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coquettepascal · 2 months ago

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purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin.

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you.

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play.

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you.

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed.

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him.

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you.

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body.

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles.

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases.

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond.

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him.

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader angst #tlou #pedro pascal

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ceruark · 3 months ago

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eat your heart out

synopsis: you’re a vampire just trying to get by via feeding on your friends, having no desire to find a mate. sunday has other plans. notes: yan! sunday x vampire! gn! reader. (yan! aventurine if you squint) words: 3,396 notes: modern au. vampires are fully integrated into society. cw: yandere themes: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, drugging. not nsfw but definitely a bit horny, my bad. a/n: apparently the key to overcoming writer’s block is having a really questionable dream

“Come on.”

“Aven, I said no.”

“Just one bite?”

“No. I’m not hungry.” You shove his face away from your arm, but he just rests his head on your shoulder in response. You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, you’ve had vodka. Your blood probably tastes like shit right now.”

The blonde scoffs at you. “It’s not my fault you have an awful alcohol palate.”

You glare at him, offended. “Wine is one of the only things I can tolerate. It’s not my fault you don’t have a more refined taste.”

Aventurine heaves a loud sigh and pouts, but drops the topic.

It’s common knowledge that, as a vampire, you need to drink blood regularly to sustain yourself. After much trial and error, you found that you can get by just fine feeding only twice a week. Thankfully, your friends don’t harbor any fear toward you and are more than willing to let you drink from them. You always feel bad for leaving such a painful mark on their wrists, but they wave away your worries, insisting that it’s not much to put up with so long as you’re fed and healthy. You’re grateful for all of them and will take what you can get, even if you have developed a particular taste for Black Swan’s and Ratio’s blood— and Aventurine’s, when he isn’t drinking that godawful liquor.

Others of your kind often tell you that it would be easier and more beneficial for you to find a mate. Drinking from a single person would mean that you could feed more frequently, and the consistency of drinking the same blood would make you stronger, and overall healthier. You’re reluctant to tell your friends that drinking blood of various types and quality leaves you feeling more lethargic than could be considered normal. They would react poorly to that information, and the alternative is something you don’t want to do— not in the near future, and maybe not ever.

The thought of being bound to one person until they die leaves you nauseous; you’d seen how well that worked out for your parents. Becoming accustomed and addicted to a single person’s blood is a tricky thing, and your father’s withdrawal symptoms had been brutal for decades. For a long time, doctors believed he would never fully recover.

So you always brush away anyone who approaches you with the intent of becoming your mate, insisting you aren’t interested and you don't need one.

Aventurine seems to be gunning for that position, anyway. He has a habit of clinging to you and flaunting his neck around you, wearing accessories that bring attention to it or leaving it completely barren while wearing a low-cut top. His intentions couldn’t be more obvious, but you refuse to acknowledge them; you love him dearly, but not enough to shatter your fear of taking in a mate.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when the bartender finally places your order in front of you: a glass of classic red wine. You perk up as they bow to you. “Apologies for the wait, we’re quite busy tonight.”

You shake your head in dismissal. You were wondering why it was taking so long to pour a simple glass of wine, but you suppose some things can’t be helped.

“No worries,” you respond with a grin. The bartender watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take your first sip, and leaves once you hum in satisfaction and go back for more.

You remain at ease for a while longer, sipping at your drink and enjoying conversation with your dear friend (who ends up ordering another drink with vodka in it, how disgusting). The two of you are in the middle of an argument about who in your shared friend group would survive in a zombie apocalypse when someone settles into the empty seat on the other side of you.

“Having a nice night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden voice sounding next to you. You manage to catch the way Aventurine’s fond gaze morphs into a heated glare, the way his laughter breaks off and his genuine smile twists into that of a bitter one.

“Sunday,” he says in greeting, though the name rolls off his tongue with loathing.

Said man’s sharp golden eyes flick to Aventurine briefly, meeting the glare with one of his own, before looking back to you. You repress a shudder and greet him with a tight smile.

Sunday Oak, world-famous actor and esteemed son of the distinguished director Gopher Wood, has an interest in you that you haven’t been able to shake. Mr. Wood had picked up a screenplay you wrote, and you were ecstatic to hear that he wanted to meet with you to further discuss your vision for the film. The movie the two of you crafted together was a massive success, and Mr. Wood quickly snatched you up, not wanting to lose your talent to another agency. He’d seen something in you— “a keen eye,” he’d said— and decided to keep you around as his assistant.

Needless to say, you were in no position to treat Sunday with anything but respect, even if he did unnerve you. The two of you met in Halovian Entertainment’s main office during a major company meeting; as the heir to the man’s fortune, he was always at his father’s side, but as his assistant, you now had a place on Mr. Wood’s other side. You two are frequently around each other, and the more you speak to him, the more he seems to pop up in your life, even in places he shouldn’t be. He has a way of conveniently being in the right place at the right time, always lending a hand when you’re struggling to carry heavy equipment, or running through lines and providing an actor’s perspective when you’ve hit a roadblock while writing a script.

He’s always showing up when you’ve gone just a few days longer than usual without feeding, standing closer to you than he usually does. He’ll linger nearby, and the normally graceful and composed actor will somehow manage to gain a small wound that causes him to bleed and fills the air with a scent you can just barely resist.

You considered him a good friend at first. You might still be taken with him if you hadn’t long since figured out that he’s trying to sink his claws into you by getting you to sink your fangs into him. His demeanor is sweet, and his blood smells even sweeter— but you know better than to bite into the apple that the devil tempts you with.

Tonight, he’s decided to crash your weekly meet-up with your friends and sit beside you at the bar. He’s wearing a sheer white top that hangs lowly around his chest, leaving his pale, unblemished neck and collarbones as yours for the taking. Aventurine eyes his outfit choice with disdain, and had this been anyone else sitting with you two, you would have called him out on his hypocrisy; the black off-the-shoulder top he’s wearing shamelessly leaves everything on glorious display.

You turn your head to face Sunday— maybe a little too fast, given the way the room seems to spin a little. You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself together against the fuzziness in your head.

“It’s nice of you to join us,” you say pleasantly, trying to smooth your smile into something less forced.

Sunday returns your smile, before shaking his head. “I wish I could join you on more friendly terms, but I do have unfortunate news.”

You straighten up, a bit alarmed. “What is it?”

“It seems teenage drama is more serious than we thought. Yanqing and Yunli are unwilling to continue to work with each other.” He sighs. “They’re both demanding that the other drop the film.”

You stare at him incredulously. “We’re already halfway through filming.”

“Yes,” Sunday says, sounding as tired as you already feel. His eyes flit to Aventurine, before looking back to you. “I’ve already discussed potential solutions with my father, but we shouldn’t go over them in… mixed company.”

As an actor under a different agency, Aventurine shouldn’t be around for a conversation like this. He narrows his eyes, giving Sunday another strained smile. “Certainly you can discuss it another time then, yes?”

“It’s an urgent matter,” Sunday answers easily. “If we have to recast and reshoot, we should have this sorted out as soon as possible.”

The blonde is about to fire off another snarky response, but pauses when you place a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right, we need to get this figured out.” You squeeze his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and make sure Veritas hasn’t killed Boothill over poker? They both left the bar pretty drunk.”

Aventurine eyes Sunday warily, then looks back to you. “Fine.” He drops his voice to a whisper, “But you come find us if he tries anything, alright?”

“He won’t,” you whisper back, “I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he stands to leave anyway. He flicks Sunday a cool look before turning his back on the two of you, wandering away from the bar and toward the casino.

You turn back to Sunday, ignoring the way your head starts swimming again. You suck in an unsteady breath. You feel hot all over, burning like a million needles are pricking at your skin. You glance at your empty wine glass with concern— alcohol never hits you this hard.

You clear your throat, putting your discomfort on the backburner for now. “So what did your father say?”

Sunday hums, propping his arm up against the counter and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There aren’t many teenage actors with the skill to replace either of them, and those with the availability are under IPC contract.”

Your eyes go wide. Halovian Entertainment and the IPC don’t mix well, under any circumstances. “He’s not seriously considering extending the casting call to them, is he? The media will be a nightmare if we do that.”

Sunday opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. He takes a sweeping gaze of the crowd around them, too close for comfort. “Perhaps it would be wise to take this conversation elsewhere.”

You nod in agreement, rising to your feet—

—and immediately go crashing toward the floor.

The burning intensifies once you’re standing, and if it was swimming before, then the room is somersaulting now. You let out a cry of distress as you flail, your hands attempting to catch onto the counter or your chair as your legs give out beneath you. One hand feebly latches onto the counter, but slips off of it. Before you can hit the ground, Sunday rushes to your side and wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice dripping with concern and something else you can’t quite place.

“Something—” You cut yourself off, surprised at the way you slur your words. “Something’s wrong.”

Sunday’s face comes into view. His brows are drawn as he clicks his tongue at you. “Did you have too much to drink?”

“No.” You shake your head, and immediately regret it. “Alcohol doesn’t affect me much.”

He frowns more at that. “Might you be getting sick?” He presses his hand to your head, feeling for your temperature. At the contact, your stomach roils, painfully contracting within you.

With horror, you realize it’s hunger. You fed yesterday— you shouldn’t start feeling hungry for at least a few days, nevermind feeling like you’re starving.

You tremble as he withdraws his hand. Your fangs poke at your tongue in your mouth, presenting themselves against your will. Standing this close to you, Sunday’s scent is too strong, and you feel your resolve hanging on by a singular thread.

“You’re running a fever.” He leans in closer, and you clench your jaw. “Do you want me to take you back to your hotel room?”

You don’t trust yourself to open your mouth right now. You shake your head, then move to separate yourself from him. You need to find your friends, any of them, and you need to do it now. But the second you manage to slip out of his grasp, you’re unsteady again, sent tumbling to the ground.

Sunday quickly catches you by the arm before you can fall and pulls you back toward him. The arm around your waist is firm this time.

“Please,” he says, sounding stressed, maybe even a bit desperate. “Let me walk you back. You can’t make it back in this state.”

You want to talk, want to tell him that no, he doesn’t need to escort you back— in fact, you’d rather him take you to one of your friends. But you can’t, not with the way your hunger overrides your brain and leaves you salivating. You can only bring yourself to nod slowly. Once he dumps you in your room, you can call Aventurine up and feed all you like.

The walk to the elevator is agonizing, but the ride up to the thirteenth floor is even worse. At least near the bar, you could distract yourself by catching bits and pieces of the patrons’ conversations, or by staring at the lights of the machines at the casino.

In the small and confined space with no lights or sounds— just you and Sunday— it’s much harder to ignore the roaring of your stomach. Unconsciously, the hand you have settled on his hip to steady yourself tightens, your nails digging harshly into his shirt and leaving crescent marks in his flesh.

He looks at you again, eyes shining in what seems to be anticipation. You would notice it if you didn’t have your gaze resolutely fixed to your feet. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You nod again, still refusing to open your mouth.

The doors slide open, and somewhere in your hunger-induced haze you manage to feel relief at the sight of your hotel door. You reach into your pocket and produce the key card. Sunday takes it from you and opens the door, holding you every step of the way until he can set you down gently on the bed.

Once you’re seated, you use every ounce of strength you have left to say, “You can go now.” Your voice is strained from the effort of holding yourself back.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone like this,” he says, and you grit your teeth at his words. “You’re clearly ill. I don’t want to risk things getting worse with no one around.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter as you close your eyes. He needs to leave, and soon, or you’re going to lose your mind.

His hand is against your head again, and you jerk away from his touch, clenching your hands into fists to ground yourself.

“At least let me take your temperature,” he pleads. “The first aid kids have medicine that will help with the fever.”

“Fine,” you concede, and he sets off to the bathroom.

His return is indicated by the bed dipping beside you and the sound of the first aid kit being rummaged through. You feel the press of the thermometer against your forehead, and then hear a beeping sound go off.

“102,” he says, sighing. “I’m going to give you some Tylenol, alright?”

You nod weakly. You sincerely doubt the medication will help with your particular ailment. You hear the packaging being ripped open, and for a long moment there’s nothing else.

And then, you smell it: the metallic, unmistakable scent of blood.

Your eyes fly open, pupils blown wide as they lock onto Sunday. He’s pricked himself on the needle in the first aid kit, and a small bead of blood sits on the end of his index finger.

Were you in your right mind, you might have been able to piece it together: the way the bartender watched you as you drank the wine, the way Sunday was in the right place at the right time again, and the way he holds the needle in a way that makes the injury look more purposeful rather than accidental. But such a train of thought has no chance of departing when your blood is roaring in your ears and your carnal instincts take over.

In an instant, you're lunging at him. One of your hands grips the side of his neck and the other settles on his hip again. You push him onto the mattress, using your body weight and enhanced strength to pin him down.

Your lips brush momentarily against the soft skin of his neck before you open your mouth wide and bite into him.

Sunday lets out a soft groan as your fangs pierce his neck. Your fangs hold no venom yet he finds himself going still, paralyzed from pleasure. Despite the stabbing sensation, he cranes his neck and presses it against your lips as much as he can, trying to make access to his blood even easier for you. In a haze of his own, he reaches up and tangles one of his hands into your hair, placing the other on the small of your back and pulling you into him even more.

His blood is sweet against your tongue— sweet like syrup, as sweet as he is to you. You’re past the amount of blood you need to drink to be sustained, but you persist in drinking, indulging yourself just this once. You need more, taking in such big gulps of it that it spills out of the sides of your lips and dribbles down your chin.

You move lower, trailing tiny bites down his neck until you bite down firmly into his shoulder, taking as much as you please. He breathes shallowly and moans at every nip and bite, but he makes no move to push you away. If anything, he only holds you tighter against him.

He trails a hand down your back, and a coherent part of your mind registers that his hold on you has gone slack. Suddenly, an urgency to stop manages to cut through the fog still lingering in your mind. If you drink anymore than you already have, you’re going to leave him weak and seriously injured.

You detach your fangs from his shoulder and peel yourself off of him. He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, desire evident and overflowing in his gaze. His hair is a mess from the rough way you handled him while keeping him pinned down. His chest rises and falls with the ragged breaths he takes now that you’ve stopped, drawing your attention to the blood smeared along his neck and shoulder, staining his white shirt beautifully. He reaches for your hand, delicately placing his own on top of it.

Coming to your senses, you pull your hand back as though you’ve been burned. And you have, in a sense— the realization of the night’s events and what he’d done to you hits you all at once. You pivot backward, scrambling away from him until your back slams harshly into the bed’s headboard.

Surprisingly, Sunday follows you, using the last of his strength to rise and move across the bed to sit at your side. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you against him. You curl in on yourself, turning your face toward the wall and away from him.

You can feel the haze already starting to pull at the corners of your mind. Whatever he drugged you with is still in your system, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re hungry again.

In a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, you ask, “Why did you do this?”

You can feel him hum where your back is pressed against his chest, then you feel his fingers settle on your chin. He coaxes you into looking at him, grasping your face gently and slowly turning it toward him.

The affection in his eyes makes your stomach turn. With what, you do not know.

“I thought it might be nice if you wanted me as much as I want you.”

He moves his hand to cup your face and pulls you toward him. He presses his lips against yours, relishing in the taste of his blood on your lips.

#yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere x reader #yandere sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday x reader #ceru.writes #ceru.yan #this fic came to me in a vision

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hugsandchaos · 7 months ago

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One of the things I think that would result in one of those “Villains actually being nice” scenarios is when Danny, either in human or ghost form, is trying to study in some secluded area and the Lunch Lady shows up. Danny’s all “Oh, no, you don’t! I have a test tomorrow!” and she actually listens and goes “Oh, my apologies, dear.” and they just sit in silence instead.

Now Danny has a habit that had already developed before becoming half ghost, a habit called “not eating dinner and staying up later than he realizes because he’s so focused studying”. His stomach growls loudly like he hadn’t eaten all day, and he probably hasn’t, but he completely ignores it. Lunch Lady soon comments on it, but Danny just brushes it off saying that he’ll eat later. Lunch Lady presses on, maybe ranting about how important it is to eat even as a half ghost, and slowly gets irritated until Danny lets it slip that he often goes with only two meals a day because everyone keeps interrupting lunch and he’s sometimes so tired that he sleeps through dinner or just keeps studying and looses track of time, and that this isn’t a new thing either.

Lunch Lady wins in the end, giving him something that’s not poisoned like Danny suspected, and made a promise to herself not to attack during lunchtime anymore. Or any meal time. As a ghost, her obsession is making sure people eat healthy, not just children. Realizing that she was often the reason he missed meals hurt a lot, and she’s determined to make it right. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even try to stall other ghosts so Danny can eat.

Lunch Lady’s redemption arc!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp lunch lady ghost #redemption arc

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razorblade180 · 4 months ago

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Yang:Jaune, I’m conflicted. *raises baby* We did such a good job. Look at her little face.

Yujin:*giggles*

Yang:We could make more of these, but that process was brutal!

Jaune:You saying that makes me wonder if my dad was terrible at protection, or was my mom obsessed with her work. *boops Yujin’s nose*

Yang:How are you not!? She’s so chunky and soft and aaah! *snuggles baby* I love her.

Jaune:I love her too.

Yang:How did my mom just get rid of this?

Jaune:Well that took a turn! God damn Yang!

Yang:It crossed my mind! I guess I could ask her. Not like I don’t know where she is. Still a little shocked dad let her moved back in.

Jaune:I’m not. I mean your mom is really-

Yang:…

Jaune: A lot like you. How could he not want her around. I’m gonna get the car seat.

Yang:Nice save.

xxxxxx

Raven: *opens door*

Yang:*presents child* How could you give up something like this so quickly?

Raven:…Nice to see you too. And I didn’t. A year isn’t quick.

Yang:What? You had me for a year!?

Raven:Of course I did. Did you really think I birthed you and immediately handed you to Tai? I made sure you were healthy and were going to stick around. I even breastfed you.

Yang:I didn’t know any of that.

Raven:Of course not. You were tiny and the only other people around were bandits. It’s not like there’s a picture of me with a sword in my left and baby on my hip. You were clothed and didn’t have a weird head shape. We bonded all the time then I gave you to tie.

Yang:Huh…the more you know.

Raven:For what it’s worth, I did cry seeing you for the first time and after I gave you up. I’m no real mom but I do love you. Bonding with babies is like swallowing a ball of anxiety. They’re so fragile. It’s why I haven’t with yours yet. Feeling a bond snap is highly unpleasant. She looks pretty healthy though. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Bonding can wait until she’s one.

Yujin blinks twice before holding her arms out in a feeble attempt to reach the person that looks like her mom. Raven holds out her hands and is given the chunky gal. She places Yujin against her chest and the girl immediately rests her head in peace. Raven glances upward to see Yang processing the scene before her eyes. The bandit queen reaches for her daughter and pulls her in too.

Yang:*red* Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.

Raven:You looked like one just now. Not that I mind. You always did like being held like this. *rubs head*

Yang:…*closes eyes* I guess I know why now.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby lasting embers #yang xiao long #jaune arc #raven branwen #rwby dragonslayer

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racewinnerlandonorris · 11 days ago

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this year as a lando fan while it’s had its highs (it been great to witness everything he’s achieved) it’s been an absolute struggle more so than any other year, i’ve feel myself becoming less and less attached to the sport and to do so in the year he got his maiden win and was “fighting” for wdc feels so shitty. and the fact is it’s got absolutely nothing to do with lando himself, i will continue to support him no matter what, but the discourse surrounding him, people trying to minimise every achievement he got, the bombardment of hate towards him has been nothing less than disgusting, psychotic and heartbreaking. i used to come on this site and go through landos tag to see if id missed anything he’d been up to and it was something that brought joy to my day, however now i can’t scroll through the lando tag without seeing hate directed his way by people, (who are not only losing a few braincells with their inability to correctly anti tag), who just think it’s fun to wish injury and death on people and dont seem to understand the irony in a lot of their posts. not forgetting the insane lando hate anon, while yes i enjoyed laughing at, would flood lando fans inbox’s with hate anytime he so much as breathed. anytime i go on twitter i see more hate for lando from other drivers fan accounts than i see positive things about their drivers. the anti lando hate train that some people think is cool to be on isn’t. and it just shows how rotten of a person you are if no matter what your supposed favourite driver does the first words out of your mouth are about lando norris and reason 626174 of why you hate him. it’s very telling when people who claim they aren’t fans are more obsessed with talking about him than those who are, i beg you all seek help and get a hobby because this type of behaviour isn’t healthy both for yourself and for others around you to witness.

#idk i’ve been feeling removed for a while now #like yes i’ll always watch the race because i want to see him compete and do what he loves #but the discourse around everything is so draining that sometimes i just can’t stand to be around it #anyways happy 2 week break from hell #this also ended up being a lot longer than i originally thought it would be but i just wanted to get it all off my chest #lando norris they will never make me hate you but they will make me hate the sport and the toxicity #anyway lando girlies (gn) i am so happy the majority of us seem to have our heads screwed on and don’t make hatered our entire personality

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amirasainz · 1 month ago

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So, I don't know if you do the October writing thing like everyone else, but could you please do Vampire Lewis with Reader and he is always drinking her blood and makes her believe that it's good, manipulates her, etc.... And some of the other driver are vampires as well and tell him that he is obsessed with reader and it's not healthy and unfair to her. So he gets mad and leaves with his girl the country?

Sorry, if my english is very bad

Omg,this was so much fun. If you guys send me more supernatural requests, I'll definitely write them.

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Dark Red

The dim light of the post-race debriefing room cast long shadows over the tense faces of the Formula 1 drivers, who were assembled after a grueling race at Monza. The air buzzed with a strange energy, not just from the post-adrenaline rush, but from something darker, more primal. They were all vampires, powerful and ancient, each with their own quirks and vices, but something—someone—stood out.

Lewis lounged in his seat, the sleek lines of his jaw catching the light as he rested against the chair. His eyes, a glowing, hypnotic amber, fixated on the girl in his lap, Y/N. She sat perched there, her head resting against his chest, neck tilted slightly, exposing the delicate skin of her throat. Her eyes were half-closed, lost in a haze of pleasure and something more dangerous.

Lewis's lips brushed her neck as he whispered soothingly, "You’re doing so well, love. Just relax. It’s good for you… so good for you." His voice was a melodic purr, designed to lull her deeper into the thrall he had her under. She didn’t protest as his sharp fangs pierced her skin again, drawing from her in slow, deliberate sips.

The other drivers, scattered around the room, noticed the scene unfolding but said nothing at first. It wasn’t unusual for Lewis to indulge in a feeding post-race, but this… this was different.

Max , seated across from them, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, the blue of his irises glinting as he exchanged glances with Charles and Lando. Something wasn’t right.

“Mate, you’re taking it too far,” Max finally spoke up, his voice low but firm. "She’s human, Lewis. You’ve been drinking from her too much."

Lewis lifted his head from Y/N’s neck, his lips stained with crimson. He didn’t bother wiping it off, his tongue darting out to lick the blood from his fangs. His eyes flicked lazily toward Max, amusement dancing in them.

“She’s mine,” he said simply, possessively, as though that answered everything. Y/N, dazed, shifted in his lap, clearly drained yet completely unaware of how much control Lewis had over her.

Charles leaned forward, his usually soft features hardened with concern. “You’ve made her dependent on you. She can’t think straight anymore. It’s… unhealthy.”

Lewis smirked, brushing Y/N’s hair away from her neck as if showing off his work, her pale skin now littered with faint scars from where he had fed from her repeatedly. "She loves it," he said softly, almost too softly, running a finger along the bite marks. "Don’t you, love?"

Y/N, her voice weak, nodded, “Y-Yes… it feels good…” Her words were a hushed breath, as though she couldn’t quite find the strength to speak louder.

Lando, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, glanced at the others. “This is… this isn’t fair to her, Lewis. You’re not giving her a choice anymore.”

Lewis’s jaw clenched, and his eyes flared briefly with anger. “A choice?” His voice was venomous now. "She made her choice the moment she wanted to be with me. I’m giving her everything—pleasure, protection… she doesn’t need anything else."

But the room wasn’t convinced. Max leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing with irritation. “This isn’t about protection. You’re obsessed. You’re draining her, and not just her blood—you’re taking her will. There are rules for a reason, Lewis. You can’t keep feeding off a human like this. You know that.”

Charles nodded, his expression serious. “It’s cruel. She’s too weak to even realize what’s happening anymore.”

Lewis's lips curled into a dangerous smile, his fangs glinting under the dim light. "You think I care about your rules? I’m not like the rest of you. She’s mine, and I’ll do whatever I damn well please."

The tension in the room thickened, the air almost crackling with the electric undercurrent of their ancient power. The other vampires were powerful, yes, but there was something different about Lewis—an edge, a dominance that they couldn’t quite match. He reveled in it, in the control he held over Y/N, in the way she was utterly devoted to him without even realizing the extent of his manipulation.

Then, in an act that sent shockwaves through the room, Lewis bit into his own wrist, his eyes locked on Y/N’s half-conscious face.

The other drivers froze.

“No. No, Lewis, don’t—” Charles’s voice was laced with panic as he shot up from his seat.

But it was too late. Lewis pressed his bleeding wrist to Y/N’s lips, forcing her to drink his blood. "Drink, darling," he whispered in a low, hypnotic voice. "It’ll make you feel better."

Her lips parted weakly, and she obeyed, too far gone to resist. She drank from him, her eyes fluttering shut as the vampire blood coursed through her veins, healing her instantly. Her pale complexion gained color in an instant, the bite marks on her neck fading, disappearing altogether. But it wasn’t just her wounds that healed. She would be bound to him forever now, tied by the most sacred—and forbidden—act in their world.

Max shot to his feet, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. "You just—You gave her your blood! Are you insane? You can’t do that!"

Lando stood up too, shaking his head in shock. “You’ve broken the most important rule. You’ve just bound her to you forever. She’ll never be free of you now.”

Lewis remained calm, almost smug, as Y/N rested peacefully in his arms, her body revitalized by his blood. He ran a hand through her hair, brushing her cheek gently, as if daring them to challenge him.

"You all talk like you’re concerned for her," he said coolly, "but none of you could protect her like I can. None of you can give her what I do. She belongs to me now, fully."

Charles was seething. "That’s not your decision to make! She’s human! She didn’t agree to this!"

Lewis’s eyes flashed dangerously, his voice a low growl. "She doesn’t need to agree. I know what’s best for her."

The room was in chaos now, the drivers pacing, muttering angrily amongst themselves. But no one dared to confront Lewis directly. His power was too immense, too dangerous. They knew he’d crossed a line, but what could they do about it?

Max finally stepped forward, fury etched into every line of his face. "You’ve gone too far. This is bigger than just you and her, Lewis. You’ve broken every rule we have. You’ll be hunted for this."

Lewis stood slowly, Y/N still cradled in his arms as if she weighed nothing. His eyes locked onto Max’s, the challenge clear. "Let them hunt me. Let them try. They’ll never take her from me."

With that, he turned sharply, striding toward the door, Y/N held protectively against his chest. "We’re done here," he spat over his shoulder. "She’s mine, and I’m taking her far away from all of you. You’ll never see us again."

The other drivers watched in stunned silence as Lewis disappeared through the door, his power echoing in the room long after he was gone. They knew they had witnessed something forbidden, something dangerous—and they knew that Lewis Hamilton had just declared war on their world.

And there was nothing they could do to stop him.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #vampire!lewis hamilton #vampire!max verstappen #vampire!charles leclerc #vampire!lando norris #vampire #lewis hamilton #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #xoxo babygirl 💋

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fawnsflowerbed · 2 months ago

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♡ Puppy-lovin' ♡

A/N: Oh my goodness this took me FAR TOO LONG!!!! Commission of headcanons for my lovely sunshine anon, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE MY DARLING!!!

Even more headcanons of puppy hybrid and Leon shenanigans!!!

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! lots and lots and LOTS of fluff!!! Headcanons!!!

Word count: 3,250 approx.

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What is his biggest pet peeve that she does? (Ik he's obsessed with her HAHA but he i s still a grump at times, after all)

TEETHING. That sweet fluffy baby chews on ANYTHING she can get her little canines on. Food and water bowls, toys, chair legs, trashcans, clothes, towels, shoes. Leon has to sit you down and explain that yes you do have very pretty chompers and yes the hybrid vet said they were very healthy and you were a good girl for brushing them on your own but that doesn’t mean you have to PROVE A POINT WITH SAID TEETH!!!! SAVE IT FOR THE SQUEAKY TOYS!!!!! HIS COMBAT BOOTS DID NOT DESERVE THAT GNAWING!!!!!!

I also feel like her whimpering might sometimes get to him?? Depending on his mood. Like making dinner? Whimper. He’s in the bathroom? Whimper. Reading files? Whimper. Tv without her? Whimper. Broken record. His puppy just wants to be around him any time she can because that’s her daddy obviously, and he loves her to bits, but sometimes the man just wants to take a piss alone! We’re talking he gets a few fingers gently bapping at the gap between the floor and the door out of curiosity with mixed whines, or sometimes he has to keep it open a crack so you can hold his hand as he goes. You’re so damn lucky he loves you and that thumping tail of yours.

“Listen, listen, a man has the right to pee in peace. My puppy says otherwise, okay?” -Likely said by Leon as he’s laughing to one of his coworkers about your behaviour.

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What's something that'll make him go "Who did this, hm?" And she's like- anxiously wags,,,, like when dogs know they're guilty n stuff 😭

ONCE MORE THE CHEWING!!!! I also feel like she can’t be trusted with porcelain or glass for obvious reasons (cough cough Picture Perfect fic cough) so if he does let her eat with him at a table or anything it’s gotta be plastic. One time she’s wanting to be helpful and get him a glass of water as they’re winding down for the night, he came home from a long tedious day of work, and on her way to the faucet she’s still so excited about him being back that she completely forgets she is in fact holding a glass. When it hits the floorboards it’s instant chaos, babygirl’s sitting there staring at the shards like ‘uh oh uh oh uhohuhoh-’ and not knowing what else to do she puts a pillow over it. Because yeah honey, he’s totally gonna think that's perfectly normal.

So obviously when Leon finds it, seeing the pieces collected in a neat little pile under a cushion, he’s giving a call.

“Sunshine. C’mere a second, baby.”

And you toddle your way in with that tail slightly tucked, not making eye contact. Oh he already knows what’s going on, you’ve never been very good at lying.

“Y’know, it’s funny sweetheart. I come home from a long day of work, have an amazing dinner with my favourite girl in the world, take a nice hot shower and start getting ready for bed. But right as I’m turning the lights off, I find this.” He gestures rather pointedly to the cushion atop the glass shards.

“And I’m thinkin’, hm, that’s odd. So I pick it up, and look at what’s hiding under it.” Picking it up by a corner of the casing, he makes sure to add an over dramatic gasp. “Broken glass! Isn’t that the strangest thing, puppy? I mean, what are the odds?” His broad shoulders shrug as if he himself can’t believe this ‘totally random’ sequence of events leading to a pile of glass ‘randomly’ appearing under a pillow. “You wouldn’t happen to know who did this, now would you honey?”

You’ve got your cute butt planted on the floor by now, looking up at him rather pitifully. Staring from beneath your lashes, tail slowly wagging back and forth across the hardwood, ears pressed back.

When you do finally speak, it’s a mumble of “I was getting you water n’ I forgot…”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You.. forgot? You forgot what, sweetpea?”

“...Forgot I was holding the glass..”

Oh his heart just melts. You’re an angel, a bit of a dummy at times, but such an angel. Leon can only shake his head with a chuckle, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “My sweet, silly girl. Let’s get this cleaned up then, alright?”

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Do you think Leon will have his days where he needs space from her from a difficult mission/assignment?

It’s a 50/50 depending on how hard the mission was. If we’re talking like freshly Vendetta Leon then definitely. He’s just so mentally drained, sometimes he just needs to have a minute to fall face first into bed, lay there for a couple of hours. He’ll leave to go to the bathroom and hear your paws padding after him but he just doesn’t have the energy to do anything more then pet you as he goes to grab another drink from the fridge. Sometimes alcohol, sometimes soda. It depends on how shitty he’s feeling, how much he wants to torture himself.

Sometimes you sit at the door with a meek whimper and swishing tail, at first confused as to why he’s so down. Pawing at the wood grain like the poor dumb girl you are, missing your favourite person and just wanting to be there with him. From time to time you crawl up into bed next to him, slipping under his arm to lay your face in the crook of his bicep, often to receive a gentle pet. “I just need a second, puppy. You’re my good girl, though.”

A few times you’ve asked him why he gets like that, why he seems to sink back into himself, and he just sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y’know how you get upset after the vet, cause they prod at your teeth with the nasty tasting gloves and you have to get your shots?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well sometimes Daddy gets like that after a really really hard day at work.”

“..If I put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it and..” You scrunch your little nose in thought, “..buy you a stuffie for being brave will you feel better?”

And he just chuckles fondly, giving your hair a gentle ruffle. God, you’re too sweet. “Maybe baby, maybe.”

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Do you think he'll get better with the drinking with her around, or do you think he still drinks? I imagine that she's not a fan, if he still does!

He definitely tries his best to at least cut down on the drinking, but I doubt he’s entirely sober since - well, it’s Leon - but he really doesn’t feel the need to sometimes. Usually when something shitty goes down he instantly goes for the bottle, but now? Now it takes a lot more to drive him into that spiral.

Most of the time when his depression hits it’s like you sense it, call it that puppy instinct, and you’re toddling your way over to lay your head on his knee and whimper. He tries not to get too drunk, he knows you hate it. How he sways and scruffs at your hair sometimes a little too hard. But he’s trying. Tries to substitute the shitty burning taste of whiskey with spicy foods as an alternative, or punish himself through tonic water only to look like an angry cat once the glass is finished. Anything other than alcohol if he can stomach it.

Because he doesn’t want you to remember him as someone who drank all the time, he wants you to remember how on the bad days he opened his arms to you and let you lay atop his chest as his own personal weighted blanket. How despite how he used to snap and draw away from everyone, how he’d shoot whiskey like it was water, you coming into his life made it all feel so much easier.

He wants you to remember that you made it easier. You made it better.

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When she gets in trouble, what is it for? And is there any form of "punishment" or "grounding"?

Timeout is HUGE, I don’t think he’d have the heart to actually ground her. One bat of those big babydoll eyes and he has to remind himself NOT to cave. The only thing he can’t do is take her toys away, that would eat the big guy up inside AND out, he knows how much you adore your stuffies and squeakies.

Usually it’s just lockup time in her pen to sit and think about what she did, doing his best to ignore the pitiful sound of your whines of guilt. He knows you hate timeout, but he doesn’t really know how else to punish you! That or taking away your weekly movie night until you behave, which means no 2 or so hours of uninterrupted cuddle time on daddy’s lap, which is worse than a jail sentence in your opinion.

The cone of shame has yet to be used, same for muzzles. You’ve cut it pretty close a few times with any of the ladies who stick around and talk to him too long though! He had no clue his sweet sunshine baby had a knack for nipping at ankles.

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Does she beg for food, and if so, how does Leon go about dealing with it?

BIG puppy dog eyes at the table, sitting at his feet. Sometimes he caves, because duh, you’re his baby. But Chris keeps saying he needs to be more stern so he tries and tries and TRIES. But you have those HUGE glossy blinkers on blinky mode up at him, and your tail is swish swish swishing happily against the wooden grain and you just look so ready to get a little bite of whatever he’s got and who is he to deny you? You who wakes him up with kisses and cuddles, who trots along behind him everywhere he goes. You sit at the window and wait for him to get home from work for god’s sake, surely a little piece of food is nothing, right?

He’ll do it cause he loves you, other times cause he wants to see how you’ll react. One time you gave him the puppy stare for a lick of the hot sauce he got to go with his wings, which was a moment of instant regret on your end. Leon had to bite back the biggest smile with an “Is it good, baby?” Watching you smack your lips and tongue with a scrunched up face and furrowed eyebrows. Shaking your head around and yapping as if the taste was a personal attack on you.

Sometimes you even get fancy with it, padding from leg to leg at his feet, doing little spins out of excitement for whatever tasty morsel he’s about to drop into your mouth. I mean c’mon, how is he supposed to resist it?

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How does he interact with her in his depressive states, and how does she comfort him?

You 100% believe he needs a stuffie. So you’re dropping your toys in his lap with big wet eyes and a slow swaying tail. It has to make him feel better, right?

Leon has two main moods when he’s in his depressions. ‘I’ve ruined everything, no one come near me.’ And ‘I’ve ruined everything, please don’t leave me alone.’ Swinging between these moods like an unstable seesaw, but he just can’t bring himself to pull you down with it. Who is he to look you in the eye and tell you to go away, when all you want to do is help? You’re not a bad girl, not a bad dog, so why should he lecture you on behaviour that comes as natural to you as breathing? Your kindness and need to ensure he’s as happy as you are, it’s practically built into your little puppy brain. Because he’s your daddy, and you love him.

So he tries his hardest. He lays on the couch for his usual hour of slumping but keeps an eye out for a swishing tail, an ear out for any little whimpers. You’re climbing into his lap, crawling all over him to put your weight on him, cuddling up like a plush toy.

And he wraps his arms around you silently, letting you be his anchor.

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When she asks to come with him to work, how does he respond? (Bc obvi she can't come fight bioweapons with him,,)

Sometimes he’ll take her when he has desk duty and Hunnigan just MELTS she LOVES your sweet little tailed self. But other times either he has to call Becca and Claire over to babysit you, cause there’s no way that he can leave his poor sweet girl at home alone! And you whimper and whine the whole time but it’s either that or coax you to go to the DSO before Claire comes to pick you up after the work day is finished.

Like how is he supposed to look at you and go ‘no baby you can’t go with daddy to work because daddy shoots bugs and-’

BUGS? YOU LOVE BUGS!!!! BUGS DESPISE YOU SO YOU’LL BE SO GOOD ON BUG DUTY!!!!

“I know puppy, I know. But daddy’s going in a biiiiiiig metal bird, and I know you love to chase birds so I can’t take you with me. Cause what if you bite the bird too hard, huh? Then daddy can’t buy you new toys! Can’t have that happening, sunshine. So, how about this. You can sit at daddy’s desk next to miss Hunnigan and when I talk to her over the little ear phone she can pass it over to you and you can have a chat with me. Is that okay? Yeah?”

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How does he react when she catches things for him, like bugs or something? (he def didn't ask her to LOL) I feel like she'd be eyeing a moth or something and be like omg a present for daddy :33 (she has good intentions fs)

That man honestly gets a leaf bug or moth at his feet once a month. A little half chewed, he saw you spitting out tufts of wing a few minutes ago so he can guess that’s why. You’ve always been a jumper, pouncing and bouncing around the yard or when he takes you for walks. So it’s no wonder you started up this habit.

“Yes- yes baby, I know you got it just for me and- mhm. Mhm I do love it honey but I just think- And I’m so proud of you for hunting it all on your own but sweetpea how about instead you bring me.. I don’t know, fuck- wait don’t say that word. Hm. I don’t know leaves you find interesting.”

Stupid man. Dumb dumb idiot man. Next thing he knows there’s a small collection of leaves lined up at the back door. He’s gotta figure out an alternative and fast, boy.

Has he ever had to bandage her up bc she did something dumb that he warned her not to do? 😭

That girl’s mortal enemy is anything that like, rears up at her. Praying mantises, spiders, grasshoppers, wasps and bees. If it moves, and it moves in a way that she perceives as a threat, it will be bapped with her hand.

“Hey- hey woah woah woah woah woah- easy there, tiger.” He’s scooping you up off the grass as you’re growling and yapping at whatever insect has made the mistake of buzzing too close to his sweet girl. “That’s a praying mantis, baby. If one of those big claws gets you, it’s gonna scare the sh- ahem, it’s probably gonna spook you.”

Five minutes later when he sets you back down he hears a startled yelp followed by you scampering around the backyard waving your face back and forth. Yeah he should’ve expected that. Watching as you finally flick the bug away with a huff of disapproval, which is followed by a very overdramatic whimper in Leon’s direction. Obviously need of love and affection after such a traumatic experience. Nothing a bit of antiseptic and plenty of well placed kisses won’t fix.

SO many scrapes. Bee stings, ant bites, mosquito bites, scratches and bruises from bouncing around the yard and house. He had to buy the Sanrio bandaids to patch you up or you refused to sit still. Thankfully your new favourite thing is barking at the other hybrids on the tv, an activity that WON’T result in several bruises. Maybe an earache or two, perhaps a sore throat, but hey, that’s better than box upon box of bandaids.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

When he wants her inside, and she does that one excited play pose (you know the one HAHA), does he entertain it, or does he know better to just go inside because she'll follow? LMAO

You’re padding your way around through the grass of the backyard, tail high and wagging proudly. You’d been very successful in your burying of a bone, planting your own little territory outside the house, and because of that success a buzz ran through your body. Being the jitterbug you were with a case of the zoomies coming on, you gave your ears a shake out when Leon’s whistle was heard.

“Puppy? C’mon, babygirl. It’s getting dark.”

But you were just getting started! Maybe you could convince him, after all if puppies had to listen to their daddies, surely daddies had to listen to their puppies right? That’s, like, the law. And you still have so much energy!

So, ever the bouncy pup you are, you crouch down into ‘the pose’. Everyone knows which one. The one you pull when you’re telling another hybrid you wanna play, the half bow with you eyes locked on him and a fast wagging tail.

“Baby- no. Oh, don’t give me that face..” Leon runs a hand over his face with a long sigh, biting back a smile with all the teeth he can manage.

But you’re giggling with that big grin on your face, hands braced like paws against the grass and ears perked up expectantly.

“Honey..no. Now-

As soon as he takes a step towards you, no matter how small it is, you’re jumping in a little circle with happy yaps. Next thing he knows you’ve got the zoomies, and you’re bounding your way through the freshly-clipped lawn. All he can really do is lean against the outside wall and wait for you to run out of energy, arms crossed with a grin on his face. IIt doesn’t last too long thankfully, a few bounces, a couple of spins and you’re trotting over to him panting. He watched the whole thing, your tail wagging a gazillion miles an hour each time you hopped, skipped, and jumped. You always found endless ways to entertain yourself outside, Leon really didn’t know how you did it.

And yeah, it was getting dark out, but it was only a few minutes more of watching his sweet girl bound around happily, he’d only really try to rouse on you if it was for your safety. But right now? As your big eyes watch fireflies fill the backyard’s air, pawing weakly up at them between giggles, he knows it’s worth it.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

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riality-check · 1 year ago

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Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hoh steve harrington #jewish eddie munson #(he snuck his way in here)#rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #st #steanger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #gi;pe au

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angelofsmalldeath-codeine · 10 months ago

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We all love Pedro and want to see him succeed and get all the accolades he so much deserves and are well overdue, if you ask me.

Now, can we also remember he is a real person, with feelings, good and bad days and deserving of respect?

Pedro is also an affectionate person who shows his family and friends his love through touch. And it’s refreshing to see someone on the media who is true to themselves and isn’t afraid of showing that affection in public spaces. However, people take that and run straight into speculating about his sexuality as if it mattered.

We are all here talking about how we wish there were more men showing healthy masculinity and being affectionate. But when a man does it, the band wagon of speculation and criticism judging their sexuality gets so damn full it needs to take many trips. We can’t have it both ways (and no, this is not a bisexual joke).

Yesterday, on many different social media platforms, be it individuals’ profiles or media channels, there were comments on Pedro’s sexuality. They varied from the trousers he wore, the hugs he gave his friends, or because he kissed one of them on the lips. Then they jumped into speculating if he had a threesome with those people he showed affection to. He’s also never exposed his romantic life and relationships, and people take that as a license to comment.

My question is, why in the of year 2024 of our lord and saviour Dolly Parton, the obsession with other people’s sexuality still persists? Even worse, why is it festering among the people who supposedly support them? The fandom can become such a toxic space…

When he disappears for months, the same people complain of the content drought, people complain no stop. Has anyone even paused to wonder why he is no longer being so accessible as he used to be?

I’m happy that Pedro is finally getting the recognition for his work. He’s worked hard to get to where he is now. He deserved that Golden Globe and I hope he gets the Emmy. 2023 was a fantastic year for him and we have enough content from his fictional characters to write fics for years. From Joel to Tim Rockford to Mr Ben in his assembly era to Mando, we’ve been fed.

He’s got a lot of projects coming up in 2024 and I’m excited to see him shine.

Anyway, rant over and I will go stand on the corner awkwardly.

#pedrohub #pedro pascal fandom #pedroispunk #pedro pascal is beautiful #hemmy’s rant

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myeagleexpert · 4 months ago

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Throw wood on the fire

Pairing: Tim Drake/Red Robin x YN AFAB Warning: yandere fic, toxic relationaship, he's possessive, you're stubborn, obsessive, emotional manipulation, nswf (pt 2) Summary: You and Tim have always been soulmates, but it's so suffocating that you've reached your limit. It's time to break up with Tim. Note: Reader is described and represented as YN or as "You" because, grammarly, I'm trying to adapt the text so that it is more harmonious! Eng is not my mother language, so often the way I write does not relate to the translator and I have to translate most of my works manually. Therefore, thank you for understanding!

After a great night spent with your friends, having fun and bringing lightness to life, without even worrying about the time. But as the night is young, you have an annoying alarm telling you that it's time to go back to bed: Tim. You enter yours a luxurious apartment in the city center. Your shoulders immediately tensed when you heard his voice demanding answers.

"YN where were you??" He immediately grabs your arm and demands to know where you've been and why you were so late getting back

"Relax Tim, I just went out with my friends" you say taking off your red high heels, sighing heavily as you have this same conversation…for the fifth time.

Tim's expression remains stern as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I don't care if you were out with your friends," he retorts.

"I told you to be back by 10 PM. It's midnight." mentally you ignore him as you take off your fancy suit and place your bag on a couch in the living room.

Tim follows after you, his annoyance growing with every step. "That's not an excuse," he snaps, his voice sharp. "You knew what time you were supposed to be home, and you didn't even try to keep track of the time."

He watches as you start walking to your room, and he grabs your hand to stop you. "We're not done talking about this." he says firmly. "You need to understand how worried I was about you being out so late."

"We just talked about it. I came back late by accident, it already happened there's no way back. I said I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Happy now?" Irritated, you release your hand from his grip and return to your route.

Tim's jaw clenches tightly as he listens to your response. He clearly isn’t satisfied with your dismissive attitude.

"No, I'm not happy," he replies with a mix of irritation and frustration in his voice. "You don't seem to understand how big of a deal this is for me. You're supposed to be mine, and I need to know where you are, what you're doing, who you're with. It's for your own safety."

"When did such a healthy relationship become so suffocating? Where is the Tim I knew? Why is it getting more and more tiring to continue this?" YN thinks, searching the timeline for where and when the red flags started to appear… and when she started ignoring them.

"I'm your girlfriend, I'm not an object to possess Tim." I look at him seriously "We've talked about this before, I'm going to sleep now. You can't control me 24 hours." Tim's expression hardens even more as you challenge him. He's not used to being contradicted or questioned, especially when it comes to you.

Your therapist said that in moments like this it was ideal to remain calm and that counting to 10 would help to calm down and not explode at others.

1....2....3.......

"You're my girlfriend, and that means you're mine," he insists firmly. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to protect you. Can't you see that?"

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I care about you, more than anything else. I can't stand the thought of something happening to you. It drives me crazy when I can't keep an eye on you."

4......

You increase the distance and turn your back to Tim, ignoring his words while you change your clothes and put on satin pajamas. He looks at you irritated as you lie down on the big bed, covering me with the soft linen blankets. Tim’s eyes follow you as you changed into your pjamas and climbed into bed, his irritation growing with every movement you make. He stands there, his fingers clenched tightly into fists as he watches you get comfortable in bed.

“You’re seriously just going to go to sleep now?” He asks, his voice tight with frustration. “We’re not done talking about this.”

"I would love to talk about this with you, but as you can see, I'm already asleep. And good night dear, be careful the bogeyman doesn't get you" you say sarcastically as you cover your head with the sheets, mentally praying that Tim will give up any upset tonight, your patience has been...very little.Tim's jaw clenches even tighter as he listens to your sarcastic retort. He's clearly not amused by your dismissive attitude and attempts to end the discussion.

5....

He takes another step towards the bed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You're seriously being a brat right now? I'm trying to talk to you like an adult, but you're just acting like a child, YN."

He stops at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a mixture of irritation and frustration in his eyes. "You can't just shut me out and expect this conversation to go away," he continues, his voice firm. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. You can't just pretend it didn't happen!"

"Tim." you look at him seriously "I don't want to talk about it now, I'm tired and sleepy. We'll talk about it tomorrow."Tim's expression softens slightly as he meets your gaze, but his stubbornness remains. He sighs heavily before replying.

"I don't want to wait until tomorrow," he says, his voice still firm but slightly calmer. "I need to know what happened tonight. Where were you? Who were you with? What were you doing?"

6.....

"If you keep insisting, I'm going to go out in my pajamas and sleep at a friend's house." You threaten him as you run your hand through your hair, for a moment, Tim's gaze turns dark, he knows you have the audacity to do this.

"You're really going to leave in the middle of the night and go sleep at one of your friends' houses? Over this?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of irritation and disbelief.

7.....

"Goodnight darling." You get up irritated and give him a kiss as you get out of bed. Still in your pajamas, you take your car keys and I go out to the garage where my beloved car awaits me. Tim follows hot on your heels, his expression a mix of alarm and determination.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he calls out, his voice tinged with worry.

He can't believe you're actually leaving in the middle of the night. He catches up to you just as you're about to get in your car.

Tim grabs your arm, trying to stop you from getting into the car. "You can't just leave like this," he says urgently. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. I need to know that you're safe."

You take his hand off your arm and say dryly "I'm fine and safe as you can see, see you tomorrow. I'm not going to talk to you irritated!" YN say, getting into the car and turning on the ignition, pressing the control to open the gate.

8.....

Tim's expression turns to one of frustration and helplessness as he watches you get into the car. He knows he can't stop you from leaving, but it kills him to see you so upset and willing to walk out in the middle of the night.

"Damnit, don't do this," he says, his voice pleading. "Please don't drive off in anger. Just come back inside and we can talk about this like adults."

He takes a step closer to the car, leaning down to look at you through the open window. His expression is a mix of concern and desperation.

9....

"Please, just don't drive off like this. It's the middle of the night, and I'm worried about you being out alone. Just come back inside, and we can talk this out."

"I don't want to talk right now." you start the car and start walking when he stops irritated, and almost crying, in front of the car "Excuse me, I need to pass if you don't mind" you say disguising the anger and frustration, honking the horn calmly. Tim takes a step back, his arms falling to his sides in frustration. He watches with a mix of anger and helplessness as you start to drive away.

But just as you're about to pass him, he steps in front of the car, blocking your path.

“TIM!”

Fuck counting to 10...

"What the hell are you doing?" he blurts out, his voice tight with irritation and worry. "You're really going to drive off like this in the middle of the night? It's not safe!"

He stands in front of the car, his eyes locked on yours through the windshield. "God Damnit, just stop and talk to me," he pleads, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and desperation. "We can't just leave things this way. You can't just walk out and leave in the middle of the night without talking to me about what happened tonight."

"I'll text one of your robots to read." you respond sarcastically while rolling your eyes, but after taking a deep breath, you try to negotiate with him "If you stay quiet, I'll come back and sleep on the couch. If you keep insisting like this, I'll leave now and only come back in the morning" I turn on the car and make the engine make a loud noise.Tim listens to your response, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. He clenches his fists at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to argue further.

Tim considers your offer for a moment, his mind racing with frustration and worry. But he knows he doesn't really have a choice right now.

"Fine," he finally says, his voice tight. "But we are going to talk about this in the morning. And you better not try to sneak out again tonight."

He takes a step back, allowing you to drive off, but his expression is still filled with irritation and worry. He watches as you drive off, his mind racing with frustration and insecurity.

"Damnit," he mutters to himself as he watches you drive away. "Why does she always have to be so damn stubborn."

The powefull Red Robin, stands there for a moment, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. he's torn between the need to go after you and the knowledge that you won't listen right now.

His mind races with conflicting thoughts. he's worried about your safety, but he's also irritated by your stubbornness. He knows he should just let you go for the night, but the thought of not knowing where you are or what you're doing is driving him insane.Tim takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. he knows he can't just follow your car and chase you down. That would only make things worse. But the thought of you driving off in anger and irritation, alone in the middle of the night, is eating him alive.

At that point, it was like throwing wood on the fire, fueling anger and rebellion.

As time passed, YN saw the love she felt for Tim gradually turning into a prison. Like a perfect fairy tale it lost its color, slowly turning into a horror film where she would be the only victim.

“Baby, we need to talk…”

The constant need to be together and Tim's obsession with protecting her created a web of possession that left her increasingly suffocated. Constant calls, constant paranoia, constant accusations… it was all getting too much. As heiress to her father's company, YN always tried to be at the height of the company and it was very difficult with a boyfriend demanding to know who she was with all the time, why she cared about all that and why… that man was shaking her hand .

Each day was a desperate effort to maintain some of his autonomy, while Tim became more controlling and domineering. The feeling of being constantly surrounded by a hyperprotective guard was oppressive, depriving her of space to breathe.

“How will I know she’s really your friend? !What if she wants to poison your head about our relationship?!”

YN tried to rebel against the prison that had become her relationship, her stubbornness and her independence at stake. She began to become more indifferent towards Tim's possessive efforts, trying to create the distance needed to have more control over her life. Increasing and rebuilding the walls that were previously knocked down with sarcastic, poisonous comments, trying to get back to having a busy and festive life like before. However, each attempt to regain her autonomy was met with resistance from Tim, who desperately clung to the illusion of being her protector. With every step she took toward freedom, he strived to hold her back, increasing his possessiveness and desperation to keep her by her side.

“Why do you want to go to this event alone? We're a couple, aren't we? What are you going to do there that you won’t need me?”

Little by little, the web was made by Tim's efforts and undone by YN's stubbornness, it was a tiring, exhausting process and honestly YN was already at the limit of it all.

Like a butterfly that turns and convulses its way out of its web, so YN was determined to fly free again.

The plan to sleep over at a friend Daisy's house failed, leaving only one friend on the other side of the city. YN breathes a sigh of relief as she turn off location, cell phone, and any other service that has anything that connects to it. While at his house, you took advantage of the time away from Tim and focused on your training, finally a full workout without Tim hacking the gym. You posted some photos and videos on social media, recording your workout and the breakfast you were having with your friend you met the other day.

Meanwhile, Tim was anxious and worried, unable to focus on anything other than his absence. He became even angrier when he saw your posts on social media. He knew that you were making these posts on purpose to irritate him, which only increased his anger and frustration. he tried to control himself, but he couldn't help the feeling of helplessness and anxiety that overwhelmed him. He wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, who was with you.

It was noon when you called Tim, giving him the air of your presence "Tim, are you home now? Do you want me to bring you lunch?" YN say hoping he would forget the conversation as she gets into the car, reapplying lipstick and putting on sunglasses.

Tim answers the phone, trying to control the frustration and anxiety in his voice. He was in the apartment, busy with work, when you called.

"Yes, I'm home," he replies, trying to remain calm. "But there's no need to bring lunch, I'll order something." He tries to keep the conversation casual, but he can't forget the argument from the night before.

"I'll order… Your favorite" You say trying to lighten the mood, the calm before the storm. Tim hesitates for a moment, his frustration with the situation still present. But his favorite's offer makes him relent.

"Okay, fine," he says, trying not to show how much he was looking forward to your return. "But you'll be here soon, right?"

"If I say I'm going to help the chef, will you let me take my time?" I try to bargain with him. Tim is holding back.

Tim takes a deep breath, his possessive and controlling side taking over for a moment. He really wanted you home where he could keep an eye on you and make sure you were safe. But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

"For how long?" he asks, irritated. "And why do you need to help the chef?"

"I'm going to make the special recipe with him" you say without even realizing it, a little evil in the intonation, but soon swallow it to be a decent person, , as if she hadn't thrown wood on the fire.

Tim raises his eyebrows when you mention "the special recipe." What the hell were you doing? The “Special Recipe” was a dish that only the two of you made. Period. It was a couple thing and not a delivery from a fancy restaurant. It wasn't a different seasoning or something exotic, the fun of the “special recipe” was making the YN and Tim recipe, a pasta where the two make romantically in the kitchen, an illusion of domesticity and togetherness.

"The special recipe?" he repeats, irritation and suspicion evident in his voice. "Why the special recipe? You didn't mention anything like that before."

"Isn't it your favorite, love? I'll be there in 20 minutes"

"Okay, cool," he replies, his voice tense. "I'll be waiting for you."

Tim notices the sarcastic tone in her voice, but he tries to ignore it, his irritation still present. He knows you're joking, but he can't help but wonder what's really going on. He was sitting in his office, trying to stay calm and work while he waited for you. But his irritation and frustration were quickly growing as the minutes passed.

YN arrived at the shared apartment within 40 minutes, ready to talk. "Good morning Einstein" she takes off her heels and goes to the living room, placing the delivery in the kitchen watching the fuming man leave the office

When you finally arrived, he quickly got up from the office and left to meet you in the living room. His look was serious and full of anger.

"Six hours" was the first word he spoke, without even greeting you. His tone was cold and controlled, but the irritation was evident in his expression and in every word he said.

"Six fucking hours," he repeated, "No news, no messages, nothing. I was on the verge of madness, not knowing if you were okay or not." He approached you, his eyes locked on yours. He wanted to hug you, pull you into his arms, but the feeling of irritation and frustration prevailed at the moment.

"Explain to me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Where were you? What were you doing? Who was with you?"

"I went to celebrate our company's profit with my friends from work" friends that he hated "Then I went to that restaurant that opened now, the Japanese one" That Tim hated "As it was early at night, I was invited to a party at the other city with the girls." girls who hated Tim "As we had a disagreement yesterday, so I slept at Galileo's house" the guy who hit on you

With every word you spoke, Tim's expression changed. He felt his veins pulsing with anger and frustration as you mentioned your friends and the guy who hit on you while you explained in an indifferent way, as if you were talking about the weather and not turning on warning sirens in Tim's head.

He tried to contain his possessive and controlling side, but it was difficult to control his feelings. The thought of you spending the night at another man's house drove him completely insane.

"Did you sleep at another man's house?" he repeated, his anger evident in his voice. "Daisy wasn't home, my closest option was Galileo." "He's gay baby, relax" YN says

Tim snorts when you say Galileo is gay. Even though he knew he wasn't interested in women, the idea of you spending the night at another man's house was irritating to him, especially because Tim saw him hitting on you and was paranoid since from the first time the two of you were introduced. He tries to calm down, but the anger still clings to him like a thorn.

"That doesn't change the fact that you slept at another man's house," he snaps. "Because my man wouldn't let me sleep in peace" I retort with the same intensity

Tim takes a deep breath, his hands clench into fists in anger. He knows you're right, but he doesn't want to admit it. He feels the guilt slowly creeping into him, but the anger still prevails.

"You ran away from me," he responds, his voice firm. "You just left our house without a word and i didn't hear from you for hours." The muscles in Tim's neck tighten as he speaks, anger and frustration mixing in his words.

"I was worried," he continues, "I was desperate not knowing where you were or if you were safe. I tried calling and texting you, but you left me hanging." His voice becomes lower and more intense as he continues to speak.

"And now, I find out that you spent the night at another man's house, the guy I detest, for God's sake."

He moves closer, invading your personal space, chest rising and falling with each hectic breath.

"How do you think I feel, huh?" he asks, his voice tense. "What do you think I was like, not hearing from you, not knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were with?" He places his hands on both sides of her face, forcing Yn to look directly into his blue eyes. Mentally trying to connect his stormy eyes with your lovely ones. How cute, you might think….

A boyfriend desperate for his girlfriend's well-being, and everything for her protection, hmm?

Apart from the fact that they've had this conversation before.

How a prey follows the natural instincts that the predator will attack, turning on the fight or flight button…..

So YN remains firm and upright, she can notice the gentle changes in Tim's gaze, his worried speech, his dominant touch trying to make her “stay in her place”, but there is not a hint of guilt in her eyes.

YN had seen this film many, many times, the same script with the same characters. It's time to leave the cinema and live real life.

"Sorry, it won't happen again." you press your hand against his for a few seconds and then remove it from your face, looking at him seriously, your eyes as steady as a mountain weathering the storm. Tim's smile widened, but it closed realizing something was going to happen. Tim looks at you, his face showing a brief expression of relief and happiness as you rest your hand against his. But that feeling quickly fades when she realizes something isn't right.

He tries to stay calm, waiting for you to say something.

"What it was?" he asks, the anger and irritation still evident in her voice. "I know that expression. What are you going to do?"

The silence lasts for a few seconds as you remain quiet, your gaze serious and determined. Tim feels the atmosphere getting tense, he knows something is happening but he doesn't know what, and he hates every second of not knowing what goes on in Yn's head.

He crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for you to speak. His patience is starting to run out.

"Come on," he scolds, his voice brusque. "Speak quickly."

"I think we better break up." In the same way I speak abruptly, and I see his world turning upside down. Tim's expression changes immediately, as if he's been punched in the stomach. He stays frozen in place, his mind trying to process what you just said.

What? No… it can't be….. No…..it's not real. She must just be mad….

He babbles for a few seconds, unable to form words.

"I-I didn't hear you right," he finally says, his voice shaking slightly. "Repeat please."

"I think its better if we better break up, Tim. It's not working out, sorry." The words fall like a hammer on Tim's heart. He remains still, his mind trying desperately to find the words to argue, to change your mind.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, his hands shaking slightly. Finally, he manages to speak, his voice fragile and shaky.

"But…but why?" he asks, his words coming out almost like a whisper. ' "You know why."

Tim remains silent, his gaze fixed on his. He knows exactly what you're saying, but he still doesn't want to accept it. Millions of conversations about the relationship, the opinion of friends and family, the indirect ones, the distance… he knows he's being too much, that he's trying to imprison you, that he's pushing you away with all his obsession and paraoic… but he He can't stop, you're his drug. Slowly killing and addicting him until he can no longer live without you.

He runs a shaky hand through his black hair, trying to control himself but failing miserably.

"I…" he tries to say, but his voice trails off. He takes a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. "I can change."

He won't change. Yn thinks, already knowing where this story would end.

"You don't need to change, Tim. I'm the problem here." I put my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure someone out there will appreciate and value all your concern and your temper. But we've been hurting each other a lot lately."

Tim holds your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. He knows you're right, that things weren't working between you. But he can't accept it.

"I-i don't want it to end," he murmurs, his voice lowering. "I love you. I want to make it work."

“Listen Tim… I-” your sentence is cut off when Tim hugs you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder as he starts to cry. He tries to control himself, but emotion takes over him.

He squeezes you tighter, like he's desperately trying to keep you from leaving. Trying to bring you close, inhaling your scent, feeling your heat, trying to mold your body to his.

"Piplease," he whispers, voice shaking from crying. "Please don't leave. Please stay with me."

Tim continues to hold you, his body shaking with the emotions he's trying to keep under control. He doesn’t want to let you go, desperate to keep you by his side.

Anything other than us breaking up…

I don't accept it… I don't want it!

How will I exist without you by my side?

Why don't you want to try again?

He lifts his head, looking at you with red, teary eyes.

"I'll change," he promises, his voice husky. "I promise I'll change. Just don't leave. Please don't leave me."

He holds your face and looks at you, with hearts in his eyes, knowing that you won't give in anytime soon. He uses emotional blackmail to make Yn stay, after all, she always liked beautiful words, covered in honey.

Don't you love him anymore? Why do you want to hurt him so much?

Tim desperately tries to find a way to change your mind. He knows words aren't working, so he takes desperate action...

He holds your face tightly, looking directly and deeply into your eyes.

"If you leave…," he murmurs, voice shaking. "I won't be able to live. I'll go crazy without you. Please don't leave me. I won't survive."

"You're Red Robin, you've survived worse things." YN says trying to free herself from him which makes him increase the emotional blackmail, holding you against him, she tries to cut off his line of reasoning, the blackmail, the depraved words but it seems like it only makes everything increase more…. Tim remains holding you, his grip becoming firmer as YN tries to break free. He can see that you are not giving in easily and desperately grasps at any means possible to make you stay.

He presses his face against your neck, his voice shaky as he murmurs.

"It's not just a matter of physical survival," he says, voice muffled by the contact of his face against her skin. "I won't be able to live without you. You are my reason for living."

"I'm going to die without you…..I'll kill myself if I don't have you by my side…" He threatens, increasingly serious and desperate, for a moment, in the name of all the love in your relationship, you fear for his life.

Tim continues to murmur against your delicate neck, his embrace becoming almost painful. He seems desperate to keep you by his side, whatever the cost. He puts one hand on your back, the other wrapping around your waist. He pulls you against him, as if he's afraid he'll let you escape.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice rough with emotions. "I love you so much. Please don't leave. Please stay with me." Tim continues to beg the same words, his embrace becoming more and more desperate as he tries to stop you from leaving.

He looks completely vulnerable, as if his life depended on it. His voice is low and full of emotion as he repeats as a pray:

"I love you. I love you. I'll get better, I promise. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

When he hears your silence, his voice rises as if to prove he is telling the truth, almost shouting in your ear as he shakes and sobs in fear. Tim raises his voice as he desperately tries to convince you to stay, his words increasing in intensity as he sobs and shakes in fear.

He clings to you as if you were his anchor, his body shaking with emotion.

"I'll do anything for our relationship," he repeats, his voice almost desperate. "I'll get better for you. I'll change. I'll do whatever it takes. Just… please… don't leave me."

Tim's sobs grow stronger as he tries to hold back the tears. He's clearly desperate, his hug growing tighter and tighter as he desperately tries to keep you by his side.

With pity, YN runs an involuntary hand through Tim's hair, making him hope. "Are you really going to change?" I know he won't change, but maybe I can push the breakup further, in a month or two when he gets used to the idea.

Yn makes a mental note of the idea, without knowing that Tim himself already had plans for the two of them stay toguether forever.

Tim seems to perk up slightly when he feels your hand running through his hair, feeling you give in a little. He lifts his head, looking at you with a hopeful look.

He nods, his eyes still red from tears, but a little calmer.

"I'll change," he promises, voice firmer. "I'll be better for you. Just…give me another chance. Please."

"Okay…. the last one" with that he kisses you and cries more, relieved that you changed your mind. Tim takes the opportunity to kiss you, his tongue penetrating your mouth in a desperate and needy way. He cries as he kisses you, the relief evident in his gesture.

You still haven't said you love him too….. You do not love me anymore?

However, he is not satisfied with just the kiss, the insecurities and the countless scenarios running wild in his mind. He uses everything he can, pressing your body against his as he murmurs low, desperate words.

Will you still leave me? No, please no! You still love me?

"I won't survive without you!" he whispers, arms squeezing you against him. "You are everything to me. Just give me one more chance, please."

Tim repeats the same words, his hands roaming her body as he presses YN against him. He's desperate to keep you close, his embrace becoming almost possessive. He brings his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting the skin gently.

"I'm a dead man without you," he whispers, voice hoarse with emotion. "I won't survive without you. Just give me one more chance, please. Just one more, Yn. I love you so much..."

"…..I love you, Tim. Let's get better okay?" I confirm it when I hug him back

Tim takes a moment to process the words, his hands shaking with relief and hope. He hugs you tighter, his facial expression softening slightly. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to contain the tangle of emotions inside him.

"I'll make you happy," he promises, voice hoarse. "I'm going to be the best man I can be. Just… have a little more patience with me."

Tim remains hugging you for a few minutes, trying to calm down as his mind seems to spin with all the emotions. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his heart that feels like it's about to come out of his chest and YN is the only thing keeping him sane, stable, preventing him from becoming another Gotham madman.

He lifts his head again, looking at you with an almost vulnerable look.

"I'll get better," he whispers, his voice firm but soft. "I'm going to do everything differently. Just… don't leave me. Please." He continued to hold your face in his shaking hands, trying to hold you against him. Trying to breathe your air. Trying to get into your heart.

YN kisses him on the mouth, catching him off guard "I know you're going to do it differently, my love. It's going to be okay."

YN feels so exhausted by this argument, fed up and patiently reaching the end, realizing that he won't let them end that easily. So, YN changes her mind, mentally changing her strategy before Tim arrests her and chains her in the apartment.

you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Let's watch a movie, hmm?" She suggests he calm down, cutting off any obsessive or paranoid trains of thought with a gentle smile.

Tim seems almost surprised by the unexpected gesture of the kiss, but he quickly recovers. His hands lightly squeeze her waist as he returns the gesture.

He nodded, his voice a little calmer.

"Yes, a film." He responds, his facial expression less tense. "That sounds good. Like we did before."

Tim moves away from you a little, but he doesn't let go of you completely. As he takes you to the couch, he remains close, with one hand on your waist, melting into Yn's warmth, the familiar scent bringing him a sense of comfort and security that only she can bring.

It looks like the film will repeat itself again.

The beautiful butterfly is caught in the spider's suffocating webs.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

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aajjks · 1 year ago

Text

Toxic. (m)

synopsis. You can do whatever but you just can’t leave him.

warnings. yändêrê bëhävïöür, tôxïc rêlätïönshïp, ünst*ble bëhävïöür, ünhëälthy rêlätïönshïp, pösessïvēnēss.

Viewer discretion is advised.

He knows that he’s too possessive.

His way of loving you isn’t healthy at all.

But it’s just how he is. You’ve made him like this. It’s all because of you, you’ve put him in a trance. You have him so obsessed.

And he knows that he’s too toxic, jealous and suffocating.

But you can’t leave him.

“Yn.. how long is this going to go on? You know you can’t leave me.” He sighs, you have your back turned on him. He sighs, he doesn’t know how to deal with you.

He has tried everything.

Even blackmailing you, it doesn’t work anymore.

“What is wrong with you?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. You have been like this for the past week hours since he and you had a pretty big fight, all because he didn’t want you to go out with your friends.

He wasn’t wrong about that. Clubbing with your friends at night that’s just an invitation for trouble. He knows how men think. He wants to protect you. That’s not a bad thing, right?

Even if he has some fucked up ways to protect you.

“Yn come on please. Stop it.” He whispers, sitting right beside you on the bed. You don’t even budge. It’s like his words are falling on deaf ears.

Jungkook scoots closer to you. He has to get you to start talking to him because he’s going insane. “listen you just need to understand that I want what’s best for you. And those friends of yours oh my God they are whores.”

He rolled his eyes. “and they want you to become one too.” He tells you, “because why else would keep on telling you to break up with me?”

when you don’t reply , he gently slaps you on the shoulder. “ I deserve better than this treatment.” oh, he is so frustrated. “look at me.” He tries to get you to look at him by trying to make your body shift in his direction

“DON’T TOUCH ME.” he almost flinches at your loud tone, you finally turn.

“honestly, I am so tired of you.” You spit at him. Your eyes glaring holes into his soul. But he doesn’t mind at all. If anything, he resists to smirk.

“ at least you’re looking at me now and even talking to me so I succeeded.” he shrugs, and takes his hands off of you.

“ listen to me OK I’m willing to apologize for my behavior, but you have to understand that you shouldn’t go out to clubs or places like that especially with your friends.” he Gives you his best puppy eyes.

But they don’t work on you, his old tricks don’t work on you.

“Please spare me this bullshit.” You roll your eyes at your toxic boyfriend. Jungkook look at you with wide eyes. “ OK stop cursing at me” he groans, he feels so offended right now.

“it’s because of your fucking friends that you’re doing this to me.” he’s starting to talk in pout. You look at him like he’s grown two heads

You look disgusted .

“it’s not because of my friends Jungkook! Oh my God it’s because of you you are overbearing and fucking possessive!” You raise your voice once again, your eyes are filled with anger.

“I am tired of this. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TOO INSECURE BECAUSE YOU DON’T TRUST ME.”

You are so angry at him, that you’ve started to use your hands to elaborate . “ how can I be with a man that doesn’t even trust me, and sabotages my social life, talks shit about my friends and locks me up in the fucking house?” You furrow your eyebrows together.

He just sits there and listens to you . He’s missed your voice so much it doesn’t even matter about what you’re saying he’s not even paying attention to whatever you’re talking about.

He’s just focused on the way your mouth moves and you make these stupid expressions. He’s missed you too much.

“scream at me all you want.” He smiles.

You immediately stop screaming at him. “Wow, you are unbelievable.” you’re shocked honestly.

How unstable can he be?

How can he not take this seriously? You two are on the words of breaking up. This is what he’s doing.

“you can’t leave me.” he has stopped smiling. his eyes have stopped sparkling.

Silence falls over you.

It’s like he’s read your mind.

“you know I won’t let you, so why would I mind you screaming at me that’s the least you can really do, I’m willing to tolerate this. But as long as you don’t leave me, even if you want to you know you can’t.”

“please continue your lecture.”

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kusakiguzen · 28 days ago

Note

Hello 👋 um I don't know if your request is open, but could you do yandere Shanks x female reader headcanon. Like how Shanks meet the reader, how he got obsessed, etc. (Can you make it where shanks crew is obsessed with the reader too, not in a romantic way and helps shanks)

A/N: It took me a while to get a good enough idea and i have two. I feel this is soul less but i did my best with my degrading mental health right now. I hope you enjoy.

I'm not really familiar with the crew except Benn so i did include him. I don't think this is my best work and i honestly hate it and will probably try again once in a better headspace.

I apologize if its not up to your taste

Warning: Has a shit ton of grammatical mistakes, I'm so sorry

Thank you for stopping by

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Red force. Laughter and the sounds of clashing swords filled the air, a reminder of the crew’s relentless spirit. You were nestled in a corner of the ship, blissfully unaware of the darker truths that surrounded you. As Ben Beckman’s little sister, you had grown up sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, always finding comfort in your brother’s protective presence.

Your first encounter with Shanks was a vivid memory. It had been a fateful day when your brother brought you on the infamous captain aboard the Red force for a visit. You had been playing with a few of the younger crewmates, their laughter echoing around you, when Ben approached, his usual calm demeanor slightly overshadowed by a hint of excitement.

“Y/N, come here! I want you to meet someone special,” he called, ushering you toward the main deck.

You followed, curious and eager. As you stepped into the sunlight, your eyes landed on the man with red hair, his grin wide and inviting. “Hey there! You must be Ben’s little sister. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Your heart raced at the sight of him. He was everything stories had described—a charismatic figure whose presence lit up the room. “Hi! I’m Y/N,” you said, beaming.

Shanks smiling while holding your hand, his playful nature shining through. “I hear you love adventures. How about we have one together? I could use a partner in crime!”

You giggled, completely taken in by his charm. “Really? That sounds amazing!”

That day marked the beginning of your bond with Shanks. He took you on a mini adventure around the ship, showing you the ropes and regaling you with tales of his travels. You listened, wide-eyed, as he spoke of battles and treasures, unaware of the underlying dangers that came with such a life.

As you laughed and explored, you felt a sense of warmth and safety that enveloped you. Little did you know that Shanks, even then, had been captivated by your innocence, seeing you as a light in a world filled with shadows.

Fast forward to the present, and Shanks was still a constant figure in your life, always by your side, watching over you with a mix of affection and an intensity that you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Y/N!” Shanks called out one afternoon, striding over with that signature grin. “What are you up to?”

“Just watching the waves,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with innocence. “It’s so peaceful!”

Shanks’ heart raced at your words. He loved how you saw the world, so untouched by the dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. “You know, the world isn’t as safe as it seems,” he said, his tone shifting ever so slightly. “But I promise to protect you, no matter what.”

You giggled, brushing off his concern. “I know! Ben would never let anything happen to me.”

At the mention of your brother, Shanks’ expression softened. Ben was fiercely protective, almost possessive, and the crew had come to share that sentiment. While they all adored you, their affection had a darker edge, something you remained blissfully unaware of.

“Ben’s always looking out for you,” Shanks agreed, stepping closer. “But sometimes, you need to rely on others too. Like me.”

You smiled, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with intensity. “Of course! You’re my favorite big brother figure!”

Shanks chuckled, though a hint of frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He wanted more than just the role of a guardian; he longed to claim you as his own. But he also understood that you were naive to the world's cruelties. That innocence was something he cherished, and he’d do anything to keep it intact.

Meanwhile, Ben watched from a distance, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. He’d seen the way Shanks looked at you, and though he trusted his captain, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. He would always prioritize your safety above all else, even if it meant keeping you sheltered from the crew's darker inclinations.

“Y/N!” Ben called, stepping forward. “How about a game? Just the two of us.”

You perked up, grateful for your brother’s attention. “Sure! What should we play?”

As you wandered off with Ben, Shanks watched, his expression conflicted. He loved you dearly, but he knew that your brother's presence would always be a barrier. Later that evening, as you prepared to settle down for the night, Ben and Shanks found a moment to speak privately.

“Shanks,” Ben began, his tone serious. “We both care about Y/N. We need to keep her safe.”

Shanks nodded, his expression hardening. “I agree. The world is dangerous, and we both know it. But together, we can protect her.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “We need to be vigilant. No one can get to her without going through us.”

“Exactly,” Shanks replied, a determined glint in his eye. “We’ll make sure she never sees the darkness of this world. We’re in this together, Ben. We’ll keep her innocent and happy, no matter what.”

Days passed, filled with laughter and adventures on the high seas. Yet, as you explored, the crew’s obsession grew, entwining around you like a vine. You remained blissfully unaware, believing the crew’s protectiveness stemmed from love and friendship. Little did you know, their hearts were tied together by a darker thread, one that bound them to you more tightly than any affection could.

One night, as the stars twinkled above, you sat on the deck, lost in thought. Shanks approached, leaning against the railing beside you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah! Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you all,” you replied, your eyes shining with sincerity.

Shanks’ smile faltered for a brief moment, replaced by a more serious look. “You have no idea how lucky you are… or how dangerous this world can be.”

You tilted your head, confused. “I mean, I’ve heard stories, but it doesn’t feel that way here.”

“Exactly,” Shanks said, his voice low. “And that’s how it should stay. As long as we’re here, you’ll always be safe.”

You grinned, completely missing the intensity behind his words. “I know! You all make me feel so protected.”

As the night deepened, Shanks’ hand brushed against yours, an electric jolt that sent a thrill down your spine. You looked up, meeting his gaze, still unaware of the storm brewing within him.

The next day, Ben noticed the lingering touches and exchanged glances. He felt the urge to intervene, to remind Shanks of the boundaries. But deep down, he understood the allure of your innocence—the way it made everyone around you feel alive, almost compelled to keep you close.

“Let’s go on an adventure today!” you suggested, breaking the tension.

“Count me in,” Ben replied, masking his unease with a smile. Shanks nodded, but a flicker of possessiveness gleamed in his eye. He wouldn’t let anyone take you away from him.

As you laughed and played with your brother and the crew, you remained blissfully unaware of the intertwining shadows of yandere love that surrounded you. The Red-Haired Pirates had claimed you as their treasure, and they would go to any lengths to protect you, even if it meant shielding you from the very truths of the world that would shatter your innocence.

In the embrace of their twisted affection, you danced on the edge of a dangerous precipice, blissfully ignorant of the love that could turn to obsession at a moment's notice. And so, the sweet story of your life with the yandere Shanks and Ben continued, a delicate balance of joy and darkness that only time would reveal.

A/N: I didn't particularly like this piece but i still posted it.

Umm i hope you enjoy reading it @wereallmadhere666

Stay Safe, Healthy and Hydrated

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