#how to make him commit without pressure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyhkoo · 9 months ago

Text

☆ everything i know about love

dick grayson and jason todd x fem!reader (separate)

they drunkenly propose

a/n: i was inspired by this fic my friend showed me, i hope you guys like this one!

Jason todd

Jason never understood the fuss about marriage. Just a piece of jewelry and some vows, and you're suddenly yoked to someone for life. No thanks. He had more important things to worry about than tying the knot. Besides, he enjoyed his freedom far too much to be tied down like that.

Why commit to one person when the world is full of interesting people to meet and adventures to be had? Jason preferred to live life on his own terms, without the constraints of a ring on his finger.

His secret identity as Red Hood only added to the list of reasons why marriage didn't fit into Jason's plans. His life was dangerous and unpredictable, and he couldn't risk the safety of a loved one by involving them in his shadowy world. Plus, balancing a marriage and a secret life as a crime-fighter would be nearly impossible. It was better for everyone involved if Jason continued his nocturnal escapades alone.

Surprisingly enough, Jason found himself softening his stance while dating you. It wasn’t like he suddenly became a relationship enthusiast overnight, but he couldn’t deny the subtle change in his perspective.

Though marriage still seemed like a far-off possibility, Jason realized that a fulfilling relationship didn't necessarily require a ring. He was content with the way things were, cherishing the connection he had with you and the moments they shared. The idea of a wedding might still make him a bit nervous, but he knew what mattered most was the happiness you shared in the present.

As the buzz about your relationship grew, the questions about when you were getting married started to come up more frequently. Your friends would throw subtle hints during conversations, or nosy family members would outright ask, expecting a firm timeline. Jason felt the pressure, too. The constant reminders of marriage were like a nagging voice in the back of his mind, pushing him to make a decision he wasn’t ready for. The pressure was mounting, but Jason stubbornly held onto his reservations.

Then, it hit him. Wedding fever.

The last wedding the two of you attended was your best friend’s. You couldn't believe it when you accidentally caught the bouquet at your best friend's wedding. It was just a silly tradition, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought. Little did you know, the effect of the bouquet would hit someone unexpected: Jason.

Suddenly, the mere touch of that bouquet ignited a strange fervor within him. A fever for the idea of marriage, something he had vehemently opposed in the past. Jason watched as your friends and family playfully teased you about catching the bouquet, but his mind was elsewhere. He stood there, dumbfounded, as if the sight of you with that bouquet had somehow changed everything.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and newfound desire. How could a simple bouquet have such an impact on him? He was the guy who never wanted to get married, and now he was practically salivating at the thought. What was happening to him?

When he had too much to drink, you dragged him back to the hotel room.

You gently pulled Jason into the hotel room, his body leaning heavily against yours as the alcohol dulled his senses. You decided to undress him so he'd be more comfortable, unbuttoning his polo shirt while his breath tickled your neck. But as you reached the last button, Jason suddenly leaned forward and pressed a desperate, hungry kiss against your lips.

You were caught off guard by his sudden move, but you couldn't resist the passion behind the kiss. You returned his kiss, your lips responding tenderly and gently meeting him. As he pulled away, your heart skipped a beat as Jason looked into your eyes, his words slurred but his gaze steady. "Marry me," he said.

Here he was, the man who had once been so skeptical about marriage, proposing to you in the midst of a drunken stupor. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you were absolutely baffled. You stammered, trying to find the right words to say. “What?” you muttered.

"I said, marry me," he repeated as he gripped your wrist. “M’ serious," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You couldn't help but stand there with your mouth open, in disbelief at the words that were coming out of his mouth. This was the same man who had been adamantly against the idea of marriage just a few hours ago, and now he was drunkenly proposing to you! Jason's lips grazed against your fingers, his breath warm and words slurred but still filled with a sweet intensity. "Come on," he muttered, clinging to your hand. "Just say yes."

You could feel the nerves in your voice as you struggled to find the right words. "Wow, uh...I'd love to say yes, but maybe we should call it a day first. Let's talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Jason's eyes softened as he looked at you, his drunken state making it difficult for him to comprehend your words. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "In the morning," he repeated, his voice slurring. "But m’ serious, I do want to marry you." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I know you're serious," you said softly, gently stroking his hair. "We'll talk about it in the morning, when you're sober, okay?"

Dick Grayson

It all began with a simple birthday surprise from Dick– a beautiful white cake that bore an uncanny resemblance to a wedding dress. Unintentionally, it planted the seed of wedding fever in Dick's mind. Slowly, the realization dawned upon him, sparking a subtle yet determined desire to make his love for you official.

Dick found himself wrestling with how to broach the subject. While you had occasionally mentioned a future together, marriage had never explicitly entered the picture in your conversations. He pondered how to bring up the idea without catching you off guard.

Late one night, after an evening of bonding with his siblings over a few drinks, Dick returned to the cozy abode he shared with you. In his grip, he clutched a single daisy, its delicate white petals gently swayed with each movement. As he stepped inside, he revealed a paper ring resting on his palm, its simplicity belying the depth of emotion he wanted to convey.

You looked down at the paper ring in Dick's hand with puzzlement in your eyes. "What is this?" you asked. His heart thumped in his chest as he saw your confused eyes. He took a step closer, the petals of the flower trailing across your skin. A gentle smile played on his lips as he slurred, “It’s a ring, f’ course.”

He held the ring up, offering it to you. “I want to…” he trails his words. “You want to..?” you continued his sentence. He looks into your eyes, the paper ring still offered in his hand. He’s taking in the sight of you, wearing nothing more than a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old t-shirts, with your hair messy on your head.

“I… I want to marry you,” he says quietly.

You replied quickly, “Sure.” you said casually. A hint of surprise flickered in Dick's eyes. He had braced himself for a range of potential reactions, but this one had caught him off guard. Dick's mouth hung open for a moment, and for a split second he was at a loss for words. "Sure?" he repeated, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and a touch of confusion. He looked at you in slight surprise, his mind processing the unexpected simplicity of your response.

“Yeah,” you replied as you held his hand. “Let’s get married.”

His mind raced, trying to process the unexpected simplicity of your response. He’d been expecting a little bit more discussion, maybe even some tears, yet here you were, casually agreeing to his impromptu proposal. He stared down at you, a mix of surprise and elation flooding his expression. He looked at your hand holding his thumb running against the back of your hand.

“Just like that?” he chuckled, a bit breathlessly. You only smiled softly, “Why wouldn’t I marry someone like you?” you told him. “Let’s get you to bed, you’re gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.”

He looked down at the paper ring on his hand, then back at you. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he took your hand in his, and placed the ring upon your finger. “Now it’s official,” he chuckled, looking down at the simple paper ring on your finger.

💍 discord server please like and reblog!

1K notes · View notes

stellamarielu · 25 days ago

Text

So I've had this Pope Cody fic idea swimming around in my brain, and I'm not sure what to do with it, so I'm dumping it on y'all. I'd love to really hash it out into a multi part series but I fear I won't be able to commit, so please just take this half assed explanation of the idea instead!

It starts when you move into the neighborhood, right across the street from the cody's. You inherit your grandmother’s house after she passes, and while it's old and could use a few renovations, you're just happy you don't have to pay rent anymore.

Then, just like she does anytime some new moves onto the street, Smurf invites you over for dinner. She's always mindful of her family’s appearance to the neighbors, trying to win them over and get ahead of any concerns they might have over the constant carousel of questionable visitors and over the top ragers taking place at the Cody household.

You accept the invitation and the whole night Pope watches as you fall for Smurf’s phony whimsy— fake smiles and compliments sent your way across the dinner table. While he would normally roll his eyes at the sucker on the other end of her antics, tonight he can’t help but watch the naive glimmer in your eye, and the way you sit so politely in your chair as Smurf attempts to woo you over.

He obsesses over it— the way you look so out of place in their kitchen. Your smile is real. Your laugh is genuine, and very pretty. He’s drawn to you, drawn to your novelty. Your innocence. Fascinated by your perception of life, and how pure everything must be in your eyes; your inability to see Smurf’s deception, the ease in which you giggle at Craig’s inappropriate jokes, the gentle way you avert your eyes, and the shy smile on your lips when you catch Pope’s stare lingering on you.

So after that night at dinner, he starts watching you. It's harmless really. Glancing out the window every so often to see if your car is in the driveway. Staying in his truck for a few extra minutes after he gets home, observing you through the privacy of his tinted windows. Noticing that you leave your blinds open far too long after the sun goes down, peering through your kitchen windows to watch as you do dishes, or eat alone at your dining room table.

One day he’s pulling into the driveway when he notices you across the street. The trunk of your car is wide open and your lugging groceries bags by the handful out of your back seat. He barely has time to contemplate his decision before he appears next to you, surprising you with his presence and almost making you drop the groceries in your hands.

He greets you abruptly. Taking the bags from you effortlessly, like the brown sacks filled to the brim with ingredients weigh absolutely nothing. He stands, waiting for you to lead him into your house, so you do, leading him up the porch and through the front door.

You show him to the kitchen, where he places the bags on a table, making a quick, simple comment about the house being nice. You reply with a "thank you" before rambling on about how it's your grandmother's old house and it could use a lot of work.

In an effort to prove the home is a bit of a fixer upper, you mention the handle on the kitchen sink broke clean off that morning and you still need to call someone out to fix it. He immediately brushes past you, inspecting the broken sink without a word. Then, with a simple, "I can fix it,” he’s lugging in a tool bag and repairing your sink in record time.

You talk to him in the few minutes it takes him to fix the issue. Asking him simple questions with each one earning you a curt response.

"Should I call you Andrew or Pope? I noticed your mom calls you Andrew, but your brothers call you-" "Andrew."

Nonetheless you get to know him a little bit. It's enough for him to offer help anytime you need it. The water pressure in your shower is shit? He's on it. You need to update a few light fixtures? He's there to make sure you don't have to lift a finger. Patchy drywall in the garage? Looks brand new in one afternoon. It becomes his new hobby— fixing your house— being around you.

He spends so much time at your place working on projects, that your relationship blooms naturally. It feels almost like taking in a stray dog; extending a hand just for him to sniff around it until he eventually warms up to you.

You ask him more questions until you realize he doesn't like answering them very much, so instead you tell him about yourself. You allow his reactions to your words, the way he watches carefully when you bring up certain topics, to direct the course of your conversations.

You learn the easiest way to get him to talk is by making him food, the company of sitting across from someone during a meal somehow makes him feel a bit more comfortable. He opens up to you little by little over home cooked meals at your dining room table, the ones you insist he eats because he's spent all evening working hard and the least you can do is feed him.

He never turns down your offer, always accepting with a kind smile and letting his guard down long enough to clear his plate.

There's a safety in the meals you prepare for him— the way you sit peacefully across from each other. It's different from the way Smurf cooks for him. When she does it, it's manipulative, a reminder that she holds power over him, that he needs her to take care of him. But with you, it's an extension of gratitude. An attempt to get to know him. It's so innocent— endearing. He becomes addicted to it, staying longer than he needs to while working on something just to ensure you'll invite him to stay for dinner.

He fills his time with quick meals in your kitchen and little projects throughout your house until the boys find a job.

He's busy scouting and planning, and you start to notice he's around significantly less. He's shown up on your doorstep like clockwork everyday for weeks, and now all of a sudden you haven't seen him in days.

Until he knocks on your door early one morning. It's the day after the job, and he's noticeably banged up. With an open cut on his cheekbone and a black eye he just stands in front of you, apologizing.

He's not really sure how to communicate why he hasn’t seen you in days, or why he’s even at your door. All he knows, is that he just wants to see you. To watch the way you smile at him— to be reminded that he's not all bad. That there's some kind of hope hidden in the way you make him lasagna and let him fix your kitchen sink.

Of course you ask him what happened. You ask him if he's okay, but he doesn't respond, just stares. And the next thing you know, you're inviting him in for breakfast. No more questions, just an offering of quiet connection over eggs and fresh fruit.

#i don’t even know what this is i just had to get it out of my head and into words #andrew pope cody #animal kingdom #pope cody x reader #neighbor!pope cody

454 notes · View notes

v6quewrlds · 2 months ago

Text

NEVER TOO MUCH, CHARLES LECLERC.

pairing⠀⁎⠀charles leclerc x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀4.1k.

summary⠀⁎⠀being apart from charles is difficult enough. being apart from Charles while he's miserable on the other side of the world is worse.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by @xolilyxo! used this as an excuse to practice my french pls don't be mean if it's incorrect lmao <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀none, just grumpy charles & fluff!

Charles was absolutely miserable. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his body felt like it had been wrung out and hung up to dry. The relentless humidity of Singapore had made it impossible for him to get comfortable in his racing suit, and the constant up and down of the weekend was weighing on him. With Ferrari's recent momentum over the last few races, he came into Singapore hoping for a podium, maybe even a win. But so far, everything had gone wrong.

The car was not responding as expected, and he was lagging behind the other drivers. Each corner was a battle, each straight a struggle. His mind raced faster than his car, thinking of what he could've done differently, what setup changes could be made, and how he would explain his performance to the press that was inevitably eager to rip him to shreds.

To make matters worse, you, his girlfriend, weren't there to offer her usual comfort and support. He'd been looking forward to seeing your smiling face in the stands, cheering him on, but your work commitments had held you back. The two of you had talked briefly over FaceTime, your gentle voice a balm to his frayed nerves, but it wasn't the same as having you there, your hand in his, your belief in him, carrying him through the toughest moments. Even as everything seemed to fall apart, you remained steadfast with your encouragement, reminding him of his strengths, and assuring him that you knew he could turn it around.

He was aware his team wasn't having a good time in Singapore either; mostly due to his mood. The mechanics worked tirelessly, sweat dripping from their faces as they tried to figure out the issues with the car. His engineers were equally as stressed, poring over data, trying to find that elusive solution. Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, though he couldn't find it in himself to care. He knew he was being a nightmare to deal with, but he couldn't help it. The pressure was crushing him, and he didn't have access to the valve to relieve it.

You cursed under your breath, your eyes glued to your phone screen, propped up by a stack of binders and papers. You had previously promised yourself you'd just watch a few moments of Free Practice 2, just enough to get an idea of how Charles was doing, then you'd get right back to work, but you hadn't been able to tear yourself away. You saw him fighting the car, the frustration in his voice echoing through your headphones whenever the broadcast allowed a snippet of his comms. The crash was sudden, jolting you out of your chair. Your heart plummeted as the screen showed the wreckage of the #16 Ferrari. You felt cold despite the warmth of your cardigan.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw Charles climb out, visibly fuming but uninjured. You released a sigh of relief, your hand flying to your chest as if to keep your racing heart in place. That's when the idea struck you, a wild, slightly mad idea, but it grew roots in your mind. You had to go to him, you had to be there. If you could get all your work done tonight, maybe you'd be able to make it to Singapore in time for qualifying. Without a second thought, you began typing away on your laptop. You could sleep on the plane, you'd do anything to be by his side.

Your fingers flew over the keys, sending emails, finishing up reports, and delegating tasks to your colleagues. The office grew quiet as the hours ticked by, and the last few lights started to dim as your coworkers called it a night. But not you. You were fueled by adrenaline and love, your eyes never leaving your screen except for brief glances at the clock. The minutes turned to hours, and the glow of your laptop cast the only light in the otherwise darkened room.

Finally, with a click of the send button, you leaned back in your chair, the tension draining from your body. You had done it. Now, you had to pack. You created a checklist in your mind as you made the drive to your apartment. Quickly, you showered and changed into comfortable travel clothes. You packed your luggage, selecting only the most important items, knowing you'd need to be efficient with your carry-on.

At the airport, you checked your phone for any updates from Charles. There were two new messages.

Today was shit. But thank you for asking. Two days left in this nightmare.

I can't wait to be home, mon amour. Your voice notes are the only thing keeping me from going crazy.

The text from Charles was heart-wrenching, his misery clear even through the screen, and it was all the motivation you needed to keep moving. You checked in your luggage, boarded your flight, and hoped for the best. The hours passed slowly, a mix of movies, snacks, and the occasional nod off into fitful sleep. You dreamed of his arms around you, of whispered encouragements, and, oddly, the smell of burning rubber and gasoline that always lingered around him after a day on the track.

When the plane finally touched down in Singapore, the early morning light was already harsh. You made your way through the airport, adrenaline pushing back the weariness that threatened to consume you. The threat of being photographed at the track was your only incentive to change into a more presentable dress. The open-back maxi-length burgundy material of your summer dress clung to your torso, its square neck making room for the delicately stacked necklaces you had chosen before flowing into a loose skirt with crisscrossing detail across your back. Your hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, your makeup minimal but just enough to hide the dark circles under your eyes.

You grabbed your phone, checking the time again. You had to hurry. The hospitality suite was your first destination, the secret mission making your heart race. The walk to the track from the hotel was a blur of excitement and nerves. The buzz of activity grew louder as you approached the paddock, the sound of engines revving in the background like a symphony of power. You spotted Mia, Charles' press officer, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, you! Charles said you couldn't make it!" exclaimed Mia when she saw you, her eyes lighting up with surprise and relief. You exchanged kisses to the cheeks, a familiar greeting, and Mia's smile grew wider as she took in the sight of the woman who singularly had the power to turn their weekend around.

"I wasn't supposed to. He doesn't know I'm here," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You watched as Mia's expression shifted from surprise to pure glee. "But I had to come. Every time I've spoken to him, he's sounded so… miserable. How is he today? Did he manage to get some rest last night?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "He's been a nightmare. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't snapped anyone's head off yet," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, he needs you. He's been so hard on himself, and his mood has been affecting everyone." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "I'll make sure to keep your secret until he can see you. He should be in the private area until it comes time to prepare quali strategy."

With a nod of thanks, you made your way through the bustling paddock, your sandals clicking on the pavement as you tried to stay calm. You felt like a spy on a mission, your heart racing every time you heard someone speak French in passing. Finally, you reached the Ferrari hospitality suite and slipped in unnoticed. You caught your reflection in a mirror and took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress and running your fingers over your hair to make sure everything was in place. This was it.

He stood in Ferrari merch, the muscles in his back tense as his voice carried through the suite. He was speaking in rapid French, his gestures animated. You knew that tone in his voice, knew that he was venting his frustration. You took a moment to appreciate him from afar, the way his rosso corsa polo clung to his broad shoulders and the way his thick, messy brown hair stuck up in all directions as a result of the humidity. His back was turned to you, and you took a step closer, your heels clicking softly on the tiles.

Fred stood in front of his driver, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded solemnly, listening to Charles' concerns. As you approached, you could just make out the dark circles under Fred's eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights they had all endured. The scent of engine oil and rubber filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of espresso that seemed to follow the team wherever they went.

The Frenchman's eyebrows rose as he took in the sight of you approaching his driver quietly. You lifted your index finger to your lips, signaling him to keep the surprise. He nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips, and backed away slightly to give you a moment of privacy.

Charles continued ranting, oblivious to the soft footsteps approaching from behind. The heat and stress had painted a picture of a man on the edge, his body language shouting his dissatisfaction. Finally, you were close enough. You reached out, your hand pressing gently against his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Cha, tu as besoin d'un verre d'eau?" you asked sweetly, the French words leaving your glossed lips imperfectly but with enough charm to melt through Charles' frustration.

"Non, merci, je suis bon," Charles responded without looking up from his conversation with Fred, his voice clipped and frustrated.

He opened his mouth to continue speaking but was cut off as the realization of who had just spoken to him hit him. His body stiffened and he spun around, his eyes widening when he saw you standing there. For a brief moment, the chaos of the garage, the weight of his performance woes, and the oppressive heat of Singapore all faded away. He was simply stunned.

He exclaimed your name, his voice cracking with a mix of surprise and relief. He stepped toward you, and you met him halfway, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him softly. His arms tightened around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground, and the tension drained from his body as he returned the kiss with desperate passion.

You laughed as he finally set you down, the sound music to his ears. "You really weren't expecting me?" you said, your eyes sparkling.

"I had no idea," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "But you were right, I could use some water." He cupped your face in his hands, giving you one last kiss before breaking away. "Je suis tellement content que tu sois ici," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek as he voiced his appreciation for your surprise.

Fred clapped his hands together, joy erupting from his eyes. "Well, it looks like you will be busy until the strategy meeting," he said with a knowing smile before giving you a nod of approval. "Deux heures, Charles," he reminded him of the time left until the team's pre-qualifying meeting as he walked away, leaving you and Charles in the quiet corner of the hospitality suite.

"How did you manage this?" Charles asked, still in disbelief, pulling you into a hug that felt like home.

You chuckled against his chest. "An all-nighter and a very early flight," you replied, your voice muffled by the fabric of his Ferrari polo. You stepped back, your hands sliding over his shoulders as his hands found your waist. "But it was worth it to see your face."

"I can't believe you're here," Charles said, his eyes searching yours. He leaned in for another kiss, the kind that made your toes curl, and you responded with all the love you’d been saving up over your week apart.

"I missed you," you murmured, your cheek against his. "I know this weekend has been hell for you. I had to come be with you."

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. "Merci, mon cœur. It means the world to me." He pulled back to look into your eyes, his verdant gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and love. "Would you like my room key? I can take you to the suite; you can rest a bit."

"I'm fine," you assured him, your smile genuine and soothing. "I've had plenty of coffee. I'd rather spend every minute with you before you go out there."

You sat together in the suite, the air-conditioning bringing relief from the sticky, heavy Singaporean heat outside. The TV screens around you were muted, displaying the endless loops of yesterday's spins and today's qualifying preparations. Charles pulled your legs into his lap, his strong hands rubbing the tension from your calves as he talked about the car, his voice revealing a mix of frustration and dedication. You listened intently, nodding here and there, your fingers playing with the brown locks at the nape of his neck. You peppered kisses between sentences, the tension in his shoulders dissipating like fog in the morning sun.

"I've been so hard on myself," he said, his voice dropping. "I'm trying to remain positive, but it's tough when everything feels like it's going wrong."

You leaned in, your hand reaching to cradle his cheek. "You're going to be okay," you whispered. "You always find a way to learn from the tough moments. This is just another chance to show everyone how strong you are."

Your words seemed to have a calming effect on him, his breaths evening out as he nodded slowly. "Merci, mon amour," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for being here, for believing in me."

The time for the strategy meeting grew closer, and the air in the suite grew tenser. Charles checked his watch for the umpteenth time. "I should go," he said reluctantly, his thumb stroking your hand. "But I'll see you after qualifying?"

"Of course, my love," you replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be watching from the garage."

You watched as Charles reluctantly pulled away, shifting into the right mindset as he walked toward his team. A warmth spread through your chest, knowing that you'd managed to brighten his day, if only for a brief moment. The garage was a hive of activity as you made your way there. The Ferrari mechanics and engineers moved with a fluid grace, each one a master of their craft, working tirelessly to ensure the cars were ready for the battle that was qualifying. You were greeted by surprised and grateful nods from the team members as you took your place in the garage, a headset handed to you to listen in on the conversations between Charles and his engineers.

The air grew thick with tension as qualifying approached, the hum of the engines increasing in volume and intensity. The lights above the pit lane switched to green, and one by one, the cars began to roll out onto the track. Through the headset, you heard Charles' calm voice as he communicated with his team, the words in Italian and English a reassuring presence in your ears. Each lap was a dance between man and machine, a dance you had become all too familiar with but that never ceased to amaze you. Your heart was in your throat as you watched the screens, your eyes flicking between the timing boards and the live feed of the cars streaking around the floodlit circuit.

As the minutes ticked away, you could feel the pressure building in the garage. The air was electric with anticipation and nerves. The engineers called out to each other in hushed tones, making last-minute adjustments to the car. The tire changers stood at the ready, poised like sprinters waiting for the gun. The sound of the cars grew louder, and you knew that meant Charles was approaching for his flying lap. The garage went quiet, all eyes glued to the screens.

The first set of qualifying rounds went by in a blur. Each time Charles managed to pull off a clean lap, the garage erupted into cheers and sighs of relief. The tension grew tauter as the final round approached, with the top ten drivers fighting for the pole position. Your eyes never left the screens, your nails digging into her palms as you watched your love push the car to its limits. Your lips parted in a whispered prayer, hoping that the mechanical gremlins that had plagued him all weekend would finally leave him alone.

The final minutes of qualifying were upon them, and the air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and anticipation. The Ferrari engines screamed as the drivers took their final laps. Your heart raced in time with the cars, your eyes flicking between the clock and the positioning of Charles' car. Each time he flew past the pit lane, the mechanics held their breath, waiting for the next set of times to flash across the screens.

And then it was his final chance. The tension in the garage was palpable as Charles roared out of the pit and onto the track. His tires squealed in protest as he pushed the car through the first few turns. His voice remained calm, almost serene, as he communicated with his engineer over the radio. The headset pressed against your ears, you heard every gear change, every sigh of the engine, as if you were in the car with him.

Your eyes darted from screen to screen, tracking his progress. The car looked stable, the lines he took precise and aggressive. Your heart thumped in your chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of his tires on the asphalt. The seconds ticked away, the air in the garage thick with hope and anticipation. The crowd's roar grew louder as the cars approached the final sector.

"Come on, baby," you murmured under your breath, willing him to find that extra tenth of a second. The screens tracked his car as it approached the line, and the garage held their collective breath. The time flashed up: P3. Third on the grid.

Your heart soared, and you let out a cheer of victory that was echoed around the garage. The tension broke like a dam, and the team erupted into cheers and applause. Charles thanked Bryan, his engineer, over the radio, his voice tight with relief. He had done it. He had pushed through the pressure and the exhaustion to give them a fighting chance for the race tomorrow.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to find Mia grinning at you. "Looks like your surprise was the good luck charm we needed," she said with a wink as she reciprocated the hug. "He's been a different man since you arrived."

The qualifying session concluded with a flurry of activity. Drivers were debriefing, cars were being serviced, and the garage was buzzing with the aftermath of adrenaline. Through the chaos, Charles seemed lighter in the press pen and during the top qualifiers press conference. His smile was more genuine, his words less clipped and frustrated. When he finally returned to the garage, his eyes searched for yours and held them for a beat longer than usual. The connection was a silent acknowledgment that your presence had made a difference.

"A domani," Charles called out, his smile reaching his eyes for the first time in days as he waved to the Ferrari hospitality staff. His left hand found the handle of your suitcase, his other arm around your shoulders, his fingers tangling with yours. The short walk to the Ritz Carlton was filled with chatter about the qualifying session, his voice animated with excitement and relief. The tension of the day had melted away, and in its place was the man you knew and loved.

The hotel room was cool and serene, polar opposite to the temperature of the track. You watched him as he tossed his phone and wallet onto the dresser. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your face, his thumb brushing away the hint of sweat on your cheek. His eyes searched yours, a silent question of how you were feeling. You gave him a tired smile, the kind that said you had missed him more than words could convey. You stood there for a moment, just breathing each other in, before he pulled you closer and kissed you deeply, the stress of the day dissipating in the warmth of your mouth.

You softly urged him to shower while you handled the ordering of room service. As the water ran in the bathroom, you called down to the hotel's restaurant. You ordered your favorites, a mix of Italian and local dishes you had discovered during previous trips to the city-state. While waiting for the food, you slipped into the adjoining bathroom, your eyes scanning over his open suitcase, the disarray of his clothes mirroring the chaos of his weekend so far.

The water stopped, and you could hear the rustling of the shower curtain as he stepped out. You took a deep breath, the anticipation building as you listened to the patter of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. He emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked at you, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Tu m'as manqué, ma belle," he murmured, pulling you into his arms and kissing you as if he hadn't seen you in months.

Your cheeks flushed as his hands roamed over your body, his touch setting your skin alight. You melted into his embrace, his warmth seeping into your bones, chasing away the fatigue from your surprise trip. His kisses grew more insistent, trailing down your neck and across your collarbone.

"Cha," you laughed. "I've missed you too. But it's getting late, and you need to eat before you crash." You playfully pushed him away and gestured toward the bed where the room service tray had been set.

You left him to change as you slipped into the bathroom for your own shower. The cool spray washed away the grime of the flight and the stickiness of the track, and you felt rejuvenated as you stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself. When you emerged, the room was filled with the mouthwatering aromas of your dinner.

You sat side by side on the bed, your plates balanced on your laps, as you picked at your food, sharing bites and stories from your week apart. You talked about everything and nothing, the mundane and the monumental, filling in the gaps of your time together. Each bite of food brought a new smile to Charles' face, his appetite returning with the comfort of your company.

He continued to ramble as his head found your chest, the sound of his voice a comforting background to the quiet symphony of the city outside your hotel window. His words grew slower as he drifted off to sleep, and you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the weight of his head against you.

"I still can't believe you're here," Charles murmured against your skin, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through your very soul. "It means so much to me."

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. "I was so worried about you," you whispered. "I had to be here."

"Apparently, you being here is the best thing that's happened to me all weekend," Charles laughed, his eyes fluttering open briefly to look at you before closing again. "Et demain, on gagne," he declared his desire for victory with a yawn, his accent thick and sleepy.

You smiled, your fingers scratching his jaw gently. "Demain, on gagne," you echoed, your voice filled with the belief that together you could conquer the world.

"I wish it wasn't so hard," Charles mumbled into your chest, his eyes still closed. "The distance, the schedule. It's killing me."

Your heart squeezed. "I know, my love. But all the sacrifice, all the flights, all the time apart, all of it is worth it for moments like these." You kissed his forehead, feeling his warmth, his closeness. "I'm so proud of you for pushing through. You're gonna kick some McLaren ass tomorrow."

He chuckled sleepily, the sound reverberating against your chest. "I'll do my best."

483 notes · View notes

sunsets-and-crows · 6 months ago

Text

Claws

Thinking about how excited Syus will be when he meets you in his human life, one where he doesn't have claws.

If Sylus’ claws were anything like the talons of other animals, sharp, tough and made from keratin, they’d probably lack the sensitivity of human skin right? Claws are built for strength and precision, not for fine-tuned sensations. In his dragon form: he could touch, sure, but never really feel. Everything would be dulled, fleeting, like wearing gloves or pressing your fingers against glass to touch a hand on the other side. Softness, heat, the delicate texture of skin - it would all be a vague pressure, a constant reminder that he could never hold anything delicate without ruining it.

But now, in his human life, it was as if the gods had handed him salvation wrapped in smooth skin and scarred knuckles. His hands - alive, real - were suddenly made for touch. Where his claws had been brutal precision, his fingers were reverence incarnate. The man is experiencing true touch for the first time, he's suddenly hyperaware of everything. The softness of your cheek? Heavenly. The silkiness of your hair? A revelation. The curve of your body beneath his hands? Enough to make him lose his damn mind., turning him feral.

And let’s not forget - this man would be obsessed with the contrast. Where his claws once tore through flesh and scales, his human hands now worship your body. He’d be almost weeping at how tenderly he can hold you, feeling the pulse beneath your skin, the heat radiating from you. Every little shiver, every sigh, every slight twitch beneath his touch would make his breath catch.

Sylus wouldn’t just touch you - he’d memorise you. Because after a lifetime of dull sensation, feeling you would be a kind of salvation. A reminder that he’s human now. That you’re real. And that, for the first time, he’s capable of experiencing you the way he’s always longed to. Like I'm sure he misses being a dragon right? That's his true form. But now he can touch you so much more intimately.

Sylus couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you - human hands, strong and scarred, yes, but without the claws that once kept him a world away. It was as if the universe were apologising, granting him this form and, with it, the ability to feel you. To touch without hesitation, without fear of breaking something so precious. And gods, you were precious.

When he first brushed the pad of his thumb across your cheek, he nearly lost himself, feeling the tell-tale sting of tears prickling his eyes. His breath stilled in his chest, his throat dry as he traced the curve of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your lower lip. He marveled at the way his hands could experience you, so different from the sensation in his past life. Your skin gave beneath his touch as though you’d been made of the finest silk, warm and pliant. His hands shook - this creature of power, reduced to something tender, vulnerable. The lump in his throat swelled as he traced the curve of your jaw, every nerve in his body alight with disbelief.

“You’re real,” he murmured, his voice frayed and raw. His crimson eyes wide with something vulnerable. For so long, he had dreamed of holding you without the fear of tearing you apart. And now here you were, soft and impossibly human, letting him touch you. He didn’t have to pull away, didn’t have to fear shredding you apart with an errant motion.

You stared at him, confusion flickering across your features as his thumb traced the curve of your cheek, lingering like he was committing you to memory. There was something in his eyes - softness, longing, love - that didn’t make sense. Not to you.

To Sylus, it was everything. Each motion of his fingers poured out a devotion you couldn’t recognise, couldn’t return. It wasn’t your fault; the memories that should have connected you to him - moments of fire and flight, lifetimes of love and loss - were lost, swallowed up by time or fate.

She doesn’t remember.

The realization tore at him every time you looked at him like this - like he was a stranger. A stranger with hands that shook as he touched you, as though afraid you might slip through his grasp. You were here, now, yet still out of reach. It didn’t stop him. Nothing would stop him.

He traced your face with reverence, his voice low, almost broken. “I’ll remind you,” he whispered, as if making a promise to himself. “Even if it takes a lifetime.”

The first time he braided your hair was seared into his memory with the same intensity as the sun scorching the horizon on the plains. He’d always admired your hair - how it shimmered like liquid in the light - but feeling it slip between his fingers was an entirely new kind of pleasure. It was silk spun into strands, each section gliding so smoothly that he paused often, distracted by the sensation. His large hands, which had once been tipped with razor-sharp talons, now worked with gentle precision, twisting and weaving each section of hair into something beautiful. It shimmered between them, the strands gliding so effortlessly that he forgot what he was doing half the time. His fingers lingered, threading and unthreading, so gentle you might’ve thought him afraid. He whispered things to himself as he worked - praises, almost prayers. Perfect.

But for all those soft touches, Sylus craved more. He had always been a creature of need, a being meant to hoard and devour desire and you were his most dangerous indulgence. And when he finally had you beneath him, bare and trembling, he felt that dangerous edge of hunger blur into a new kind of worship.

His hands explored you like they’d been made for it, each touch deliberate, almost reverent. His thick fingers dragged slowly over the slopes of your body, mapping every dip and curve, every inch of skin that drew a gasp from you. The sensation of your softness giving way to him was intoxicating - a pliant warmth he could lose himself in.

And when he pressed his fingers into you for the first time, he nearly groaned aloud at how you welcomed him. His breath hitched, a groan slipping unbidden from his lips as your body welcomed him. You were wet, silken, warm - a sensation so profound he swore his vision blurred. He flexed his thick fingers, feeling you pulse and cling to him as though you’d been made for this.

“Perfect,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. He pressed his other palm flat against your hips, holding you still when you squirmed. His crimson gaze burned as he watched the way your body responded, the flush spreading down your chest, the gasps spilling from your lips. “I could do this forever,” he murmured, curling his fingers until he found that spot that had you arching beneath him. “Watch you come apart on my hands alone.”

Each moan and gasp he pulled from you ignited his own desire until he was no better than the humans he used to devour for the same crime. This was humanity, this was what feeling truly was.

His mind spun with the contrast - once, those hands had been weapons, tools for destruction. But now, they coaxed pleasure from you with an ease that made his heart race. It drove him mad, the privilege of it. How you let him hold you, mark you, ruin you - and yet, there you were, looking at him like he’d placed the stars in the sky. Sylus gripped you tighter, palms sliding possessively over your thighs, your hips, the curves that had been haunting him since that first, fateful touch.

In this life, Sylus didn’t need his claws to leave you ruined. He had you, undone and gasping, by the sheer force of his hands alone. He curled his fingers inside you, finding the spot that had you throwing your head back and bucking up to press his fingers deeper inside you. As he drank in the sound of your whimpers and the flush blooming across your chest, Sylus finally understood the truth:

You were his treasure - one he could touch, hold, and break apart as many times as he liked. And gods, he planned to.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

One day, I might be able to write something about a different LI. Today is not that day. This started as pure horny thoughts about Sylus' hands and now I don't know how to behave.

1K notes · View notes

velvetures · 1 year ago

Text

Soap would be so fucking protective of you, and I can’t get it out my head. So now it’s your problem :)

You don’t like drinking? He’s the first to draw attention away from the lack of a beer bottle in your hand. Using that irresistible charm to woo everyone out of their questions and peer pressure to get you to join in. He sees how nervous it makes you. And he’s far too sensitive to your feelings to let it happen. Besides… he’s gotten really good at giving the right orders to bartenders, so that he can give you some fruity, soda-laden thing, that passes off as one of the other cocktails all your friends are nursing.

Uncomfortable family dinners? You know, that one where your least favorite uncle is oh-so-willing to give you shit for not going into the career all of them think you should’ve pursued? Oh hell no. Soap won’t spend one second thinking over whether it’s polite or not to speak up. He just does. Abandoning your mom’s casserole he’s been complimenting with a full mouth, just to look your bastard of an uncle in the face and tell him he’d be better off complaining to the business end of a pistol. At least then, he’d get a response that would shut him up for good.

That ex who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer? He’s as good as dead. Not that he’s instinctively jealous… because really, he knows better. It’s just the mere thought of someone taking advantage of your life. Of your time. He’s livid because you’re too special to be harassed like that. Treated like a game that can be picked up and put down whenever the mood arises. Soap won’t make a spectacle of it… but the monthly calls and texts suddenly stop after a while. And you think it’s because you finally broke down and changed your phone number a second time. But… that hadn’t stopped your ex the first time. Soap just shrugs. Giving the excuse that common sense might’ve given him a change of heart. Johnny just didn’t have the heart himself to tell you that ‘common sense’ didn’t have the chance. He was far quicker.

Soap had lived a life so uncomfortable for so long, that seeing a sweet thing like you experience it becomes intolerable. It’s as if all of the killing and destruction he’s committed was for nothing, when something -even trivial- blockades your walk through life. His nature is to fix the problem. And his training only enhanced the instinct to do it violently. Quick and controlled action, using brute force to make the world spin to your tempo. And god… you hate when he does it. Constantly reassuring him that you’re an adult. That you’re prepared for life not to be easy, and that it’s only going to make you stronger in the end.

He won’t hear it though.

He wants you soft. Desperately, actually. More of a requirement for his own happiness than anything. And often times he thinks that it’s selfish. That maybe he is truly robbing you of some experiences that might be good for you. Make the life you lead interesting for the kids and grandchildren you tell stories to. But then again, he’s so staunch in his ways, that it comes to fruition like muscle-memory. Placing you on your silken throne and taking a defensive stance in front of you like a medieval knight hellbent on keeping his royalty alive and well.

John MacTavish knows your place and it’s to be behind him. Right where he can protect and provide, without the fear of you crying or getting hurt by the seemingly endless amount of people who unfathomably don’t want the same things for you. They all say they love you… want the best… but he challenges it.

Every. Single. Time.

#velvetures #velvetures writes #cod #cod mwii #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #sergeant #soap #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

1K notes · View notes

byfulcrums · 1 year ago

Text

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

#i'll make more of these later #i'm just very bored and i love rtte #race to the edge #rtte #how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd rtte #toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #dagur the deranged #tuffnut thorston #ruffnut thorston #heather the unhinged #avis' post

3K notes · View notes

jellybonbons · 1 year ago

Text

Shared Apartment, Shared Feelings

Leon Kennedy x gn afab!reader

CW: 18+ (mdni), virgin reader, college roommate au, retired fuckboy!leon, vendetta trio (chris, leon & rebecca), talks about virginity/relationship/trauma (car accident), fluff/angst/smut, a lot of kissing, dick piercing, oral job (afab receiving), pussy slapping, thigh jobs, aftercare.

Words: 7.4k

A/N: special thanks to my wife @roseglazedlens for beta reading and helping me with the banners <3 muah muah

Without a doubt, college is such a drag. It’s a wonder you haven’t given up on yourself already, with all the assignments piling up, submissions one after another, professors breathing down your neck, dealing with crappy groupmates and customers from your part-time job. But here you are, almost three years deep into your degree, with no turning back now.

You sighed, feeling the strain in your fingers from typing away all day. The pressure was real with an assignment due in just a few days. You tried to unwind with a book and music, but the impending thought of reading through another paragraph might just make your head explode.

It’s been known that college can get pretty lonely at times. Sure, you've got friends here and there, but they're all caught up in their own stuff, on top of all that, their partners. This is when you wish you had one yourself. You've had your fair share of relationships or flings in the past, but it never really went beyond first base – blame it on your commitment issues and insecurities.

Virginity is a funny thing, isn't it? Some people don't really give it much thought, while others, like yourself, see it as a significant part of who they are. To you, it's more than just a physical state – it's about vulnerability, about letting someone in and truly being seen. Maybe that's why your relationships never seem to last long. You realise now that you settled for them, not for yourself. You were caught up in the idea of a relationship rather than being honest with yourself about what you truly wanted and needed.

Heading into college, you finally found yourself crushing on someone – your roommate, Leon Kennedy. Your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. It started with your classmate-turned-friend, Rebecca Chambers, asking if you wanted to live with her and two of her friends since they had an extra room. Without hesitation, you agreed – after all, why not? Splitting the rent between four people and having a bigger apartment than your current one sounded like a win-win. But when you finally met her two friends, it felt like you stumbled upon an adorable squirrel with her two guard dogs.

You could definitely say that Leon and his other friend, Chris Redfield, were pretty protective of her, but Rebecca reassured them that she trusted you and thought you were a lovely person – bless her heart. From that day on, the tension slowly dissipated, and all of you learned how to live with each other, quirks and all. If there was ever a disagreement, Chris would call for a 'family meeting' to sort things out.

You've grown close to both Chris and Rebecca, but with Leon, it's different. He's close, yet there's still a sense of distance.

—

Exhibit A:

The huge, comfortable couch in the living room was decorated with a mismatched assortment of decorative pillows, giving the area a homely, well-worn feel. The walls were covered in posters of bands, and a shelf next to it held a tidy collection of DVDs. Game controllers, remote controls, and empty food wrappers were frequently strewn all over the coffee table – no matter how many times Rebecca told Chris and Leon to clean them up. The room had the ideal ambience for movie evenings thanks to the floor lamp's warm glow and the fairy lights.

You noticed that Leon would always have your favourite snacks on hand, without you even needing to ask. But then again, he made sure to get snacks for everyone else too. You never once mentioned your favourite snacks to him – you guess he might have overheard you talking to Rebecca in the dining area while he was playing video games with Chris in the living room that one time.

"Here," Leon said, passing you the brightly wrapped package after doling out snacks to the others.

“Thanks,” you said, taking them from Leon. “How did you know these are my favourites?”

He shrugged casually. “Maybe I'm just good at picking up on things.”

"But I've never told you," you pointed out, genuinely curious.

Leon hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got my ways of finding out,” he replied cryptically before turning away to grab a drink.

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by his response. “Oh, well, thanks again.”

"Oh my god! It's been so long since I've eaten those," Rebecca, who was cuddled up next to you, exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at your snacks. You chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"You want some?" you offered, opening the snack package.

"Yes, please!" she eagerly replied.

If you had turned back, you would have noticed Leon's ears turning a faint shade of red, but you were too focused on sharing the snacks with Rebecca to notice his reaction.

Exhibit B:

Amidst the chaos of exam week, you and Chris had taken over the living room for a study session. Notes, textbooks, and Post-it notes were strewn everywhere, creating a cluttered workspace. Rebecca had wisely chosen to isolate herself in her room, knowing that if she joined you two, it would devolve into gossip rather than studying. As for Leon, he preferred the solitude of studying alone.

By 2 am, Chris had already succumbed to exhaustion, snoring away on the couch. Meanwhile, you were hunched over your notes on the floor, frustration building as you re-read the material for what felt like the hundredth time. A headache was starting to form, exacerbated by the late hour and Chris' snoring.

Lost in your work, you didn't notice Leon's quiet approach until he set a hot mug of green tea on the coffee table beside you. "Take a break," he said casually, before moving over to Chris and gently nudging him awake, signaling that it was time for him to call it a night.

"Hey, wake up," Leon whispered.

Chris grunted in response, rolling over to his side and snoring loudly. Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes and deliver a – gentle – punch to Chris's arm, hoping it would be enough to jolt him awake.

"Ouch! Damn, Leon, that hurts," Chris groaned, rubbing his arm where Leon had punched him.

Leon, unapologetic, raised an eyebrow at Chris. "Maybe if you didn't snore like a freight train, I wouldn't have to resort to violence."

Chris, still rubbing his arm, shot you a playful glare. "Well, if someone didn't study so quietly, maybe I wouldn't need to fill the room with my soothing snores."

"Don't look at me, I'm just trying to study peacefully," you retorted, raising your hand in mock surrender while cradling the mug in your other.

"Yeah, right. Your snores are like lullabies, Chris. I almost fell asleep while making my late-night snack,” Leon said with a slight smirk.

Chris mockingly gasped. "You wound me, Leon. My snores are an art form."

You chuckled. "Well, gentlemen, whether it's an art form or a lullaby, it's time for the masterpiece to take a break. Chris, go get some beauty sleep." Chris nodded.

"You too, don't stay up too late," Leon said to you, shooting a glance in your direction before grabbing Chris by his shirt.

"I'm up, I'm up," Chris protested, his voice muffled as Leon playfully put him in a headlock and guided him towards his room.

You couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, taking another sip of your tea as you watched them disappear down the hallway.

—

You found yourself in a dilemma. Leon had always been just a friend, but lately, you couldn't shake off the growing attraction you felt towards him. It wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in, although his blue eyes, his piercings and the little details about him were certainly captivating. It was the way he was always there for you, that’s what friends are for, right?

You discovered that you couldn't stop thinking about him, day or night. His presence seemed to linger in your mind, occupying your thoughts even when you were supposed to be focusing on something else. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his video game strategies or the way he would absentmindedly run his hand through his hair when he was deep in thought. And those moles scattered across his skin, you found yourself itching to trace your fingers over them, to memorise every little detail of him.

But despite your growing feelings, you were hesitant to act on them. You cherished the ‘friendship’ you shared with Leon and you were afraid of risking it by admitting your true feelings. So for now, you kept your emotions buried deep within, hoping that they would eventually fade away – but they didn’t.

—

Leon had been sceptical when Rebecca first introduced you to him and Chris. He thought you might have ulterior motives, using her to get closer to him for his body. After all, he had a reputation as a fuckboy, although he considered himself a retired one now. That's why both him and Chris were so protective of her; he didn't want to drag Rebecca into his messy past again.

However, Leon was genuinely surprised when he discovered that you didn't know much about his past. While you were aware of his existence, you weren't deeply immersed in campus drama, preferring to spend your time online with other interests. You treated him like any other person, and he found himself grateful for that. In the past, he had been the worst version of himself, indulging in alcohol, weed, and sex, using his body to get whatever he wanted. But hey, in this economy, whatever works.

He had grown accustomed to people using him, whether it was for physical gratification or emotional support. It was the darkest chapter of his history, and his once-close friendship with Chris and Rebecca had deteriorated to the point where they were practically strangers, but that was six months ago. Now they were back to being three peas in a pod, their bond stronger than ever.

Then came that one fateful night – that one awful night – when he had drunk too much and made the reckless decision to drive home while intoxicated from a party. What great friends he had.

As Leon stirred awake in the hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of machines punctured the air, accompanied by the clinical scent of antiseptic. His gaze fell upon Rebecca, slumbering peacefully in a chair beside his bed, though the fatigue evident in the bags beneath her eyes spoke of restless nights spent by his side. Summoning what little strength he could muster, he attempted to rouse her with a feeble movement of his finger.

Suddenly, Chris burst into the room, bearing two cups of coffee in hand. The sight of Leon awake nearly caused him to fumble the cups, hastily setting them down on a nearby table before rushing to his friend's bedside with evident concern. Rebecca, startled by Chris's sudden entrance and booming voice, blinked awake in a daze.

“Leon, you’re awake!” Rebecca's smile lit up the room as she clasped Leon's uninjured hand in hers.

Leon attempted to speak, but his dry throat betrayed him. Swift to notice, Chris quickly retrieved a water bottle and a straw for Leon. While Rebecca, with practised ease adjusted the bed to a more comfortable position, allowing Leon to sit up slightly. As soon as the straw touched his lips, Leon didn't hesitate to take a much-needed sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat.

Once he had quenched his thirst, Leon managed a weak smile of gratitude, his gaze shifting between Chris and Rebecca. "Thanks, guys," he murmured hoarsely, his voice still rough from disuse.

"Was anyone else hurt?” he asked anxiously, recalling the events of the previous night with a sense of dread. He knew he had made a terrible mistake by driving under the influence, and he dreaded the thought of anyone else being harmed because of his actions.

Chris exchanged a glance with Rebecca before answering, his expression sombre. "It was just you, Leon," he replied gently, placing a comforting hand on Leon's shoulder. "You're lucky, man. Could've been a lot worse."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, her worry evident in her eyes. "We're just glad you're okay," she added softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For once in his life, he let his tears flow freely, openly crying in front of them. There were many reasons for his tears, but two stood out: their unwavering support despite his past behaviour and the stark realisation of how close he came to losing everything. It felt like a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to change his ways.

As both Chris and Rebecca leaned in for an embrace, he felt the warmth of their love enveloping him. That moment marked a new beginning for them. They took turns caring for him, offering support and encouragement every step of the way. And with their help, he began to see a therapist to address his trauma and work through his issues, determined to become a better version of himself.

He knew he wasn't perfect, but he was steadily making progress.

—

You were like a breath of fresh air, bringing a sense of normalcy to Leon's life outside his close circle of friends. The more he observed you, the more smitten he became. He found himself falling hard for you, enchanted by the melody of your voice and the way your smile lit up the room. Even when you laughed at his silly jokes while Chris and Rebecca remained unimpressed, it only deepened his infatuation. From your quick wit to your undeniable charm, he felt like a lovesick puppy in your presence.

Many moments with you left a lasting impression on Leon. One night, he had fallen asleep on the couch, and you had just returned from a night shift. Spotting Leon asleep, you crept, careful not to disturb him. You gently placed your belongings on the dining table before quietly slipping into his room to retrieve a blanket.

You returned with the blanket and draped them over him, ensuring he stayed warm throughout the night. As you crouched down beside him, you couldn't resist the urge to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling softly at the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.

As you quietly left the room and retreated to your own, Leon being the light sleeper he was, felt a rush of emotions flooding through him. His heart raced as he became aware of your proximity, even in his slumber. The gentle touch of your hand and the warmth of your presence lingered in his mind, leaving him feeling strangely comforted yet unsettled all at once. It was a moment he couldn't shake, stirring something within him that he couldn't quite put into words.

These mixed emotions were still present during another memorable moment, when you, Chris, Rebecca, and Leon gathered for a pizza dinner. Chris, in his usual generous fashion, ordered a variety – cheese, pepperoni, and BBQ pizzas. The living room transformed into a makeshift dining area as you all settled in to watch a movie while enjoying the feast. Despite the lively atmosphere, Leon found himself quietly observing you, the feelings from the previous night still lingering in his mind, adding a layer of depth to the otherwise ordinary gathering.

Whatever, he shook his thoughts away.

As the pizza boxes opened, Leon grabbed a slice of the BBQ pizza, only to discover a surplus of onions. His displeasure was evident and despite his efforts to discreetly pick off the offending toppings, the struggle did not go unnoticed by you.

Your laughter bubbled up as you observed Leon's onion-removing antics. "Not a fan of onions, huh?" you teased.

"Nah, I don’t like the extra crunch," Leon replied, continuing to pick them off.

You extended your plate towards him. "Just give them to me; I like onions," you offered with a smile.

"Really? Thanks," Leon responded, handing you the onion-laden slices.

"You need to stop being such a picky eater, Leon," Chris chimed in between bites of his pizza.

Leon shook his head defiantly. "Nope, not happening," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Rebecca joined in, adding with a playful grin, "Hey, at least now we know who the real onion lover is around here!"

After your laughter died down, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Leon – you loved onions, but little did they know that you had a particular disdain for red onions.

Despite all this, Leon couldn't shake the memories that haunted him. Beneath the surface of his laidback demeanour lay a vulnerability he had yet to reveal to anyone outside his close circle of friends.

It was a sunny morning as you and Leon walked side by side to class, chatting idly about your schedules. But then your conversation was abruptly interrupted by the screech of tyres from behind, a sharp, piercing sound that seemed to echo through Leon's bones.

Without warning, Leon's steps faltered, his body freezing in place as his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened with fear, his muscles tensing as if preparing for impact.

You sensed the shift in his demeanour immediately, instincts kicking in as you turned to face him, concern etched across your features. "Leon?" you called softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Don't," he said sharply, his voice tinged with a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Please, just... don't touch me."

You froze, your heart sinking at the rejection. You had never seen Leon react like this before, and the realisation only fueled your determination to help him.

"Okay," you said softly, pulling your hand back. "I won't touch you. But I'm here, Leon. You're not alone."

Leon's breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggled to regain control of his racing thoughts.

Thinking quickly, you searched for another way to reach him. You remembered the breathing exercises you learned from the internet, the rhythmic pattern designed to calm the mind in moments of distress.

"Leon," you said gently, your voice a steady anchor in the storm of his panic. "Listen to me. We're going to try something, okay? Just focus on my voice."

Leon nodded hesitantly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

"Close your eyes," you instructed, your own voice calm and measured. "Now, take a deep breath in through your nose... and out through your mouth. Good. Now, let's do it again. In... and out."

Together, both of you repeated the breathing exercises; Leon's tense muscles gradually relaxing with each steady breath. You kept your voice low and soothing, guiding him through the process with gentle encouragement.

The chaotic noise of the campus faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths. And with each passing moment, Leon felt the grip of panic loosening its hold, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

"Thank you," Leon whispered as he finally opened his eyes, his voice hoarse with overwhelming emotions.

"Anytime.” You smiled softly at him.

—

You were attractive, considerate, attentive, but sometimes sarcastic — all the more reason to love you. So imagine his surprise when, during one of your deep conversations, you dropped the bombshell: "I'm still a virgin."

Leon's reaction was immediate. "Wait, what?" His eyes widened in disbelief, and he nearly choked on the iced tea Rebecca had made for everyone.

You couldn't help but smirk at his reaction, finding his surprise somewhat amusing. "Yeah, I know, right?" you replied casually, trying to downplay the moment. "Just never felt the rush, I guess."

Leon's expression softened, his initial shock giving way to an understanding. "Well, that's... unexpected," he admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "But hey, it's your choice, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah," you said, taking a sip of the iced tea. You couldn't help but grimace as the sweetness hit your taste buds; Rebecca had gone a bit overboard with the sugar again. “I guess, I just have a hard time trusting people to truly see me, you get it?” you said, revealing a vulnerability that Leon hadn't seen before.

“Just the idea of letting someone see a vulnerable side of you and then, things fall apart, and that person is not in your life anymore... it's terrifying."

Leon nodded thoughtfully, the flicker of a reassuring smile appearing on his lips. "I get it," he responded softly, his eyes reflecting understanding.

"It's hard to open up when you've been hurt before. But not everyone is the same, you know? And sometimes, taking that risk can lead to something beautiful."

"Yeah, but I’m not ready to take that risk," you pondered, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Leon leaned forward, his expression gentle. "That's okay," he said. "It's all about timing, and when you're ready, you'll know. Until then, just focus on being true to yourself." If the old Leon heard this, he would cringe in disgust at how poetic he has become.

“Aw, look at you, Mr. Wise man,” you teased, playfully punching his shoulder.

“Hey, I have experience, okay,” he chuckled, offering a playful wink. "Life's full of surprises, and you never know when the right person might come along." Leon thought to himself, hoping silently that he could be that person for you.

To be your person — it was a dream he cherished deeply. He already felt privileged enough to see you with your dishevelled hair every morning, to enjoy the breakfasts you made, to hear you humming to yourself as you cleaned the apartment, and to witness all the little quirks that made you... you.

Like the way you always insisted on starting your day with a cup of hot warm water because of its health benefits. Or how you had a habit of tapping your fingers on any surface whenever you were anxious. The way you collect little trinkets and gift them to others because they reminded you of them, or how you could never resist stopping to take pictures of the sky when it looked especially pretty. The way you scrunch your nose when you laugh, and how you always double-knot your shoelaces because "you can't be too careful,” even though they somehow always come undone, so he has to tie them for you again — cue to Rebecca and Chris giggling quietly at the back.

“Yeah, who knows?” you replied with a smile, stopping him from his daydreaming state.

Leon looked into your eyes, a gentle warmth spreading through his chest. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you at that moment. Your smiles softened, and a comfortable silence settled between you. Time felt like it slowed down as you both gazed at each other, the unspoken words and hidden shared feelings hanging in the air.

However, the moment was cut short when cock-block Chris slid the balcony doors open, surprising you guys.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Chris said, his voice breaking the momentary silence. "But I thought you might want to join us for board games. Rebecca's been bugging me to drag you both inside.”

You chuckled at Chris's interruption. "Sure, sounds like fun," you replied, shooting a playful glance at Leon.

Leon grinned in response, a twinkle in his eye as he nodded in agreement. "Let's go then," he said, rising from his seat and motioning for you to follow.

“Can’t wait to beat you in Monopoly,” you added with a mischievous grin, earning a playful scoff from Leon.

“Dream on,” Leon replied with a playful smirk, grabbing both his and your drink before heading back inside.

“Hey, we know Rebecca is the master of Monopoly,” Chris chimed in.

"Yeah, you’re right, she always bankrupts us within the first hour," you agreed with a laugh.

"Alright, let's see if we can finally overthrow the reigning champion," Leon said with determination, leading the way back inside.

—

You should have been spending your weekend with friends, but alas, the call of assignments beckoned you to spend the week in your room. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you typed away on your laptop, nearing the end of your essay. All that remained were the conclusion and the references.

This was the second time you had to redo this assignment. Your professor, Dr. Wesker, critiqued it during the tutorial, and it fell short of his expectations, so you had to incorporate the points you had missed. You made a mental note to give him three stars in the end-of-semester review – that being generous — and to punch Chris because he said Wesker’s class was easy. No, it was not; Wesker made sure to run the class like the Navy.

As the evening turned into night, you fueled your essay-writing spree with a touch of spite. The anticipation of going to the new jazz bar in your area with your friends was the added motivation. Empty instant coffee cans littered your desk, proving your determination. In the apartment, it was just you and Leon; Chris was visiting his sister, Claire, while Rebecca was out on a date with Billy. Helping Rebecca get ready had only made you more jealous of her evening out. Ever the sweetheart, she noticed you were down and promised to bring back treats for you as a reward.

The apartment felt unusually quiet, with only the hum of your laptop and the distant sounds of city life filtering through the windows. The silence was a stark reminder of the fun you were missing out on. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing Leon was just in the other room, a silent presence that somehow made the tedious task of essay writing a bit more bearable.

However, the universe was not on your side as your old laptop finally decided to give up on you. Despite all your efforts — charging, troubleshooting, and pleading — it refused to turn back on. "No, no, no, no!" you exclaimed, punctuating each word with a frustrated slam of your hand against the desk. Scratch that, Dr. Wesker is getting only one star and a long paragraph in the comment section.

Hearing the commotion from Leon’s bedroom, he paused his game and rushed into your room. "What happened?!" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You looked at him with tears streaming down your face. "My laptop won't open," you said.

His face softened as he approached you. "I'm assuming you've tried everything," he remarked.

"Yes!" you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Leon reassured you, his tone soothing. "What did you use to do your assignment on?" he inquired, rolling your chair closer to him and kneeling down in front of you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Google Docs," you replied.

He nodded reassuringly. "Okay, they have an auto-save feature, so your work is still there. In the meantime, you can use mine." Leon wiped away your tears with his thumb. "I know a guy who can fix your laptop, so you don't have to worry."

Leon's comforting touch eased your tension slightly. "Thanks," you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I'm sorry for lashing out. It's just….it’s been a stressful week."

He offered you a sympathetic smile. "No need to apologise," he said softly. "We all have our moments.”

"You're too good for me," you whispered, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Leon's sympathetic expression softened further as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Hey, don't say that," he replied earnestly. "You're amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. And if you ever need someone to talk to or help you through tough times, I'm here for you, always.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you said softly as you wiped the remaining tears away.

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the sound of the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then, you hesitated before speaking again.

"Leon... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we're friends, but... lately, I've been feeling something more. I can't shake this feeling that there's something between us, something deeper?"

Leon's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't interrupt as you continued.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush as you fidget with your fingers, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I just needed to get it off my chest."

For a moment, there was only silence as Leon processed your words. Then, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, stopping you from fidgeting. On the inside, he was literally jumping up and down and screaming internally. His heart raced with excitement and joy, but he kept his composure, squeezing your hand gently to convey his feelings.

“I... I've been feeling the same way," he admitted quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "I didn't know if you felt the same, but… I've been wanting to tell you how I feel for a while now." His hands felt warm against your cold ones, a reassuring touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

"But are you sure you want to be with someone like me? I’m a bit damaged,” he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of insecurity. As you shared a tender gaze, his vulnerability spilled out.

"At the same time… I want to be with you. You keep me grounded, and every day I feel like I'm becoming a better version of myself because of you. But I don’t want to burden you with my baggage."

Your heart swelled with affection as you reached out to cup his face, gently wiping away the traces of doubt etched there. "Leon, I see you, all of you, and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Being damaged doesn’t make you any less worthy of love and happiness. We all have our scars and struggles. What matters is that you’re taking steps to heal, to become the best version of yourself. And I want to be there for you, every step of the way.”

At that moment, Leon knew he couldn't let his fears hold him back any longer.

Leon’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to stand still as he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a passionate heartfelt kiss. His hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words— the love, the gratitude, the desire. His lips moved against yours with fervent need, and as you responded, you could feel the weight of his insecurities lifting, replaced by the warmth of your mutual affection.

Breaking the kiss, Leon scooped you up from your chair with ease, his arms strong and secure around you. He carried you to your bed and gently laid you down, his gaze never leaving yours. The tenderness in his eyes spoke volumes as he caressed your face.

"You mean everything to me, and I want to be the one you can always rely on." He leaned in for another kiss, sealing his promise with the warmth of his embrace. “Just how I can rely on you.”

When Leon's words settled in, you felt a rush of emotion swell in your chest. You reached up, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your touch and moving down to his neck where his moles were. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you could see the sincerity behind every word he had spoken.

Leon let out a gasp as your fingers continued their gentle exploration, the touch feeling soft and human against his skin. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Letting out a sigh of contentment, he buried his face against your neck, inhaling your familiar scent—the comforting mix of laundry detergent and coffee, so wonderfully homey.

“God, you don’t know how much you've softened me.” He chuckled softly, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

You couldn't help but tease him, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, is that so?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "Big, tough Leon going all soft on me?"

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a grin. "Yeah, you have that effect on me," he admitted. "Never thought I'd be saying that."

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. "Well, I kind of like this softer side of you," you teased, your eyes sparkling. "Makes me feel special."

"You are special," Leon whispered, his expression turning serious. "More than you know."

“Leon…I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady but your heart racing.

“Ready for what, sweetheart?” he asked, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally. He liked how it felt, unlike the generic terms, ‘Babe’ and ‘Baby’ he had used for his past flings when he didn’t bother to remember their names.

“Ready… for you to take my virginity.”

Leon’s eyes widened slightly before he softened, his expression filled with tenderness. "Oh… you're so precious. Not now, okay? I want to take you out on a date first."

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently. “I can make you feel good without taking it…do you trust me?”

“I do,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth.

“Then just relax," he said softly. "I’m here, and I’ll gladly help you release your stress.”

Without another word, Leon closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, desperate kiss — a culmination of months of longing and pent-up desire. All your worries and stress melted away as you sought solace in each other’s embrace.

As the kiss deepened, Leon’s hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer with a strong need to please you. The hunger and longing that had built up over the months drove you both, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity neither of you had ever felt before.

Leon’s fingers deftly found the hem of your sweater, slowly lifting it up and over your head. As your bare skin met the cool air, a wave of shyness washed over you. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself.

Leon paused, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and gentle reassurance. He reached out, his hands gently removing yours from your chest. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, and you felt your body relax under his touch, trusting him completely.

“Leon…”

With a reassuring smile, Leon stepped back slightly and grasped the hem of his own shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it over his head, revealing the defined lines of his chest, the faint scars that marked his skin, and the tantalising happy trail leading down from his naval.

“See? Nothing to be shy about.” Leon had come so far, enduring countless battles, to reach this moment of vulnerability and softness with you.

You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the sight of his happy trail peeking through his sweatpants. His lips, slightly swollen from your shared kisses, only added to the heat coursing through you. The mere thought of kissing him had you feeling an ache between your legs — maybe those cringy scenes in films about virgin sex aren’t so fake after all. As you squeezed your thighs together unconsciously, he chuckled softly and gently pulled them apart.

"You okay there?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

You laughed nervously, trying to mask your embarrassment. "Yeah, just... overwhelmed, I guess."

Leon's chuckle deepened. "I'd say that's a good sign," he teased, his fingers tracing a soothing pattern on your thigh. "But let's take it slow, okay?"

Leon's fingers trailed along the curve of your thigh, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. "Have you ever... touched yourself before?" he asked softly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, the sensation of his touch combined with the intimacy of his inquiry making your heart race. "Um, well... yeah," you replied hesitantly, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Leon's touch became even more tender, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he leaned in closer. "Tell me about it," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to know everything."

“I... I just use my fingers,” you confessed, feeling a little embarrassed by the simplicity of your answer. You found yourself rambling about the prices of sex toys and how impractical they seemed, but Leon's attention was elsewhere as he trailed his fingers down to your clothed heat.

With unabashed hunger, he traced his fingertips over the fabric shielding your wetness, sending shivers through you. He moved lower, his mouth finding your inner thighs, licking and biting gently, his breath hot against your skin.

As you continued to ramble with hitched breaths, Leon nodded along, occasionally responding with a thoughtful "hmm" here and there. His lips pressed against your clothed mound and his tongue piercing tracing circles over the fabric. Each teasing lick and swirling motion sent shivers coursing through your body.

“Leon, fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips toward his face.

His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he slid down your underwear, revealing your glistening folds. His tongue darted out, flicking against your swollen clit while his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place.

Leon savoured the taste of your arousal, relishing how you quivered beneath him, desperate for more. His lips closed around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue worked in skilled motions. As your moans filled the room, he intensified his assault, his tongue delving deeper and applying more pressure.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your slick folds, his voice filled with possessiveness. “My special sweetheart.” With a playful yet firm touch, he lightly slapped your clit, eliciting a gasp from you.

Your breath hitched at Leon's possessive words and instinctively, wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him closer and squeezing them together in response. The sensation of his tongue and lips working so intimately against you, combined with the pressure of your thighs around him, heightened the intensity of your pleasure.

“Leon!” you babbled his name like a prayer as he worked his tongue on you. Each flick and swirl of his tongue made you tremble, the overwhelming sensation almost too much to bear. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as you surrendered to him.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, Leon started to grind himself against the mattress. His sweatpants strained against his growing erection. He could feel the dampness of his pre-cum soaking through the fabric, each grind intensifying the need coursing through him. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his pants, desperate for release as he focused on bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tightening coil of release building within you. Instinctively, your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair tightly as you arched your back, your body seeking more of his touch. The sharp tug made Leon grunt, a deep, guttural sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

Despite the pain, he refused to relent, his determination evident in the way he continued to devour you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue and lips worked with relentless precision, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, refusing to let you go.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal bliss. Leon held you through it all, refusing to let you go until you were utterly undone beneath him, lost in the euphoria of the moment.

As you lay there, panting and trembling, Leon parted from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with your release. He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, before tenderly kissing your clit. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I could devour you all night."

Your cheeks heated up due to his remarks, a turbulent rush of feelings that filled your senses with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Under the intensity of his gaze, you quivered, feeling another desire surge through you again.

Leon leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours as he spat on your cunt, the warm liquid mixing with your own arousal. He clumsily peeled off his sweatpants, revealing his hard, straining cock. He positioned himself between your legs, pushing your thighs together to create a tight, plush space.

With a low groan, Leon began to stroke himself between your thighs, the friction against your slick skin sending jolts of pleasure through him. Each thrust caused his piercing to occasionally bump against your clit, sending thrilling shocks through your body and making you gasp with the unexpected sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, his eyes fixated on the scandalous sight before him — the view of his reddened and swollen tip emerging from the clutch of your thighs.

You were certain Leon would leave bruises on your thighs from the way he was gripping them. “I’m gonna... gonna—shit,” Leon whimpered, quickening his pace. His thrusts became urgent and forceful, driven by an insatiable hunger for release. The air was filled with the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin. He leaned over you, shifting into a mating press with your legs squished to your chest and his balls slapping against your ass.

With a few more thrusts, Leon succumbed to the pleasure, his body tensing as he spilt himself between your thighs and stomach. Waves of ecstasy washed over him, and he continued to move, riding out his orgasm with a mix of intense relief and satisfaction. His body trembled with aftershocks and his breathing erratic as he slowly descended from the high.

As Leon collapsed beside you, panting and spent, he realised that you hadn't come for the second time. He then shifted his position, propping himself up on one elbow as he glanced down at your flushed form. Seeing the need still evident in your eyes, he gently brushed his fingers over your slick folds, seeking out your swollen clit.

"Let me take care of you again," he cooed as he began to rub gentle circles over your sensitive bud. With each stroke, he felt your body respond, the tension building once more as you whimpered and writhed beneath his touch.

Leon focused entirely on bringing you to the peak of pleasure, his movements deliberate and precise as he pushed you closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and your hips bucked against his hand, signalling how near you were to release. With a shuddering gasp, you finally reached your climax. Leon’s grip was steady as you trembled beneath him, lost in the overwhelming euphoria.

He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. "I'll be right back," he whispered, leaving the room momentarily to grab a warm, damp towel. Returning swiftly, he carefully wiped away the sweat and traces of cum from your skin.

Once he finished, he picked up your discarded sweater from the floor and slipped it over your shoulders, ensuring you were comfortable. You nestled into its warmth as Leon retrieved his own sweatpants and pulled them on.

Returning to your side, he asked softly, "Feeling better?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you snuggled closer to him. "Yeah, much better. Thanks for taking care of me."

He smiled back, his eyes filled with affection, and gently massaged the nape of your neck. "How was the aftercare? It's my first time doing it."

You chuckled softly. "Honestly, I can't say much about it since I don't have any experience either."

Leon laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess we're both new at this. Maybe I should include 'aftercare specialist' on my résumé."

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but only if I get to be your reference."

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal."

Pics are from pinterest and edited by: @roseglazedlens

Dividers by: @chachachannah

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy

2K notes · View notes

niceutossu · 10 months ago

Text

Arguments | Atsumu x Reader

You had known the moment you began dating Atsumu that volleyball would always come before anything, whether that was the dates that had already been planned or seeing each other more than once a week you knew, so you were never really hurt. Volleyball was something he was so passionate about and devoted to, seeing his eyes light up every time he got to play never got old. No, your boyfriend’s obsession for the sport never bothered you, in fact you even admired him for his devotion.

What did bother you though was when he would bring up his commitment to the sport every time the two of you would argue. The small bickering you would have occasionally never triggered it but the bigger fights you two had did. Every time you would express any sort of irritation or insecurity against Atsumu because of his schedule, his lack of communication, or anything else in between he would bring up the same point: he was committed to volleyball above all else.

Volleyball was his priority.

Volleyball was his career.

Volleyball was something he loved long before he loved you.

Well he had never said the last one but that’s how it felt like in your eyes. After countless missed dates, calls, hugs, and everything else a boyfriend was meant to provide it was easy to tell why you had become so insecure. You had beat into your head that you weren’t nearly as much of a priority to him as the sport he loved. It hurt to not be on par with a sport of all things, but you would never admit that to him. You never wanted to be the clingy partner who prevented him from chasing his dreams but you couldn’t help the insecurity that had built up so high it was close to bursting out as Atsumu somehow devoted even more of himself to volleyball.

It all came crashing down when you confronted him after yet another one of his late practices, so sick of the empty bed and unopened messages and your entire one sided relationship.

You were laying on the couch in your empty living room, a random movie playing in the background as you rubbed at your tired eyes. It was late and you were waiting for Atsumu in hopes of planning the next date, or even just the next interaction the two of you would have.

Important matches had been piling up on Atsumu and the pressure to be the best setter he could be was clearly pushing him to work harder than ever. At first you had been completely understanding when he told you he might not be able to spend as much time with you as he focused more on practicing, after all you had seen firsthand how hard he had been working towards his dreams.

Yet your unwavering support began to falter when you realized that your time together would become nonexistent. You had hoped that limited time would at least mean you got to talk before bed or kiss each other goodbye in the morning. Instead limited time had become no time at all, the last time you had seen and had a conversation longer than three words with Atsumu was almost three weeks ago. Your heart sank at the thought as you gently wrapped your arms around yourself, almost letting yourself succumb to a lonely sleep before you heard the front door unlock and creak open gently.

Atsumu walked through the door with a heavy sigh while setting down his duffel bag and some takeout garbage. He rubbed at his own tired eyes as his shoulders slumped before he finally noticed your presence on the couch, a tight smile forming on his lips as he made his way over to you.

“Why are you still awake?” He asked tiredly as he tried to hold back a yawn.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You said gently as you adjusted yourself on the couch to give him a space to sit, he remained standing though with an unreadable expression as you suddenly felt nervous under his tired gaze.

“Sorry but can’t we do this tomorrow or something? I’m really tired and I have early morning practice so,” Atsumu said expectantly as he began making his way towards your shared bedroom without even giving you a chance respond.

“‘Atsumu are you serious? It’s not like that will even happen with how busy you are, so busy apparently you can’t even give me a minute to talk.” You snapped, feeling irritated that his immediate response was to shut you down.

“Oh my god yer not starting this I told you I was gonna be busy why are you treating me like the bad guy now, I warned ya didn’t I?” He snapped back as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“I haven’t seen you in literal weeks Atsumu, you come home when I’m asleep and leave before I wake up. The only thing we’ve done as a couple is sleep next to each other.” You say as you start to get angrier, the glare Atsumu sends your way pissing you off even more. It had started to feel like you were his roommate more than his lover and it only added on to your growing insecurities.

“I don’t know how you think I can remain one of Japan’s best setters without practicing every single day sweetheart.” Atsumu said, the usually tender nickname now laced with a mean bite to it as he tried to his best to keep his temper in check, which was becoming harder by the second as he wondered why you couldn’t let go of what he thought was such a stupid conversation. He didn’t feel like he needed to justify his devotion, you already knew how much this meant to him. Why couldn’t you just continue to support him even if it meant not seeing him that much?

“Obviously I know you have to practice Atsumu,” You said with an annoyed tone as you tried your best to calm down and be civil despite the anger coursing through every part of you. As much as you wanted to be openly upset and clingy and cry about how much you missed him you still had your pride and he should be willing to spend a bit more time with you, you were his lover after all.

“I love that you can pour everything you have into volleyball but I also miss my boyfriend. I’m not asking you to choose one or the other I just want to spend a fraction of the time you spend on volleyball together.” You finished calmly, gaze softening as your hopeful eyes met Atsumu’s irritated glare.

“Is that it? Yer just feeling needy? You know how important this is to me and you still are always asking me for such annoying things. Volleyball has always and will always come first, okay? I don’t get what you’re thinking but the most important thing to me right now isn’t spending time with you it’s-“ Before Atsumu could finish he met your gaze as the angry tears you had been trying so hard to hold back finally began to fall.

“Volleyball! I know god I know. Volleyball is your job, volleyball is your passion, volleyball is your life I fucking know Atsumu. God I know that I come second every time too- god don’t you think I know that?” You asked, voice going embarrassingly high pitched towards the end as the sobs you had tried to so desperately keep in finally tumbled out of you.

“I thought maybe if I was second to someone like you it would feel like first but it doesn’t, you don’t even care about me- god I’m sorry that me loving you is so,” You stopped trying to fight against your shaky voice to speak and instead let yourself succumb to your loud hiccups and cries.

“Annoying.” You managed to finish in a hoarse voice, repeating his earlier words as you looked up to meet eyes glazed over with obvious anxiousness and regret. Atsumu had never been the best at words like he was at volleyball, it had been fun to joke around about it before but right now, when you needed his reassurance more than ever, you found it the be the least funny thing in the world.

At his silence after your words you scoffed as you got up from the couch and walked past him silently to your shared bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you as tears continued to stream down your face. The bubbling anger that once tormented your stomach had turned into a pitiful ache of insecurity, one that had you sobbing into your pillow while Atsumu remained outside listening to your cries.

He stayed glued to his spot in the kitchen, eyes staring at the door you had closed behind you while his mind raced endlessly.

The truth was Atsumu had no idea how he was going to fix this, therefore he had said nothing to you. He had never seen in you in such a state during an argument, his brain kept replaying the look of pure devastation that flashed in your pretty eyes the moment he decided to be an asshole and bring up his commitment to volleyball. He knew you understood his love for the sport, god-you were the one who was always in the stands, staying up late after practice hours to tell him good night and waking up early to wish him good luck for matches, and trying your hardest to synch up your lives together. He had been so stuck in his own selfish ways that he failed to notice how much you needed him.

You had been giving him your all and more and he had not even spared you a moment’s time. He had felt lonely too but when he would get notifications with your sweet messages, sleepy kisses in the morning, and gentle good lucks before every game no matter what were enough for him to be reminded of your support. Yet he had offered none of the same in return, his heart ached at the thought of just how lonely you must have been. He had rarely replied to your messages or even provided you with a fraction of the love you gave him.

That’s why he felt like such shit, because you had been putting in so much effort to make things work and he had been afraid. Afraid of how much he started to care about you, afraid of how much he started to depend on you, afraid that you meant as much to him as volleyball because no one had ever meant that much to him. He was especially afraid of the day where he would have to choose, that was until he was reminded that he would never have to, you would never make him. He knows that and he feels his heart tighten as he continues to reflect while desperately gnawing on his bottom lip.

He feels like he’s going crazy thinking about how’s he going to fix it, wanting nothing more than to barge into your shared bedroom begging for forgiveness on his hands and knees but deciding it was better to give you some space. He had been an asshole after all, the least he could do was not force you to listen to any more of his bullshit. Right before he started to get ready for a night on the couch he heard your door unlocking and whipped his head to see your tear-stained face poke through as you shuffled out.

Atsumu immediately straightened up as he met your gaze, still feeling unsure of what to say but knowing he has to say something, anything. You deserve it and he knows that but he’s suffocated by the guilt that overcomes him as he remembers just how much you love him, and that if he truly did love you more you wouldn’t have been crying over him a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” Atsumu begins, words unsure and timid as he looks up at you for permission to continue. He feels himself perk up at your slight nod.

“I didn’t mean what I said and, and,” Atsumu continues as he struggles for the right words to find. This was one of the things that pained Atsumu about being madly in love was that there was no way for him to the word the important things. A part of him really wishes he could go back in time and beat himself up so he could just hug you right now, avoiding using words entirely.

“And you know that I’m really bad at apologies just like how you know everything about me and I think I love you just as much, no- more than what I do because I get to do it with you. So, I’m sorry for being so difficult. You aren’t ever second, yer my everything.” Atsumu finished as he felt himself flush hot at the confession. Another thing that pained Atsumu about being madly in love was that he had never been this vulnerable with anyone before, you brought out even the most hidden parts of him it seemed.

It was quiet for a moment as Atsumu stared you down for a response after having poured his heart out. He receives it in the form of a hug, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as you look up at him with those dazzling eyes, albeit a bit ringed with red from crying, your chin digging into his stomach as you smile gently.

“I missed you ‘Tsumu.” You said softly into the fabric of his shirt as he brought his hands down to smooth down your hair, arms eventually wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

“I’ll be here now.” He said softly as he melted in you.

#haikyuu!!#atsumu x reader #Atsumu Miya #Miya Atsumu #Atsumu Miya x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #inarizaki #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu fluff #atsumu fanfic #hq angst #haikyuu angst #niceutossu

1K notes · View notes

witherby · 5 months ago

Note

Itsame!! How do you think the batfam would react to taking in a Mouse that was a villain kid? annnddd had somewhat unhinged tendencies from growing up w/ their parents?

thank you el!

--🎆

Hmm. In normal circumstances, I think they'd all react very patiently and just steer you in the direction of making good decisions instead of bad. Damian was raised by a league of killers, and they rolled with that without blinking. You'd have to be the child of someone super fucked up to make them think twice about who you are as a person. Like extremely fucked up.

Like, the worst person they could think of.

The cave was dead silent. Every member of the family stood around a table and looked at the documentation Bruce finished putting together in regards to the child he'd locked in a cell just down the hall with a mixture of dread and concern. Information was sparse, but the DNA tests and mannerisms were more than enough to paint the picture no one was acknowledging.

Tonight's patrol was supposed to be a routine one — investigate some leads, stop some crimes, then come home and go to bed. What Batman and Robin found instead, by pure happenstance, was a partially completed setup for an elaborate death trap that the Joker had been working on, which was then subsequently blown up in a half-hearted effort to kill them so he could escape.

They'd survived, obviously, but it wasn't just Batman and Robin that came back.

"So the clown fucks," Jason finally blurted. "Think he's only got one spawn?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell," Bruce said, rubbing the back of his neck. The migraine he'd been fighting off all night was swiftly worsening. He just wanted to go to bed. "Joker didn't seem to realize he'd left the child behind when he escaped tonight. I think she wasn't supposed to be there."

"Understatement of the century, B," Dick mumbled, thumbing through the papers again. "How did he manage to keep her secret for so long? That kid is, like, seven or eight."

"How did that frivolous hack keep her alive for so long?" Damian asked. "I'm just as impressed as I am concerned."

"We can figure that out later," Tim said, addressing the biggest problem, "what do we do about the Joker's kid?"

Everyone exchanged looks with each other, all silently coming to the same series of conclusions:

1. They couldn't put the child in the System. Her history and yet uncatalogued behaviors could lead to major issues, and the Joker would find and retrieve his kid in a matter of days.

2. They couldn't put the child in Arkham. There wasn't a ward set up to handle children. She was too young to be there, and breakouts from the Asylum were a common occurrence, so she'd inevitably go back to him.

3. They couldn't put the child in Juvenile Detention. As far as they knew, she hadn't committed any crimes, so there was nothing to convict her of in order to have her admitted.

Which meant, for the foreseeable future...

Jason stood up, thumbs gliding down the handles of his guns. Bruce gave him a sharp look and he holstered them with a shrug.

"You know I'm not actually gonna hurt 'er," he sneered, grabbing his helmet to slide it on. "But she don't know that. What's a little intimidation between a captor and captive, huh? I'm just lookin' to get some info about our new roomie is all."

"You can just ask," Bruce said. "That's a child in there, Hood, regardless of whose it is. We can approach this peacefully."

"Oh, fuck off. Your favorite wacko popped out a baby and he's been raising it for years. We can't assume this kid is any more logical than the shit-pile it came from."

Jason marched past Bruce and vanished down the hall where they kept the containment cells. Bruce hurried after him, scowling, and the remaining three followed suit with different levels of curiosity and caution.

"This isn't going to be good..." Dick muttered.

It didn't take long to reach your cell. The door was made of bulletproof glass, and the walls and floor were a smooth beige color, with pressure sensors to keep track of your location, oxygen levels, and heart rate. In one corner of the room was a toilet with a privacy curtain and a sink, and in the other was a plain bed with two pillows and a blanket.

You were lying in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling with vacant eyes a placid smile on your face. You had on white face paint with a bold, red lip and blue triangles above and below your eyes, a bright green button-up shirt with a black bowtie, suspenders, brown pants, and black shoes that clicked every time you bumped your feet together.

Click. Click. Click.

Aside from the rhythmic bumping of your shoes, you were dead silent and unmoving in the cell. You didn't even look up when Jason walked up to the door and leaned against it, whistling for your attention.

"Hey, you," he called. "Name, now."

You didn't answer. Jason banged his fist against the glass, listening to the sharp reverb.

"When I speak, you answer," he barked. "What's your fuckin' name, kid?"

Click. Click. Click. You continued to admire the ceiling, arms splayed out at your sides.

"That's real cute," Jason growled, punching in the code to unlock your cell door. "You gonna pretend like you can't hear me? That's fine, lemme come to you then. I'll make sure you pick up the message loud and clear —"

"Red Hood!" Bruce said, grabbing his arm. Jason shook it off and stormed inside, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and lifting you off the ground. You didn't fight him, body limp and pliant in his grasp, and continued to watch the ceiling.

Click. Click. Click. Your feet bumped against each other even still. Unbothered. Undisturbed.

"Name," Jason demanded, voice warping badly through his voice modulator the angrier he got. You didn't acknowledge him. "I'll start asking you in other languages. Don't think you can get out of answering me that way, either."

"I think that's enough, Red Hood," Dick said, slipping into the room before Bruce could get in and potentially make things violent. He walked around behind you and gently hooked his hands under your armpits, coaxing you out of Jason's grasp. "You're probably scaring her. Let's all just —"

You giggled. It startled Dick badly enough he dropped you, and you crumbled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. Your giggling grew louder as you carefully straightened out, lying on your back with your arms splayed again, and you smiled up at the ceiling.

"What's there to be afraid of?" You asked, voice sweet and cheery. It was also strangely soft, nothing like the harsh pitch of your progenitor. "The batcifists have captured me. I'm perfectly safe and sound."

No one moved. You hummed, shifting your head side to side with a wistful sigh.

"Batcifists. Get it? Bat-pacifists? Because you don't kill people? Popsy said you guys didn't find most jokes funny, and I guess it's true..."

Click. Click. Click. You knock your feet together again as silence momentarily descends upon the room.

"Does your popsy talk about us a lot?" Tim asked from the doorway.

"You're my bedtime stories," you muttered. Click. Click. Click. "Popsy says his greatest dream is to make you all laugh so hard you choke."

Dick crouched down next to you, frowning. You kept your gaze on the ceiling.

"What about you?" He asked. "What's your dream?"

"I'm Popsy's favorite toy." The smile on your face grew wider, more genuine. Click. Click. Click. "His absolute favorite."

Jason abruptly turned and left the room, stomping down the hallway. Damian looked visibly uncomfortable and followed soundlessly after his brother.

Click. Click. Click.

"Well, we can't call you Toy, can we?" Dick reasoned gently. "Do you have a name? What does your popsy call you?"

You giggled again. It was a gentle, melodic thing, that gradually worsened and grew louder, until you were clutching your stomach and kicking your feet with sheer glee. Your sharp cackling echoed through the room, the remaining bats all watching you with varying levels of horror. In the throes of it, you sounded exactly like him.

Nearly a minute went by before you started settling down again, wiping a stray tear from your face. You chirped your name with obvious pride as you clicked your feet together.

"Punchline!"

#el speaks #batfam x reader #🎆#punchline au #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne

617 notes · View notes

alicearmageddon · 2 years ago

Text

"The North Korean regime in the ‘50s developed a series of remarkably effective torture techniques, techniques that were so effective, in fact, that they were able to make captured American airmen admit to all sorts of atrocities they had not in fact committed, all the time, being convinced they had not, actually, been tortured. The techniques were quite simple. Just make the victim do something mildly uncomfortable—sit on the edge of chair, for example, or lean against a wall in a slightly awkward position—only, make them do it for an extremely long period of time. After eight hours the victim would be willing to do virtually anything to make it stop. But try going to the International Court of Justice at The Hague and tell them you’ve been made to sit on the edge of a chair all day. Even the victims were unwilling to describe their captors as torturers. When the CIA learned about these techniques—according to Korean friends of mine, they’re actually just particularly sadistic versions of classic Korean ways of punishing small children—they were intrigued, and, apparently, conducted extensive research on how they could be adopted for their own detention centers.

Again, sometimes, in Palestine, one feels one is in an entire country that’s being treated this way. Obviously, there is also outright torture, people who are actually being shot, beaten, tortured, or violently abused. But I’m speaking here even of the ones that aren’t. For most, it’s as if the very texture of everyday life has been designed to be intolerable—only, in a way that you can never quite say is exactly a human rights violation. There’s never enough water. Showering requires almost military discipline. You can’t get a permit. You’re always standing in line. If something breaks it’s impossible to get permission to fix it. Or else you can’t get spare parts. There are four different bodies of law that might apply to any legal situation (Ottoman, British, Jordanian, Israeli), it’s anyone’s guess which court will say what applies where, or what document is required, or acceptable. Most rules are not even supposed to make sense. It can take eight hours to drive 20 kilometers to see your girlfriend, and doing so will almost certainly mean having machine guns waved in your faces and being shouted at in a language you half understand by people who think you’re subhuman. So you do most of your dalliance by phone. When you can afford the minutes. There are endless traffic jams before and after checkpoints and drivers bicker and curse and try not to take it out on one another. Everyone lives no more than 12 or 15 miles from the Mediterranean but even on the hottest day, it’s absolutely impossible to get to the beach. Unless you climb the wall, there are places you can do that; but then you can expect to be hunted every moment by security patrols. Of course teenagers do it anyway. But it means swimming is always accompanied by the fear of being shot. If you’re a trader, or a laborer, or a driver, or a tobacco farmer, or clerk, the very process of subsistence is continual stream of minor humiliations. Your tomatoes are held and left two days to rot while someone grins at you. You have to beg to get your child out of detention. And if you do go to beseech the guards, those same guards might arbitrarily decide to hold you to pressure him to confess to rock-throwing, and suddenly you are in a concrete cell without cigarettes. Your toilet backs up. And you realize: you’re going to have to live like this forever. There is no “political process.” It will never end. Barring some kind of divine intervention, you can expect to be facing exactly this sort of terror and absurdity for the rest of your natural life."

-David Graeber, Reflections from a Visit to the West Bank

#palestine #free palestine #israel palestine #david graeber #west bank #anarchism

3K notes · View notes

gaea-a · 6 months ago

Text

RAGE ;;

[🍃] oh, someone give me the idea :) There will probably be a part two if you guys love this work, hehe

warnings:

pure angst ; fem!reader ; jason todd & mom!reader ; deaths ; Possible spelling mistakes, thanks

...

You couldn't feel your arms. Your whole body felt numb.

Unlike what many said, killing someone wasn't easy; you wanted to throw up the little you had in your stomach. Your body was shaking.

Your eyes filled with tears; your head was spinning. Your hands were warm from the blood on them.

Your scrambled mind just replayed every single memory you had with Jason. Oh, your little boy. You had promised to protect him the first time Bruce brought him. He was so small, so smart, so beautiful, and so precious.

You remember his first smile. You remember his innocent yet mocking jokes. His witty responses when he responded to your grumpy husband. You remember his little hands 'fixing' your hair, but he had actually put a rose in from the vase—much to Alfred's chagrin, but he still didn't say anything and smiled amusedly.

You remember his beautiful blue eyes shining with excitement when you told him you were going to make his favorite cookies and how he would excitedly exclaim that he was going to help you.

You remember the first time he called you “Mommy” with a loving little smile, showing how he was missing one of his canines due to his baby tooth falling out.

You remember how his cheeks had started to get chubby from all the snacks you gave him and his skin had started to get less pale. He had started to look healthier.

You remember his giggles as he got ready to go out on patrol and Bruce gently scolding him not to run and to be careful.

Your little Jason…

How were you supposed to go on without him by your side? Without your little boy… How is a mother supposed to go on knowing that her son’s killer was on the loose? And her husband, the one who was supposed to have killed the madman, let him go… free.

He was free. That clown, the murderer of your little boy, was free… He escaped from where they had locked him up even though Bruce promised you that that man would never come out again.

‘Liar…’ you thought at that moment.

How was a mother supposed to go on…?

Your pain turned to rage within days. It was a rage that burned you to the bone and made your chest ache from the pressure of heavy emotions laden with deep hatred.

You remember when Bruce brought his small body, oh so small, bruised and lifeless. The heartbreaking scream that left your throat was heard and echoed throughout the cave. Heavy tears fell from your eyes as you clung to his little body and cried inconsolably.

You didn't even realize that your steps took you outside the mansion, taking advantage of your husband and Alfred taking their eyes off you. Your head covered by a heavy, long hood that made you look small. Your red, swollen eyes with dark circles were hidden under the fabric of the hood.

You didn't notice the vibration of your phone; surely they were calling you… but your mind was somewhere else, and your body was moving on its own. It was no longer you.

You didn't notice when you entered the abandoned warehouse where you saw the Joker's henchmen enter. You found it, and yet your unbalanced mind didn't notice any of that. You were just a robot that was looking to find the culprit and make him pay.

You also didn't realize what you were doing when you sneaked out and ambushed the clown from behind with your small knife.

Your pain, your fury, the injustice you felt made you commit a crime.

You killed him.

Your broken, red eyes looked at the body of the clown-dressed man lying there; your hand, still holding the small knife, began to shake. You really did it.

You killed your son's killer.

You didn't know what to do. The fear of seeing Richard's, Barbara's, Alfred's, or Bruce's face when they saw what you did, what your pain made you do. Your breathing became labored; your throat tightened painfully.

Jason… Oh, your little Jason, what would he think of you right now… Would he be scared to see what you became?

You fell to your knees as a broken sob left your broken lips. The knife was still in your shaking, bloodstained hand.

You had nothing left to live for… Your life was destroyed, in rubble. One way or another, nothing would be the same; you consoled yourself, but it was only a pathetic attempt to calm yourself down.

Silently you raised your hand to your throat, closing your eyes, remembering your little Jason. The memory of his smile made your pain lighter. At least you did justice… at least it was all over. You asked everyone for forgiveness for abandoning them too… just like Jason abandoned you.

You took a breath before bringing the small knife to your throat.

But before the knife managed to make contact with your skin and you managed to take your life, someone's body crashing into you stopped you, causing the small knife to fall from your grasp…

#batfam #batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #batmom x batfam #batman x batmom #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #batman x reader #jason todd #jason todd x batmom

536 notes · View notes

lumi077 · 1 year ago

Text

X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they’re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee.

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person.

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles.

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice.

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them.

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though.

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it.

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love.

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words.

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day.

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise.

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back.

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures.

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind.

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority.

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly.

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it.

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time.

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked.

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like.

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

#xmen #xmen x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #scott summers #scott summers x reader #Cyclops x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x reader #jean grey #jean grey x reader #xmen headcanon #lumiwritings

2K notes · View notes