#I need. I need to know what the fuck happens next.

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about–”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?” 

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on. 

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless. 

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile. 

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

“Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

[heavyhitterheaux]

Wifey Shiesty (Slight NSFW)

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: After giving her husband a much needed pep talk, we get Wifey's version of mic'd up during the Bengals vs. Broncos game

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @mirrorballgirlie25 and an anon 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The level of excitement that you had when you woke up around eleven in the morning was unmatched as you sat up against the headboard for confirmation.

One of the few days that you didn't have any morning sickness.

It was evident that Joe was already awake seeing as he wasn't lying next to you and could faintly hear the shower running in the bathroom signaling that he was getting ready to head to Paycor to take on the Denver Broncos.

There was a lot riding on this game, but you had done your usual routine with making his favorite foods and giving him pep talks. Joe's bag that he would be carrying when he left was sitting on the bed and you quickly pulled out your stationary set and wrote a small note to stick in there.

You got this, Shiesty.

I love you,

Wifey

You did this before every game whether it was at home or away and Joe kept every single one and had it organized by season.

You would usually also get up early and go into the bathroom and also write notes for him on the mirror so that way he would also wake up and see them.

When you were finished, you closed his bag and was caught off guard by arms wrapping around you and a kiss being placed on your cheek.

“Good morning Mr. Shiesty.” You told him as you turned around to properly hug him.

“Good morning baby girl. No morning sickness? Did my baby actually get to sleep? I didn't hear you get up at all.”

“I actually slept for once so hopefully I'll have energy for the game.” You replied as he then leaned down to kiss you.

Joe let out a deep sigh and you immediately knew what to do.

“Okay, baby. We got this. I know how important this game is and that we want to make the playoffs, but just get through each quarter and take your time. Either way it goes today, I am so fucking proud of you. This has truly been your best season and you keep silencing the people who hate on you every single time. Like breaking records and breaking some of your own too? You were drafted number one for a reason. Now go out there today and show them why. I love you and as promised I will be in your suite cheering you on.”

The smile that broke out on Joe’s face was huge as he leaned down to kiss you once more in response.

“I just… it’s so much pressure on my shoulders. But at the same time it is what it is.”

“Baby, you’re the quarterback if you didn’t realize it until just now.” You joked with him and he let out a small laugh.

“I hadn’t noticed and I love you too. Thank you for the pep talks that you always give me. It may not seem like a big deal, but it is.”

“Of course, my love. Always going to be in your corner rooting for you.”

“And the same goes for you, it’s just in a different way now.” Joe replied as he glanced down at your leg and saw the surgical scars staring back at him as he lightly ran his fingers over them.

He couldn't think about it for too long since it would make him upset, but every day, he woke up grateful that you were still here able to do life with him. He couldn't have imagined what happened if you weren't. Becoming a widow a few months after you get married was something that was constantly running through his thoughts when you had gotten hurt.

The pain was still evident even if you didn't talk about it much, not wanting to make your husband worry. He did enough of that when he thought he would be planning your funeral.

Being pregnant, the only thing that you were able to take for pain was tylenol and some days that just wasn’t cutting it. But the last thing you were about to do was risk the health of your twins.

“Is it bothering you today?”

“So far, so good.”

“Just remember to bring some medicine with you. Don't want you sitting there in pain.”

“I'll put some in my bag, promise.”

“Good, pack some heat packs too just in case.”

“Oh, and I have a little surprise. Ja’Marr actually came up with it so you can thank him for it.”

“And what’s that?” Joe asked as he was starting to get dressed.

“I’m going to be mic’d up during the game for me and Taylor’s podcast so do your best to not give your wife a panic attack or send her into labor because it is way too early.”

Joe threw his head back in laughter because he knew how you would get during the games.

“I’ll try my best, but no promises. I can’t wait to watch it later.”

“But for now, I'll go make you some food while you get ready.”

“No need, baby. I got up early and ate.” Joe told you and in response you made a face at him.

“Baby doll, your morning sickness has been horrible lately. I wanted you to sleep. I have the ability to make myself something to eat and not burn down the kitchen in the process. Give me credit where credit is due.”

“But I ALWAYS make you food on game days when you play at home and sometimes you have dessert and eat me out before you leave. It's our thing!”

“I know, but you can make us something later when we win and I can eat you out later. That can definitely be arranged.”

“Fine, I'm holding you to that.”

“Good, now give me kisses.” Joe told you as he was now sitting down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap.

You gave him a few kisses before kissing the side of his mouth and laying your head on his shoulder.

“You're lucky you just took a shower and need to get ready because I want to bite you so bad right now.”

“AHT AHT! Baby do not start, as much as I want to, I can't rearrange your guts all day.”

“But you can do it all night.” You replied while smirking as you picked your head up to look at him.

“See? This is why you're pregnant now.”

“Don't blame it on me, you had something to do with it too.” You scolded him as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Suddenly Joe’s phone went off and he turned around to grab it and saw it was Ja'Marr calling and quickly answered.

“Stop swapping spit with my sister and let's go.”

“Damn, good morning to you too uno.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you even know what I was doing?” Joe asked and even though he couldn't see him, he knew that he was rolling his eyes.

“Joe, don't piss me off before we even get in the locker room on this nice Saturday. Yall can’t keep your hands to yourself for thirty seconds. I'll be at your front door in 15 minutes. Bye.”

After Joe hung up all he did was toss his phone to the side before kissing you once more.

“See you at 4:30?”

“See you at 4:30.”

—

Arriving at Paycor, security quickly escorted you as well as Erin to Joe's suite where you would meet up with Jim and Robin. Robin had already sent a text letting you know that they had just gotten there and the only thing on your mind was food and watching Joe and your baby brother play.

The entire episode of you being mic'd up would be recorded on your phone and you would upload it after the game was over whether the Bengals walked away with a win or not.

Once you had gotten settled and got everything set up how you wanted it, you set your phone to record.

“Hello my Woman Cave listeners. Wifey Shiesty here and you’re in for a little treat today. As you can see, I'm in my husband's suite at the game with my in-laws, and my best friend Erin and you guys are getting my version of mic'd up! I did tell Joe prior to him leaving the house this morning and I told him to do his best not to give me a panic attack, so let's see how this goes.”

First quarter

“Okay, yall have to do better than this if we want a playoff spot. Because what are we even doing right now?”

–

“Did you really just get sacked twice in a row?! O-line protect my husband, please! It is LITERALLY YOUR JOB.”

–

“Uh oh baby brother is making faces. He's getting annoyed. I am too Bam Bam, I am too.”

–

“WHAT!? The first quarter can't be over already. We have literally done nothing.”

–

Second quarter

“Baby! What are….? I gave you a pep talk this morning and this is NOT how this was supposed to go.”

–

“The babies are hungry again. Erin, can you get me more mozzarella sticks? Cheese has been my main food group since I got pregnant.”

–

“AHHH TOUCHDOWN! YEAH TEE! I guess he didn't want his mom cussing him out again. She really let him have it.”

–

“Okay, we got something going, feeling a little better. Oh, are those buffalo wings? I needed those like 6 hours ago. I don't care about the heartburn that I'm about to have after. The babies are getting some spice today. I have tums in my purse.”

–

Third quarter

“And, we're back. The babies were playing kickball with my bladder. I'm definitely going to drink this lemonade though.”

–

“Ehh, okay we're kicking. Fine, that'll get us ten.”

–

“NO! HE CAUGHT IT! NOW IT'S TIED.”

–

“Okay, we still have time. We got this. Can I have a milkshake delivered to the stadium? I want one. Never mind. Joe will get me one on the way home.”

–

“Erin, did you see Joe’s and Ja'marr's outfits today? Like WHO ARE THESE DIVAS? But I picked out Joey's last night. I wanted to bite him before he left, but he told me no.”

–

Fourth quarter

“Tee again with the touchdown!”

–

“Damn it! It's tied again. I literally told Joe NOT to give me a panic attack or make my water break and it's clear and evident that he in fact did not listen.”

–

“Oh! Is he in!? IS HE IN!? My husband is the shit yall. Get it baby! TOUCHDOWN!”

–

“Wait a minute… is he…? Is he doing the griddy? See that's the black wife effect for you. And of course Ja'Marr co-signed it. He got more rhythm when he married me.”

–

“Okay, clock is winding down. We can do this. Not that much longer to go.”

–

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!? Oops, babies don't repeat that. It's tied again!”

–

“Overtime it is. I need to pee again and I'm hungry. These children need to chill out with the food requests.”

–

Overtime

“Okay dad got me nachos. I'm okay now, we're back in business. Shoutout to Paycor. Yall have the good cheese.”

–

“I can't watch anymore and need to close my eyes.”

–

“Well that lasted for a total of thirty seconds.”

–

“OH! OKAY HE’S AT THE TWO! TEE'S AT THE TWO! Yall better not fuck this up.”

–

“HE GOT IT!”

–

“I'm happy we won, but I need to sit here for a minute before I go to the tunnel. Bottom line is put some respect on my husband's name. As of now he is literally the only person in the history of the NFL to have 250 pass yards but 3 pass touchdowns in 8 straight games. So unless you can do that, don't talk to me. And, I rest my case. Now it's time for my milkshake and to hug my husband and baby brother.”

When Joe spotted you in the tunnel, he was all smiles and quickly made his way over to you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Proud of you, babe.” You told him as you reached up to pinch his cheek.

“Your pep talk definitely helped this morning. Just took us a minute to find our rhythm.” Joe replied as he started to play with the ends of your hair, something that he did more often than not.

“Speaking of rhythm, that griddy was too clean. You should have heard me and Erin yelling.” You told him and he couldn't help but to laugh.

“It's the black wife effect. Can't be around you and your family all the time and walk away with nothing.” He casually said as he shrugged and you busted out laughing.

“And just wait until you hear my mic'd up episode.”

“Please tell me you're kept it somewhat appropriate. I never know with you.”

“Well, babe, I didn't say anything about me turning you every way but loose once we leave here if that's what you mean.” You sweetly said while batting your eyelashes at him.

“I… I guess I'll take it then.”

“BIG SIS!” You heard Ja'Marr yell and quickly yelled back at him as he was running towards you.

“LIL BRO!”

Ja'Marr promptly picked you up and hugged you before setting your back down on your feet.

“You see your husband's griddy?” He asked and Joe simply smirked at the both of you.

“He just told me that it's the black wife effect.”

“I have to agree, this man has a grill now, seasons his food, still holding onto the pumpkin pie, but I'll let it slide today. Maybe one day he'll accept that it honestly tastes like sweet potato pie with low self-esteem.” He replied and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Bye Ja'Marr!”

“What!? Did I lie!?”

“No, but I need a milkshake babe. Go do your presser so I can get one on the way home.”

“I need another kiss before I do.” He told you as Ja'Marr made a gagging noise.

“Yall make me sick.”

“Then look away.” Joe told him as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You would think that it's been forty days and forty nights since the two of you saw each other last.”

“And we're ignoring you.”

–

“Fuck! That's it, pretty girl.” Joe whispered in your ear as he had wrapped his arms around you as you continued to ride him.

The ride home honestly felt like torture with you both trying to keep your hands off one another and forget the bedroom. The two of you barely made it through the front door as clothes were thrown off and left in a pile as you were now on the couch riding him.

The two of you learned pretty quickly that ever since you had gotten pregnant and you were now obviously showing since there wasn't just one in there, but two, the most comfortable positions for you were either riding him or laying down on your side and Joe was not complaining in the slightest.

However Joe was then abruptly confused when you had suddenly stopped and proceeded to swing your legs off of him and his protests were quickly heard.

“Babe, I was close. What the hell?” He asked as you had now spread his legs to make room and got down on your knees in front of him.

“Then how about you shut up and stop complaining? I got down here so you could face fuck me, but I will gladly get back up.”

“You're going to regret getting smart with me before the night is over.”

“Mm hmm, sure Burrow.” You responded as you rolled your eyes. You had done that on purpose because the adrenaline from winning the game mixed with him getting annoyed by your smart mouth would lead to him not showing you any mercy and that was exactly what you wanted.

Doing as he was told, Joe moved closer to the end of the couch as you took him in your mouth. Your hair kept ending up getting in the way, and he decided to help you as he put it into a makeshift ponytail which also led to him being able to have a better hold on you as he sped up his pace of him moving in and out of your mouth.

“You're doing such a good job, princess.”

A mix of sweat, tears, and drool was running down your face as he kept hitting the back of your throat. Your jaw was definitely sore, but you weren't quitting any time soon and was determined to see it all the way through until Joe got his release.

Being able to finally come up for air, Joe moved your head all the way back making you lose contact with him when he leaned forward to kiss you before sliding back into your mouth.

“Come on, baby. You gonna make me cum?” Joe asked as he finally released his hold on you.

Once he did, between the use of your mouth along with your hand it was only a matter of time.

You felt the first drop hit the back of your throat and was soon followed by a string of curse words from his mouth as you were trying to swallow the full load.

“You better swallow it. The entire thing.” He told you as he lightly tapped your cheek. It took you a minute but once you did, you also ran your finger along your cheek and chin to get what had dribbled out and sucked on your fingers.

“Good girl.”

Joe then picked you back up to sit in his lap and kissed you before turning to the side and laying down while taking you by your hips to move you up so you would be right above his face.

“I promised to eat you out, didn't I?” Joe asked you as he kissed all along your thighs.

“Yes.”

“Now stay still.”

--

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, lahjay10_, cincinattibengals, and 867,254 others

wifeyshiesty: the black wife effect lol now put some respect on my baby's name! so proud of you pookie!

My mic'd up episode will be released at midnight!

lahjay10_: I taught him that at the cookout. they grow up so fast. taylorrooks: I can't wait to hear the episode and talk about it! erinthegymnast: when he hit that griddy, me and wifey screamed so loud we're surprised they didn't hear us out on the field joeybfanatic: OMG not wifey being mic'd up lmao I absolutely love her on the woman cave so I'm excited for the unhinged shit that I know she's about to say joeyb_9: she's been unhinged since I met her, but I wouldn't have it any other way lahjay10_: joeyb_9 bruh I warned your ass and you still married her wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ I know where you live (3 houses down) so get yourself together before I bust through your front door lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty if you can reach the handle to get in joeyb_9: pause, let me grab a snack to watch this go down joeburrowupdates: lmaooo not joe wanting his wife to beat her little brother's ass lahjay10_: she's all talk, she won't do anything joeyb_9: uh ja'marr she just put on her slides and grabbed her keys, I would make a run for it if I were you 👀

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: Implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

You didn’t know hate until Johnny MacTavish.

He bought the only house within half a mile, the one you expected to stay silent and empty ‘til death did you part. So, you had reason to dislike him from the start. But you were raised right, and you pushed down the snarling hermit in your soul to be a good, friendly neighbor.

The first meeting was fine, even if he was a boombox of a human being.

“Neighbor? Oh, aye! The hermit? Sorry. Heard about you when I toured the place last month.” His eye lands on the plate of cookies you’ve brought to welcome him. “Those all for me?”

You made small talk at the door, swapped names, and set the groundwork for a reliable, limited relationship as polite people who just happened to live in close proximity.

Then the first snow fell.

You spied him outside, shoveling the shared drive that led up the hill. He cleared it all, which was kind, if a little stupid. The weather system promised another two inches by midafternoon, so everything would be solid white again before sunset. Still, not your problem.

But. He was shirtless. Ripped as fuck and shirtless.

As the wind flung each shovelful of snow back in his face, the powdery flakes stuck and melted on steaming skin. Muscles flexed as he made a spectacle of himself, and your thoughts turned to strategy and available resources.

You wrapped your palms around your ugly, handmade mug and sighed, sipping hot chocolate and wishing you’d gotten a neighbor with at least two scoops of common sense.

When he didn’t appear with his shovel the next morning, you knew your foreboding prophecy had come to pass.

You brought out the stock pot, fished out packs of frozen produce harvested from your garden, and sacrificed your last bag of chicken breasts. The skeleton saved from an old rotisserie bird joined the ingredient army. Might as well go all-in. A man with that many muscles needed bone broth to recover.

Since you didn’t know if he was a picky eater, you minced the garlic and onions small, even when your eyes burned to the point you had to stop for a break. You let the aromatics brown, added celery, carrots, potatoes, and fistfuls of fresh herbs. The precious seasonings survived the winter under grow lights and protective sheeting on your dining room table.

You doubted your neighbor would appreciate this gift for everything it was, but whatever he did as an idiot neighbor would be leagues better than the presence of a rowdy ghost.

When the chicken was tender and the broth tasted like home, you poured it into individual portions and packed them in a canvas bag with a loaf of bread, a box of tea, a jar of local honey, and a thermometer. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but the cold froze your fingers through your gloves. Your hand was cramping by the time MacTavish answered the door, red-nosed, pale, and bleary-eyed.

He let you in, mumbling a scratchy-voiced welcome, and if you’d known what that conversation would incite, you would’ve let him waste away like the families you failed playing Oregon Trail.

“Eat one now and keep the rest in the fridge.” You stack the single-serve containers in the fridge as you speak, sure he won’t remember the minutiae of your instructions. The last you pop in his microwave. He’s staring at you with feverish eyes, confused and helpless like a sick dog left on the side of the road.

Everything comes out of the bag, lining his counter so he can see them – and hopefully remember he has them. The thermometer comes out last.

“If your fever is over 104 in the morning, call the doctor. I’ll drive you if you need me to.”

That glassy stare isn’t shifting. The man doesn’t even blink.

“Did you get all that?”

He clears his throat. The action and sound are both strangely slow in his exhausted state, and you’re determined not to feel bad for him.

“Aye.” Finally, he blinks. “Eat the soup. Watch for 104.”

Good enough.

“Okay.”

The microwave beeps, you pull out the soup, leaving him to fetch a spoon from wherever the hell he keeps them. You don’t wait for him to show you out. “Take care of yourself.”

He didn’t call for help, and you took your turn shoveling the drive with proper protection after the last wave of flurries passed.

The next time he saw you in passing – you were returning home and he was just leaving – he let you know your soup was delicious, that the bread was amazing, and the honey did wonders for his throat. He never returned your containers.

Ah, well. They were replaceable.

Then the next snow came, and the dumb bitch went shoveling shirtless again.

It wasn’t as much snow, and it didn’t take him half as long, but you steamed, glaring from the safety of your kitchen window. You refused to replace your meal prep supplies again. And local honey was expensive. The brat could freeze and die. Something about taking a horse to water and all that shit.

You drank your coffee black that morning, just to make a point to no one in particular.

The man didn’t know how to take care of himself, and he had no idea how to winter-proof his home.

His pipes froze. You brought buckets, old towels, bottled water, and the number of an excellent plumber. Then you explained why he should pay attention to the forecast and let faucets drip to keep the water moving. You told him to open the cabinets under sinks so heat could combat the chill along exterior walls.

His truck’s battery succumbed to the cold. You gave him a jump and escorted him to town to make sure he didn’t get himself stranded.

When he didn’t keep things stocked and tried to panic-shop before a big storm, discovering that small town shelves couldn’t meet demand, you shared staples from your pantry.

He didn’t have more than two cheap blankets in his living space, so when the holidays rolled around you gave him your latest assemblage of granny-squares. And a scarf.

He gave you burnt cookies – “Biscuits” – in return.

(And a half-empty bottle of whiskey.)

He never remembered to drag his trash down to the main road.

And gods help you if the power went out, because the man had no generator, very little in his pantry, and rarely more than a quarter tank of gas in his ride.

He was careless. Clueless. Nearly helpless.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave him to his fate. It was unneighborly and inhumane.

He made you angry. But you didn’t hate him until his friend moved in.

A few months into his residence, you went to Johnny’s door to ask if he needed anything from town before the next storm shadowed the forecast, and a stranger came to the door.

A hulking monster with a skull painted over his balaclava.

The doorway shrank around his broad shoulders, and he ducked when he stepped out. You weren’t sure if he entirely needed to, but you understood the urge – like an adult stepping out of a child’s playhouse. Scarred knuckles wrapped around the doorknob, and you knew his grip would swallow you whole by the way it engulfed the brass handle.

Animal instinct jarred you. Every hair from the base of your skull to the end of your spine stood on end as you tried to smell the air, listen to the wind, spot the predator’s intent before it was too late.

You didn’t have a problem with people balaclavas. You’d worn one the other day when you were shoveling the drive, but this looked less like protection and more like a threat.

Was he robbing your neighbor? Had a serial killer come to town? Oh, fuck.

You took a step back, reaching for your phone because you didn’t carry a weapon, especially not on a grocery run, and it was the closest thing you had to help.

“You the neighbor?”

He asked so casually, vaguely irritated, but relaxed. It wasn’t the voice of a man who’d just been caught committing a felony, and you took a second to look beyond the stranger’s mask (and size). There was a mug in his hand, and he wore a t-shirt with sweats. His socked feet lingered on the front step, just shy of the blue road salt and crisped ice. Not robbery gear. More like a… houseguest?

Your neighbor never had guests before.

It caught you so off guard your brain short circuited. He had always been a lone, helpless figure. Made sense he’d have friends, though. You couldn’t imagine he’d survive anywhere long without someone looking out for him.

You were still a little irritated that your neighbor had invited his own friend to his own house on his own property without informing you, but that was just the recluse inside snarling at a new face. Or half of one.

And – well – manners.

Holding out a mittened hand, you introduced yourself, adding, “I stopped to see if Johnny needed anyth-”

“No.” He shut you down so fast you reeled another step back. “Don’t need anything.”

He closed the door and that was that.

Sun glittered on the season’s collection of snow, a frozen fairyland that wouldn’t entirely melt until spring. Then there would be roads washed out, and mud, and you’d need to teach Johnny flash flood safety and…

It didn’t compute. Johnny was still home, so surely he’d pop out with an explanation.

You waited.

But he didn’t.

The absolute fuck?

Your spinning thoughts kept you trapped in your head for a solid minute, processing what had happened, what was implied, and what that meant for your neighborly relationship. Even when you managed to move, drive to town, and run your errands, the interaction prickled in your mind like a splinter.

You must’ve done something wrong.

Aged fluorescent lights strobed out of time with your cart’s shrieking wheels. You discovered your list wasn’t in your pocket. It waited at home, next to a pen to add Johnny’s requests. You’d already added things you doubted he’d think to ask for, and it would take time to pick apart your needs. The list wouldn’t have saved you, even if you’d remembered it.

Three bags of flour went into your cart. That was fine. They’d keep, and baking was a good way to combat cabin fever (it warmed the house as a bonus).

Two gallons of milk.

Wait.

No.

You put one back, self-conscious. A young mother with her baby stood just behind you, and an old woman was reviewing her coupons across the aisle. You refused to make eye contact, convinced you’d catch them watching. Did they see? Were they worried about your germs on the product you put back? Did they think you were too broke to buy what you needed? Maybe they thought you’d just broken up with your boyfriend or something.

You counted the squares in the linoleum as you marched away from the refrigerators’ humming. One less source of white noise. It didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. The real buzzing roared inside your skull.

Johnny was a pain in the ass, but at least he was friendly. He wasn’t considerate, but he always thanked you. His friend was a whole different beast. Unfriendly. With a spare set of teeth snarling at the world.

The stranger hadn’t even introduced himself. Was he staying long? Moving in? What was he to Johnny? That question alone would answer so many others.

Because you’d never seen him interact beyond basic business with the mechanic, you realized you had no idea of his sexual orientation. Was he gay? Bi? Pan?

His shirtless shoveling shenanigans annoyed you, yes, but you’d unconsciously granted him a little leeway, assuming it had to do with misguided masculine showmanship. The rooster strutting where the hen could see. The dumbass alpha male proving he was a good, strong provider who was also quite nice to look at.

Clearly you were wrong, and in retrospect, you couldn’t see him as anything but a narcistic dipshit in need of training wheels.

You’d thought, maybe, he even liked you. As a friend? A comrade against the cold? As something.

But you were just a stop-gap. Useful.

Convenient.

Until his real friend joined him.

You found your attention unraveling like a cheap sweater. No matter how hard to you dried to darn the holes, you couldn’t keep up with the loose thread undoing all your conscious measures. It was quickly becoming one of those days when you convinced yourself your therapist had lied about everything.

When you messed up, even in your head, everyone knew.

If they didn’t say otherwise, you were annoying everyone in the room. If they did say otherwise, they were just being polite.

You weren’t likeable, not loveable, and the minute you weren’t useful you should make yourself scarce. Otherwise, things would get awkward, and no one wanted that. You could be the adult. You could hack off a limb and smile about it.

It didn’t hurt, and even if it did, it shouldn’t, because you didn’t have a right to that feeling.

Alright. Fine.

You realized, just as you joined the line for the cashier, that you’d forgotten matches and sugar. They’d been on your list. But someone joined the line behind you, and unspoken social rules that probably didn’t exist shackled you in place. Too late. You’d look stupid. You’d bother someone. Oh well. You’d just have to make another trip. Soon. But not too soon. Now there were two sets of eyes watching you from the connecting drive, and you didn’t want to give them reason to gossip and laugh and assume…

Your pile of groceries looked too small on the conveyor belt. Roughly half what they’d been lately. Would the cashier notice? You were sure she did. The way she recited your total sounded disappointed. Was she counting on you buying more? Were you hurting the employees’ holiday bonus? Shit. Fuck.

The bags felt too heavy. Too light. You forgot your reusable sacks at home, and the plastic dug guilt and accusations into the crease of your palms. On top of everything else, you were killing the planet.

You drove home.

Along the river. Through the trees. Up the hills to your corrupted sanctuary.

At least you didn’t need to make a second trip to bring in all the shopping. Your haul landed on the counter, you threw the damned milk in the fridge, and you realized, as you opened the pantry, that you already had four bags of flour. Two all-purpose, two for bread. Because you’d planned to bake for two.

The flour hadn’t been on your list.

And there was no room for it.

Your lip wobbled, and you bit it ferociously, chewing it until the texture changed and bits of skin started peeling.

It wasn’t a problem. You liked being prepared. You’d dump it in one of the emergency storage totes you kept in the hall closet and be ready when something went wrong.

You did just that, popping open the plastic lid and layering the flour over dry lentils, black beans, and shelf-stable cartons of broth. You decided to add more baking supplies to the list. Even if the power went out you could use the wood-burning stove in the living room to make griddle cakes. Maybe even soda bread.

There. Yeah. That wasn’t so bad. A silver lining.

As you returned to the kitchen, brainstorming ways to atone for the plastic bags you’d used, the scent of coffee wafted down the hall. Which was strange. Because you hadn’t put the moka pot on. You rushed in, frowning.

The old drip machine you only used for company burbled in the corner, and the groceries sat precariously on the corner, shoved aside by the beast who’d wandered through your unlocked door.

A tall, mohawked figure groped, shoulder-deep, in your cabinets.

MacTavish.

The Scottish mumbling would’ve tipped you off even if you weren’t so familiar with his figure (and hair, and limited wardrobe).

Your angst tasted bitter as you swallowed it down. You needed space for the feelings popping like firecrackers in your chest.

Relief. Hope. Dread.

He was in your space without invitation, and with the morning you’d just had, you felt anything but comfortable. Either you’d jumped the gun, or he was bringing a delayed apology for his friend.

“Johnny? What are you doing here?”

He smiled over his shoulder as he pulled two cups down from the shelf. One with your college logo and your prized ugly mug.

“Hello, neighbor!” He cackled, laughing at his own joke. “Wanted to give you a heads up and have a chat. My friend’s come to stay with me.”

Friend? What flavor of friend?

“I know. We met this morning.”

“Aye. Real barrel o’ sunshine, isn’ he?”

“If you say so.”

You wanted to be nice. You wanted to be his friend, too. But you weren’t, and you’d worked so hard to be a good, reliable person he could depend on in a new town – you were drained.

“His name’s Ghost.”

Most people grew out of their edgelord status by their early twenties. Ghost –with his skull balaclava and gruff voice – seemed better fit for the emo table of a suburban high school cafeteria than the adult world.

Johnny kept prattling, making an introduction for someone who wasn’t even there. “Told him all about you! He was impressed. Smacked me over the head about the pipes and said we’d go into town for a generator before the next big snow.”

“Hard to predict the next big snow.”

“Aye. He said that, too.”

If Ghost could keep your insights out of his mouth, you would appreciate it. It felt like he was stealing something from you, and you found yourself shifting from foot to foot, arms crossed, waiting for something terrible to happen.

And it did.

Gesturing as he described his old buddy and new housemate, his elbows danced around your kitchen like battering rams. First, he struck a cabinet, which hurt him more than the wood. He laughed it off. Kept talking. You didn’t need to say a word. By that point, you probably couldn’t even if he left space to speak.

For the life of you, you couldn’t riddle out what his visit was for. It was exhausting. He never chattered so much when you brought food or showed him how to keep his home in one piece. Ghost must make him very happy. His joy made you anxious.

His arm wide, indicating the views he’d fallen for and not the practical considerations of living in the goddamn woods on a goddamn mountain, and you watched in slow motion as his forearm caught your ugly mug’s handle.

It spun, wobbling to the edge of the counter, and before you could move, it plummeted.

A bad day instantly became your worst in years.

It must’ve made a sound when it hit, but you didn’t hear it. Or didn’t remember it. You didn’t remember going to the floor after it, either.

Your mug was in pieces, and when you pulled them to safety, wrapped tight in your fist, the glazed edges cut deep. It was such an ugly little thing. Your ugly little thing. You’d made it in one of those sip-and-spin pottery classes with your pals before you stopped going to see people face-to-face.

The mug wasn’t a friend. It was all of your friends. It was the fun you, the one who went out and did things, and moved through life like a real, entire person.

It practically exploded when it hit the tile. Some pieces were bigger than others, but there were dozens of them. Glittering chips and flecks that you knew you’d be finding with your feet through the rest of the winter.

There was no fixing it. It hurt. You were bleeding. Red oozed up between your knuckles and snaked down your wrist.

“Oh, shite! Shite, shite, shite. Are you alright? Here, let me –”

You didn’t want him to touch it again. Didn’t want him to touch you and act like he gave a fuck. This was a big, ugly feeling bubbling up inside, and if he didn’t dislike you yet, he would when he saw all the tears and snot.

A pretty crier you were not.

And no one wanted to see that, or deal with it, or cope with someone else’s messy emotions.

“It’s fine. I’m okay.” You grit your teeth and smiled through them. “But I need to clean this up, and I still have groceries to put away. How about you get your friend settled and we can talk another time, okay?”

“Are you sure?” His attention was fixed on the blood. Bright red was such an alarming color. You could understand.

“Yeah. Just a little scratch. Promise. But I can’t play host and clean myself up.”

His neck went stiff, and his eyes flicked from your face to the floor. Several times. Like he was having an argument with himself. But in the end, he listened, nodded, and got back on his feet from where he’d knelt in front of you.

“If you insist. But we’re right over there if you need anything, aye?”

“I know.”

Finally, he left.

You got up and locked the door behind him. If you’d taken time to do that before you put away the groceries none of this would’ve happened. You would still have your mug and you wouldn’t be on the floor, crying and cradling the remains of something that mattered to you.

-----------------------

He kept coming over when he needed things. Usually after Ghost’s truck rumbled down the drive. Sometimes he wanted advice. Sometimes he needed help. Usually he took tools and supplies he should’ve bought for himself.

You put your curtains to good work. You couldn’t remember a time you drew them so often. If he knocked, you’d answer, but the curtains were a good deterrent. Not foolproof, but something that gave you a little more power over your privacy.

Long jaunts into town have become escapes from your own home. Better the eyes of strangers – fleetingly painful – than the paranoia of sitting under glass where your neighbors might read your habits and foibles by the way the lights turn on and off through the night, might judge your messy hair through the kitchen window as you wash the dishes. Might, might, might. There were terrible possibilities in all that potential.

They were always there. One ready to freeze you out, the other hanging on your apron strings like a teenager who just got his first place. The conflict rubbed over your nerves like a match on a boot heel. Too much, too fast, and you’d combust.

So you found a lot of reasons to go into town. You remembered how much you liked the library, the joy of a cinnamon roll someone else baked, and hot coffee that didn’t come with a side of flashbacks.

The forecast predicted heavy snow overnight, and you made a day of grocery shopping, collecting novels from the library, and avoiding your neighbor’s last-minute requests.

You barely noticed the teens rushing out of the parking lot as you left your final stop, canvas bag loaded with enough media to keep you entertained through the storm of the century. No windows were broken. No key marks scuffed the paint. If they committed any mischief, it was minor.

Gas theft didn’t cross your mind until your engine quietly gave out and your car rolled to a stop between Nowhere and Nothing.

Understanding dawned with grudging revulsion. Like looking at the toilet and realizing it wouldn’t flush.  

The little shits had siphoned your tank.

You smacked the steering wheel, cursing.

So much for the benefit of the doubt. You couldn’t escape. Everyone everywhere just wanted to use you.

But it was fine. Everything would be fine. You were always prepared in case someone fucked you over. Your wellbeing was your responsibility, after all.

Climbing out of the warm cabin, you headed to the back and pulled out the emergency gas can.

The red plastic was shockingly light. You didn’t realize until you’d already thrown your weight into the yank. Unbalanced, you tottered, and your heel skidded over ice.

The snow cushioned your fall, and you stared blankly into the white limned branches overhead as you tried to process the last five seconds. Things like this happened to idiots. They did not happen to you. Careful, cautious you with your backup plans and reserves.

You had simply made a mistake. Somewhere. Somehow. You’d find an explanation.

When you sat up, still in a state of shock, you examined the can, expecting signs of a mouse, or a crack, or…

An I.O.U. was taped to the back.

You knew the handwriting all too well.

That shitting little…

The snow arrived. Silence swallowed the mountain, and the gloaming snuffed the last of the sun’s warmth.

You sat alone on the side of the road, well aware that no one would come up this way for hours. Days maybe.

You had made a mistake.

You made your neighbor chicken soup.

Your nose burned, and you sniffed. Hot tears rolled down your face, burning as they went, and you wiped at them furiously. The wool of your mittens chafed your cheek. Your lip wobbled, and you hurled the empty can into the woods.

Fuck Johnny MacTavish.

Fuck Ghost.

Fuck your life.

[luvyeni]

🦢… ( drabble ) love blindness ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 양정원 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ ヾ

yandere!jungwon・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut. yandere.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ manipulation. ‎unprotected sex. mentions of murder. wc ・ ‎0.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

reaction. can you please do jungwon yandere smut? any concept !!!

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 my first wonie smut , it might be a little awkward I’m sorry 😔

love blindness; that’s what you have, at least that’s what your friends say. you don’t even see the signs. “he’s controlling.” your friends would warn. “he’s constantly there , why does he need to be next to you at all times?”

and to which you just flagged them off. “he’s just being a protective boyfriend.” you stated. “he knows this is my first relationship, so he’s just extra careful.” and maybe that’s why it was so easy; so easy for you to fall into his dangerous and torturous web. “he’s a good problem, i swear.”

no , no he wasn’t a good person; jungwon knew that. he was sick and twisted; and in love with you. “wonie!” he smiled waiting for you outside of the coffee place, he’d been there for the past hour, watching you — of course you didn’t know, you didn’t need to know. “hey baby.” he leaning over kissing your coffee tainted lips. “you have fun.”

you sat in the seat; frowning. “yeah i guess.” he caught on to your behavior. “did something happened?” you didn’t say anything, he grabbed your cheeks forcing you to look at him. “what’s wrong?” he said. “it’s just that my friends were saying something’s today.” you said , he let you go sitting back in his seat. “like what?” you shrugged. “just that you’re controlling and you’re just always there.”

he was seething; how fucking dare they taint your perfect image of him with their words. “they said that about me?” he was planning their brutal demise in his head , but he turned on his best smile just for you. “im sorry they made you sad , but it’s okay.” he said. “we aren’t gonna listen to them.” he placed his hand on your bare thigh. “okay?” you nodded, smiling innocently at him. “they’re just jealous they don’t have a boyfriend that loves you as much as i do.” he squeezed your thigh. “you look so pretty in this dress.”

“th-thank you.” you stuttered out, flustered. “my favorite color too.” his hands inching up your dress. “did you wear it for me?” you tried to suppress a moan as his finger swiped your clothes clit. “wo-wonie , fuck.” you sighed , he pinched in between your thighs. “watch your mouth , you aren’t a nasty slut like those friends of yours , you’re a good girl.” you nodded. “so-sorry.” he nodded , pulling his fingers away. “let’s get home.” his eyes full of lust.

“oh my god!” you moaned out, legs pinned up as he pounded into your sensitive cunt for the past few hours. “wo-wonie i can’t take it anymore.” you sobbed , tears streaming down your face due to his brutal thrust. “se-sensitive.” he loved getting you like this , making you cum over and over ; to the point you were shaking just from his cock touching your cunt. “yo-you can - fuck - you can take it.” his hands wrapping around your throat. “take it like a good girl.”

only he could get you like this; he was the only one who ever got you like this. “my perfect little fuck toy aren’t you?” he squeezed your neck. “letting me use your precious body like this.” losing himself inside you, making his obsessive nature towards you more come out. “minds , all mines.” he growled. “you’re all mines , no one else can have you.” he restricted your breathing even more. “i’ll kill anyone if they ever think about taking you away from me.”

you gasped out as he finally let your neck go , holding your waist pounding into your sopping cunt. “you gonna cum?” you nodded. “ye-yes!” you shouted in pure ecstasy, he smirked holding off on letting you cum , just to see you beg. “please please let me cum.” you sobbed out , eyes crossing. “look at you going dumb on my cock , just how i like it.” he moaned , feeling himself about to cum as well. “cum for me , be a good girl.”

that’s all you needed before your eyes rolled to back of your head , jaw slack as you came. “of fuck you’re clenching so much , gonna fucking cum.” he groaned. “gonna cum inside you -fuck- fuck fuck!” he thrusted one two three times before stilling his hips , his cum shooting from his twitching cock. “take my cum.” he whispered softly in your ear. “good girl.”

that’s how you saw jungwon; as a safe space for you, a protector of some sort. someone who would never do anything to you to harm you; but people who talk bad about him to you and make you think anything less — well that’s a different story.

like he told you … he’d kill anyone who thought they could take you away from him ….

©️LUVYENI

[sturnslutz]

INTRODUCING... hockeyplayer!chris and shy!reader

chris had just received his fourth "F" this semester in economics. he was also the star hockey player in the school even as a freshman. everyone knew the infamous christopher sturniolo. some reasons good, some bad.

you knew chris because obviously, the star hockey player, and the well known player, but also because he was in your econ class. you had sat behind him the whole year. not from your own personal choice, but because your row was the very last one and no one sat there.

the clock just went off and chris had just got back to his seat, looking down at his paper in disbelief at the big red "F" on his paper. he grabbed his bag with a huff as you remained in your seat, watching as he walks down the stairs, speed walking to the professor. you have your headphones in so you cant hear what they're saying but you see the professor pointing up at you and both pairs of eyes staring directly up at you.

you take out one headphone, watching chris as he runs back up the stairs and slams his paper down on your desk infront of you. "you need to tutor me." "w-what?" you say as your voice comes out scratchy due to how long you haven't talked.

"please. you're the smartest 'n the class. 'm not gonna be able to play in next week's match if i don' get a C or higher on the next test." "um alright." you nod softly looking down at his hand infront of you that was gripping the desk so tightly and caused his knuckles to turn white.

"can i get your number? jus' so we can talk about where we can meet." he says as he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. you nod and take the phone, your glasses falling slightly down your nose in the process. he notices this and lifts them back up gently. "there ya' go, honey." he says, much gentler than before as your face flushes and you type your number into his phone.

he notices your shyness, but decides to not say anything about it. you hand back his phone, your fingers grazing over each others. "ill text you soon, yeah?" he says as he steps back and takes his paper as he looks down at you waiting for your response. you nod and let out a simple hum. he smiles and mutters a "thank you" before walking down the stairs once again, out of the room.

your gaze follows him out of the room before you and the professor are the last ones in the room, and you stand up, storming down the steps. "jack, seriously? you just had to make the chris sturniolo talk to me and force me to be his tutor? cmon. thought you were better than that." he just simply shrugs. "relax, kid. chris is nice when he wants to be. he was the one who asked me first if you're a good tutor, and i just recommended you. that's all. its also a good experience to help put yourself out there. your mom asked me to help put more opportunities in front of you. now, pack up your stuff. you staying here for lunch or you going out? i have a couple more things i need you to help grade on."

mr.smith, or known as jack to you, is your uncle on your mom's side. hes you helped you decide your major in business, and hes always trying to get you out of your shell. no one besides the two of you know that you guys are related, and he grades you like everyone else. you just happen to get all A's. you also stayed in his class during lunch and talk like never before, and help him grade assignments.

later on, you're in your dorm, thankfully by yourself as you didnt get assigned a roommate and huddled in bed, reading. chris hasnt left your mind all day, and he still hasnt texted. right when you decided to call it a night and in the process of turning off your bedside light, your phone dings. "fuck." you mutter as you sigh and pick up your phone. a random number pops up and below is a text.

"hey honey, its chris. can i come over now???"

you roll your eyes, typing away.

"chris its 11 already, i was about to go to sleep.."

"please. i know its late but this is one of the only times im free. we'll be quick, promise."

"fine. im in dorm 11 in building 453. code to get in is 5678."

"ill be there soon. :)"

you sigh, standing up and putting your glasses back on. you had no urge to impress chris, but felt it was more than polite to just tidy up. you put on a pair of shorts and sat in your bed with your computer infront of you, as you sit in a tanktop and silk pajama shorts, patiently waiting for him.

your thoughts are interrupted at a knock as you let out a soft, "come in." he lets himself in, smiling softly at you, and you didnt miss the way his eyes raked over your body. "hey." he says as he shuts the door, setting his stuff down on your desk. you smile softly, looking down at your computer.

"you wanna work on your bed or at the desk?" he says as he sits down on your fluffy desk chair. you shrug. he sighs, grabbing his stuff and walking over to sit next to you on your bed, sliding his shoes off on the side. your knees bump against each other and he makes no move to move his.

"so, mr. smith said you were the smartest in the class and could really help me. 's that right now?" he says as he smirks and leans on his arm that was against his leg. you shrug once again, mentally cursing out your uncle. "um, i guess." you say, not louder than a whisper, even though you were in the comfort of your own room.

"'s okay, honey. no need to be scared of me. im jus' complimenting you 'n acknowledging your smartness or whateva' 's called." you laugh softly at this and he smirks once again. "im not scared." you say softly, looking up at him through your glasses. "no? then why cant you talk to me, hon?" you shrug once again.

"i don' really talk to anyone." you embarrassingly admit. "you should. 'm sure all the boys would be after you if you did. you're beautiful, y'know that right?" he says as he sits up again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

you were aware this was most definitely a tactic of his to get into girls' beds, but you couldn't pull away. you shrug once again. "hm. wan' me to prove to you how pretty ya' are?" you nod without hesitation and he smirks as he leans in and kisses your lips softly, humming against them. his hand falls to your hip as you lean back, gripping your soft comforter under you.

he pulls away and sets your computer and his papers on the floor next to you and he turns back to you, reaching under your shirt, rubbing his hands around your hips and stomach as he kisses you again. you shudder from his cold hands but quickly lean back into the kiss. you pull away as you feel his hands, go further up. "'m a virgin." you quickly admit as he smiles again, reaching for your glasses, taking them off and putting them to the side.

"thats alright, baby. dont worry about it. ill take real good care of you." he says as he rubs your cheek. "do you trus' me?" you nod and he reaches for your shirt, lifting it over your body. his eyes rake over your bare chest as he smirks and leans down and kisses all over your chest.

you gasp as your head falls back, your hair falling down your back as he kisses around your soft tits, and licks the bud of one before sucking on it as you moan softly and he hums against it at your reaction.

as time goes on, your mind cant even process how you got in this position. you were under chris as the both of you were naked and he's been teasing you with his tip against your folds for the past 10 minutes.

"cmon baby. i know you can use your words. say what you wan', 'n ill give it to you." he says as he smiles at your stubbornness despite you being crazy shy. you shake your head no as you cant even imagine yourself asking chris for his dick.

he sighs, shaking his head as he grabs his length tapping it against your clit, and sliding it through your folds which was practically dripping now. "then you aren't gettin' it." he shrugs as he looks down at your already tired face despite barely doing anything.

"f-fine. please put it in me, chris." you practically whisper. he tuts as he shakes his head again. "needa be louder than that. i know you can." you let out a choked sob at his words. "shh dont cry, baby." he coos as he leans over, wiping your tears, still not letting his smirk off his face. "jus' needa hear you say it a bit louder, that's all." "chris please put it in me!" you yell as he nods, smiling. "thereee we go." he says he starts stretching you out, inch by inch, shushing your whines and hisses while whispering sweet praises to you.

he finally bottoms out, and stays still until you give him permission to move. he notices the bulge in your belly and almost cums on the spot. he accidentally thrusts slightly into you as you let out a hiss. "sh-shit. sorry baby." you disregard his sorry as you shake your head. "you can move." you let out with a breath. he nods. "let me know if you wan' me to stop." you nod as he starts moving in and out of you at an unbelievably slow pace.

after a bit, you allow your pain to turn into pleasure. "go faster." "yeah? you sure?" you nod as he begins moving in and out of your soft hole faster than before, grabbing your hips for stability. you moan as you grab the sheets next to you as he continues going faster.

"f-fuck. squeezing me so damn tight, baby. 'm not gonna last much longer." "me either!" you say as you let out a almost pornographic moan as his hips slam into yours, and your bedframe repeatedly hits the wall. you know for sure your poor neighbors could obviously tell what was happening, but you nor chris paid any attention, purely focused on the pleasure created within each other.

"'m gonna cum, chris." you say as you clench around him. "me too. wan' me inside you?" you nod rapidly as he nods letting out a breathy laugh at your eagerness. with a final moan, you come done all over him as your thighs shake. chris thrusts a couple more times before groaning and stopping his movements, burying himself inside you as white spurts fill you.

as he finishes, he pulls out and notices cum sliding out of you, and he lets his finger collect it all and push it back into you, causing a wince to come out of your mouth. "sorry, didnt want any goin' to waste." he says as he chuckles.

his body falls down next to you as the two of you catch your breath. "y'alright?" he says softly as he traces shapes over your stomach and kisses your shoulder softly. you can only let out a hum and a nod and he nods back. "we gotta figure out another time to study, but cant promise i actually will after this." he chuckles again as you roll your eyes. you look down at your body, and embarrassment flows through you at the sight of your naked body being completely in the open, and open for chris to see.

"chris y'gotta go, its late." you say softly. "wan' me to leave already? damn was i that bad?" he says with a chuckle as he sits up on his elbow. you shake your head no immediately. "n-no. not at all. its just getting late and i need to be up for work early tomorrow." he nods, understanding. "alright." he lets his feet fall to the ground as he puts his clothes back on and you let your blanket fall over your body. "ill see you later, yeah?" he states as he collects his papers off the floor and stands up, brushing a hand through his hair.

you nod, humming. "y-yeah. we'll figure out a time you can actually study." he laughs at this, nodding. "sure, baby. see you." and with that, he walks out, leaving you only with your thoughts, but not with chris, but with how you lost your fucking virginity.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 comment to be added or removed.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws.

[mywritersmind]

CHOICES - LN4

new year’s eve edition

summary : Stumbling into an occupation restroom isn’t the way Lando planned to spend his last night of 2024. The woman playing with her lighter and wondering why she’s at this godforsaken party, thinks the same. It just so happens that the last five minutes of 2024 might just shape their whole 2025.

or : they hang out in a bathtub

listen up : no warnings!! happy new years loves!

words: 1540

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Fucking hell.” The man mumbles, stumbling into the occupied bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

I realize as he stands over the sink, bracing himself on either side and looking at himself in the mirror, that he doesn’t know I'm there. I clear my throat, not really knowing what else to do.

He spins around, swearing as I play with the lighter in my hand, “Sorry… I didn’t know anyone was in here.” He eyes my position, my heels tapping against the toilet seat and my ass promptly sat on the tank.

“Uh huh…” I run my fingers over the lighter again, the flame lighting up my face as he leans against the sink. He’s cute but not familiar. He’s wearing black slacks and a half unbuttoned linen shirt, a sparkly decoration around his neck and glitter in his curly mullet.

The colorful lights in the bathroom bounce off his face, a new freckle appearing everytime a new color lands on him.

“Can I just…?” I raise a brow as he points to the bathtub, not waiting for my answer before slumping down in the tub that only has a beer bottle and a sparkler in it. “I’m Lando.”

He sighs as I eye his unusual manner. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just overstimulated. “I’m Y/n…”

“Why are you hiding, Y/n?” My name rolls off his tongue, his knee pulling up against his chest.

“Why are you?” I bring a cigarette to my lips, lighting it and watch his hand push through his hair.

He licks his lips, looking up at me with his pretty green eyes. This bathroom is lit up by shitty streamers and LED lights. I blow out smoke, motioning to him to take it.

He declines, “I don’t smoke.”

My eyes narrow as the cigarette comes back to my lips, “Yeah okay…” It comes out a bit more sarcastic than I was hoping.

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone else at this party would turn a cig down.” I shrug, my hand resting on my knee.

“I’m an athlete.”

I let out a snort, “Right, and I'm Hannah Montana.”

The corner of Lando’s lip tugs upward, “That would be far cooler than an athlete. But I doubt she smokes.”

I tilt my head, giving up and just putting the cigarette out. “I hate everyone here.” I say as his eyes run down my body.

They catch on my patterned tights before returning to my eyes.

“Looks like we’ve got one thing in common.” He smirks, leaning his head against the tile wall as I hop off the toilet.

I pop a few mints in my mouth and look at myself in the mirror, my hair messy and making me wonder if I should change it for my new era in the new year. I catch a glance of Lando in the mirror, “Why are you here then?”

I think he’s about to ask me the same thing, but he just shrugs, “I think my new year’s resolution needs to be, stop saying yes to so many people.”

I rifle through the draws and the shelves behind the mirror, just looking around as someone bangs on the door.

“Occupied!” I yell back as the woman groans and stomps away. “Ah!” I find a tiny perfume bottle and spray myself without smelling it.

When I look at Lando in the mirror, he’s looking up at me, smiling. I match his expression, shrugging. “I hate everyone here too. Just had nowhere else to go… shit saying it out loud makes it a bit sad.”

He shakes his head as I cross my arms and lean against the sink, “We’re hiding in a bathroom five minutes before the new year, you think that’s sad?”

This makes me laugh and when I do, Lando seems to perk up. I come and sit next to him, not caring that my skirt is riding up or the tie of my top is coming loose.

I sigh, “Okay quick, tell me everything about yourself.”

He raises a brow, “Why?”

“You don’t want to spend the last minutes of 2024 talking about yourself?” There’s a small frown on his face now, he’s got a good face.

“I want to hear you talk.”

I roll my eyes. What is with this man and being strangely attractive? “Favorite color? Green.”

“Same.”

I frown, “Lando you can’t just copy me.”

“I’m not!” He laughs, “How about Hobby? Golfing.”

I physically recoil, “I don’t know if we can be friends after that answer, Lando.”

He smirks, “You’ll get over it. Golfing and photography.” He pulls out a tiny digital camera to show me.

I take it from him as I answer, “Writing.” I snap a photo of him, there’s two left now. “What color is your underwear?”

“Trying to get in my pants, Y/n?” He takes the camera back, taking a photo of me laughing.

“Can’t a girl be curious?” Someone jiggles the door handle, “Red.”

“Black.” I cross my ankles over the side of the tub and tilt my head towards him, “You gonna fact check it?”

I laugh, “Seems like you want me to.” He just looks at me, no real expression except for his eyes flicking down my body.

“What do you do for work?”

“I write.”

He groans, shaking his head, “Your hobby cannot be your work!”

“Thank god you’re not a golfer.” He scoffs at this as I smile, “Fine, I junk journal.” His brow goes up with intrigue.

His eyes flash to his watch, “Three minutes.”

I sigh, “Favorite movie.”

“Notting hill.” I actually laugh out loud at this.

“Fuck off.”

Lando’s smile is so bright it’s making me feel happy just by looking at him, “I’m serious! What’s yours?”

“I- Luca.”

“Luca!?” He says loudly, “Like the animated film?” I nod, my cheeks getting a bit hot as he laughs, “I watched it with my niece the other day.”

I smile at the thought of Lando and a baby watching my favorite movie. I’m thinking of another question when he checks his watch and speaks again, “Thoughts on Mince Pies?”

“Disgusting.”

“Disgusting!?” He spits, “Get out of my face.”

I laugh, “They’re actually terrible! Something about them freaks me out.”

“You freak me out.” He mumbles, looking away as my jaw drops.

We go back and forth for a minute about bloody mince pies but are sucked back into reality when someone slams into the door.

“Fuck!” The man yells as Lando and I blink, then burst out laughing.

I look at Lando and run my hand through his curls, He doesn’t even look surprised. “I like your hair.”

There’s something so soft about the way he looks at me, “I like your tights.” His hand drifts to my knee, tugging at the thin fabric just as I get distracted by his arms…

He snaps the fabric back to my skin as I straighten my leg and smile, “It’s men repellent.” Usually, the bright colors or patterns turn men away.

“It’s not doing a very good job. I think it’s hot.” He’s smirking when he says it, but the way he looks at me makes me feel sick. Sick in a hot way.

He glances down at his watch once again, “Time’s running out, love. What book would you have me read?”

I raise a brow, “You want me to prescribe you a book?”

He taps his watch face, “Tick Tock, Y/n!”

“Okay! Uh… Atomic Habits.” He tilts his head, wanting me to go on, “It’s about sticking to your goals. You want a better year, right?”

He bites his lip as the sound outside gets louder, “Yeah I do…What’s your new year’s resolution?”

I hum, “Make better choices.”

I hear everyone counting down outside.

“Five… four!” Lando starts counting.

He nudges my arm, “Three… two!” I laugh and count with him. He grabs the disposable camera and points it at us.

“One!” Everyone screams, probably hugging and kissing people around them as the new year sets in.

I watch his thumb twist the camera, his finger pressing the button as I make my first choice of 2025.

I turn his face towards me, and kiss him.

The second the flash goes off, the camera gets instantly dropped onto the bath mat outside the tub, having served it’s purpose. I pull back, my hands still on his face and neck.

“Happy new year, Y/n.” Is all he says as my hands slip down his chest and catch on the flimsy necklace he’s got on.

“Happy new year, Lando.” I’m smiling big now as he kisses my cheek gently. My lipgloss is on his lips, cherry flavored.“One thing…”

I frown a bit, “Yeah?”

“So are we gonna tell people we met in 2024 or 2025…?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling. “I’m being serious!”

I close my eyes, shaking my head and wanting to shut him up with another kiss.

“We met on new years.” I look back to him, he’s smiling still.

Kissing a stranger might not have been on my 2025 bingo card… But It might’ve been the best choice to start off my year.

[dukeofankh]

Folks, social media is not a courtroom. Presumption of innocence is a feature of the legal system, not social media. Like...nobody was following that for Cosby or Weinstein prior to their convictions. It's not something people care about or need to care about because they're not fucking lawyers.

Does the NYPD frame people? Oh hell yeah. Does it seem at all likely that they have framed this guy, given his search history, what we know about his history from friends, ect? Not really. Could that all have been fabricated? I mean, maybe, but that's not stuffing a bag of coke in someone's pocket and "finding" it, that's much bigger. That would be, I believe the word is, forgive me, a conspiracy. So the idea that that has happened would be a theory that there has been a conspiracy. A conspiracy theory, if you will.

Does that mean it's wrong? No. But the preponderance of evidence that has been found so far makes it seem pretty obvious that it's this guy to most people who are paying attention. And honestly? None of that fucking matters, because no matter what people like to think, you cannot blog so good that you alter the course of this man's legal fate. They are not going to decide his guilt or innocence via Tumblr poll.

Like. Part of what's happening here is that there are two distinct groups in support of this man at this time, with mutually exclusive strategies of support. One is running the "he's innocent" route, saying "don't believe literally anything cops say, anything that authority figures say about him can be dismissed as a lie" which, I mean, I dunno man. After COVID, after seeing the less-weak-than-im-fully-comfortable-with BlueAnon shit after the US election, I am significantly worn out on "I don't wike it so it isn't real" thinking. Even if it's useful short term, there are serious fucking long term consequences to the health of your movement and just general mental health.

If you are doing that but don't believe it, like you know he's probably the guy but say he isn't because you think that if we all just collectively refuse to accept the official story, it can't be put into effect or something...I mean, what world do you live in? Sounds like fun. Much better than the real world.

The other group, the one I tend to align far more with, says, "uh, hell yeah he did it. Good. Brian Thompson was a mass murderer and this is self defence by the American people. Jury Nullification, baby. Hell, even if he gets convicted the next Democratic candidate should run on pardoning him of the federal charges, and whoever is running for the NY governorship should run on pardoning him of the state charges. We should use this man as a symbol, a wedge issue, because honestly, it seems like even if right wing people are very selfish, it turns out that if you fuck literally everyone over, people will selfishly end up having very similar views on this issue regardless of traditional party lines and that is fantastically useful in a political landscape that is so ossified otherwise."

I don't really think it's fair to dismiss the idea that that guy might have been framed for killing the CEO as like an unfounded conspiracy theory when NYPD has a proven history of planting/fabricating evidence on people. in 2011 there was a massive investigation of the NYPD and hundreds of cases against people were dismissed after a former police officer testified that they literally have a name for planting evidence on people: flaking. you cannot be out here acting like considering the possibility that cops who do this shit under normal circumstances might possibly also do it when they're under intense global pressure and scrutiny is the same as republicans thinking democrats run a secret pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza restaurant

[tateypots]

Surrender

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (no Tommy in this one but the next part will be heavily Tommy focussed).

Word count: 3.9k (it got away from me, sorry!)

A/N: Part 5 of Collared. Same as before, it’s dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it’s not for you.

I had a few asks to add people to the tag list but it wouldn’t let me tag you, not sure if this is to do with your privacy settings or what but if you asked for a tag and I’ve not included it, that is why, sorry!

Summary: Are you ready to surrender yourself to your captors?

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, kidnapping, daddy kink, unprotected piv, squirting, creampie, restraints, marking, gaslighting, manipulation. Let me know if I missed any.

Part 4 | Series Masterlist

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

Joel opened the door to the cabin and rushed inside, stomping his boots on the mat to shake off the snow that had accumulated on them and removing his jacket. You rolled over to look at him as he entered and just the sight of you had him growing hard. He tried to take control of himself. He needed to play this carefully. You were so close to breaking. To surrendering to him. He didn’t need you to, not really, but fuck did he want you to.

He’d been honest when he said he didn’t like to see you cry but that was only a small part at play in the urgent need he felt within him. The primal need to dominate and own you drowned out almost all other compulsions within him. He didn’t want to beat it into you. Breaking someone with brute strength and physicality was for lesser men, he wanted you to hand yourself over to him willingly. He wanted you pliant and submissive. Obedient. His. Sure he’d loan you out to his brother, expect you to keep him satisfied as well but there was no doubt in his mind who you would belong to. He’d failed to mention this to Tommy, but he‘d be happy enough with the few bones Joel would throw his way that he wouldn’t question it. Like agreeing to let Tommy be the first to take your mouth. To Joel that was just smart logistics. Let Tommy put in the work and train your throat on his smaller cock so it would be easier for you to take Joel’s. But Tommy had been overjoyed at the prospect of claiming a piece of you first.

He took off his boots but unusually, stopped there. He sauntered over to the bed and plonked himself down on it. “C’mere baby, I think it’s time you and me had a little chat.” He pulled you over to his side and wrapped his big arm around you, resting his chin on your head and cradling you into him.

Your heart soared at being held like this while your mind struggled to keep you grounded. You’d spent the last few hours thinking about what he’d said to you. You weren’t so far gone that you couldn't see the manipulation at work. Unfortunately being able to recognise their games was a small defence against their conditioning of you. Your body craved them. Their warmth, their soft touches, the orgasms they’d been cruelly denying you. And your mind needed them too. The reassurances and kind words to soothe the fear and uncertainty. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel had failed to answer the question of what would happen should they tire of you. The fear of it still gripped your heart like iron.

“Now, back when you first arrived I promised that I would take care o’ you and it seems like Daddy ain’t been doing a very good job of it so lets talk it through and see if we can’t get this all straightened out hm?”

“Ok,” you sniffled, unable to look at him, knowing it would be your undoing.

“Ok, good girl,” he planted a kiss on the crown of your head, his thumb rubbing soothing little circles on your arm. Something inside of you swelled at his praise and you couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped you.

“Now, Tommy and me, we’ve been tryin’ to hold back the last few weeks to make this easier on you like I said but it’s clear that ain’t workin’ and it got me thinkin’. Maybe the problem ain’t that you don’t like it when we’re having fun with you, maybe the problem is that you do like it. And that’s got you all confused up here hm?” he asked, tapping lightly at your temple.

You chewed your lip, unsure how to respond. He saw right through you. He already knew the answer. He knew, he just needed you to admit it, to him and to yourself.

“Am I right baby?” he asked, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. You choked out a sob and gave a small nod.

He wrapped you in both arms now and pulled you in closer, holding you tight as your tears soaked into his shirt. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s ok. It’s ok to like it baby. It’s supposed to feel good when we touch you. Why are you fightin’ against it? Hm, tell me?”

You took a shaky breath, hands clinging to the fabric of his flannel, soaking in the heat of his body, not sure how much longer he’d hold you once you answered his question. Afraid for the moment he’d pull away from you. He jostled you slightly in his arms, as if trying to shake an answer loose from you.

“You didn’t give me a choice,” you whispered, waiting for him to push you away in disgust at your verbalisation of their crime, as if speaking it would make it more real. Instead he shocks you by squeezing you tighter and telling you, “I know baby but you’re lucky we found you. You ever think what would have happened if we hadn’t come across you that day?”

You had. In great detail, many times. You knew you wouldn’t have survived on your own. You knew you could have ended up in a hundred other situations worse off than you were now. But that stripping of your autonomy was still hard for you to stomach.

“Tell me this baby, if we’d have asked you, laid it all out for you, would you have chosen to come with us?”

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly.

“Exactly. We did what we had to. As much for your good as ours.” You knew that was crap. However much he tried to spin it you knew their pleasure had been the only thought in their mind that day. They’d have taken you even if it hadn’t been the best option for you. But you weren’t about to pull at that particular thread, self-preservation kicking in. You were his captive. Chained and weak, completely at his mercy. Making him mad definitely wasn’t a smart move.

“Is that the only reason baby, that we didn’t give you a choice?”

You shook your head, hesitating for a beat, deciding how much you wanted to reveal to him. But it had been so long since you’d had a proper conversation with anyone and it felt so good to be held by him that you felt your walls crashing down. “No,” you sniffled, “I’m scared what it says about me that I like it. That I’m bad. My dad always used to say that only sluts enjoyed sex outside of marriage. And our pastor always used to do long sermons about how sex was a sin. I don’t want to be a slut. I don’t want to be bad,” you sobbed.

“Hey,” Joel said sternly, lifting your head again to make you look at him. “You ain’t a slut, you hear me. I don’ like that word. Just another way to make girls feel bad about themselves. All that religious nonsense, making people feel guilty bout the most natural thing in the world. Stupid.”

This you do believe from him. And although you know this whole conversation is laced with an ulterior motive, the fact that he genuinely doesn’t think you’re a slut, doesn’t think less of you for enjoying being fucked warms and calms you. You try not to read too much into why his opinion matters so much to you.

“You think the foxes or the squirrels or the deer are out in the woods are feelin’ bad about havin’ sex? An’ are any of them married?”

You let out a little giggle and shake your head, “no, I suppose not.”

Joel’s cock throbs at the sound of your laugh. He’s close, so close he can almost taste it.

“No. The world is a different place now baby. No religions left to tell us what to do, make us feel bad. No laws anymore. Only thing that matters now is survival. You do what you have to get by and you take your pleasure where you can. Sex is about the only thing worth livin’ for now. So you ain’t a slut for enjoin’ it. You ain’t bad. You’re Daddy’s special girl. His good girl. Givin’ this old man something to look forward to every day.”

He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks and gives you a kiss on the forehead before rolling you onto your back with him on top of you. He gently spreads your legs so he can settle between them, his clothed cock hard and insistent against your seam.

“Daddy’s gona fuck you now baby, no more tears ok. Just want you to relax and enjoy yourself, you can do that for me can’t you?”

You gaze up at him, the weight of him on top of you, enveloped in his heat and scent, his beautiful face and the intimacy of your conversation has you aching for him. But the guilt and the fear and the confusion are still there in the back of your mind, quieted but not defeated.

“I’ll try.”

And that must be good enough for him because he reaches down to undo the button of his jeans and lower the zipper, pushing them down his thighs with his boxers far enough to free his engorged cock. He immediately notches himself at your entrance and pushes in, aided by his last deposit from a few hours ago mingled with your wetness.

He slowly sinks inside of you, “that’s it, good girl, let Daddy in.” You moan at the stretch as he parts your walls. “Feel so good baby, always feel so good,” he murmurs as he slides in the final few inches until his hips are flush with yours.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, holding still to allow you to adjust and to enjoy the feel of your pussy wrapped around him. You’re so fucking tight with no prep, choking the life out of his dick. Fucking perfect. This pussy belongs to him and he’s going to make damn sure it stays that way.

He starts to move, long languid strokes, fucking you deep and slow. It feels good. So fucking good. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it slides back and forth within you, hitting that special spot inside that has you keening. You try to focus on that, on the pleasure, on the coil you feel tightening within you, still so desperate for a release. You listen to Joel’s soft moans, to the sound of your wet pussy welcoming his cock with every determined thrust. But you also hear the clank of the chain that keeps you tethered, feel the chafe of the collar against your neck with every movement. The tears come. You can’t stop them. You try so hard to keep them contained but it’s no use. One falls. Then another and another.

He doesn’t notice at first. Too lost in his pleasure with his head buried in your neck. But when you let out a sniffly moan he stills and pushes up onto his forearms to look down at you. You can’t look him in the eye, shame washing over you. He wipes a tear from your cheek and sighs.

You expect him to go back to roughly fucking you, chasing his own high without a care for yours. But he surprises you by pulling out and climbing off the bed. And that is somehow so much worse. Panic explodes within you. You lose yourself to it, no thought in your head but making it right, keeping him here with you. You instinctively reach out and grab his arm, as he starts pushing his cock back in his pants with his back to you, “no Daddy please, I’m sorry, please don’t go Daddy, please!”

“Gotcha,” Joel thinks to himself rejoicing in that name falling from your lips for him finally. Wiping the smirk off his face and schooling his face into a disappointed frown before turning back around to you, his hard cock still poking out of his jeans.

You heave a relieved sigh and throw your arms around his neck, mumbling into his chest how sorry you are. He rubs a big hand up and down your back until you’ve calmed down slightly then he removes your arms from around his neck and leaves you kneeling on the bed as he once again wipes tears from your face and you nuzzle into his palm.

“I’m so sorry Daddy, I couldn’t help it, I tried to hold them in, really I did.”

“I know baby. I know. Maybe we need to try somethin’ different hm?”

You nod at him, slightly more reserved now that the initial panic has waned. But the memory of it lingers and you know you’ll do anything he asks of you right now.

“Ok baby, here’s what we’re gona do,” he tells you as he starts to fully strip off, “you’re gona ride my dick, you know what that means?”

You shake your head as you watch him disrobe, your pussy throbbing with each item of discarded clothing. “It means you’re gona sit on Daddy’s cock. You’ll be on top. That means you have to set the pace, you’ll be in charge, that sound good?”

You give him a timid nod.

“No need to worry, I’ll still be helpin’ and guidin’, you just follow my instructions. Prove to me how much you want this yeah?”

“Ok Daddy,” you whisper. You’re nervous but determined. You can do this.

Now fully naked Joel climbs back onto the bed and settles in a seated position with his back against the headboard. He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, your knees either side of his hips hovering over his crotch. He takes his cock in hand and taps the head against your puffy clit making you moan. He slides it down to the mouth of your pussy and holds it steady with one hand while the other lands on your hip directing you to start lowering yourself onto him. You keen and wail as you take him, he feels so much bigger in this position, the stretch so much more pronounced but you don’t stop. He watches you avidly as you sink down onto him, mesmerised by the sight, inch by inch he disappears inside of you. He lets out a grunt as your quaking thighs give out and you plop down in his lap, swallowing the last few inches with a pained whimper.

He pulls you forward into his chest, holding you close and lavishing you with praise, “such a good girl for me darlin’, you did so good, I’m so proud o’ you. I know it’s a lot, I know.”

Your whole body shakes as you adjust to the overwhelming fullness. It doesn’t take long for the sting to dissipate and the pleasure to return. When he feels you relax and sink into him he grabs the tops of your arms and pushes you gently out from his chest. He drinks in the sight of you, eyes still red and puffy from your tears but now glassy and unfocused as well, your mouth hanging open as you pant, your chest heaving with each inhale, your body connected to his, your little pussy swallowing his cock whole.

His hands drop to your hips and he guides them back and forth, letting you grind down on his dick. You release the loudest moan he’s ever heard from you and your head tips back, lost in the pleasure.

“Nu-uh baby, you look at me. Look at me and tell me how good it feels.”

With obvious effort you raise your head and force your eyes open, moans dropping from you with every rock of your hips.

“Ohh Daddy! It – oh – it feels so good. Oh so so good!”

Your hips speed up of their own accord, his hands now no longer guiding just gently gripping the flesh of your hips.

“Good girl baby, that’s it, bein’ so good for Daddy. Take what you need pretty girl, use me to make yourself feel good.”

And you do, you rock back and forth on him, feeling the pressure building within you. Everything is forgotten except the way his cock feels inside you. Your clit grazes across the coarse hairs at the base of his cock with every movement. You let out a wail of joy at the sensation, it feels like sparks being tossed into a powder keg, just waiting for one to catch and detonate the explosion of pleasure you so badly need.

He watches you, so blissed out and cock drunk it almost tips him over. To distract himself he reaches out and grabs your arms that have been hanging limp by your sides the whole time. He guides your hands to your tits, his hands engulfing yours and squeezing lightly to indicate what he wants. Watching you fondle yourself as you grind on him is the most arousing thing he’s ever seen. He can’t stop the slight buck of his hips and this is what finally sets you free, your pussy contracting and pulsing on him, gripping so tight he think he may pass out. You scream for him as the pleasure consumes you, the weeks of build up, frustration and anger all released in that one unholy noise.

You collapse into his chest, panting and grunting and shuddering as the aftershocks run through you. His hands are back on your hips, resuming his guidance of them back and forth to prolong your high.

When you whimper out a small “Daddy!” he finally stops, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a moment to rest, planting kisses on your temple and neck.

As you start to come back to yourself he once again pushes you out from his chest. “Did so good baby, made me so proud, knew you could do it,” he praises, taking note of how your pussy squeezes him as he does, “now it’s Daddy’s turn, you gona help me feel good too?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know you don’t really have a choice but you nod and whisper a soft, “yes Daddy,” anyway, keen to keep him on side.

“That’s my good girl,” his hands return to your hips and start their guidance once again but the motion is different this time, up and down instead of back and forth. You feel tired and boneless after your gargantuan climax but you do your best to mimic the movements and keep a solid rhythm. He guides your hands to his shoulders to help keep you steady.

“That’s it baby, bounce on Daddy’s cock, doin’ such a good job,” he pants out, breathless with his excitement. He knows he’s not a good man, but right now, watching you ride him as your beautiful tits bounce in his face he finds it hard to care.

His hands abandon your hips now that he’s confident you won’t stop, they make their way to your chest, squeezing your tits together as his head falls forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, suckling and teasing as his thumb rubs and flicks at the other. You moan as you feel pleasure shooting from your tits down to your pussy, working through the sensitivity from your first orgasm and starting to build you back up.

His cock is hitting you so deep, deeper than you’ve ever felt it and you feel it dragging over that spongy spot inside that drives you crazy, you feel the pressure building again and you chase it, increasing your pace and bouncing on him with gusto making him grunt with each impact of your hips on his.

He drops a hand between you, rubbing your engorged, aching clit with his index and middle fingers as he marks his way over your tit and up your chest, biting and suckling at your soft skin. The mix of sensations leaves you dizzy, you don’t know what to focus on. You feel your pussy pulsing around him and that only heightens the overwhelming pressure. A steady chant of “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” falls from your lips.

His lips are on your neck now, continuing their assault on your skin, sucking a deep purple bruise just above the collar. This one will be permanent he thinks. He’ll renew it every day, another sign of his ownership of you. As he nips the now tender flesh you jerk in his arms, but he holds you steady and returns to the same spot, his fingers still going to town on your clit.

“Daddy, please! Something’s wrong… I – I Daddy, I think I need to pee!”

With a jolt of excitement Joel realises what’s about to happen, “don’t stop baby, keep goin’, let go for me darlin’, you can do it.”

The pressure builds within you to an unbearable level before the coil snaps and an unfathomable wave of pleasure and heat take over as you feel liquid gushing from you, splattering over both your legs and groins. A scream tears from your throat as you collapse forward once again into his chest, your body completely spent.

He leans back with you and plants his feet on the mattress so he can continue to fuck up into you. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, squirtin’ all over her Daddy, making a big ol’ mess. You got the best fuckin’ pussy in the whole world baby!”

You’re dazed and confused, you barely register his words. You have no energy left to contribute to this fuck session so you lounge against him, letting him use you. You nuzzle into his neck and your lips find their way to his skin. You feel his pulse right beneath them and it feels strangely intimate, more so than anything else you’d done with him. You don’t know what comes over you as you kiss the spot gently before sucking the patch of skin into your mouth, like you’ve felt him do to you so many times.

The feel of you trying to mark him is his undoing, with an almighty roar he releases his load deep inside you, feeling the warmth of it as it begins to seep back down your pussy and over his cock. He collapses, exhausted, sated and so fucking pleased with himself. If he needed any more convincing that you were his, the mark on his neck would be it. It was so unexpected, not even he thought you that far gone.

He shuffles down the bed so he is lying flat with you fully on top of him, holding you tight and rubbing gentle shapes into your skin.

“Will you stay with me Daddy?” you ask timidly, afraid that if he rejects you now in this vulnerable moment you may never recover.

He hesitates a beat. He doesn’t want to spoil you. But he’s so fucking tired and you do deserve a little reward. “Yeah baby, I’ll stay for a little bit, but don’ get used to it. Close your eyes and rest now, you earned it.”

You murmur out a quiet, “thank you Daddy,” before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep almost immediately, covered in your shared release and still impaled on his cock.

@aurorawritestoescape @oldloganslittleslut @axshadows @justajoelsreader

[ivysprophecy]

good graces

warnings: (did i write this watching a nonsense christmas? maybe?) i dont think there is any, cursing?

word count: 1061

summary: jj thinks he needs a big gesture to apologize about the previous nights' events, but when he gets back youre just as anxious to make up for your mistakes.

prev. | next

masterlist

@bernardsbendystraws divider

jj's been gone an hour. i thought he was supposed to be back sooner than this?

ive been sitting in the chateau all day bouncing my leg nervously or pacing the house or throwing rocks into the water. anything to calm my nerves.

im drawing in the dirt when his bike finally pulls up to the house.

hes wearing a helmet? since when does he wear a helmet? ive been yelling at him to get one for months.

i watch as he swings his leg over the seat of his bike and takes off the helmet and shakes his head letting his hair fly free. he hates when it sticks to his ears.

then he finally sees me sitting on the poarch.

"what the hell are you doing out here?? go back inside!!" he runs up to me dropping his bag on the ground shooing me back into the house.

ive never been so shocked by something he's said before. literally jaw dropped.

"excuse me? jj im trying to talk to you- apologize to you! why are you acting like this??" i shove him back as he urges me through the screen door.

"mama you can apologize later im trying to set up your surprise youre gonna ruin it- get your cute ass inside-" he turns me back around and moves me through the door.

i let out a little chuckle with a hint of scoff "jj im still fucking mad at you- what the hell are you doing?"

"im fixing what i fucked up," he leans down and kisses me chastely before grinning, "now sit down on the couch and wait for my say so, pretty please."

"youre being awfully demanding for someone on thin fucking ice."

"it will be worth it mama i promise. please?"

okay im mad at him... but hes being really cute. i think that outweighs my guilt.

"fine... but im not waiting forever."

"it will only be a few minutes. i promise," he kisses me forehead after i sit on the couch and runs back out the front door leaving me dazed and confused.

what has this boy got up his sleeve?

after another ten minutes of nervously waiting in the house, scrolling through my phone, bouncing my leg, biting off my finger nails, i hear the sound of 'you are in love' by taylor swift blaring from a speaker outside.

and he KNOWS thats my favorite song from my favorite album.

THAT catches my attention, and im taking it as his clue to finally come outside.

when i finally make it onto the poarch i let out an audible gasp covering my mouth at the sight. this stupid amazing outrageous throughtful fucking idiot.

theres sea shells spelling out sorry on the lawn, and hes sitting there with my favorite flowers that grow from my secluded beach reading spot, a bag of my favorite breakfast foods, and two helmets for his bike. with both our intitals.

"im really fucking sorry mama... i didnt get a chance to explain myself- i swear id never do that to you. ever. i love you so much and i know how many doubts you had about us. and sarah said id probably need to reassure you and i dont really know how to do that so i just figured id do some kind of gesture and-"

i cut off his rambling but running up to him and wrapping my arms around him, probably suffocating him but i dont really care.

this is so fucking adorable.

"thank you... you didnt have to do all of this."

"what happened to being all pissy?" he looks down at me, doing a horrible job at hiding his smirk.

"shut up... im sorry i was being so crazy. i just saw that i freaked out, i wasnt thinking. im so sorry jay-"

he gently grabs my face, pressing a small kiss to my forehead, "i know... and i shouldve made it clearer what had happened and reassured you. im not good at this boyfriend stuff, but im trying. with sarahs help if were being honest."

"youre doing great jj... this whole gesture is so sweet and thoughtful. im sorry that im a crazy girlfriend who flies off the handle when the slightest thing goes wrong."

jj shrugs innocently, sitll having me in his arms, "i dont mind it. it was kinda hot."

"youre such a pig," i smile leaning up and pressing a gentle, loving kiss to his lips, "so... forgiven?"

"youre forgiven if i am."

"you already were."

i lean over and pick up the flowers hed set down so i could hug him, bringing them to my nose.

they have a faint salty smell of the ocean stuck on them, thats one of the reason i love them. that and wild flower bouquets are really freaking pretty.

"these are perfect... thank you jj- really. this is so perfect."

"im glad you like it mama... it was this or me begging on my knees for forgiveness."

"i wouldve loved either option," i joke. "and i promise i will do better to communicate more clearly," i press pause on the speaker so we can hear each other a little better.

jj sits me down on our hammock still holding me close to his side.

"i know you will, we both got shit to work through but were gonna be fine. im not givin up on you that easy."

"you put up with a lot from me."

"eh, its worth it all in the end. when we go to bed."

"god you are such a perv!" i bump him with my shoulder laughing. while hes laughing with me i find the back of breakfast food and stealthily take it from his side and start to snack on it. "god this is so good. youre an angel."

jj throws an arm around my shoulder pressing another kiss to my temple.

"eat up. im gonna clean this up before everyone gets back and makes fun of me. do you wanna keep the shells?"

i nod shoving a bite of hashbrowns in my mouth enthusiastically.

"alright then," he heads to the yard picking up all the shells and putting them in his backpack for me to keep. maybe ill make stuff out of them so we have them forever, to remember this.

like a picture frame or a coffee mug or something crafty.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 26. home — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

notes: trying out a bit of a different style of writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy!

cw: online harassment targeted at reader & characters, self-deprecating thoughts

You’re used to this.

Getting criticism and some hate comments here and there is nothing new for you. It's all part of the business in this industry.

And you haven't gotten this far without having gone through a scandal or two. 

Maybe it’s the storm outside your window, or maybe it’s your melancholia. Maybe you’ve always been like this — hungry for more and more.

Attention. Praise. Love. You wanted all of it and more. You needed it more than you needed air.

All eyes are on you, now more than ever. It's been like this for years.

You should be used to this.

You just hate the fact that you have to drag him down with you.

He doesn't deserve any of this.

None of your friends deserve this.

What were you thinking, agreeing to his deal? You threw him to the wolves and put his private life on display, all to fulfill your fantasies of him liking you back. 

It's nothing but a lie anyway. 

You may be used to hating yourself, but it's a different thing entirely to see the world turn against you.

You deserve this. 

With the rain picking up, you should probably get home soon. But to be fair, it wasn’t raining that hard when you went out.

You probably should have listened to Yoimiya when she said to not go out. The pouring rain drenches you from head to toe the moment you step outside. An umbrella would have been useful, but it’s not like you had the foresight to bring one.

God, it’s fucking cold.

Yoimiya and Ayaka have probably told Scaramouche that you went out. And at this rate, he’s probably worried about you. He really shouldn’t be wasting his energy like that. He shouldn’t be wasting his efforts on you at all.

The fact that he’s going on interviews when you know he hates doing them feels like a weight on your chest, a mixture of guilt and self-hatred that manifested as a storm that mirrored the cold, unforgiving rain as you dragged your feet across the wet pavement.

An umbrella covers you, interrupting the ceaseless torrent of rain and your thoughts.

“Idiot,” Scaramouche says. You can barely hear him over the rain. “Why are you out here? It’s late; something could have happened to you.”

It’s hard to look him in the eye, so you don’t bother. “You shouldn’t have come after me. I’m not worth all your efforts.”

Scaramouche furrows his brow, “What are you talking about? Of course you are. Come on, let’s go home.”

The next words are lodged in your throat, but you keep going.

“Break up with me.”

It’s better this way.

“I don’t want you to have to suffer because of me.”

He shouldn’t have to be dragged down with you.

“Even if I bounce back from this, which I highly doubt I will, this won’t be the last time people talk shit about us. Please, Scaramouche. Leave me while you still can. You don’t deserve any of this.”

He’s silent for a moment. Unmoving. You’re bracing yourself for his response when he moves closer toward you.

“I’m not going to leave your side. Not when you need all the support you can get,” Scaramouche says, cupping your face with his hand. His hand is so warm. A welcome change to the cold of the rain. “And I’m sure as hell not breaking up with you.”

“We don’t even know if public opinion will change after your interviews are published,” you argued.

Scaramouche nods. “I know. But I still wanted to try and help you in any way I could.”

Against all odds, Scaramouche presses closer to you and wraps his arms around you. Against all doubts, you bury your face into him. He only holds you tighter.

“You will always be worth the effort,” he says softly. “And even if the world hates you, you have us. You have me.” 

Scaramouche takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. You have a feeling he won’t let go any time soon. You hope he never does.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

my favorite chapter to write by far ^^ hope you guys enjoyed!!

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[turnitsysclusive]

"You claim to be plural because it's fun"

As if you know anything about my system and how it works. The only thing you know about my system is I split during a stressful moment, y'know, the thing that's common for disordered systems. For all you know I could be diagnosed. I could have been taking therapy for years for my CDD, I could have started next week, I could've never started at all.

Thinking you have the authority to fakeclaim some internet stranger all because of ""scary"" art is the real ableism, I fear. Acting as if being a system is an inherently bad thing that needs curing all because (from your point of view) it only stems from trauma, as if disordered systems who don't WANT final fusion don't exist (but even then they shouldn't exist) is the real ableism, I fear.

I'm sorry you have to go through all that, truly, it's hard and I would know because I go through similar shit daily. That being said, your experiences aren't things Endogenics and the like are incapable of knowing, experiencing, and understanding.

Quit dehumanizing your fellow systems all because you don't believe their plurality is real.

The whole point of this art piece was about acceptance and being able to proudly be a system in public. The heart hands represent love despite going through tough shit (that's why I included the semicolon tattoo.) The Nametag and bracelet represents being able to wear your identity, who your collective is, safely and proudly. The conversation represents a world where people KNOW what plural is and are accepting of it because disordered systems can barely even get that from singlets without having two worry about the stigma. And finally, the last panel just shows the final act of acceptance: society realize that plurality is just a thing that happens (like being queer or trans, even if both groups still have their struggles).

If you didn't understand, or something wasn't clear, then say that. PLEASE. I love answering questions especially if it's in good faith. I would've happily explained this to you. I don't mind civil discussions or questions.

Systems shouldn't have to prove they're traumatized and suffer in order to be belived.

Don't ever, ever, say something like this to someone ever again. Because if you do and that person tells you to go fuck yourself in the harshest way possible, they will be justified. And if you're fine with that, then by all means, continue on.

We're still a new system.

During a stressful moment in the middle of the night we had our first split. And afterwards we were very, very lost. So we turned to Tumblr and got to adapting and curating our spaces. As time went on, we realized that the community is very...split, if you will.

Which made sense, being plural is very complicated! It's a disorder but also can be spiritual and not disordered at all. But I've seriously never seen levels of fakeclaiming this bad.

Let alone these levels of our own community wishing our kind didn't exist.

The art is inspired by a "The Future is Singlet" art piece.

Trauma doesn't define our existence. And if you believe that plurality is only caused by disorders, to say you wish an entire form of neurodivergentcy to not exist is pretty fucking weird.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part three

I'm the most impatient person I know, so here's another!

Warnings: reader smoking cigarettes, just more case stuff, and as usual their bickering (but also moments of...non-bickering? gasp?)

Morgan finds you outside the precinct, pacing.

“Hey,” he says. “We’re going to get lunch and stop at the school, come on.”

You stop pacing. “Fine. Can we make a pit stop?” You follow Morgan over to the car, yanking the door open.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “Where?”

“Just a gas station,” you reply, pulling yourself into the passenger seat. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

“Uh-uh, woah,” Morgan turns his body toward you. “Since when do you smoke?”

“On and off,” you shrug. “When I’m stressed. Can we go?”

“Yeah.” Morgan turns the key in the ignition. “But cigarettes are the last stop.”

“That’s fine,” you say, trying hard to sound nonchalant, even though you know Morgan sees right through you.

Still, he says nothing, and heads toward Lila’s school.

“Marie’s mom is on the way to the school to pick her up,” Morgan says. “And to be there while we talk to her.”

“Alright,” you reply. “I don’t think Marie knew what was happening.”

“I don’t think she did, but I don’t think she’d say if she did either,” Morgan says, “but I’m hoping something about her behavior will tell us what she doesn’t say.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to talk to her without her mom present?” you suggest. “I mean, at that age, I probably wouldn’t say anything if my mom was in the room.”

“It’s not likely, but we can ask,” Morgan says. “Sometimes the parents surprise us.”

“I don’t think I want any surprises,” you say. “I just want Lila to be home safe.”

“She will be,” Morgan says. “We’ll get her home.”

“I need that optimism,” you tease. “Got any to spare?”

“I have plenty to go around, believe me.”

+++

The middle school freaks you out. It’s so small.

“I haven’t been in a school since I was…in school,” you murmur. “Is it just me, or are the ceilings really low?”

Morgan looks up and laughs. “It’s just you. Come on.”

The two of you flash your badges and the school secretary takes you right in to see the vice principal. The principal is out of town, so not only is the VP doing two jobs, but now she has a missing kid. You introduce yourselves to the frantic, yet somehow collected administrator.

“Thanks so much for letting us come as well,” you say, shaking her hand. “I understand our colleagues, Agent Hotchner and Prentiss, were already here.”

“Yes, very brooding, that man,” she says. “I’m Mrs. Henry, I have our SRO doing another sweep of the campus to see if Lila might be hiding anywhere.”

“I don’t think she’s hiding, Mrs. Henry,” you say.

“But we appreciate the effort,” Morgan adds. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Yes, exactly,” you agree, covering up your quick mouth. It really will get you in deep shit one of these days. “Is Marie Laud here yet?”

“She’s in the counselor’s office,” Mrs. Henry says. “Her mother is on her way, but I can take you to her.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“And do you mind if I ask you some questions while Agent L/N speaks to Marie?” Morgan says.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Henry shakes her head, grabbing her radio. “Right this way.”

The counselor’s office is just around the corner, and you spot Marie instantly. She’s doing homework by the looks of it, and the counselor is next to her, simply typing on her laptop. Marie doesn’t look closed off, but she’s also not an open book — that much can be told from her willingness to do homework instead of talk.

You observe her from a distance for a while longer, listening to Morgan’s questions.

“Is every door locked at all times in this building?”

“Well, yes, but anyone inside can open them. It would be a fire hazard if no one could get out.”

“I understand,” Morgan nods. “We just want to cover every base. Now, you’re positive she was present this morning?”

“I’ve spoken to the teacher personally, as well as Marie, and yes, Lila was here.”

You turn your head. “Marie is in Lila’s first period?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Henry nods. “They have almost every class together. Their fifth periods are different, but that’s all.”

“Okay,” you reply quietly. “I’m gonna try to talk to her.”

Waiting for Marie’s mom might be the smart thing to do, but you can deal with the mom’s anger later. You worry that Marie will feel judged or like she’s in trouble if her mom is around, especially if she knows something about Lila’s disappearance. 

You walk into the counselor’s office with a warm smile, introducing yourself to the counselor, Ms. Blackwell. 

“Is it alright if I sit?” you ask.

Ms. Blackwell nods. “Of course, go right ahead.” 

Marie’s eyes are glued to her homework, but you see her attempt to look at you through the very top of her peripheral vision.

“Algebra?” you ask. “You’re better at it than I am.” She is blasting through each question. You don’t even know if they’re right, but it looks like they must be. She seems confident. “Is that what class you’re supposed to be in right now?”

It’s tiny, but Marie does nod. She doesn’t look up, but she says, “Me and Lila have it together.”

“Oh, I see,” you murmur. “Did you see Lila this morning?”

Another nod. “Yeah, in homeroom.” Marie pauses, looks up. “That’s first period.”

You chuckle. “I had a homeroom, too.”

Marie looks back at her worksheet. “She just told me she had to go to the bathroom.”

“What was that?” you ask.

The counselor looks dumbfounded. Clearly you’ve gotten more out of Marie than Ms. Blackwell has this entire time.

“Lila said she had to pee,” Marie says again. “We were about to go to second period, but she had to pee. I didn’t wanna be late, so I went to class. She said she’d be there.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Was she really eager to leave? Did it seem urgent?”

Marie nods, looking at you weirdly. “Yeah. I thought she just had to pee really bad or got her period or something.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you reply. “Was she texting anyone?”

“I mean, she had her phone in her hand, but I dunno if she was texting anyone. We usually text in class,” Marie glances guiltily at the counselor.

“I used to pass notes in class, old fashioned texting,” you chuckle. “Did Lila say anything else that was maybe really weird or just something else you remember?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Marie shrugs. “Her book bag looked bigger.”

“Bigger?”

“Yeah, like she had a lot of stuff in it. She usually only has one notebook and her planner, but it was like. Big.”

“Huh,” you comment. “That is odd.”

“Right?” Marie says, looking back at her math. “I asked her why and she said she just felt like bringing her lunch today. It was weird.”

“Does she not normally bring her lunch?”

“Nah, we get the salads in the cafeteria,” Marie says. She tries to solve a math problem, then stops, and looks back up at you. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I hope so,” you murmur. “Hey, if you think of anything, here’s my number.” You hand your card to her. “You can text or call me, any time.”

“Thanks,” Marie says, smiling a little. “Oh, there’s my mom.”

You turn and see Mrs. Laud coming toward you, so you stand. “Mrs. Laud, I’m Agent L/N.”

“Hi,” she says. “Did you speak to Marie?”

“We just finished,” you smile. “I apologize for not waiting for you, but every minute counts.”

“Oh, yes, I understand, that’s no problem,” Mrs. Laud replies, surprising you. You’ll have to tell Morgan. “Is Lila going to be okay? Her mom is so distraught; I just got off the phone with her again.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” you assure her. “My partner and I need to get back, but if you think of anything that might help us,” you hand Mrs. Laud your card, “please, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Of course,” you reply. “Excuse me.”

You head back outside in the hall where Morgan stands, listening to the vice principal ramble. You’re not sure if she’s said anything helpful, but Morgan looks ready to go when he sees you.

Once you’re back in the car, you tell Morgan everything that Marie had to say.

“So she had a bag packed,” Morgan says, coming to the same conclusion as you did. “I wonder if her mom noticed. I feel like you’d notice if your kid suddenly took a lot more with her to school than usual.”

“Lila could’ve had the clothes in her locker,” you suggest. “I don’t think it matters much if the mom noticed or not. The point is, she clearly had a plan.”

“You’re right,” Morgan nods. “We should get lunch and head back. You can call Hotch in the car.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Morgan chuckles. “If y’all are gonna work together, you need to work your shit out.”

“Derek, you have no idea how impossible that is.”

+++

Admittedly, Hotch is shocked to see your name come up on his phone. It still flashes with your old workplace; he needs to change that to BAU. As well as your photo. It’s one he took ten years ago when you first put your number in his contact list. You were glaring at him then, the same way you do now.

“Hello?” Hotch answers, half expecting Morgan’s voice, but he gets yours.

“Hi.” You don’t sound too happy at all to be the one calling him. Hotch wonders if you know the feeling is mutual. “We spoke with Lila’s best friend. Marie said Lila left in a hurry. Said she had to use the bathroom, but Marie didn’t want to be late for class, so she went ahead, thinking Lila would catch up.”

“Did Marie say what time? That must be when Lila left school.”

“Right before second period,” you reply, then add, “which puts it around 9am. The teacher must’ve called roll as soon as the bell rang.” 

“Alright,” Hotch sighs. Unfortunately, this doesn’t tell them much that they didn’t already know, but he supposes confirmation is better than nothing. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Morgan’s voice comes through. “I spoke with the vice principal. She said every door is open for safety reasons. Lila could’ve walked out any of the doors and no one would know. None of them have alarms.”

“And not all of them have cameras,” Hotch fills in. “Garcia has run into a wall. None of the footage shows Lila leaving. We only have her entering school that morning. JJ is going over it with Garcia right now to study her behavior.”

“It’s not looking good, Hotch,” Morgan says.

“I know,” Hotch replies. “Grab lunch and get back here. We need to find her.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you sing.

Hotch sighs deeply, ending the call without a goodbye.

Rossi looks at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Hotch asks.

Rossi only shakes his head, looking back at the file he has in his hands. “Nothing.”

+++

“Did you hear that?” Morgan taunts. “Lunch, and high tail it back. No cigarettes, sorry honey.”

“I’ll get some tonight,” you mock him. “I’ll need one to calm me down enough to sleep, anyway.”

“I’m gonna lock you in your room,” Morgan says, turning into a random drive-thru. He sounds a little too serious.

“I’ll jump out the window,” you grin. “Now shut up and order.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Seven hamburgers and fries later, you and Morgan are headed back to the precinct to deliver food.

“Food has arrived,” you announce as you walk into the conference room. “What’s the verdict, boss?” You toss Hotch a hamburger, surprised that he catches it so easily.

He scowls at you, unwrapping it to find you remembered exactly what he likes. Or Morgan did. Probably Morgan.

“Don’t tell me he messed it up,” you groan, seeing Hotch’s frown. He’s grumpier than usual if his food isn’t right, and you have more important things to argue with him about than his damn food. “I gave Morgan every detail. Did you say it wrong?” You take a fry from Morgan’s share out of spite.

“No, it’s right,” Hotch says, still shocked that you remembered and didn’t purposefully order incorrectly just to irritate him. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod, grabbing yours and tossing Spencer his (plain, only ketchup). “How’s the chatroom, Dr. Reid?”

“Interesting, actually, I’ve been comparing Rich’s messages with other texts that we have from a few years ago, and they’re not the same person — unless he’s changed drastically since being in hiding, but I doubt that. People can change how they speak, but not that much, look at this,” Reid forgets all about his food and slides two papers over to you. “See how he talks to Lila here? He lets her think she has made the plans, but that’s not at all how Richard talks; he’s too dominating, and—”

“Kid, kid,” Morgan interrupts. “Eat something, then continue. You need fuel if you’re going to run that fast.”

Puzzled, Reid says, “I’m not running.”

Morgan and Emily laugh, shaking their heads.

“Metaphorically,” Rossi says. 

You nod, pushing his food closer. “Eat up. Then you can run it by me.”

“Oh,” Reid says. “Right, right, that makes sense.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “Where’s the footage of Lila entering the school?”

“Here,” Hotch says, taking the seat next to you and turning the laptop around toward you. He presses the spacebar and it begins playing.

Lila walked into school, clearly struggling with the weight of her book bag. She looked around, almost paranoid, but then she saw Marie and went right to her. They hugged, talked, put their book bags down as they waited for the bell to ring. It looks normal.

Three minutes later, the bell rang, and the two girls went to class.

Hotch presses the spacebar again, stopping the footage. “That’s it.”

“Damn,” you mutter, swallowing your last bite. You reach over and reverse it, starting the video from the beginning again. “She must’ve had more than clothes in that bag. Look. She can hardly get it up on her shoulders. She’s looking around, social anxiety, maybe? I was the same until I found my friends, like she does when she finds Marie. Then she’s fine. They’re talking, laughing. Marie points to the book bag,” you pause, watching, “but Lila shrugs.”

“We’ve already been over this,” Hotch says. “While you were out with Morgan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you wave Hotch and his attitude away. “I know. Fresh eyes, isn’t that what you preach?”

Hotch glares at you, but leaves you alone. He stands and walks to the board where pictures of Lila, Richard Monroe, and Lila’s mother are posted. Rossi joins him, the two having some sort of silent back and forth.

Nothing about Lila’s behavior seems overly concerning to you, and that is what worries you.

“Reid, how does Lila sound in the chat room?”

“Calm,” Reid says around a mouthful of fries. “She trusts this Rich person, and clearly thinks it’s her father.”

“Does he ever say that he is?”

“Not exactly,” Reid replies. “He says so in a roundabout way, but not explicitly.“

“So, it’s not Richard Monroe,” you conclude, much to Hotch’s displeasure, which he makes known by his glare. “Can I see the messages?”

Reid hands you the papers, and you tell him to finish his food while you look at them. The kid needs to slow down and eat sometimes.

JJ’s phone rings and she sighs. “More press. Gotta get this.”

“Tell them we have no comment right now,” Hotch says.

JJ only nods, putting on her facade to speak to the reporters.

“They want us to make a statement, don’t they?” Emily asks, and Morgan scoffs, knowing how the media can be.

Hotch nods. “This is going to get out of hand if we don’t find her. Quickly.”

+++

Hotch sends everybody to their respective hotel rooms for a minimum of seven hours of sleep. That is, if anyone falls asleep as soon as they set foot in the door. Otherwise, it’s looking more like five or six hours.

For you, maybe four.

You take a walk next door to the gas station, grabbing a pack of cigarettes against Morgan’s better wishes. He’s not here to stop you, and he’s probably snoring by now anyway.

Besides, you need something if you’re going to make it through a case like this.

Why did this have to be your first with the BAU? Couldn’t you get something lighter? A regular, run of the mill serial killer?

Now you have to deal with memories resurfacing, and hiding that from the rest of the team, who is probably profiling you every second they can just because you’re new. Or at least Hotch is. He’s never stopped profiling you. You wonder if it’s exhausting for him. 

You ponder the thought, and many others, as you step out onto the balcony from your hotel room.

Hotch… He really hasn’t changed. You think you have, but then again, a lot has happened to you in the past ten years. 

A lot has happened to him, apparently, too. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring anymore.

Not that that’s any of your business, but you noticed. You thought he and his wife were happy when you first met him. High school sweethearts, too. It seemed blissfully perfect. Must not have been true.

Whether or not he’s broken up about it, you can’t tell. He’s always had that damn frown on his face, even back when he was (allegedly) a happy husband. 

You scoff as you bring out your lighter. He’s a mystery. An annoying bastard, sure, but mostly a mystery.

The first inhale after a long time is the hardest, yet the most relieving, too. You can practically feel your shoulders drop in relaxation, something they haven’t done in a while.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

“JESUS fucking Christ,” you shout, dropping your cigarette and stepping on it by accident. Thank god you put on shoes, or else that would’ve burned like a bitch. You turn your head toward Hotch’s voice, finding him sitting on the balcony next door, his feet propped on the little table. He’s without his jacket and tie now, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned three down. “Seriously?”

“What?” he replies, looking straight ahead, out at the horizon, not at you. “It’s bad for your lungs. Don’t you have asthma?”

“Sometimes,” you mutter, annoyed that he remembered. It only acts up when you do smoke, but that’s not his business. You light another and take an even longer drag. “What are you doing out here?”

“Same as you,” he says, threading his fingers together over his lap. “Sans cigarettes.”

“I’ll give one up if you’d like,” you say, knowing he won’t take it.

He doesn’t budge. “No, thank you.”

As weird as it sounds, this might be the nicest conversation the two of you have ever had.

“Suit yourself,” you shrug, taking another drag. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” he says. “I probably won’t until we find this girl.”

“You used to sleep.”

He turns his head toward you. The moonlight highlights his features. His cheekbones, his nose. “Pardon?”

“You used to be able to sleep,” you repeat. “At least for a few hours. Did you develop insomnia while I was gone?”

“No,” he deadpans, turning to look straight ahead again. “What about you?”

“Sometimes I just don’t sleep,” you shrug. It’s not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie, either. You would be sleeping right now if it weren’t for the nature of this case. If it weren’t so close to the hell of a childhood you lived through.

“Will you be able to work tomorrow?” he asks, sounding accusatory.

“Yes, Agent Hotchner,” you scoff. “I’ll be able to work tomorrow. Will you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he echoes, taking his feet down and standing. “Get some sleep.”

You roll your eyes. “Good night.”

He disappears into his room and closes the curtains. You blow smoke in his direction anyway, watching it cloud your view of his room.

[misseviehyde]

NAIL ME

Well, well, well.

If it isn't my old bully come here to beg for forgiveness. Not so cocky now are you?

Too bad it turns out you weren't the Alpha everyone thought you were. Who would have known it was your bitchy girlfriend who was pulling the strings and making sure you were popular?

That little slut had her manicured fingers in everyone's business. She was responsible for everything that happened around here. I have to admire the little genius for how devious and evil she was.

She knew which buttons to press to make everyone do what she wanted. Her advice helped you stay on top and be the Alpha male. She even goaded you into being more aggressive and masculine. You're nothing without her.

Not that she owes her powers to anything other than the magic nails she used to wear. Without those on her fingers, she's just some normal boring basic bitch.

Now I have the nails and that's why you've come here to beg. You want me to take her place and do what she used to do right?

I have to admit it's tempting. When I discovered the truth about the nails I only intended to stop your girlfriend from wearing them to weaken her and stop you bullying me.

I used my life savings to bribe the nail salon to give her ordinary nails the next time she went in, but then they tempted me by offering me her nails instead.

The nail technician told me if I let her fuse the nails to MY fingers I would become more powerful that I could imagine. It felt so fucking good to have my first ever manicure. As each nail was fixed perfectly into place on my hand - I felt my body and personality change.

My boyish body swelled and grew, female hormones pumping round my body as I transformed. I moaned and gasped in pleasure as my breasts grew and my cock shrunk to nothing so that my superior pussy could open up.

My hips widened, my hair grew longer and I became pretty and popular. I loved how it felt to be a teasing blonde minx and as the final nail slid into place I knew that I was born to be a brat.

When I returned home from the salon, I found that everyone remembered me as a girl. I was now the most popular bitch at school and your former girlfriend was now a nobody.

It felt so fucking good to be pretty and feminine. I had a room full of designer clothes and makeup and everyone was desperate to please me. The power was intoxicating. I love being popular.

I don't know why the magic didn't affect you too. I have no idea why you can still remember me as a boy... but it's actually kind of hot. It helps me to remember that this is all real.

Personally I think it's because you and I were destined to be together. You need me now to make you popular again and I enjoy the power that gives me over you.

I want you to worship me and make me cum like you used to make her cum. Fuck me with your massive bully cock and do everything I tell you. I wanna feel you deep inside me. I wanna know you are mine to command. A hulking brute of a boyfriend who will do anything to please me.

Fucking nail me and take your power back. Together we will do such naughty things together...

[annievrse]

happy new year!

roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: watching explosions of colour in the sky on the night the year changes from old to new… but something else is changing too. c/w: so extremely self-ship coded, she/her, no use of y/n, ‘pretty girl’ aka zoro’s fave pet name for fem!reader, one sex joke, alcohol a/n: happy new year!! i started writing this in september but never posted it, so i changed the occasion and speedran to finish it so it would be ready for nye. i hope you guys enjoy it!! see y’all next year ;)

“Here, let me—“

“Wha—?” Zoro ducks away when he sees your hands nearing his collarbones, his palms covering the sides of his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna tickle you, you freak,” tilting your head in annoyance, you sigh, hand falling to your sides. “Your collar’s messed up.”

“Oh,” Zoro stands up straight and steps toward you, shoving his chest in your face. You go to step away but are pulled closer to him when Zoro grips your hips and grunts in irritation. A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat. “You don’t need to go that far away to fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your arms again and pull at the fabric to right it. Zoro’s breaths are heavy and warm against your forehead, and you refrain from peering up at him, knowing what will happen if you do. Your fingers knock his earrings gently, and the sound, combined with the silence, makes a shiver go down Zoro's spine.

The girl's quarters of the ship are quiet, unlike the boy's quarters, which are overly rambunctious at all times of the day. The perfect hideaway for the pair of you while the rest of your crew gets ready for the explosion of colours in the sky. A fleeting moment of peace and privacy amid the usual chaos of the strawhats.

You stand like this for a while. His collar has long been fixed, yet your hands remain firm on his collarbones, smoothing the fabric. You’ve forced him into his only suit, one that strains against his broad biceps and deliciously thick thighs.

Zoro exhales deeply and drops a kiss on your hair, his fingers dancing on your spine, the backless dress doing wonders for your figure.

"We should hurry up," He mumbles against your scalp, making no moves to do so. "Who knows what those idiots are up to."

You laugh breathlessly and nod, shrugging one shoulder hopelessly. "Surely, they'll be fine without us for once."

Zoro hums in disagreement but dips his head down, nudging your nose with his. "Doubt it."

You roll your eyes and press your mouth against his. Zoro inhales sharply and squeezes your sides, lifting you up against him.

"Anything you want tonight, I—"

"—they're down here having sex!"

You jump away from your boyfriend, accidentally biting his bottom lip when the wooden door slams against the wall. Your eyebrows furrow at the familiar yell of your captain, your mind still hazy.

"Literally what, moron?" You don't even see Zoro's mood shift; his face has already morphed into his usual scowl before you can comprehend what's happening.

"Fuck," Zoro mumbles as an afterthought, his thumb coming up to wipe the dot of blood collecting on his lip. He throws you a heated glance, and you try to ignore the connotations behind his look in front of your captain.

Luffy stands in the doorway proudly, sporting a suit jacket and his usual denim shorts, his scar on full display. "No wonder they're not helping!"

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment as your mind finally catches up to what he initially claimed. "Luffy—"

"Luffy, get out! No boys allowed in the girl's quarters!" Nami's voice echoes down the hall, and the younger boy's mouth opens to respond. But before he can, Nami stands beside him and eyes you and Zoro wearily.

Her shimmering green mini dress reflects the warm glow of the lamp in the corner, and she looks as dazzling as she always does.

"Get upstairs! You need to move the dining table," Nami barks at Zoro, who rolls his eyes and leaves you standing there, shoulder-checking Luffy as he passes.

“Can’t that damn cook do it?” He mumbles as he walks through the doorway, sending you a transient glance of annoyance—not at you, never at you. You smile warmly, ignoring the glare Nami gives you.

"Go!" Nami snaps at Luffy, who salutes and stretches his arm down the hall. And from the strangled yelp that follows, you know he's grabbed Zoro by the throat. Nami kicks Luffy's shin, and he cackles before shortening his arm and flying to meet Zoro wherever he stands.

"And as for you," Nami points at you. "Robin and I are sitting in the Crow’s Nest. C’mon.”

—

With a glass of something sparkling in your hand, you lean back and watch the stars twinkle. The island a few hundred metres away is alive with rambunctious laughter and squeals of joy, and the music that echos across the water makes you eager to dance.

“If you want to leave,” Robin side-eyes you, ever the observer. “You can.”

You shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s having fun with the boys.”

“You know he’s not,” Nami quips, sipping from her glass. “He’s probably in a corner, sulking with his sake.”

The image in your head of Zoro doing so is not an unusual one, but it makes you giggle nonetheless. “I don’t want to ditch you guys; the show is about to start.”

Nami flicks her wrist. “We don’t want you here.”

Robin rolls her lips between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s a little intoxicated. “Yeah, go to the back of the ship; I’ve heard there’s something waiting for you.”

“Guys,” You sigh, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Go!” Nami almost yells, her cheeks pink. “He made us do all this for you anyway.”

Robin slaps the navigator’s shoulder and laughs, and you know she’s trying to keep her composure. She says your name softly and nods. “He’s waiting.”

You twist your lips and place your drink on the wooden floor. “Thank you.”

They brush you off and urge you to leave, both grinning wide with sparkles in their eyes.

The trip down the ladder is a shaky one, thanks to the sparkling wine the girls had been feeding you. Your hands may be steady, but your heart thunders loudly in your ears.

When your feet hit the deck, you see Luffy and the crew laughing on the grass, their backs to you and attention on nothing but the drinks in their hands and the anticipation of the incoming celebration.

You follow Robin’s instructions and make your way to the back of the ship, your footfalls quiet. Peering around the corner, you see familiar green hair.

Zoro paces back and forth, whispering things far too quiet for you to hear from here. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind him.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You sigh with exasperation, though there’s no irritation in your tone. “Seriously?”

Zoro smiles; a real smile that reaches his eyes despite one of them being permanently closed. You grin back, forever grateful that he chooses to present himself in such a way to you—he’s utterly and irrevocably beautiful.

He shrugs, reaching for your waist before pulling you into him. “I always know where you are.”

You shove your face into his neck, cheeks warming at his admission. “You’re weird.”

Zoro scoffs, the action vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, okay. You’re the one who says she loves me so… who’s the weird one now?”

You peer up at him, eyes wide with adoration. “Still you.”

All he does is hum and drop his lips to your forehead. “Guess I am considering I love you more.”

“Hey!” You giggle, pulling your face back. Zoro’s dark iris is obscured by his blown out pupil, and the tender look in his eye makes you shiver. You sigh after calming down. “Why’d you wanna meet out here?”

He tilts his head. “Thought it’d be a good spot to watch those things in the sky… you know, since you’ve been talking about them so much.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, but his intention is enough to make your heart flutter tenfold.

“And, I, uh—”

“It’s starting!”

You ignore the yells from your captain and focus on Zoro, who is trying to formulate what he wants to say. He averts his eye when you give him a look that tells him to keep going.

Bang!

You jump in surprise at the explosion behind you, but the urge to turn and watch doesn’t cross your mind, not when Zoro is before you.

He looks up, and you can see the reflection of the pink sparkles lighting up the sky in his eye.

You nudge him. “What do you wanna say?”

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, and looks at your hairline. His fingers move quickly to brush away the stray hairs that got swept out of place by the breeze.

“It’s nothing, just that I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This time, Zoro startles. He blinks into the night once more, and blues and greens reflect off the glassiness of his eye.

“Zo.”

His attention returns to you, and you squeeze his clammy hand.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoro’s inhale is sharp as he nods, cheeks blooming with a pink hue.

“I love you,” He says, swallowing thickly. The cheers and laughter of your crew fade into nothing, and the explosions of colour in the night don’t dare deter you from the light expression on Zoro’s face.

“You know I’m bad at this shit,” He grumbles, brushing a pretend eyelash from your cheekbone. “Words.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t disagree, but you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

You wait patiently for him to continue, and the joy around you is nothing compared to what you feel inside.

“I, uh,” He finally says, digging his hand in his pocket. Your heart starts racing before you can even fathom what’s happening. “I found this on an island a few years back.”

From his slacks, Zoro pulls out a gold ring. Its intricate diamonds and elegant design cause your breath to catch in your throat, and you feel your bottom lip start to quiver. He grips the metal a little too tight between his fingertips and it catches the orange hue of the fizzing lights.

“It’s not an engagement ring, or whatever Nami keeps telling me to get you, but a promise ring.”

Your chest aches and tears blur your vision as your shaky fingers hover in the small space between you. Zoro’s own trembling hands slide the ring onto your ring finger, and it’s a perfect fit.

“A promise that no matter what happens to us, to our crew, I will always be with you. You’ve got me for as long as you want me. There’s nobody else I wanna do this shit with.”

There’s an unspoken vow—every broken part, every scar, every piece of him that’s been lost along the way of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, it’s yours.

“Zoro…”

His hands cover your cheeks and he smiles. You blink away your tears, choking out a laugh of pure happiness. Zoro’s palms smooth down your hair and return to your cheeks before he leans in close.

“Don’t get mushy on me,” He whispers, breath hot on your lips. You giggle as his thumbs wipe away the wetness under your eyes. “You’re the one thing in this world I’m not willing to lose, alright? I’ll fight for you, protect you, be there when you need me—whatever.”

His words are quiet, almost lost in the moment, but the weight of them hangs between you—real, undeniable, and from the deepest depths of his soul.

“You mean to world to me.”

You sniffle and lean forward to capture his lips with yours. His wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into him. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but that reality is far from where you stand now.

“I love you,” You whisper against his mouth. It doesn’t feel like much after he’s poured his soul out to you, but Zoro doesn’t need it. He already knows, from the way your eyes shine and your heart pounds relentlessly against his chest, that you feel the same. He always knows.

“Did he do it?”

Zoro groans into your mouth but refuses to pull away. The crew gathers on the deck behind you, all snickering but with hearts full of warmth for their crew mates.

When you lean back, Zoro chases, and the world fades back in. The whole crew stands there, shaking with anticipation before Luffy breaks first, flinging himself at you. He wraps his arms around you and Zoro multiple times, squeezing you together as the rest of the crew, all eight of them, rush to embrace you too.

The salty air and the dying bursts of coloured light make the night feel like a transition; one that marks the end of another year, and the start of a new, exciting embodiment of raw commitment.

And in the midst of the group hug, Zoro finds your lips again. All that matters is the quiet weight of the promise he’s just made, and the ring on your finger that shines, not in the warm light of the hanging lanterns, but with the love and respect it’s been holding for years, waiting for this moment.

[dollwhite]

wow..?

uhh I hope y’all like thisss I js need a lil sum sum to post 😫 yesss I know it’s bad 😭 might be grammatically errors. But that’s ok!! I still need dividers guysss I’m tired of ___

made by Dollwhite

__________________

Wally west had? How do u say…?

No dating life.

And his friends know that his family knew that. everyone that known him knows he has no dating life.

The man just couldn’t pull ok?

so when he got himself a girlfriend and she was bad?..

Wally was NOT going to tell his friends shit. He know they would ask him

“how did U pull HER???” it wasn’t like his friends had no faith in him, they just know he couldn’t pull. Once when he and dick went to a coffee shop, a girl was sitting across from them. Wally asked for her number cuz he thought she was cute….

she said “Ew, your friend can get my number tho.”

Dick brings it up like once a month….

one day y’all were on a date night, and his friends pulled up…..and he asked u to get in the back sit… and to put a blanket over your self.

__________________

“What” you giggled, your right hand hovering over your cheat.

”ik Ik it’s stupid but.. I haven’t told my friends about us.” Wally muttered his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “ we.. have been dating for 2 years and you haven’t told you friends about us!” You yelled at him

who doesn’t tell their friends about their girlfriend. That’s just fucking stupid. And on date night. Do u know how many date nights y’all had to cancel because he was saving the word.

TOO FUCKING MANY

And now his asking you to get in the back sit cover yourself with a blanket? What. The. Fuck.

The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

“you joking?…right.” As he sakes his head no, two cars pulled up next to Wally’s.

“pls [reader] next date next I promise, no matter what happens I won’t let hero work get in the way.” He eyes the looked so pleading.

But..No.

you came to have good time with your boyfriend. Hell it was fucking date night. And if he thought that you were going to climb in the back seat? Because he didn’t want his friends finding out?

He could go fuck himself.

“No, Wally I am in a 300 dollar dress with red bottom heels. I Will not be going any were near that fucking back sit, so fuck you.” You declined. Grabbing your coat and purse.

As you opened your door, and stepped out. You could feel 6? Perhaps more.

Eyes traveling across your body, some wandering to other parts.

___________________

“Who was that?” A familiar voice questioned. “Fuck off dick.”

“Dude, step outside the car”

as Wally stood outside of his black car. He looked around him, and all he could see were the questioning gazes of his friends. “Go ahead. Ask your questions”

“who was that girl?”

“pls tell me that was your cousin”

“How old is she?” “does she know about yk?..?” “Who was that fine babe”

“Can ya give me her number?. Or try and hook us up?”

one at a time people!! Wally complained.

“ok ok uh was that you gf?.” Wallys best friend Dick asked. “yes”

a bunch of aw’s were muttered, but not like the aw cute ones. More like the disappointed ones. __________________________

um that’s the end I hope u guys liked this, I just need sum to post cuz I felt kinda bad for y’all…..and like I was supposed to be working in BRAT part two buttttt my man Wally was just calling my name guyssss. This isn’t my usual writing style, cuz I was rushing 😓 should I make part two of this my brain juices are going again

.

[pankowcrumbs]

Complicated ( Lando Norris X reader and Charles Leclerc X reader)

Work count: just over 7K

Plot: 

You are Lando's girlfriend but he has cheated on you. When you find out you find yourself at Charles's house and one thing leads to another and you guys end up having sex and then you're all confused because Lando tells you what really happened and you feel horrible for sleeping with Charles. Lando finds out you slept with Charles and you both decide not to stay together and move out but you get pregnant.

PS your name is Maeve i just felt it was easier to have an original character that you can put yourself in the shoes off - let me know any feedback!

It was 1 Am and I was still sat on the couch watching TV and scrolling through Tik tok, Lando was out with the  F1 boys Clubbing, It was a boy's night they did this every now and then which I loved, they were such a lovely and supportive group of men and I was glad he got along with them all. 

"hmm I guess we should go to bed huh Frankie," I said to our 2-year-old Dachshund and led him to the bedroom he settled into his little bed beside ours and I hopped under the fresh sheets and placed my phone on the nightstand and turned the light off rolling over to fall asleep. 

After what felt like about 30 minutes I was still awake just thinking about things I needed to do, I struggled to sleep without Lando which meant whenever he went away if I wasn't able to come I would constantly have trouble sleeping. 

I tossed and turned a few times before I decided to just go back on my phone until I felt sleepy. 

I was scrolling for a bit when I saw it. I had to sit up and rewatch it a few times and I kept zooming in.  It was a tikTok with the caption 'Lando Norris Spotted in a club in Nice Kissing a mystery woman who is not his Girlfriend Maeve Piastri fellow Mclaren Driver Oscar piastri's Twin sister. We will be interested to see if they have recently broken things off as they were spotted together just last week walking their dog Frankie in the streets of Monaco, Updates to follow.

"What the fuck" is all I say in disbelief 

I let the video replay and reply in my lap and I try and convince myself that isn't Lando but I know it is I'm not blind. 

I immediately call Oscar since he was there and I wait impatiently as it rings and rings. No answer shit. 

I text him 

Maeve: WTF Oscar where are you all? Did you see it happen? I'm freaking the fuck out here please call me. 

I need to speak with you, please

please call me as soon as you can 

I'm gonna throw up Im so fucking mad 

I wasn't getting a reply but I need to find out more so my next bet is Charles, he was the one I was closest with besides my brother and Lando, he's always been so kind and welcoming. 

I dial his number and wait for him to pick up 

"Mae, Mon Amour, what's wrong it's so late why aren't you asleep?" he asks 

I just burst into tears 

"oh my god Mae what's wrong love" he sounds very concerned 

"L-L-Lando cheated on me" I finally get out 

"WHAT," he says angrily "When?" 

"tonight....I saw a video" 

"send me the video," he says so I do I forward it to him for him to watch, I wait on the line still sobbing to myself. 

"I'm going to fucking kill him," he says 

"I can't get ahold of Oscar," I say 

"He Left the club hours ago, and so did I, I promise you Maeve if I had been there I would have not let that happen"

"I know" I went silent "I don't want to be here when he gets home" 

"I know mon amour I'll come get you. You can sleep in the spare room and in the morning you can talk to Oscar and see what you want to do okay?" 

"thank you, Charles"I get out through my tears 

"not to worry love I'll be there shortly" he said and hung up. 

"come on Frankie, Let's go to Charle's, daddy doesn't deserve to come home to us tonight," I say getting Frankie and taking him to get his collar and lead on. 

10 minutes later I heard Charles pull up the driveway and I grabbed the bag and quickly threw stuff in. 

when I opened my door I saw him standing there and he opened his arms for me which I graciously accepted 

"come on let's get going before he turns up" 

we got in the car and started Driving 

"I called Daniel and he said they didn't see it happen that he had gone off with a group of girls and they didn't think anything of it they said he just left the club but he didn't tell them if he was coming home or what he was doing" he looked at me nervously. 

I looked down and took a small breath "So what you're telling me is that he could have left the club with one of those girls right now and gone back to fuck her" I bit my lip as to tremble trying not to cry again and moved my head to face out the window. 

"I'm so sorry Maeve I promise we will fucking kill him when we see him next" 

"Oscar is going to kill him," I said still looking out the window.  "you know" I paused for a second, " Oscar told me to not get involved, he told me what he was like and I went ahead and did it anyway, I thought he would be different with me I guess I was just another name on his list" 

"Maeve" Charles says slowly. 

"No it's okay I've seen his true colours now, I should have known better is all" 

my sadness was turning into anger and resentment. 

When we got to Charles I put my stuff in the Spare room and Charles offered me a wine, which I accepted. 

I turned my phone off knowing I didn't want to speak to Lando when he got home and noticed I wasn't there 

we sat and talked on the couch for a bit trying to avoid the topic of what had happened that night so I wouldn't cry again. 

A few drinks later I was getting a bit drunk, I knew I wouldn't get to sleep tonight with my adrenaline I had passed the point of tired, Charles was good at distracting me which I was thankful for. 

We ended up playing some silly card games and were honestly beyond drunk by 5:40 Am when the sun was rising. 

"Charles look" I got up and walked to the balcony overlooking the Beautiful sunrise and the city of Monaco was breathtaking 

he came to join me on the balcony where we watched the sunrise silently. "Maeve" Charles broke the silence I turned my head to face him and realised how close he was I looked into his eyes and then down to his lips and back up again he did the same. the tension was thick or maybe it was just because of how much we had to drink 

"Can I?" he said in a low voice and I nodded 

I knew I probably shouldn't but with everything that had happened tonight I knew Lando had done worse. 

It started off slow and then became needy and sloppy he grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him. 

"hop up" he tapped my butt and I jumped wrapping my legs around his waist and he walked us back inside and to his bed. 

He placed me down on the bed and then pulled his top over his head and then gone were his shorts leaving him in his boxers. 

I also took off my Pajama top and bottoms leaving my breast bare and just a pair of Knickers on 

his eyes went wide as he saw me on the bed "well Fuck, Lando is a fucking idiot" 

"Shhh don't mention his name," I said back "Come here," I said and he did 

he crawled on top of me and began kissing again, he slowly made his way down my neck to my chest and over my breasts. He focused on one breast at a time the other in his hand making me moan a little. 

"Charles please." I said very needy for him down lower

he smirked and looked up and me as he kissed his way down further and hovered over my heat with my leg wide open. I could feel his hot breath over my Clit 

"Charles omg please do something" he giggled and pulled them aside and attached his lips to my core using his tongue to pleasure me sucking on my clit and then he added two fingers. 

He kept at it and I must admit he was very good at this. I was getting closer and starting to clench. He pulled away making me whimper and he came back up to my lips kissing me again and letting me taste myself. 

He pulled down his boxers and lined himself up at my entrance and pushed in after looking me in the eyes for confirmation. 

"Fuck" I said

"Oh Mon Dieu" he said and then he started speaking French under his breath 

he kept thrusting in and out and we were getting sweaty and our kissing got messier and he started kissing my neck again 

"I'm going to cum" he said 

"me too," I said back, truth be told I normally never came by penetration with Lando he usually had to use his fingers on my clit rubbing it while he fucked me for me to cum so this was a new experience for me. 

He came first and it wasn't too long after we came down from our high and he rolled off me. 

"I'll be back" I said and excused myself to the bathroom. 

When I came back he followed suit, 

We both lay in his bed under his sheets and the sun was flowing through the windows 

my eyelids were getting heavy and I let them fall closing my eyes and falling asleep. 

I'm not sure how long I was asleep when I was woken by a phone ringing over and over, 

"Omg can you please shut that thing up," I said out loud 

I heard a grumble next to me and then someone got up out of bed and answered the phone 

"Sault" I heard a familiar voice.

My head was pounding and everything was so goddamn loud so it was hard to pinpoint who it was.

I groaned and put the pillow over my head. 

"No she doesn't want to speak with him," the voice said "I don't know if that's the best idea she's asleep currently and it took her forever to fall asleep last night, what if I get her to call you later when she's awake and ready?" he paused before he continued "Okay thank you Oscar" and then he hung up I opened my eyes at the mention of my brother when I saw the room around me I started to remember what happened last night. 

"omg my head hurts so much" I said turning around to see Charles standing next to the bed Naked "omg Cover yourself up Charles" I yelled covering my eyes with my hand. 

"Wow rude." he laughed "I'm going to have a shower you can have one when I'm done" 

I ran through what happened last night and how I ended up in bed with Charles Naked. 

I rubbed my eyes and thought what the fuck have I done. I got up after Charles came back and had a nice hot shower which was much needed. 

Once I was dressed I got my phone and turned it back on and saw the notifications flood in from everyone the most were from Lando and Oscar but I saw ones from my parents and siblings who heard the news too.

"I better call Oscar" I said to Charles who was now in the kitchen making coffee 

"No worries" he said 

I pressed his contact and didn't wait long for him to answer. 

"Mae are you okay?" he answers 

I took a deep breath "Not really." 

"I'm so sorry Mae if I hadn't left early I would have been with him and this would have never happened" 

"Don't do that it's not your fault he made a decision that's all him, if he had been stopped last night he just would have done it somewhere else. OMG do you think this isn't the first time he's done this" 

"I fucking hope this is the first time I'm seriously going to give him an earful believe me and if Mclaren would let me I would probs make him crash next race" 

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you" 

"I know Mae it's okay I really thought he had changed for you" 

"Me too." 

"Do you want me to go over there and speak to him? He has been calling me all morning." 

"No that's okay I'll send him a text so he can at least know I'm ok not that he deserves that." 

"Okay call me later when you're ready I'll come pick you up."

"Okay, thanks Oscar love you." 

"Love you to Mae." 

The call ended and I decided to text Lando. 

Maeve: I'm at a friend's house. I don't want to speak with you I just wanted to let you know I'm okay and that I know. Please respect that I need space

Lando: Mae I Promise I didn't do anything please just hear me out It's not at all what it looked like I didn't kiss her

Maeve: Really? what's this then 

https://www.tiktok.com/@Newslive_Now/video/72729282397449936953602 (not a real link)

Lando: Maeve seriously I know how it looks I promise it wasn't like that at all please let me explain to you in person where are you? 

Maeve: nothing can change what happened Lando i can see it with my own eyes you can't argue with that.  

He didn't reply thankfully. 

I walked over to Charles and he handed me a cup of coffee Frankie was at my feet licking up some food Charles had given him. 

"How did that go?" he asked 

"Lando messaged me saying it was how it looked but what a load of shit you can't argue with that video." 

"it definitely is hard to argue when it's caught on video. Want some Breakfast" he offered

"Yes please I'm starving, it was an exhausting night." I said and then realised we hadn't addressed what happened last night "Um Charles we really should talk about what happened last night" 

he sighed and stopped what he was doing and turned around to face "Look Mae, Im not going to sit here and pretend I didn't enjoy what happened last night, or that I haven't liked you more than a friend for a while now  but we overstepped a boundary last night I know we were drunk and you were vulnerable and I apologise if you feel I took advantage of you." 

"Oh wow thank you for being so mature Charles." I sent him a small smile. 

"I do really like you Mae but I know you are not in the right place right now to even explore if there is something between us so I just want you to know I am not going to cross that boundary again unless you want me to." 

"Thank you Charles" I said as he went back to cooking breakfast 

it honestly wasn't a shock he liked me as I said he was the one who was the closest to me part from my brother and Lando and I had a small suspicion he liked me but thankfully never acted on it until last night. 

Charles passed me my plate of food when there was an aggressive knock on the door that startled us both.

I removed my gaze from the door and looked at Charles knowing who it was 

"Do you want me to go kick him out?" 

"I'll deal with it," I said getting up and walking to the door. 

I opened it and saw Lando honestly looking shit like he hadn't slept all night.

I closed the for behind me and pulled him away from the door slightly 

"what the fuck are you doing here?" I asked looking around the street to make sure no one was around.

"Daniel told me you were here I had to come and speak to you please Mae just give me 5 minutes to explain." 

"Fine 5 minutes talk fast" I sighed rolling my eyes. 

"Okay so I was there and this group of ladies came up to me telling me it was their friend's hen party and that her Fiance was a huge fan of mine and that he would be so jealous if she had a photo with me so I went over with them the bride was so drunk and while we were posing she kissed me, I pushed her off as soon as I could and nothing else happened that's all Mae I didn't even kiss her back and I left straight away the only reason I wasn't home quicker was I had to wait for an uber and they kept cancelling on me, I promise you, baby, I would never cheat on you ever I love you way too much" 

I bit my lip and looked away from him. Fuck what the fuck have I done. 

"Mae baby say something." 

"I just need a moment to think" I covered my face with my hands and started to swear "Fuck fuck fuck shit omg" I paused and pulled my hands down and looked at Lando looking so exhausted and shit and here I was fucked by his co-worker and friend last night...I'm the cheater, not him. 

"I'm such a fucking idiot," I said feeling so guilty I could be sick 

"What's wrong? What did you do fuck Charles" he joked a smile on his face laughing off what he said 

I closed my eyes and covered my face again with one hand and softly shook my head 

"Oh my fucking god did you Maeve?" he said shocked I didn't answer 

"Answer the fucking question Maeve" he was stern now 

"It wasn't like that" was all I could get out 

"Jesus Christ I can't fucking believe you my side of the bed was cold for 5 seconds and you went and fuck my friend, you didn't even ask me what happened before you went and fucked him"  he shouted. 

"I was drunk and in an emotional state I wasn't thinking I thought you had gone home with that woman" 

"But you never fucking asked me Maeve I would never do that to you, but you would" he was crying now and my eyes were getting teary. 

" you know what have a nice fucking life Maeve you and Charles deserve each other," he said and walked up the driveway out of the property to his car.

'Fuck me" I said wiping my tears that wouldn't stop falling from my eyes. 

I stood out there for about 10 minutes trying to compose myself before I walked back in to Charles. 

When I went back in he saw me crying and came to hug me "What happened." 

"He didn't cheat but I did" I cry more into his shoulder

"What do you mean he didn't cheat?" he asked shocked 

"She kissed him and he pushed her off and then he left and I'm such a fucking idiot, I told him what happened last night and now he's gone and honestly I deserve it I fucking cheated on him I'm worse than he is" I was a blubbering mess. 

Oscar came and picked me and Frankie up later that day and took me to his. 

I didn't want to outstay my welcome so when I knew Lando was out the next day I went back to our house and packed up all the things I would need and dropped Frankie off at home and then Oscar dropped me at the airport, I was going to go home for a bit to London and just take some time to heal I stayed at a hotel for a few weeks not wanting to cause a fuss at my parents.

The media was in a frenzy it was all over the news and all F1 media, Lando got a stern talking to from Mclaren Oscar told me and I heard from Daniel that Oscar also gave Lando quite a talking to even after knowing the truth of what happened he still was mad at Lando for the kiss happening in the first place. Lando had to release a statement on what happened. 

Charles hadn't reached out giving me my space and I was glad that i couldn't think about it or I would feel sick to my stomach with what happened. Apparently, Lando went over to Charles and they had a fight that ended with Lando punching Charles. 

Lando hadn't spoken to me but had organised with Oscar for all my stuff to be moved out. 

He told Oscar he was mad at me for what happened but didn't blame me he told him he blamed Charles for taking advantage of me in the state I was in and getting me drunk while I was already in a vulnerable state and Charles told Lando about how he felt about me and that's when he punched him saying he probably made me think bad of Lando so Charles could get in my pants a swoop in. 

I felt sorry for Charles, as much as yes he did take advantage of the situation he had apologised and backed off and was mature about it I didn't think there was any ill intention. 

4 weeks after staying at the hotel I decided I needed to get myself an apartment so I went flat hunting and found a small one-bedroom in Belgravia and signed the lease. I was ready to start fresh away from Monaco. 

2 months in my new flat and I was out at the supermarket and went down the toiletries section. I was glancing at the shelves when I saw the Pads and Tampons and I realised I hadn't had my period in two months. 

God I was a fucking idiot I put a pregnancy test in my trolley (shopping Cart for all the Americans) 

When I got home and had packed away my shopping I took the test. I waited the 3 minutes anxiously.

My phone timer went off and I flipped over the test and saw the 2 pink lines. Well fuck. 

Who's the fucking Father.... Charles or Lando? both of them I had unprotected sex with around the same time. 

I have no idea what I do next.

I decide to call my brother cause he was the one person I was closest to, Being twins we shared everything. 

It rings a few times before he answers. 

"hey Mae, what's up?" 

"Oscar I'm going to tell you something and I need you not to freak out" 

"well now I'm worried what's wrong?" 

"I'm...pregnant" 

silence 

I can hear him breathing and he lets out a big sigh "Do you know who the father is?" 

"No, I mean I slept with them both within a couple of days it could be either" 

"Alright what are we going to do?" 

"No Oscar not we. I need to be a big girl and do this myself." 

"Mae seriously what are you going to do, turn up to their house and tell them to give you their DNA? Can you even find out this early?" 

"Yeah you can, I don't know do you think there is a better way to do this? I've never exactly plan for this to happen." 

"I know Mae I'm sorry it sucks this has all happened you gonna fly out here then?" he asked I could hear the pity in his voice. 

"I guess I'm gonna book a doctor's appointment first to get all checked out and then I'll come I'll text you when I get an appointment." 

"Okay Mae, hey whatever happens you know you have us all and we will support you" 

"I know thanks Osc, love you." 

"Love you too Mae." 

time to book an appointment 

I got an appointment for the following Monday and it was all I could think about what was I going to say to them both? 

I laid down on the table and the technician pulled my top up 

"This might be a bit cold.," she said and squirted the gel onto my stomach area

I take a breath and look up at the monitor on the wall and that's when I see them. My beautiful baby my heart just melts that's a little me in there. 

"There they are not a shy little one they are looking at about 3 months is that about right?" 

"Yeah 3 months." 

"And you had no symptoms?" 

"Um I mean none that I attributed to this I was a little sick I thought I just had food poisoning but it went and I mean I have been out of breath and a bit fatigued but again I didn't think I was pregnant I just moved back to London so I just thought it was because of that" 

"Okay well that's okay not everyone gets all the typical symptoms, and bubs seems to be healthy so just make sure to take it easy from now on, we will do another scan at week 18 but  we can book a check-up if you want in between just to get your blood test done and any tests you may want to do, and I see on your form you noted you would like to do a DNA test will you be bringing in the potential father or just a sample?" 

"Um can I do that just get a sample?" 

"Yeah it's just a cheek swab so if you want to get him to complete it and then send it off to the lab for testing we can take a blood test sample today so we have that on record" 

"He's in Monaco do I have to get him to fly to London or can I bring the swab back?" 

"He can take it in Monaco and then you can mail it I can give you a parcel for it" 

"Thank you," I said and looked back up at the little baby on the screen 

"Would you like to know the gender or are you wanting to wait?" 

"Are you able to write it down for me so when I'm ready I can know?" 

"No worries" she goes to write it down and then when she comes back she goes to take some blood and completes some health tests on me. 

Walking out I look at the photographs from the sonographers and took a picture to send to Oscar. I hadn't told the rest of the family yet only because I wanted to know who the father was first. 

I went home and packed for my short trip back to Monaco and spoke with Oscar and his girlfriend Lily while I packed and spoke about the appt. 

"Who are you going to ask to do the DNA test?" Lily asked 

" I was thinking Charles only because why bother Lando who clearly wants nothing to do with me unless it is his baby and I don't want to bring up everything that has happened unless I need go" 

"Good thinking, Lando's has been in a real mood ever since best not to annoy him unless needed"

"Have you started showing?" Lily asked

"yeah only the last few days I've really started to pop and can see my little belly so who knows how long until I can't hide it anymore, I'll have to tell the family as soon as I know and have discussed a plan" 

"Yeah wow this is so reaI i can't believe we're gonna have a niece or nephew" Lily seemed excited and look in any other circumstance iIwould too i love kids and I've always wanted to be a mum but it was so scary to think of the future of me and this baby.

"Alright well we have to go I'll pick you up from the airport in nice tomorrow at 9AM okay?" Oscar said and I nodded 

"Thank you love you both bye."

They waved and ended the call. 

Once I finished packing my small bag I settled on doing a bit of work on my laptop before bed. 

I was so glad to work was so flexible for me, I was a social media manager for a few clients as well as having my own social media make me money with Advertisements and sponsorships. 

the next morning I was up early to travel to Heathrow for my flight. Luckily the airport wasn't too busy this morning and I went through quite quickly and waited for my flight. 

After the short flight I arrived in Nice and went out to see Oscar waiting for me, He pulled me into a tight hug 

"Missed you Mae." 

"Naw I always miss you Osc, I don't like not being in the same town anymore" i looked at him sadly. 

"You didn't to leave you know, you could have stayed" 

"I know I just needed some space and time away to get myself in a good space" 

"I know! come on let's go I wanna take you out to breakfast before I talk you to see Charles" 

"Okay sounds perfect" 

We drove to Monaco which wasn't far from Nice and just chatted about life and the drive there.

He took me to our favourite Cafe.

"So do you know if iI'm having a Neice or a nephew?" he wiggled his eyebrows 

I laughed "About that I'm gonna give you something to hold onto and yes you can read it but I swear to god Oscar if you do read it I don't want to know just yet what gender the baby is" I said seriously 

"Omg no I can't be trusted with no spilling that secret" 

"Give it to Lily then it's so tempting to look but I want to save that for when I know if it's Lando or Charles we find out together" 

"Oh god just promise if I do read it and spill the beans you won't yell at me lol" 

"No promises" I laugh and sip my juice 

After breakfast, he dropped me off to Charles' house who was aware I was dropping by as Oscar asked him if he would be home

I walked down the driveway and knocked on the door 

He opened the door. 

"Mon Amour I missed you come in" he gave me a small hug and stepped aside to let me in.

"Thanks for seeing me." 

"Of course, Oscar said you needed to speak with me, Please sit can I get you a drink?" 

"Just a water please" I smiled and sat down on his couch. 

"Sure" he smiled and disappeared in the kitchen

when he came back he set the drinks on the table and sat on the couch next to me "How have you been?" 

I smiled and let out a small laugh "I've been better but the reason I'm back and sitting here in your living room is that I um..." I paused" Fuck this is a lot harder to say thanIi thought it would be" I took a breath and he placed a hand on my thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

"It's okay take your time" he gave me a nod of encouragement 

I took a sip of water and then a deep breath "Im..Pregnant" I watched his eyes go a bit wild and his mouth fell open a small bit

"Oh, and i'ts mine?" he looked at me questioningly 

"truthfully I don't know so I need a DNA sample to test with and I didn't think Lando would speak to me " 

"Oh Mon amour I'm so sorry you're in this situation its completely my fault I didnt even remember that we didn't use protection to be honest id just assumed even drunk I would have remembered that" 

"Yeah I didn't think about it either and Lando and I had been intimate in the same week and he had just pulled out so there's still always a chance it was him. which serves us right for using the pull-out method if it is his" 

he sighed "Still I feel guilty for my part in all of this" 

"I'm sorry he punched you" I said 

"Dont be I deserved it" 

"I'm sorry you're now in this position too, if I'd noticed my period was late earlier I could have taken a pill and we wouldn't be in this situation right now" 

"Oh Mae I wouldn't have wanted that and you know Lando wouldn't have either" 

"Anyway here is the cheek swab and the parcel you can do it and post it whenever you feel like it they already have the babies DNA on file" I said and looked down to my belly and rubbed it and his eyes followed suit 

"You know Mae if it's mine, I will love and support you both forever you know that right? I know it may not be exactly how I planned to be a father but my Papa was the greatest man alive and I will strive everyday to be half the man he was for that baby" 

I place my hand on my heart "I know Charles, you know he is already so proud of the man you are" 

"Thank you Mon Amour, I'll get this test done ASAP and send it for you so you can know"

"Do you want to see a photo?" I asked and he nodded a smile on his face 

I reached into my bag and brought out the Photos from the ultrasound. 

"Oh wow look at them so small and beautiful like their mama already" he said taking the photo from me and making me smile looking at him. 

I spend a few more days with Lily and Oscar in Monaco just hanging out before leavving back for London and thankfully not bumping into anyone else I know and especially not Lando.

2 and a half weeks later it was a normal day I had been out for an appointment for work when I came home and checked my letter box seeing I had 3 letters I took them into my apartment and flicked through them as I took my shoes off, one from the bank, one from the local council and one that didn't say who it was from. I opened that once first as I was curious to see who it was from hoping it was the DNA results. 

The letter read: 

PATERNITY TEST 

Dear Miss Piastri, 

We recently received a sample From C. Leclerc to Compare to the sample provided by you regarding the paternity of the unborn Child. 

Alleged Father Details 

Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc  16 October 1997.     HECAASGU_0032

Mother Details:                                                                                                                                                             Maeve Elizabeth Piastri    6 April 2001.    HECAASGA_0034

Regarding the sampling of the participants please refer to the protocols in copy. We received the originals of the identity confirmations and of the consent statements. 

Method:DNA isolation was carried out separately for all samples. Genetic characteristics were determined by the following PCR-single-locus-technology analysis. 

Results: 

The results of the analysis are shown below: 

DNA-System DNA-criteria Charles Leclerc

HID123830_001DNA-criteria Charles Test

HID123830_002AM X, Y X, Y

D3S1358 14, 15 14, 18

D1S1656 16.3, 17.3 16.3, 13.3

D6S1043 11, 17 15, 19

D13S317 9, 12 8, 9

Penta E 10, 16 14, 18

D16S539 12, 15 19, 13 

In all analyzed PCR systems, Charles Leclerc does not show the genetic markers which have to be present for the biological father of the child. The biostatistical analysis of the PCR systems was performed according to the method of Essen-Möller. The probability of Mr. Charles Leclerc being the biological father is < 01.9999 %.

Conclusion: Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Mr. Charles Leclerc is not the biological father of the child. 

"oh Shit"  I breathed out. 

Lando is my only thought. I need to tell him. I'm already 4 months pregnant now he needs to know. 

I booked the next flight to Nice which is tonight and quickly packed a small bag and got ready. 

I left for the airport and organise a car to pick me up in Nice. when the car arrives at Landos... and my old house it's about 9PM 

I thank the driver and walk down to the front door. I take a deep breath before I knock. 

I wait patiently as I hear him coming down from upstairs and Frankie barking like mad already down to the door like always. I had a jumper on that was a bit baggy so it isn't as obvious that my bump is there for when he opens the door. 

The door swings open and he looks taken aback "You're not my Pizza" he says 

"I'm sorry to just show up like this am I able to come in and talk?" I ask 

"um.." he hesitates "Sure" he steps aside and lets me in 

"I'm sorry this was a last-minute trip I've come straight from the airport and I wouldn't come unless it was important" 

he looks at me expecting me to spit it out while I was here 

"Right sorry, I'm here because well" I pause for a small second "I'm pregnant and it's yours" 

He blinks his eyes a bit and then they get wide looking at me as if I am a fish out of water 

"You're what?" he said shocked

"pregnant" I pull up my jumper to show my belly through the tight white top I had underneath

His mouth falls open while he stares at my bump he closes his mouth and sits down on the chair just behind him just staring straight. 

a knock at the door goes off and he doesn't move an inch. 

I look at him and realise he hasn't even noticed the knock

"I'll get that then" I said slowly and began to walk towards the door and answered it and took the pizza from the delivery man and walked back towards the living room with it and put it down on the table. 

he is still sitting where I left him 

"you're scaring me Lando" I said and put my hand on his Shoulder 

"You're pregnant....and it's mine?" 

"yeah I got a DNA Test done" I said and put the letter down and the photo from the sonograph. As it landed on the table it caught his eye and he reached to pick them both up, 

"So you thought it was Charles'?" 

"I had no idea and I thought it would be easier to ask him to do a DNA test because I didn't think you would speak to me" 

He closed his eyes and shook his head a little "So wait how far along are you?" 

"4 months" 

"4 MONTHS," he said loudly "Holy shit so your'e like almost halfway" he covers his face. 

"I'm really sorry Lando, I had no idea I was pregnant until it was too late" 

"You now I don't blame you for that night, I was so fucking mad at myself and at Charles and at you I just exploded, but you thought i'd cheated and so you went to Charles for protection and he fucking used you the bastard, you were in such a vunerable state and he was the one who gave you all those drinks and knew he could take advantage of you in a situation like that and he should have known better. I mean your not completely innocent in this all but neither am I and I get it why it happened" 

"None of it ever should have happened but it did and I'm sorry that it all happened" 

"Dont you apologise, I know you're sorry and I'm sorry we  are in this situation, I guess my pull out game isn't as strong as I thought and my Sperm seem to be as fast as Max verstappen " he jokes cracking a small smile. 

"Ew" i laugh "So what happens now?" 

"I don't know Mae, I mean I always knew it may happen and although it happened in the complete opposite way I imagined, its' still happened so I guess we just do the best we can. Do wanna start as friends and take it slow and find ourselves again and if we're meant to be then we will get there and if not we deal with it as it comes. 

I nod almost crying. 

"Oh come here you" he says getting up and giving me a hug "You wanna stay for pizza and Frankie cuddles?" I nod into his shoulder. 

"I'd like that" I replied. 

We sat down and then I remembered 'You better call Oscar and put him out of his misery he knows the gender he hasn't spoken to me in 4 days because he was worried he would spill the secret" I laughed and so did Lando 

He pulled out his phone and Facetimed Oscar 

"wasssapp" Oscar answers the phone and immediately sees us both in the frame 

"OMG OMG OMG RED ALERT MAE I CAN NOT KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT" he panics 

I laugh "It's okay Oscar you can tell us" 

He burst into a smile and takes a big breath "You're having a little boy" he bites his bottom lip with happiness 

I let out a breath and my eyes start tearing up and I turn to Lando "a little boy Lando"I say as he wipes away a few stray tears 

"I'm gonna have a little boy to race with" he says and looks over to me in disbelief 

"He's gonna be a Piastri Fan I can feel it in my bones and wanna race with Uncle Oscar" 

We laugh and have some small talk before he let's us go to work everything out 

"you wanna move back in?" Lando asks grabbing a slice of pizza and handing it to me 

"I would love that, I've been so lonely" I say honestly 

"me too, it's just not the same without you here" he says and Frankie jumps up on the couch and cuddles into me "We've both missed you so much"