taking in her short brown hair and cocoa skin. She smiled at her kindly, nodding to Maria before offering her a hand to shake. The pair had fallen into an easy conversation, giggling quietly together in the corner of the stables as Erin helped her finish grooming the remaining horses.

Y/n found Erin to be a welcome distraction, not even noticing when Ellie and Jesse returned their horses.

Jesse glanced over at the two girls, then back to his friend, who’s eyes hadn’t left them since they had first set foot in the stables.

“Who’s that?” She asked Steven as she handed Shimmer’s reins off to him, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of her belly.

“New girl,” He shrugged, “Weird, though. Could barely get a word out of Y/n all morning before she showed up.”

Ellie sneered as Steven led Shimmer back to her stall, resisting the urge to march over to the pair and stake her claim–but what claim? To the public, Ellie and Y/n barely know one another. They may speak in passing, but there really shouldn’t be any reason for Ellie to feel jealous over Y/n getting along with someone else. This is what she wanted, isn’t it? She had been mortified when Jesse caught them together earlier that morning, so what could have possibly changed enough in the few hours that she was gone in order for her to feel so differently?

The brunette would never admit it, but it had actually felt quite nice to be able to talk about the time that she spent with Y/n to someone–it made it feel much more real, like something real could actually sprout from their late-night talks and stolen kisses. Perhaps Dina could grow to accept Y/n as her partner, though she was certain it would take quite a bit of time for that to happen.

That dreamy image seemed to shatter as Ellie whipped around, marching out of the stables and leaving the two girls to themselves.

***

The Tipsy Bison was usually busy on Saturdays, and this one was no different. It had been a full day since Ellie had last spoken to Y/n, unable to get over her own pride and jealousy to approach her while she had Erin at her side, which seemed to be just about all the time now. She was thankful for the opportunity to get to the bar with her friends, to drink until her problems seemed so miniscule that she could almost completely forget about them.

But then she caught sight of Y/n tucked into a corner booth, sitting suspiciously close to an all-too-obvious Erin. The mixture of annoyance with Dina and Jesse, who seemed to be moments away from sneaking off, the jealousy, and the heat of the hard liquor in her veins had her fuming.

“Oh my God,” Dina had sneered in judgement, “Looks like she burned through all the guys in Jackson too fast and switched teams. Watch out, Ellie, you might be next.”

Jesse and Ellie shared a knowing look over Dina’s head, his dark eyes silently asking if she was going to do anything about the new girl blatantly flirting with Y/n, while Ellie’s simply betrayed the burning rage inside of her.

She saw her chance when Y/n got up to approach the bar, leaning her arms on the sticky bar top as she waited for Seth’s attention. Ellie sidled up alongside her, remaining a casual distance away from her as she barked out another drink order for herself.

“So you and Erin, huh?” She mumbled, glancing at the girl out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” Y/n looked around dramatically, hand rising to grasp at her own chest in shock, “Last I heard, you couldn’t be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not…what I meant.”

“No, how could I possibly know what you meant, Ellie? When one person saw us together and you suddenly didn’t want anything to do with me, what else was I supposed to think?”

She shrugged, “I don’t–”

“And Erin’s just a friend, by the way.”

Ellie chuckled humorlessly, “You’ve gotta be stupid to not see how into you she is.”

Y/n shook her head, “You know, that’s the second time you’ve called me dumb in the last two days, Ellie. And so what if she likes me? Honestly, it’s kinda nice to–” she paused, choking on a sudden onset of tears. She shook her head, refusing to allow her own emotions to spill out with Ellie present, “It’s nice to be around someone who’s not embarrassed to be seen with me.”

As if on cue, Seth placed the two drinks down in front of Y/n, allowing her to snatch them away from him and flee before Ellie could even think of a response.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us

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