#I never took the hood off no matter what

[volgrawr]

Last night I managed to 100%Breath of the Wild's Master Mode.

I started this file roughly a year ago for partially wanting to replay it and for writing material for my AU. I have played this game many times over the years, but this was the first time I properly beat it (and played the Champion's Ballad). Somehow I was able to beat this in under 200 hours (sitting at 155). Go me?

Just some ramblings surrounding the game below:

2017 was a hectic period in my life. I went through some major life-changing events that by some miracle I came out on the other side much better off. Not to say it wasn't incredibly stressful, though. One of my best friends would gift me his copy of the Wii U version of the game (he planned on getting the Switch version) to help me take my mind off of my life for a time.

Playing that game for the first time was a magical experience. As a veteran Zelda player who was so used to most of the franchise's linear gameplay over the years it was refreshing to see something so different. And because the game was so new there weren't any floating spoilers or guides that spoiled the fun.

Revisiting this game again, although it didn't recapture the magic I had playing it the first time, did make me admire all the intricate details perfectly tucked into the game. It also made me appreciate Tears of the Kingdom a lot more as its gameplay is quite the improvement over its predecessor. The amount of times I was using magnesis and especially cryonis made me miss ultra hand. Perhaps that game spoiled me haha.

Playing master mode wasn't too bad either. I only really struggled in a few areas. Beginner Master Trials and its infamous floor 11 comes to mind. Forcing you to fight several silver lizalfos who can rapidly heal to full health if you are not constantly hitting them, that can kill you in 2 -3 hits, with no armor and only given weak weapons was absolutely unforgiving. But the funniest part is there is a method to beat this room that is so easy it makes me embarrassed that I had any difficulty to begin with. Also my rematch with Waterblight during the Mipha's song questline was just as annoying but that was more of a skill issue.

I did start that game file with the idea that I wanted to 100% so I followed Zelda Dungeon's interactive map to get all the korok seeds and whatnot. It wasn't that bad doing that while multi-tasking for other parts of the game (except when I, even though I was following the map, ended up missing two korok seeds and I had to tediously comb through everywhere to find the ones I missed).

A similar thing happened with some shrine quests because I completed it without logging the quest down first. I wanted to get a 100% on that too so I had to look everywhere for the ones I was missing and spent almost two hours trying to find this last one. It turns out I was missing the Spring of Wisdom log. I thought I had that one originally because I remember talking to an NPC about it. But it turns out there's another NPC that actually initiates the quest. Silly me!

I got all of the clothing you can find in the game (and including some amiibo exclusives) and maxed out upgrading them. Yes, even the ones that required star fragments. I ended up exploiting a glitch called menu overloading to duplicate materials I needed (because there was no way I was going to farm star fragments regularly so late in my gameplay). The glitch is very easy to do and it results in a funny side effect:

Overall satisfied I completed this 100%. I am going to play Tears of the Kingdom for a bit until Echoes comes out. I do also plan on 100% it to see how it compares to BOTW from a fresher perspective. Here's some other screenshots of my 100% run (mostly to brag).

And a bonus of one of my cats "helping" me out.

[confused-wanderer]

The villains are utterly confused.

They remember the first robin. They remember how bloodthirsty the little gremlin was, how he appeared out of the darkness with a “HIYA FOLKS” that gave people near heart attacks with PTSD so bad they flinched everytime they walked into a dark corner. They remember his grin, baring few too many teeth with a glint in his eyes whenever the bat wasn’t around to curb him. They remember the death stare, the brooding that made no one doubt this was the Bat’s son. They remember how a punch would land a lot harder than it was supposed to, or the screaming that followed. Oh they remembered him alright.

The second one thank the stars was better. The second robin was giggly. He would hop around town, offering his help to everyone who needed it. Sure he was rough with abusers but hell no one cared about them. Matter of fact, the villains were glad because those assholes deserved no sympathy. They remember his puns, his wonder, his innocence and his spark. They remembered his laughter, his concern - the kind that only comes from one who’s been on the streets. This one was better, and the villains thanked their lucky stars. They remembered him alright.

But now, as the years passed and new characters emerged, the crime city saw the rise of two characters - a sunshine happy nightwing and a ready to kill red hood. And naturally, from their experiences in the past, the villains ended up making an honest mistake that ruined the two vigilantes’ reputation:

The villains assumed the first robin was Red Hood and the other was Nightwing. And BY GOD Gotham has not seen unhinged chaos like this.

SCENE 1

Red Hood *drawing his pistol* : Please, reach for your weapon. I’m itching for an excuse for my intrusive thoughts to become extrusive.

Two-Face: You dare mock me little bird?! Well.. I may not have my weapon.. but I have something I know you’d like..

Red Hood: Oh yeah?What’s that?

Two-Face: TAKE THIS! *slams button and coconuts start falling from the sky, all cracking and spilling as they hit the ground*

Red Hood:

Two-Face:

Red Hood: .. the fuck was that supposed to do?

Two-Face: .. HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! YOU HATE COCONUTS ROBIN!!

Red Hood: The fuck- .. wait did you call me robin?

Two-Face *grins* : Yea.. robin. The first one. Thought I didn’t notice?

Red Hood: The first one? Does this *gestures vaguely to himself and his weapons* seem like something the first robin would do?

Two-Face:

Goon 1: I mean.. yeah

Red Hood: What! The first robin was nice!

Goon 2 *guffawing*: I beg your fucking pardon??

Two-Face: .. you took my coin and attached a magnet beneath it so everytime I flipped it it wouldn’t stop spinning. Do you know how long that took me to figure out?? Do you know how insane it drove me?? Joker had to help me out of pity. OUT. OF. PITY.

Red Hood:

Goon 1: ..Also you did steal some of our bones

Red Hood: hedidfuckingwhatnow-

SCENE 2

Nightwing: Hey there buddy! You look frostyl!

Dr. Freeze: Aha! You are too late to stop me robin!

Nightwing: .. robin?

Dr. Freeze: why yes! Don’t act coy, I know it’s you there. Now that we’ve got that clear.. I was wondering if you remembered all those years ago when you gave me a source for electricity to power a hospital keeping my Nora?

Nightwing:

Dr. Freeze: well you weren’t careful enough and never told me how much I could take from it.. so I used it to power so many of my inventions that came after

Nightwing *remembering when Jason was robin and every damn time he came to visit Wayne Manor his room would always run out power and the countless cold showers in freezing winters he had to take because of it*: .. oh? Well, sorry to break your bubble, but that wasn’t me Elsa.

Dr. Freeze: no? You joke around, make puns and I’m supposed to believe it’s NOT you?. The first one brooded like there was no tomorrow. He pissed me off so bad once I overheard him saying his favourite ice cream flavour and I made sure it wouldn’t be available in Gotham for YEARS. You’re not as bad as the first one. I’d remember if you were him.

Nightwing:

Nightwing *firing up his escrima sticks to maximum voltage*: Oh let me jog your memory then :)

[cloakedsparrow]

Dick: Okay, I think we’re gonna have to do ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’.

Jason: Yeah. It’s tropey but it works.

Dick: Exactly. Wanna flip for Bad Cop?

Jason: You’re kidding.

Dick: Or we could play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock?

Jason: Dude, I can’t be Good Cop. I kill people, remember? You can’t kill people and be Good Cop.

Dick: Those were traffickers and mob lieutenants. These are Rogue goons.

Jason: What, like that matters?

Dick: Yes, that matters. They don’t care that you took out some mobsters. They care that you revived the Joker after beating him to death and then let him go.

Jason: I didn’t revive him, I just didn’t let him die yet! And I didn’t let him go either! That was Batman! I was gonna kill the psycho!

Dick: Yeah, well, you still kept him alive and the goons probably know it. Just like they know I was happy to leave him dead when I killed him.

Jason: What?

Dick: You heard me.

Jason: You…?

Dick: Killed the Joker? Yes. I thought he killed Timmy and then when I confronted him, he said your name and…I didn’t stop hitting him until he choked on his own blood.

Jason: Then…how is he still alive?

Dick: Batman revived him.

Jason Fucking what?

Dick: Yeah.

Jason: Well, now I definitely can’t be Good Cop. I’m way to pissed for that shit.

Dick: Well, so am I.

Jason: Fuck.

Dick: Fuck.

Jason: So now whadda we do? Try to beat it outta him?

Dick: No, he'll lock down. That's why I suggested "Good Cop, Bad Cop" to begin with.

Jason: So we need a Good Cop.

Dick: Okay, I’m gonna call Timmy and see if he can come play Good Cop.

Jason: Good plan.

Dick [talking into a secure (& Batman-proof) phone]: Hey, Robin, you busy?

Tim [on speakerphone]: Kinda, yeah. What’s going on? You sound weird.

Dick: Hood and I need to get some intel from a goon, and we’re thinking “Good Cop, Bad Cop” is the way to go but neither of us can pull off Good Cop right now.

Tim: Shit. I’m in Bangkok right now-

Jason: The fuck are you doing in Bangkok?

Tim: Speedy needed help with a thing.

Dick: In Bangkok?

Tim: No. She’s in Korea.

Jason: So, again, why the fuck are you in Bangkok?

Tim: Because Lady Shiva’s here and she’s perfect for what Speedy needs, so I’m calling in a favor she owes me.

Dick: You’re calling in a favor from Lady Shiva because Speedy needs help with a thing in Korea.

Tim: Yep. You got it.

Dick: No, that’s- You say that like it doesn’t require any further-

Tim: Can you hang on for a second? There’s an assassin tailing me.

Dick: Shit. Do you need us to send someone out there?

Jason; Starfire should be done with her thing by now. She's not on your shit list, right?

Tim: No, I like Kori. But I’m good now. My assassin got the other assassin.

Dick: You have an assassin?

Tim: Kinda? She defected from the League of Assassins and is up for hire but she always gives me priority since she feels like she owes me a life-debt.

Dick: Again, you sound like you think that statement doesn’t require any further explanation.

Jason: So you hired your assassin buddy to kill the other assassin?

Tim: What? No. Of course not. She didn’t kill him. We’ll question him later. She never kills on my jobs since she knows I don’t like it.

Dick: What about other jobs?

Tim: That’s her business. We aren’t all control freaks, you know.

Dick: That’s-

Jason: That’s good, Little Red. Good that you have healthy boundaries.

Dick: I have healthy boundaries.

Jason: Sure you do.

Tim: Okay, you’re gonna have to argue that on your own. I’m supposed to help my friends out with something after I get Shiva to help Speedy, but I have to handle this interrogation first. So how about I just send my friends the twenty-five plans I drew up and ask Bunker if he minds helping you out before he joins us? He should be able to get inside Gotham in less than ten minutes.

Jason: Oh, Bunker’s perfect for Good Cop.

Tim: Right? They’ll spill everything and probably give him their grandma’s secret family recipes on top of it.

Dick: Wait. Back it up. You have twenty-five plans drawn up? What are you guys up against?

Tim: Nothing we can’t handle. Young Justice figures, why even bother with a plan B if you aren’t gonna cover the whole alphabet?

Jason: There’s twenty-six letters in the alphabet, Little Red.

Tim: Yeah, but plan Z is always the same, so we don’t bother listing it anymore.

Dick: Is it ‘get an adult’?

Tim: Of course not.

Jason: When you were a Teen Titan, how often did you call in an adult when you probably should have?

Dick: Okay, that’s fair.

Jason: So what’s plan Z?

Tim: ‘Fuck it, we ball’.

Dick: That’s not a pl-

Jason: That’s perfect. I love it.

Dick: No. Don’t encourage him.

Tim: Thanks, Red. So do you want me to ask Bunker about helping you? I’m kinda on a time crunch now.

Jason: Yes, please.

Tim: Okay. He’s on the way. Is there anything else?

Dick: Whe-

Jason: No, we’re good. Have fun storming the castle!

Tim: ‘Kay, bye!

Jason: Bye!

Dick: The fuck-

Jason: Bunker and I can handle the interrogation here and Timmy and his assassin friend are gonna be busy with an interrogation there for a bit. If you take off now, you can probably catch up with him and go all big brother like you’re dying to.

Dick: You sure?

Jason: Yeah, I’m sure me and Bunker can handle this asshole.

Dick: Thank you.

Jason: Yeah, well, you did kill the Joker. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Dick: I’ll tell you all about it after I make sure Timmy doesn’t get himself killed or lose another organ.

Jason: I’ll hold you to- Timmy lost an organ?

Dick [already calling Kori to get him to Tim]: Later. I’m on a time crunch now!

Jason: I’m holding you to that!

Jason: *sighs* No one in this family knows how to share.

[igotanidea]

Haircut: Jason Todd x reader

Inspired by the post from @pop-culturereference about what Jason's fans really want from DC (link here)

***

„AH!!”

An involuntary scream left her mouth the second she came home. Jason was not used to his girlfriend being so expressive, but protective instinct kicked in as he jumped off the couch he was reading a book on and immediately rushed to her side.

“Y/N! Love, what happened?” his hands found hers, squeezing them gently, trying to ground her in reality and assure her that whatever scared her so much was no match for him.

“What happened to you?” she sobbed, not even trying to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

“Huh?” Jason frowned “Look, I know I’m not exactly model handsome, but—”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” she wailed as if someone was tearing her heart out or squeezing her lungs.

“What are you--?” he tried again, quite taken aback by the intensity of her emotions. She wasn’t ever crying this much when he came home bloodied and bruised. She never let a single muscle on her face twitch while  patching him up. But when he was okay, just chilling and for once – not getting into trouble she got into a waterfall mode. “Y/n? Look at me. Look at me!” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

“I AM!”

“Then you can see I’m all good. It’s all good! Come on baby, whatever fear took over your brain, you have to wake up from this!”

“Your hair!” she broke into crying fit again

“My hair?” he instinctively ran his fingers through his strands. “What about them?”

“WHERE IS IT?”

Oh.

Oh, so finally they were getting to the bottom of the problem.

He cut his hair shorter than she was used to and clearly she didn’t like it.

“Look, I just thought-“

“Was it Roy? I’m sure it was Roy. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him! How is it that I leave you guys for a few hours and you always end up causing trouble.”

“It was not—”

“Then who was it? Dick?”

“Ugh! As if I would ever let him anywhere near my head!”

“Then who helped you did this atrocity?” she pressed, taking a look at his inch-long strands.

“I did it myself.” He responded, almost sounding proud.

“You-you-yourself…?” Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stuttered. Her bag was dropped to the ground with a concerning sound of rattling, but neither of them care about the possibility of something being crashed. They had more urgent matters at the moment. The sense of betrayal slowly started creeping inside her heart.

“It’s just hair—”

“Just hair?! Are you insane?” she snapped at him “You should have asked me what I think first!”

“But—”

“Do not argue with me, Jason! You’re my boyfriend! It is not just about what you like! You can’t just act on whims without finding out my approach to the matter!”

“It’s just hair—” once more, the poor attempt at reaching her reason failed.

“How am I supposed to run my fingers through it now? And how am I supposed to live without your mop tickling me when we cuddle?”

“Y/n…” he smiled softly, cupping her cheek, meeting her eyes

“I liked them longer… I’m sorry if that hits your insecurities, but—”

“It does make me a little unsure, not gonna lie.” He chuckled. “But only a little. Cause what I’m hearing now, is that you liked my wilder look. For example when I was taking the hood off and have my hair all ruffled? Or when I was –”

“I see what you are trying to do here, Mr. Todd and I’m not falling for it.” Y/N read right through his intentions to invoke an innuendo and tried to step back.

“Come on, baby.” Jason quickly grabbed her waist, circling arms around her like two snakes, preventing her from backing out. “Admit it. You liked the bad boy image I had. It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Well it doesn’t anymore—“

“Guess that only means, I’ll have to try twice as hard… Cause too bad for you, sunshine, my hair is gonna stay like that for a while. So you have to like it. “

“Oh really-?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I think I’m gonna ditch the longer hair for good. This kind of haircut is so much more practical, you know. No strands sticking to my forehead when we get sweaty. None of them in my eyes when I fight only in the domino mask, no tangles and all that stuff-“

“You’re terrible!”

“Yeah, yeah I am, and what are you going to do about it baby?” he smirked and leaned forward, giving her a teasing look “you love me either way, we both know it.”

“Well maybe I should cut my hair too.” Her eyes glistened with mischief “you know- to match your new style.”

“What?” Jason turned a little pale. His princess was going to get rid of her perfect locks?! Over his dead body! (Even if that meant dying again.) “You are not!”

“Too bad for you I already made that decision. In fact I’m gonna go to the hairdresser first thing tomorrow—”

“I won’t let you out of here! You can’t just make such important decisions without talking to me first!”

“But I just told you.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“And the answer is no!”

“It was not a question.”

“You are not cutting your hair. It is not only yours! It’s mine too! We’re a couple, practically like one being!”

“Well maybe if we attach some of mine to your head we can both have what we want?”

“I got a better idea. I’ll keep you trapped here for as long as mine grow back, how about that?”

“And what shall we do for so many months Mr Todd?” she hummed with a glint in her eyes.”

“Duh! I’ll make sure to convince you that the length of my hair is not the one that should be of your concern, baby…” Jason smirked letting his hoarse tone reveal what was on his mind.

Was he acting like a hypocrite? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Cause one thing that was absolutely sure about Jason Todd that there was only one like him in the world. Capable of twisting the words in a way that always turned the situation a little less serious. And whatever hairstyle he was sporting, she was not going to change him for anyone else.

[keikikait]

ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜꜰᴀʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.7k

summary: rafe helps you after your car breaks down

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, smut? (it's just masturbation + some suggestive stuff), rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, rafe gets the reader high on coke (she agrees, but he thinks some weird things), idk anything ab cars but i tried, also i've never done cocaine but i tried to do some research

a note: happy halloween.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You didn't understand what was wrong with your car.

No matter how many times you took it to an auto shop, how much money you spent, it kept breaking down. Your check engine light would come on at the most random times, even after just getting it fixed the day before.  You were spending all of your money on trying to fix your clunker, a 1993 Lexus LS400 that your father was certain was a waste of time. In the long run, it would be cheaper to buy a new car, but you loved it too much to say goodbye. The AC was surprisingly cold, providing much needed relief for the hot North Carolinian summers. It didn't take much to fill it up, and you had beau coups of trunk space. It was your car and that's all that mattered to you.

You had decided to take your car to a different auto shop, across the thoroughfare onto the mainland. You had thought that a fresh pair of eyes would keep you from coming back the week after because your transmission was shot again. The mechanic was able to fix your transmission in no time, sending you off on your way with a hefty bill. It was raining, a summer thunderstorm on the horizon, and you couldn't wait to get home.

You had just passed over the thoroughfare back onto Kildare when your car started to rumble and shake. You feel like screaming as you pull over, banging your palms on the steering wheel. Your car rumbles and shakes, smoke billowing out of the hood. You reach behind your seat and grab your raincoat, putting it on and putting the hood up. You grab your phone and turn on the flashlight, reaching down to pull back the lever to pop the hood. Afterwards, you step out, pulling your hood tight over your head as you lift the hood and prop it up. You look around, waving the smoke away from your face, but you don't even know what you're looking for.

Gravel crunches behind you as another car approaches, casting a shadow over your hood. You freeze, sliding your phone open to the emergency call. You look over your shoulder as someone climbs out. 

Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, in his own navy blue raincoat. He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “Having car troubles?”

You tense up a little. You knew Rafe, of course you did, but your interactions with him were few and far in between. You were on the sidelines for most of his problems with JJ, John B, and Pope, not wanting to piss off the most powerful man in the Outer Banks. You finally find your voice, fidgeting with the sleeves of your raincoat. “Yeah. I just got it fucking fixed, too.” You sigh.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at you. He had noticed you long before you had even crossed paths, but now, here you were. Standing in the rain, soaked and shivering. He walked over, joining you at your side, and he glanced into your engine, not even pretending to be able to fix it. “You know... this old clunker is gonna cost you more in the long run than if you just got rid of it. Might as well cut your losses while you can, angel.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname, but you ignore it. “It’s my car, Rafe, I can’t just like…abandon her.”

He chuckled, his gaze moving from the hood of your clunker to your face. Your big pretty eyes, your cheeks already beginning to flush from the cold rain. He stepped closer, pushing against the hood so it was angled more, blocking your view of the world around. He leaned against it, crossing his arms, and he stared down at you. “You can, you just don't want to. There's a difference. You like this thing. You're attached.”

You sigh again. “Well duh, Rafe, it’s my only car. I know that concept is hard for you to understand.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could help you?” Rafe asks, taking a step back. He glances under the hood again, although he’s just as clueless as you. 

“Help me?” You ask.

He looks over at you again, his expression blank. “I’m a pretty powerful guy, you know. It wouldn’t take much to… oh, I don’t know, maybe find you a newer car. Or,” his lips twitch up into his signature smirk. “Just pay for the repairs.”

“I don’t want to take your money, you know.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Why not?” He asks with a scoff. “It’s just money, angel. I have plenty.”

You sigh. You really don’t want to do this with him. “Look, just…thank you for stopping to check on me. I’m just gonna call a tow truck and wait out the rain.”

He watched as you turned to your phone, a heavy frown settling on his lips. That wasn’t going to do. Rafe suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. “Or—“ he speaks before you’re able to dial, his touch firm but not bruising. “You could just come with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“But I want to,” he says. “It’s raining, you’re cold and alone, and you’re gonna wait on a tow truck who may not show up for hours. Your little car is about to get flooded. Come on, sweetheart.“

You hesitate, reaching over to put the hood of your car back down. “I don’t know, Rafe. I feel bad, you know? Making you drive me all the way to The Cut.”

“It’s nothing for me.” He says, gently tugging on your wrist to guide you toward his car. He looks at you from the side, his gaze taking in your worried expression, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You’re cute when you’re being stubborn, angel. But it’s unnecessary.”

You sigh. His truck did beat walking. “Fine. Lemme get my stuff.”

Rafe lets go of your wrist, watching you as you dig through your front seat, grabbing everything important. He crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the hood forward as his eyes run over your body, stopping on your ass, head tilting as he admires the way your jeans hug your body. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering what you would look like bent over his lap with two red handprints on your ass, slightly bruised from where his rings would catch the skin. 

Did he feel bad about constantly fucking with your car? A little bit. 

But was he happy that he now had you all to himself? Of course he was.

You were Rafe’s obsession, ever since he first met you a year and a half ago. He, at first, tried so hard to forget you, the little Pogue girl that had the sheer audacity to be friends with his least favourite person in the world, Pope, but as the days passed, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He started out by just thinking about you every so often, occasionally glancing in the direction of The Boneyard when he drove past, hoping he would see you in a bikini. 

Then, he started thinking about you every day, which turned into every night. He would lay on his bed, back against his headboard, and stroke his cock while scrolling through your Instagram feed. Just one look at you would send him close to cumming, and he can’t count how many times he’s cummed in his pants just from seeing you around Kildare. You had a few bikini pics taken from all angles, but his favourite ones were the ones of you smiling at the camera. Rafe has a favourite photo to jerk off to, something that sends him cumming all over his fingers after a few strokes. It’s a photo of you, taken from a high up angle, looking into the camera with your big beautiful eyes, holding a lollipop in your mouth. 

He loves it so much, it’s even his phone’s wallpaper.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to consume you, turn you inside out and fill you with just him. You didn’t need anyone else. You had him, even if you didn’t know it.

You shove your registration and some other important documents from your glove compartment into your bag, shutting and locking the door. You unzip your jacket, sliding the bag between your body and the fabric to try to keep it protected from the rain. You join Rafe back at his truck, climbing into the passenger seat. His car is neat, surprisingly, with only a tube of Aquaphor in one of his cupholders. Hanging from his rearview mirror, along with a car air freshener, is a Polaroid photo of him with his youngest sister Wheezie. There was also photo of you, which was now scurried away in his centre console, buried under a packet of Wet Wipes. He didn’t think you would appreciate that gesture, even though he did, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Rafe takes the bags from you, carefully placing it on the floor of the backseat, his eyes running over you as you settle into the seat. His hands were shaking slightly as the starts the car and puts it in drive. He couldn’t believe this actually worked. He had been following you all day, tracking your phone as he kept his distance in his car. 

You didn’t even notice when he cloned your phone. Rafe had been tracking your every move for months, reading every single text and listening in on every single conversation. He knew it would freak you out if you found out, but he was just trying to protect you! You didn’t realise it, but you needed him. He was protecting you from the scumbags who were trying to date you. You were so sweet, too sweet, and he didn’t want one of those dirty Pogue bastards to take advantage of you. He had planned on making his move with you anyway, but your car breaking down was a gift from the gods. They were placing you right into his calloused hands.

The rain splatters against the windshield with a low tap tap tap, a steady rhythm that keeps the silence from feeling completely unnerving. The air is warm, the heat turned up high, and Rafe looks at you as he buckles his seat belt. “You better thank me.” His smirk is back, a wicked curl at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you, Rafe.”

He chuckles, glancing away from you briefly as he puts one hand on the wheel. “That wasn’t very convincing, angel…” His gaze returns to you, moving over the slope of your nose, your neck, down to where the rain has made your shirt cling to your chest. His mouth is dry, making it hard to swallow, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

You look up at him, your head tilted towards him, your eyes big. “Thank you, Rafe.”

His smirk falters, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your big doe eyes staring up at him. He bites the inside of his lip, staring down at you. He can’t believe that you were really right here, that he had you trapped right in his own little cage. There was something about seeing you look so innocent that made him want to ruin you. His breathing starts to come a bit harder, the urge to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe with your wrists tied behind your back making his entire body ache. He clears his throat before putting the car into drive, pulling off of the side of the road, heading back towards Kildare.

You notice his heavy breathing and his tight grip on the steering wheel. Your eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearing his throat. His grip loosens on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers to alleviate the ache. He forces himself to relax his grip, taking a deep breath. After a moment passes, and the silence is heavy on his shoulders, he glances over at you again. “You ever done drugs, angel?”

You rub your lips together. You could be honest with him, right? “Yeah, once.”

His gaze runs over your face as you speak. God, you’re so fucking innocent, it was intoxicating. “Once?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly. “That’s adorable. What drug was it? Pot? I can’t see you doing anything hard core, angel.”

“Yeah, it was weed,” You say. “JJ got his hands on some, and he let me have a few hits.”

He glances over at you again, his fingers clenching as he tries to not show his jealousy. He hated all of your little Pogue friends, JJ included. He didn’t like the idea of you getting high with JJ -- becoming vulnerable. What if JJ took advantage of you? Rafe clears his throat, looking back at the road. “That’s cute, angel. Was that your first and only time?”

“Yeah,” You say, shifting in the seat. “I just… I don’t know if it’s my thing, you know? I had a pretty bad high. I thought I was dying.”

His lips twitched, trying to keep his temper under control. He had just gotten you into his car, he couldn’t scare you away. Of course that fucker JJ had a hand in your bad experience, he probably gave you too much and didn’t take good care of you. He would never do that to you. He would give you the perfect intro into the wonderful world of drugs. “That’s because he gave you too much, angel. A beginner should never go too far their first time. You need to start small, so you don’t have a bad experience. It’s all about moderation.”

You look over at him. “Well, it’s technically my fault. I took too many hits.”

Rafe laughs softly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He glances over at you, his gaze roaming over you slowly, from head to toe, and back to your face. He had already decided that he was going to give you something, just to see you experience it. “What did it feel like? Being high.”

“I liked it,” You say. “I was laughing a lot, until I started feeling like I was dying. I don’t know, the floaty feeling… it was nice, you know?”

He hums, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He could only imagine what you would be like, all loose and relaxed, a giggly high. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you when you were high, how compliant you would be, unable to stop him. His mind starts to wander, thinking about the look in your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, all woozy and out of it. “Would you ever smoke weed again?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say. “Just wouldn’t do it with JJ in the middle of The Boneyard again.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. He glances over at you again, the smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze is dark, his pupils dilated. He was itching for the right opportunity to show you something better, something that could get you addicted, addicted to him. “Would you ever try anything harder?” Rafe pulls to a stop at the red light. Turning left would bring you to the north side of Kildare, where Figure 8 is, while turning right would bring you to the south side, towards The Cut.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Rafe. I would want to do it in a safe space, you know? Not at like a party or anything.”

He hums, turning right when the light turns green. “A safe space, huh?” He glances over at you, biting his lip. His eyes trace your face, how sweet and innocent you looked, and his mind was suddenly made up. He was going to introduce you to the most euphoric feeling of your life, and he was going to take care of you as you felt it. “What about if we did it? Just you and me.”

You shift in the seat again. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, like something is telling you to run. “Do you just… have cocaine lying around?”

The light turns green. The car doesn’t move.

His lips twitch again, and his fingers drum at the wheel. “Yeah, angel, I actually do.” He glances over at you, noticing the way you were shifting. He could see the hesitance in your wide eyes, the look of fear. “You don't have to look so scared, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'm gonna make sure you feel so good. Just trust me.”

You bite your lip, looking out the window. You had heard so much about Rafe from Pope, JJ, and John B about how psychotic, impulsive, and destructive he is, but he was being so gentle with you. You look back at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He turns his head, making eye contact. He knew you were scared, and it made his cock throb in his jeans. He was telling you the truth, of course, he would take care of you, and he would make sure that you liked it. He wanted you to come back to him for more and more. “You know, you really don't have to be afraid of me, angel. I'm only bad to people who do things to deserve it. I promise I'll treat you good. I will make you feel good, so long as you trust me, and do what I say. Can you do that?”

Your stomach churns. You shouldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t be in Rafe’s truck, but something about him made you want to stay. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His lips curl into a smirk, that same wicked curl as earlier. He was slowly breaking you down, making you do what he wanted, without you even realising it. He wasn't forcing you to do anything, he was just asking. How could you say no to him, when he asked you nicely? “Good girl.”

Rafe takes the left turn.

You let out a shaky breath. You were really doing this.

You look out the window as he drives through Figure 8, taking in the sights of the looming mansions. You glance back over at him as he drives straight past Tanneyhill. “Are you not there anymore?”

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “Haven't been there in months, not since my dad died.” He glances over at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. “I'm living somewhere else now. A true bachelor.” He slows down as he turns into the driveway of a large white home that looked like one of many others that surrounded it, although, not quite as big. He pulls to a stop, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pockets. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

You grab your bag from the floorboards of the backseat before hopping out, quickly rushing through the downpour to the front door. Rafe easily catches up to you, his stride much longer than yours. He leads the way though, pulling his keys back out of his pocket as he shoves the front door open. He holds it open for you, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for you to head inside. “Welcome to my humble home, angel. Make yourself at home.”

You stand in the entryway, not wanting to drip water all over his real hardwood floors. “Do you have clothes I can borrow? I don’t wanna get your furniture wet.”

Rafe smirks, his gaze running over your soaking wet body, his cock throbbing at the thought of how hard your nipples must be. “I think I have something you can wear, but yeah, you really should get out of those wet clothes.” He pulls the front door shut, locking it behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room.” He grabs your hand, leading you through the empty house.

You follow him through the house, taking in the minimal, neutral decor. It honestly looked like no one lived there, the walls of the house were bare, the couches were all black leather, including the recliner in the corner. There was a large white rug in the middle of a living room, covering the floor. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, although it wasn't as barren, with stainless steel appliances and cabinets. The only personal things in the house were a large flat screen TV in the living room, a framed picture of a young Rafe with baby Sarah on the kitchen counter, and a hallway of closed doors that led to the extra rooms. 

His room is just as bare, although it’s a lot messier, boxers and t-shirts litter the floor and are strewn over an armchair set up in front of his TV and PlayStation. His bedside table is covered with empty plastic water bottles, a crumpled bag of chips, and another framed photo, although this one is of him and Wheezie.

“Cute room.” You say.

“Thanks.” He says, his gaze running over you again, his eyes lingering on your chest, imagining what your nipples look like before returning to your face. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tosses them towards you and you catch them. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and throw your clothes into the dryer. Just set it to quick dry, okay? Otherwise, it’ll take fucking forever.”

You smile softly, holding the clothes in your arms. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“No problem.” He says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and leaning back. He watches you as you slip down the hall, headed towards the bathroom. Rafe waits a few moments, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He had been waiting to get you alone for so long, to make you his, and now, he was so close.

But he had promised to go slow, and even though it was killing him. He didn't want you to run away.

You peel your clothes off, hanging them over the sink as you change. You dry your hair with a towel before pulling Rafe’s T-shirt over your head. It smells like him; a warm, slightly citrusy smell that makes your head spin. You step into the sweatpants and tie them around your hips. They were a big baggy, but you didn’t mind. You put your clothes into the dryer and set it to quick dry before heading back into Rafe’s bedroom. You spin in a circle, looking at him over your shoulder. “How do I look?”

Rafe had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, trying to resist the urge to go after you. He had changed himself, putting on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was almost half hard and as he watches you spin around, the look in your big innocent eyes, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from jumping on you. He swallows, a dry click echoing in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes fixed on you. “You look good.” he murmurs, his gaze travelling over your body and how his T-shirt was loose enough for him to slip a hand under it without any effort. “Are you comfy?”

You nod, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt as you sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Rafe’s lips tilt into a smile as he watches you fiddle with your hem. You looked so sweet, his pretty little angel, all alone with him, no one to protect you. “You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in good hands with me, I promise.” He scoots a little closer, looking down at you with his big blue eyes, his lips mere inches from yours. “Do you still want to do it?” God, please say yes.

“Yeah, of course I do,” You say quickly. “Just haven’t done it before, so I’m nervous, you know?”

God, he was going to hell for this. “I know.” He whispers, his gaze roaming over your face, drinking in every beautiful detail. His fingers reach out, gently brushing your jaw. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. I promise.” He glances away for a moment, toward his bedside, toward the bedside table where he had a small bag of coke.

Fuck. This is actually happening.

Your back straightens as you crawl closer to him on the bed, watching as he gets out the bag of coke, along with a small circular mirror.

Rafe looks back at you, his gaze darkening as he sees you come closer, closing the space between you and him. His hand trembles as he opens the bag, using the edge of his credit card to separate the white powder laid out on the mirror. He couldn’t wait to get you addicted to him. He had wanted this for so long, had wanted you for so long, and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You gotta promise not to be scared, angel.” He whispers, glancing over at you as he grabs the rolled up bill.

You let out a shaky breath. “Is there, um…do I have to snort it? Or is there, like, another way? I just don’t know if I can snort it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks softly, his gaze travelling over you as you move even closer to him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at your question. He was going to love this. He straightens out the lines with his credit card. “I can rub it on your gums if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

He grins, glancing over at you as he pushes himself back, getting comfortable against the headboard. “Come here, angel.” He grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer so that you’re sitting before him, between his legs. He glances at your pretty face, his gaze dark and heavy.

You’re scared. He loves it.

Rafe grabs your chin, fingers squishing into your cheeks. “Open your mouth, angel…” You oblige and he grins. “Good girl, good.” Rafe licks his pointer finger before reaching over and swiping through one of the lines. “Alright angel, last chance, do you wanna do this?”

You nod.

“Good girl.” Rafe hums, grabbing your chin as his wet finger moves from the line of coke, rubbing it along your gums. His gaze flits between yours and his hand before pulling away. You looked so fucking good, letting him take advantage of you like this. “Leave it for a moment, okay? You don't have to suck or lick, just leave it in your mouth.” Your gums tingle, the taste slightly bitter.

Rafe watches you close, leaning back once he takes his hand away. He watches you intently, watching the way your expression changes as the drug takes flight.

He was in love.

The cocaine hits you fast, and you start getting squirmy, your pupils wide and blown out. He watches your face as you react to the drug, watching how your eyes flit around and how your breath comes in deep, slightly shaky. He leans forward, grabbing your arms. “Come here, angel, sit in my lap.” You can’t do anything, letting him move you around before settling you into his lap.

His arms slide around your waist, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him, like a precious doll. “Does it make you feel good, angel?” He asks, leaning forward, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smelled sweet, and you were a perfect fit in his arms, so much so that he almost didn’t want to let you go. Almost.

You nod. You felt so good. Everything was heightened so deliciously, and you melted into Rafe’s arms, letting the scent of his cologne travel through you.

“I’m so glad, angel, I wanted to make you happy.” He whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your jaw, his hands holding onto your hips, keeping you flush against him. He loves the way you move, how your body feels against his, how you were his. He wanted to make you want this again, and again, until you couldn’t think about anything but him, until you couldn’t go without it. Rafe kisses up your neck, hands sliding under the front of his shirt. Your eyes are fluttering and your whole body shakes as your ears start to ring. You squirm, and he grins, moving his head up. He gently bites your earlobe before whispering into your ear. 

“You did well saying yes to me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

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[pimpnchips]

Needed Me 2

Part 2

Natasha x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight smut, blow!job, slightly mean!

nat.

Summary: heated arguments with Natasha

Authors Note: I’m sorry it took me so fucking long to finish this, I'm okay! but I had major writers block and I wanted to make it good for you guys. I also wanted to put the daughter in here more.

Lena swung her head in your direction, "Mommy I want this one," she whined. The rack of stuffed animals sat on display as your daughter complained about how much she wanted the pink bunny.

"No baby, you remember what mama said."

Last night, Natasha talked to lena about behaving properly. Now that she's getting older you can't keep babying her and supplying all her wants after a tantrum or fit.

So Natasha decided on no extra things outside of the store list for a month so she can learn that you won't be able to get everything she asks for even if she decides on throwing a fit.

"Lena, no means no," scowls natasha. Carrying Mateo in his car seat with her left hand, "Pick her up detka — let's go."

You couldn't help but bite your lip at Natasha's authority

Seeing her do what she does best turned you on in so many ways you couldn't explain. You couldn't stay upset with her no matter how hard you 'tried'.

Heading to your shared bedroom last night, Natasha had a way with her words, instead of hate sex you made love.

You missed her warmth and her touch but there's nothing you miss more than how sexy she looked taking care of her family.

Yes, your wife is a lot of things but you know how deeply she cares for the three of you and if you didn't.. you wouldn't have taken her back.

-

You sighed in frustration, "I'm not trying to upset you baby"

"I never said you did," she muttered, gathering the clothes and putting them into the drawer across from you.

Which was a lie, you knew she was upset because you disagreed with her thoughts of not putting lena into school right now.

You brushed your fingers through her red hair trying your best to comfort her, "I understand there's a risk baby but I want her to have a normal child hood"

Natasha chuckles in disbelief,

"You understand nothing."

You scoff, "Natasha? She's my kid too so what don't I understand?" You started walking across the other side of the room away from her.

"Please, humor me." You sat down in the chair next to the open window, your hands slapping your knee as you sat down.

A blank stare on her face caused you to raise an eyebrow, bouncing your leg impatiently waiting for an answer.

It wasn't surprising that you and Natasha got into an argument today, it was always bound to happen. Sooner or later.

"You do shit like this all the time," she mumbles under her breath, trying to make it hard for you to hear.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Natasha?"

Your wife clutches the shirt in hand, more frustration clouding her eyes as she stares at you. She clearly didn't have an explanation, only acting on impulse.

"Am I the one who forged our divorce? If anybody does stupid shit it's you not me." You protest, rubbing your fingers on your temple.

But there's something about crawling under Natasha's skin that pumps you up. Toying with her is what got you here, having two of her kids and married to her for seven years.

She ignores your directed comment, "There's too many risks."

"She's not attending school and that's final," Natasha grumbled, her head was filled with your nagging comments.

"Nat -" you tried to reason with her.

"Don't" She growls, snapping her eyes up at you.

Your mouth clicks shut, "Sorry," you mumble. She knows how well you respond when she gets pissed off.

Sometimes you can't believe the effect Natasha has on you.

She knows your weaknesses and has no problem showing her mastery over you. Something you craved over the past few months, something a certain someone couldn't give you.

You haven't told Natasha, you figured if she ever found out a another woman came around the house, she'll probably kill the girl.

She's too possessive of you to share you with anyone else. It'll tear her ego down, make her seem like she doesn't have control anymore.

—

"What do you know about banana bread, bunny?" Natasha laughs, hearing your daughter talk about how much she loved the taste of the dessert at the dinner table.

Lena giggles with a wide smile, "Miss Maximoff always makes some for me and mommy" she grins, picking up her last nugget eating it innocently.

Fear was written across your faces as you avoided contact with your wife. Natasha furrows her eyebrows at you, mouthing something you couldn't quite pick up on.

You stood up, "Let's put you to bed baby."

Natasha stared daggers at you, continuing to watch you walk away but you tried your best to not turn around.

The anticipation of waiting for you to get back sent nat over the edge causing her to throw everything off her desk.

"Fuck!" she screamed.

You heard nat scream through the door as your hand hovered over the door nob. You took a short breath to get yourself together before entering.

The door shut behind you, Natasha turned around instantly averting all of her attention to you.

"Natasha"

Before you could finish your sentence, she already had her hand wrapped around your neck causing you to inhale shakily, "Please baby."

Your wife clenched her jaw, staring into your eyes making you feel small under her grasp.

"Did she fuck you?" For a moment you saw her eyes darken, her hands starting to grip tighter forcing you to answer her question with a quivering voice, "No"

She released her hand, slamming it on the wall beside you, "Don't fucking lie to me!"

Your eyes welled up with tears and your body shook at the sudden movement she made. You and Wanda didn't have anything special she was nice but she was too nice for you.

You needed something stronger, you wanted Natasha hence why you never went further than a kiss on the cheek. But in this moment something clicked in you.

You needed her.

You looked up at the red head, moving down onto your knees. You wanted Natasha to know that you were hers and no one else's.

"Get up," she gritted.

Ignoring her statement you unbuttoned her pants pulling it lower until her underwear came off. Her dick sprung free ready to be sucked by you.

After a long pause, she moved forward grabbing your head forcing her cock into your mouth. Your tongue sliding along her length as you bobbed your head up and down. She groaned, holding onto the wall, "She could never fill you up like this" she said between pants.

You locked eyes with your wife who was watching you with pure lust in her gaze. Natasha cleared her throat, cock twitching from her own thoughts.

"You don't deserve my cock, detka."

She smiles at the whimpers that escaped you. Her hips started to move and you moaned.

"You shouldn't be sucking dick like a slutty little whore"

Tearing your gaze away from the cock, which was dripping with pre cum, you stared straight into her piercing orbs.

"We didn't have sex, Natty." You whispered, voice mildly hoarse already.

Natasha's face was flushed, cock weeping precum still.

She hadn't realized how close she was to coming until you stopped. "I know.you wouldn't do that to me," was all she uttered as you moved to take her again.

Natasha groaned, every word dying on her lips as your mouth was back on her cock. "Oh...just like that detka... fuck your mouth takes me so well..." You glanced upwards, watching her throat bob as she tilted her head completely back. A low, husky moan left her lips as you swallowed.

The sound of your daughter's voice from down the hall made you pull back. Saliva and cum dripping down your face as Natasha groaned at the sight, painting your face with her milk-white cum.

She forced your mouth open with her hand, releasing the rest of her cum into your mouth. Seeing you drop to your knees for her and pleasing her needs without asking made her proud. It made her thirst for you more.

You quickly got off your knees in a hurry, rolling your eyes at your crazed wife for making a mess of your face while trying to get up.

"Put your dick in your pants before your daughter comes in here" you whispered by her ear, a demanding tone that surprised natasha.

Quickly walking to the bathroom to clean your face, the sound of your daughter's voice getting closer to the room startled Natasha as she buckled up her pants.

"Mama, where's mommy? I can't sleep" Her hair was all over her head, fingers rubbing her tired eyes.

You shouted from the bathroom, "Mommy's coming baby!"

You threw your face towel down, walking out of the bathroom being met with Natasha sitting on the bed with the little girl tracing her tattoos, her head on her mama's chest.

Lena looked up with a smile making your heartmelt at the sight. "Why was mama screaming earlier?" She questioned, tilting her head.

Natasha bursted into laughter, you quickly sent her a pointed look causing her to quiet down. You sighed at your daughters question, "Nothing love, I was helping her with something"

Lena was even more confused than before, it was written all over her face but she shrugged her shoulders letting it go.

Nat smiled at her confusions, leaning down to kiss the temple of her head.

You smiled at the interaction it made you realize no matter the fights or arguments you and Natasha will have she'll forever be here to love you and the kids.

And you'll always love Natasha.

Even if that meant you needed her more than she needed you.

Needed Me

Tags:

@starfire1008@viosblog112@dvrkhcld@ciao00000111 @ddreader04@twentyonetornmyheart @pancakefan7529@widowstingsposts @rosea-reginae @coxlong

[the-offside-rule]

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - Un Poco Secreto

Requested: yes

Prompts: 39) "Like what you see?"

40) "Ah, ah, ah, no touching."

41) "Do that thing I like."

Warnings: smut, age gap, overstimulation, fighting over being a dom, alonso!daughter x Carlos Sainz

Y/n gasped as she felt her back hit the door, before Carlos pounced and their lips connected once again. Carlos grunted in disapproval as he reached for the door handle of his Hotel room, trying his best not to break the kiss he had with Y/n. He could feel her smile against his lips. "Having trouble?" She challenged. "Shut...up." He replied simply, making her laugh. "What? I'm just saying what I see." Carlos looked back at her. "Do you want to go back to your room?" He asked. Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "Fine, I'll-" She went to walk past him before Carlos finally opened his door and brought her with him. "We are never going to your room, your room is always beside your father or someone else we know." He said before his lips attacked her neck. She hummed in response. "You're literally right next to Charles."

"That's not the same." He whispered, pushing her towards the bed and taking off his shirt. "And you don't think the team will be suspicious of you going missing?" She asked, her brow arched as Carlos flung his Ferrari shirt to the side and focusing on the buckle of his belt. "I don't give a fuck what they think." He replied, finally getting around the buckle and pulling his trousers down. "Now, let's get to the matter of business." He tugged at the sides of her shorts. "Why the shorts today?" Y/n chuckled as she watched him fiddle with the zipper. "I thought they looked good on me." She replied simply. "And you know, I agree. But keep these for our 'outings' in Monaco." He said, pulling them down and throwing them right next to his shirt.

"Did they drive you that crazy?" She asked as he loomed over her. "Princesa, I drove past the pit wall just to get a look at you, nevermind what I was thinking of doing to you in them." His lips trailed down her toned torso, leaving gentle kisses as he did. Y/n shivered with the feeling, looking down through hooded eyes and seeing the spaniard biting her lace panties and pulling at them. She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. "Show me what you want to do to me." Carlos' lips left a wet trail of hungry kisses all over her, even leaving traces of lilac bruises in a few spots where no one would see them, but in the event someone would, they would know she belonged to him; his own personal stamp.

"As much as I'm enjoying this-" She paused, rolling the pair over and pushing him down into the mattress. "I'd much prefer if I was on top this time." Carlos' brows knotted in confusion. "Why? Do you think I don't do a good enough job?" He asked. "No, I just think I could do better." Grinning, Carlos relaxed into the bed, his hands resting behind his head, watching closely as Y/N straddled him and sat comfortably on his hips. She slowly pulled off her shirt, revealing a matching bra. His lips parted as he took a breath in. "Like what you see?" She asked, running her fingers up his abs. His fingers ran up her thighs until his hands had a firm grip of her ass. She tapped his hands away. "Ah, ah, ah, no touching, Carlitos." She purred. Carlos smirked as he watched her tower over him. "I think you're in for a very long night." Carlos chuckled. "Is that a promise?" He shivered at that question. "I swear." He replied.

Y/n lined herself up with Carlos' cock, teasing by making him wait much longer than he would ever have to. "Please, amor. Just let me feel you." She smiled at his pathetic pleads and gave him what he desired. Her head fell bad in ecstacy as she slid down, trying her best to take him all as best she could. "You need to relax, you don't don't have all of it yet." A wild grin appeared on her face. "Egotistical much?" She was quickly shut up by Carlos raising his hips slightly and pushing in just a bit more. She bit her lip to muffle her moan yet she failed miserably. "You're sounding like you're enjoying this too much." He grimaced as his hands slowly traced lines on the skin of her thigh again. She groaned in annoyance, grabbing his hands and pulling them up over his head, pinning them to the headboard. He looked at her, an element of surprise on his face. "Don't be so impatient." Her hips moved agonisingly slow as she watched how Carlos' mouth fell open. "Eso se siente bien." He groaned, his head falling back into the pillow, showing his delicious jawline. "Me has enseñado bien." She whispered, kissing his throat and continuing on. "You're going to be the death of me, amor."

As she rode him she felt herself coming closer to her high and Carlos could feel it. Her walls tightened around him and her grip on his wrists became tighter as her mind focused on her orgasm. "Lo estás haciendo muy bien, amor. Sigue adelante." Although they were both Spanish, something did it for him speaking to her in Spanish. She felt herself crumbling as his words helped to cloud her mind before she finally reached her high, riding it out and her grip loosening. Once she stopped, she looked down at Carlos, a small and innocent smile on her lips. The smile soon left her face as she saw him look at her like a lion looks at its prey. "My turn." Before she could say another word, Carlos was on top, the long pieces of his hair dangling down near Y/n's forehead. He slid in, earning a moan from Y/n. She gripped his shoulders as he began at a relentless pace, making her overstimulated. She struggled to make any sounds, the noise stuck in her throat. "I can't hear you princesa." He whispered in her ear as he dropped to his forearms, his thrusts going deeper. Almost like he gave her permission, the sinful sounds came from her lips. "Fuck, Carlos." She said, her voice strained. She felt his grin against the skin on the crook of her neck.

Suddenly, Carlos felt a sharp sensation on his shoulder. He winced and raised his head, seeing Y/n pull away. "What are you-"

"Oh what? So you get to mark me but I can't leave my mark on you?" Carlos chuckled, pulling out. Y/n looked at his, desperation for her to orgasm a second time in her eyes. "He lay on his back again and grabbed her hand, lowering it down to his cock. "I want to watch you do it." He rasped. Y/n bit her lip, once again sitting up once again and straddling him. Her hips rocked back and fourth. She lowered herself down so her head would rest on his chest. Her lips explored his chest, bruises being staining his skin like watercolour stains a blank canvas. "Fuck." He mumbled. He could feel himself getting closer. He gripped her hips and began with his sloppy thrusts. Y/n's hands roamed his body. "Hold the headboard." He instructed, getting annoyed with the wandering hands. She reached up and held the headboard as it banged against the wall, undoubtedly chipping the wall. She felt a hand reach up and grab one of her tits, squeezing and playing with them as if it were a toy, but she liked it. She felt herself coming to a second orgasm sooner than she expected, but she wasn't complaining.

As the pair rode out their orgasms, their panting and the smell of sex filled the room. Y/n had climbed off Carlos and lay beside him, a comfortable silence surrounding them. Carlos, tracing circles on Y/n's hand, suddenly looked deep into her eyes. She knotted her brows. "What?" She asked. "I can't believe how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life." She laughs, slapping his bare chest as if he was joking and trying to be cliche, but when her eyes went back to his, they held the most sincerest look she had ever seen. "You make me feel like me." He paused. "You're my everything." Y/n smiled, playing with Carlos's hair. "You're my everything too, Carlos, but-"

He groaned knowing where this was going. "Not again." He mumbled, turning to lay on his back. "Carlos." She started. "We have to tell him. He will kill me if we don't." She said. "He will kill me if we do!" He retorted. "Carlos, we have to tell my dad. I have to tell my dad." Carlos looked as her chin rested on his chest. He couldn't help but feel so terribly bad. "He is going to kill us." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "Maybe, but I want to actually come to you without having to be so secretive." He had to admit, the whole secret thing was getting ridiculous. Even the simplest thing like liking one another's posts can and would be investigated by fans; it's what they did. "Can I think about what I'm going to say? I don't think he's going to appreciate me going out with his daughter who is ten years younger than me."

"Nine and a half years younger." She corrected. "Like that changes it." He rolled his eyes. "Carlos, if we don't tell him I'm not going to be with you. We have kept this secret for almost a year now and I would like to actually go out with you outside the paddock." Carlos sighed and looked between her eyes. He couldn't say no to her. "Okay, I'm not sure when we will but we will." He lifted her hand to rest on his chest. "As long as my heart beats, it's yours and since it's yours, it will do what you ask." Y/n smiled. "Will it let me bring you to the shower?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I have to head back to the paddock to get some work done." Carlos replied, kissing her. "But we can tomorrow morning." She nodded as she got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom whilst Carlos got up and collected his clothes, promptly dressing himself. "Jesus fucking christ." Carlos muttered, looking at his bare chest in the mirror. "My finest work yet." Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around him and pecking his shoulder. He hummed, a tone of unamusement lingering. "At least its less noticeable than-" He paused, turning to Y/n in her towel. "Than whatever the fuck I have done to you." He was of course referring to the many bruises left on her collarbone and all down her torso. "I can't even wear my nice dress to dinner with my dad now." She uttered, faking her sadness. "If it's any consolation, mi amor, Fernando thinks that dress will prompt the single and younger drivers to make a move on you and he doesn't want that." His arms wrapped around her waist, resting on her lower back. "He has nothing to worry about. I have my old and not-so-single driver right here." She joked. "They could never do what I do." Y/n arched a brow. "You don't think Oscar would-"

"Get out before you make me even more late!"

[brokenmenswhore]

lessons | aegon ii targaryen

pairings: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: in search on the streets of silk for your husband, you find his brother in a compromising position

warnings: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), i’ve never written smut before so that’s a warning in itself

part 2

────── ☾ ──────

“Where is Aemond this morning?” you asked.

“I do not know, My Lady,” your handmaiden answered answered, “my apologies. He has not been seen since right after supper.”

You nodded.

You always felt a disconnect from your husband, your marriage existing mostly for political reasons. You weren’t sure where he went at night, but you had your suspicions, and you weren’t attached to him enough to let them bother you. You actually found yourself more attracted to his older brother, but he was already married, so it couldn’t matter.

Your handmaidens prepared you for the day before allowing you to leave your apartment.

“I think tonight we should all have breakfast together, don’t you?” Alicent spoke from behind you as you walked down the Red Keep halls.

Her voice caught you off guard. “Your Grace, yes, I think that would be nice.”

She smiled. “I think now, more than ever, we need to stress the importance of family. If you could wrangle in that husband of yours, it would be greatly appreciated. I already told Aegon, but he’s run off of course.”

“I will do my best,” you promised her.

She gave your arm a squeeze before walking away, the Commander of the King’s Guard close behind her.

Trying to find Aemond was almost useless. He grew up in King’s Landing, and knew every secret passageway, every shop, every darkened corner- and you barely knew your way around the Red Keep alone. You didn’t know King’s Landing, and you couldn’t outsmart them if you tried. But you knew men.

“Liyana,” you whispered, shuffling back into your room. Your handmaiden was rearranging the bed when she looked up at you. “Yes?”

“How do I get to the Street of Silk?”

Liyana’s eyes widened and she inhaled a deep breath. “My Lady, do forgive me, but whatever would you need there?”

You sighed, wanting to get along with this search, suspecting Aemond to be there every night, not realizing your handmaiden would be such an obstacle to overcome.

“I have my reasons, I promise, please. I don’t know my way around King’s Landing. I trust you. I need you,” you begged, “please. I think my husband is there. I need to retrieve him. Please.”

Liyana took pity on you and the desperation in your voice. “Quickly, if anyone sees you there it will bring even more gossip toward the Targaryen name. And I am only doing this because I like you.”

You gave Liyana and thankful smile as she fetched hooded robes to travel through the streets. While a few months ago, you could remain anonymous, the whole of King’s Landing attended Prince Aemond Targaryen’s wedding, and you are unfortunately not hard to spot, as the only (honorary) Targaryen without the staple silver hair.

“Luckily Aemond can’t be hard to miss,” you whispered to Liyana, “the man is a giant.”

This caused Liyana to giggle. She had never done something like this, and never been treated so friendly by someone she had to serve.

The further into the street you walked, the louder the moans got. At every turn, there was a woman crying out in pleasure, a pleasure you didn’t understand. You had had sex, once, on your wedding night and it was nothing like what you were witnessing. Were these woman okay? Were you the one who wasn’t okay? Was this how men wanted their wives? Why wouldn’t Aemond just tell you this?

You felt strange peeking into the rooms with cracked doors, through every curtain, into every crevice with bodies to check for Aemond.

“I must return, please, My Lady. Will you be safe?” Liyana questioned.

“Yes, I will be just fine. Thank you for your assistance. Return safely,” you replied.

Liyana smiled and walked away.

You continued scanning every street corner to no avail, until you decided to check the brothels. You didn’t really want to go in one, but you figured Aemond would know better than to be so obvious with his infidelities.

You snuck into one of the brothels, feeling gross about creeping on every couple or throuple, but anyone who caught you looking didn’t seem to mind. You peeked through one cracked door, and that’s when you saw him.

Aegon was laying naked on the bed, a girl in between his legs, his cock down her throat. You gasped but quickly covered your mouth to avoid being heard.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You watched as a sigh left his lips, head thrown back as he grabbed the back of the woman’s head.

A part of you felt constant pangs of jealousy, but a part of you felt… good? There was an inexplicable throbbing between your legs that you couldn’t place.

Aegon bunched up the woman’s hair and began to push and pull her up and down, groaning and whimpering as he did so. His other arm held him up on his elbow, watching what the woman was doing to him. It was like nothing you’d ever seen.

That’s when someone bumped into your back, pushing you into the door, causing you to stumble through the door.

The woman halted, trying to pull her mouth off of him, but Aegon held her on. He didn’t stop for anything, looking you straight in the eyes while he continued to move her head up and down.

You coughed and began to turn out of the room. “I- uh, I’m just-“ you pointed out the doorway, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna go.”

You rushed out of the brothel, realizing you had no clue where you were. You spun around a few times before completely giving up, ready to just ask the woman at the front of the door how to get back to the Red Keep.

“Y/N!” Aegon called, running out the door in hopes of catching you.

You hid your face from him, blush obvious and a statement of how ashamed you felt.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asked casually, as if you didn’t just see what you just saw.

“I was looking for Aemond,” is all you could say.

“All the way down here?” Aegon tsked, “not likely.”

This frustrated you. “No, I really was! I figured he was here. I was just looking for him when I saw-“

Aegon gave you a wide grin, waiting for you to finish the sentence. “When you saw what?”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

Aegon sighed in such annoyance at the title that he actually threw his head back and then walked closer to you.

“If you call me ‘Your Grace’ or ‘My King’ one more time-“

“You’ll what?” you retorted.

Aegon had always hated when you called him by a proper title. It always made him angry, and he always threw his hands up before saying something like, “fuck, would you just call me Aegon? For the millionth time-“

Aegon smiled. “Do you understand what you just saw?”

The question caught you off guard. You didn’t really want to answer it, but you knew there was no way out of this, and besides, Aegon probably knew the way home. “No.”

“Do you wish to?”

“Do I wish to what?” you asked for elaboration.

“Do you wish to understand?”

It felt as if there was a right answer and a wrong answer, but seven hells if you weren’t inclined to pick the wrong answer. You hadn’t found Aemond, which means he may not be committing infidelities after all, but you also hadn’t checked every brothel. Even if he was cheating, does that mean you could? Your marriage felt like nothing more than a legally binding contract, so was it even really cheating?

“Aemond doesn’t have to know.”

You looked at Aegon and contemplated his words. “Is he here?”

“How should I know?”

“I don’t know, you’re related.”

“You’re married to him.”

You raised your eyebrows in a “fair enough” kind of way. You wanted to understand so bad, to act on this excitement you felt when you saw him in there with her, but you were so scared.

“What happens on this street is not for the Red Keep, Y/N,” Aegon spoke, gently moving your hair to one side, “it can be just you and me.”

You nodded your head yes as Aegon led you to the room you had caught him in. The woman was still in there, waiting for his return.

“Get out,” he commanded, eyes never leaving yours.

“Me?” the woman asked.

His eyes were still on you when he said, ���yes. Out.”

He held coins out in his hand for her to grab as she passed, exiting the room and allowing Aegon to close the door.

“Does doing this kind of stuff make you feel better?” you asked, curious as to what he was doing down here so early in the morning, especially when you knew he was dealing with a lot.

“In more ways than one, darling.”

The pet name made you shiver.

“What has Aemond taught you?” he asked.

You looked at him confused. “How to make a babe.”

“That’s it?” he asked in disbelief.

“I really don’t know what more there would be to it then that,” you admitted honestly.

Aegon sighed at your innocence. There was a whole world of pleasure out there that he could teach you about.

“Do you trust me?” Aegon asked.

“Yes.”

Aegon removed your hooded cloak and made quick work of anything on your torso, leaving your breasts exposed. He quickly attached his mouth to one, sucking like it had been forever since he was given what he needed. This you didn’t need an explanation for. Aegon’s mommy issues were obvious.

Once he made significant work of almost bruising your boobs, he stood back up, and moved his face toward yours.

“Fuck, Y/N, please let me kiss you.”

All the tension that had been building in you from the second you saw him that first time, ethereal, seated on the Iron Throne, came crashing down. You grabbed his head and pulled him into a heated kiss, not even allowing time for anything soft or gentle. Aegon moaned into your mouth, one of his hands finding its way to your underclothes. He began to very gently rub on top of your underclothes, causing you to squeak into the kiss.

“Sh, angel, it’s okay, it’s supposed to feel like that. Have you never touched yourself here?”

You blushed. “To- ha- myself?”

“Again, I just can’t find it in me to believe you.”

You let out a soft whimper as Aegon’s hand made it’s way under your small clothes, a finger running up and down right in between your folds. Your legs buckled a bit from the pleasure and sensation of the unfamiliar touch, and you grabbed Aegon’s shoulders. He noticed your struggle, and pushed you until you were back against a wall.

“Feel good?” he checked.

“Mhm,” was all you could get out.

“Use your words, angel,” he commanded, “tell me it feels good.”

You let out a moan. “It f- feels good.”

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, moving further down to slowly insert his middle finger into your soaking wet hole.

You gasped, not used to the unfamiliar sensation. He simply watched you, seeing how your face contorted with every push and pull of his finger, as his thumb began to rub circles on your clit. He leaned down to kiss your neck, biting down hard before licking and kissing at the bruise. You instinctively threw your head back, giving him more access to your neck as he continued to touch you. You let out whimper after whimper, but that wasn’t enough for Aegon.

He pulled his hand out, pushing your underclothes all the way down and directing you to lay on the bed.

“What you just saw?” he started, “it feels like this, but for me.”

You were about to ask what he meant when he grabbed your thighs, forcibly holding them apart as his tongue licked a long strip in between your legs. He couldn’t resist immediately eating you like a man starved, tongue twirling and flicking like he was deranged and his only sanity was watching you come.

He re-entered a finger into your hole, mouth still focused on your clit, and then entered another finger into your hole, curling both when they were fully inserted.

You remembered what you had just walked in on, and you grabbed the back of Aegon’s head, lightly pulling on his hair. Aegon moaned at the pulling, sending vibrations straight through your core, causing you to shiver.

He continued his assault on you until you felt a strange and unfamiliar feeling, like all the tension in your body was rising at a rapid rate.

“I feel you, angel, let go for me.”

At his words, the tension broke, and you came onto his fingers. He left them inside of you until your legs stopped shaking, pulling them out and making eye contact with you before he put both fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean of your juices.

You took a second to reset, but when you did, you sat up and said, “do we switch places now?”

“Catching on quickly, I see,” Aegon smiled, “you ready to learn?”

You nodded, sinking to your knees as he sat with his legs hanging off the bed.

“You have to be a good girl for me, can you do that?” Aegon asked you, and the question went straight to your core.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Aegon.”

“Try again.”

You looked up at him. He constantly told you not to call him by a title and insisted you only called him Aegon. Was it because the title ignited something within him?

“Yes, My King.”

“Perfect,” he hummed.

After giving his cock a few strokes, he reached out for your hand. “Put this hand here,” he said, showing you how to grab the base of his length with your right hand, “and you can move your hand up and down when your mouth can’t take all of me.”

“So I just- do it?” you asked.

“If you’d like,” Aegon said.

You licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the head, opened your mouth, and began sinking onto his length.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “good job, just watch your teeth. Hollow out your cheeks, good girl.”

You did as he said, getting a bit more comfortable with how to perform the act. You began experimenting with moving faster, and with moving your tongue around, licking the tip of his cock as you bobbed your head.

Aegon grabbed your head, just as he did the woman, and started to take liberties with his own pleasure. He threw his head back, whines leaving his lips as he began to hit the back of your throat. You gagged, but he quickly worked to calm you down, saying “relax, baby, that’s part of it, just breathe through your nose- fuck.”

You continued to obey, doing whatever he suggested, until you felt the muscle spasm and a hot, bitter liquid hit the back of your throat.

Aegon held your head for another moment, ensuring everything had gone into your mouth before pulling out.

Even when he pulled out, he moved to hold your mouth closed as he said, “swallow.” You did as he asked before he loosened his grip. “Good girl.”

You stayed there, on your knees, waiting for his next instruction. He stood up, tucked his cock back into his breeches, and held out his hand to assist you up. You looked at him confused, having not even gotten to the part you actually knew.

“Angel, it’s early and we have a breakfast to attend, I can teach you more later.”

[delulujuls]

the prettiest boy in the paddock | op81

hi there, here comes the 1.3k of wholesome fluff with the pastry boi. its just-uh, i already know that i wanna write a part two for this so watch out!

summary: oscar is feeling a bit down but little does he know that for two people out there he is the prettiest boy in the paddock

warnings: none

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri (ft. lando)

Oscar never had an opinion about his appearance.

Whenever someone asked him if he considered himself as an attractive guy, he would just shrug. Passing by shop windows, mirrors, or surfaces reflecting his image, he never stopped to check if he looked good. The same applied to taking pictures of him. He never needed to have a say in them; he didn't feel the need to improve any shot, as he might not look favorable in it. If the photographer thought he looked great, who was he to judge?

This, of course, didn't mean that Oscar didn't take care of himself; quite the opposite. The Aussie was always neat, smelled good, and sometimes even used hair conditioner, lip balm or even a hand cream. Looking at him, you could notice a handsome, young man with a well-built, slim figure, a pleasant gaze, and an infectious smile.

The fact that Oscar was attractive was especially noticeable on social media. He was adored by fans. The papaya army loved the McLaren duo, and Oscar was no less popular with the ladies than Lando. If anything, sometimes it seemed like his name was shouted even louder.

His teammates also shared the same opinion. Oscar was a good-looking lad, so it wasn't surprising that during conferences, interviews or casual conversations Lando couldn't take his eyes off him and Y/N took every opportunity to throw compliments at him. However, these compliments were one hundred percent sincere and true and Oscar took them very personally, blushing like never before. These compliments were perceived as harmless, friendly jokes by the public, but both Y/N and Lando believed that their friend was the indeed the most beautiful.

However, this didn't change the fact that sometimes Oscar had a bad day. This was one of those days.

With the hood pulled low over his head, the person in the orange McLaren hoodie entered the dining room. Y/N was slowly having her breakfast, scrolling through social media. She usually went for meals early to avoid crowds and have some time to clear her head. Her surprise was evident when someone pulled a chair next to her and took a seat.

"Oscar?" the girl asked in surprise, barely able to see her friend's face under the hood. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He muttered under his breath and opened a small chocolate packet, pouring it over his pancakes.

Y/N blinked several times, holding her phone in her hand. Clearly, something was off.

"Is something wrong?"

Oscar shook his head and leaned his elbow on the table. He ate in a hunched position, with his back slouched. It looked like he was hiding from someone. Or hiding something.

"You haven't convinced me."

She replied, putting down her sandwich.

The Aussie ate in silence. Only his chin and chocolate-stained lips were visible under the hood. Y/N looked at him, waiting, but when she saw it was better to drop the subject, she returned to her breakfast and scrolling through Instagram.

When Y/N finished eating, she glanced at her friend one last time. He still sat with his head down, swiping his finger on his phone screen. She gathered her things, planning to leave the dining room, realizing there was no chance for a normal chat with Oscar.

"See you around, grumpy."

As she stood up, she heard a quiet question.

"Can you help me?"

Y/N paused and finished her coffee.

"Of course I'll help you, but first I need to know in what matter."

She replied without hesitation, looking down at him. He raised his head and for the first time that day, she had the chance to look at his face.

"Do you have a moment now?"

The girl checked her phone's clock and nodded.

"To my room, then."

Once they were in her room, she sat on the bed and Oscar, after closing the door behind him, walked slowly into the room.

"I'm all ears."

He took his hands out of his pockets and sat next to his friend. He sighed and took off the hood, turning his face toward Y/N in silence. She looked at him surprised, studying him.

"What? You don't have the answer written on your face."

"I do," he replied tartly "You don't see gow terrible i look?"

Y/N furrowed her brows. She had no idea what he was talking about. He looked exactly the same as always.

"You look cute, just like every day."

She said playfully, smiling, but he wasn't in the mood for jokes. He lowered his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Acne," he said, resigned, lowering his hands to his knees. "It's worse than ever."

She gently touched his chin and turned his face towards her. Oscar avoided eye contact. He felt embarrassed, unsure whether he was more ashamed of coming to her with such a thing or of his appearance.

"If you want me to help, first, don't touch your face like you did a moment ago."

The girl smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead with her hand.

The Aussie looked into her eyes and, seeing her smile, he felt a little more confident.

"Can you help me with this? I have no idea what to do."

"You're lucky you're friends with someone who has half a Walmart in their makeup bag."

Y/N smiled and stood up, going to the bathroom. After a moment, she returned with a pink headband, which she placed on Oscar's head to keep his hair away from his face.

"Have you washed your face today?"

Oscar nodded.

"What do you use for face wash? Tell me about your skincare routine."

To be honest, there was nothing much to talk about.

"Uh, I wash my face with water, morning and night, when I take a shower."

Y/N blinked several times and looked at him in shock.

"And that's it?"

He just nodded. To his surprise, his friend smiled and clapped her hands.

"Great, I can teach you everything."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Oscar replied uncertainly, but he obediently stood up and followed the girl to the bathroom.

"Don't worry; it won't be anything crazy" Y/N said and took her face wash gel in her hand "It's gonna be Piastri's friendly skincare."

He listened to her even more carefully than when he analyzed the race result with the strategists. He asked when he had doubts, trying to remember every word she said. When he finished washing his face, she applied a gentle scrub and face mask after. After that, it was the time fot rest of the skincare routine. Y/N took a bit of cream on her fingers, which finished off all the major skincare. She crouched down in front of him and smiled, applying the cream to his face.

"Smile, Osc. You are beautiful."

Piastri involuntarily smiled at her compliment.

"Immediately better."

She added, massaging the remaining cream into her hands. For some imperfections, she applied a clear, specialized ointment and removed the headband from his head. She stood up, taking a brush and combing his hair.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Oscar replied, looking at her from below. His brown eyes sparkled as he raised his head to look at his friend.

"You are welcome, pretty boy."

She replied. She wanted to kiss his cheeks but refrained, partly because of the multi-step skincare routine on his face, and partly because Oscar was her friend. But mostly, it was about skincare.

"And you're beautiful, don't forget that."

"Of course, I am" a loud interjection from Lando was heard as he entered the room, making himself comfortable in it, quickly appearing in the bathroom "What's going on here and why without me?"

"You miss everything because you're the last one to get up"

Y/N replied, putting her things back into her cosmetic bag.

"Not true, don't be mean."

Lando retorted, but quickly his gaze turned towards Oscar and the Brit smiled at the sight of him "Wow, Osc, what a glow, mate!"

"Y/N did her hundred-step skincare on me."

"Really? Why are you torturing our friend?" Norris asked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to the Aussie.

"I asked her myself," the younger boy replied before the girl spoke up, ready to throw some sort of retort at her friend, "I wasn't feeling very confident this morning, my acne was killing me a bit and it's gotten worse lately."

Oscar admitted, still a little embarrassed by his problem.

"Aw, Oscar," Lando wrapped his arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "You'd win the competition for the prettiest boy in the paddock."

Piastri blushed and lowered his gaze. A slight smile appeared on his rosy lips.

"Oh yes, you would definitely win."

Y/N replied and put her makeup bag aside, also sitting next to Piastri and kissing his other cheek, feeling a bit more confident after Lando did the exact same thing. Oscar blushed even more and raised his hands to hide his face, but lowered them halfway.

"I can't touch my face, damn it!"

[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call…

summary: you send a nude to the wrong number, you don’t expect what happens next.

warnings: Leah, yeah that’s a warning, suggestive themes

a/n: one of my favourite of bits of writing ngl

word count: 2.1k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

-

You’ve never felt dread like it.

“Shit shit shit!” You repeat as you try and stop the message from sending.

The woosh and the delivered sign told you it had already been spat out into the ether. You want to leave the city. The country even. Perhaps fill the next available spot on a space shuttle.

All of the above possibilities rattle through your brain as you pull your t-shirt down from where it was hitched around your neck. Yank your shorts up from where they lay low on your hips.

“I’m dead. I am so dead!”

If your heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely was now.

Panic sets in as you contemplate the impending fallout. Terrible thoughts race through your mind, and you highly consider drafting an apology that somehow erases the embarrassment. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and groveling seems like the only viable option.

Could she get you benched? Maybe. Could she stop you from getting another international call up? You really fucking hoped not.

In the midst of your demise, you realise another sorry soul will have to bear the consequences of your actions. Bar Girl. The intended recipient of the half naked photo you signed, sealed and delivered to someone else.

You decide, rightly or not, that she has now become collateral damage. And the decision to ghost her emerges as a seemingly reasonable response.

The potential repercussions from your inadvertent exposure now cast a grim shadow on all aspects of your life, making abandoning Bar Girl a desperate attempt to shield yourself from further embarrassment.

The idea of changing your identity hovers temptingly in your periphery.

Desperation takes hold, and for a moment, you entertain the delusional thought that maybe you had imagined the whole debacle in some lustful daze. However, when a subtle movement on screen catches your attention, reality hands you a more damning blow – the weight of the situation crashes down as ‘read’ replaces the once-hopeful ‘delivered’.

Acknowledgement from Leah has shifted from a delivery confirmation to active viewing.

As if it had just set alight in your hands, you hurl your phone across the room. The reality sets in that there’s no turning back; the message, along with its aftermath, is now etched into the digital realm.

The room echoes with the crash of your phone meeting the wall. As the device lies discarded, its screen cracked, you’re left to face the reality that there’s no undoing the chain of events.

In a desperate release, you roll over and scream into your pillow until the muffled sound becomes an agonizing buzz in your ears.

-

The next day hits hard as you trudge into the changing room. You barely slept. Tossing and turning most of the night in an anxious bubble. And when exhaustion finally took over, your dreams were more like nightmares.

You were tempted to call in sick. But you decided that wallowing in your own despair would probably just make matters worse. So you settled on a compromise.

Avoid Leah at all costs.

Your hood hangs low over your face as you pass by several of your teammates and make a silent beeline for your cubby. But that may have piqued their interests more, as Beth finds herself invading the space you so desperately crave.

“You look rough. Bar Girl give you a run for your money?”

“Something like that” you grumble, hands making quick work of unpacking your bag.

She hums at you and smirks at how disheveled you look when your hoodie comes off. You know where her mind has gone, but you don’t try and dissuade her from writing an excuse for you.

“So, when are you going to make it official then? You’ve been talking for almost a month right?” Beth asks, her eyes flitting around your face and down your neck in search of marks left behind.

You offer a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure if I will. I’ve still got the feelers out” you reply, the words sounding awkward and detached even to your own ears.

Beth raises an eyebrow, you gather it’s not the response she expected. Especially from you.

“That doesn’t sound like you”

“No?”

“I thought you were all about the long game?”

You offer a half-smile, choosing your words carefully. “Opinions change, you know?” you reply, slipping your training kit over your head and turning away to fold your discarded clothes, hoping she’d get the point.

Beth studies you for a moment, her eyes searching for something beyond the surface. “Fair enough. Keep us posted though yeah? She seemed nice”

You wince at her words. Jesus, you felt like a bitch, but you nod anyway. It seems to do enough. When you hear her walk away, you release a breath.

“Oh” she voices unexpectedly behind you, and you immediately tense up again. “Leah’s asking for you”

You turn on your heels, spinning so fast you almost topple over. “Did she say what it was about?” You ask. You try not to seem nervous but the sweat above your brow is giving you away.

“No. Just that she wants you to meet her in the gym when you’re ready”

You nod again, and swallow hard. Your throat was dry and you felt like you could pass out. “Sure, yeah. I’ll head there in a second”

Beth eyes you again suspiciously but when she eventually turns and leaves the room, you’re left to grapple with your jitters in solitude

“Shit” you mutter to yourself. And as you stand there trying to regain yourself, it becomes very apparent that you don’t actually have a back up plan.

If you really do lose minutes on the pitch, your career could be on the line.

Conscious that you've already left her waiting too long, you dart out of the room with a newfound sense of urgency.

The corridors blur as you navigate the familiar path, the door to the gym looming larger with each stride. And when you get there you’re out of breath and clammy.

Is it weird to say you're grateful that a door handle is cold against your skin? Perhaps, but you are. It grounds you a little as you stand there panicking.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you open the door and step into the gym at last. The air feels charged with anticipation as you brace yourself for a meeting that could have repercussions far beyond the boundaries of the training facility.

But Leah is nowhere to be found. The lights are all off and the room looks the same as it was left the day before.

Is Beth having you on? Or is Leah trying to mess you around, torture you until you break down and leave on your own accord.

Don’t be so silly. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

“Hey”

You jump out of your skin as the silence is disrupted. You turn in fright and she’s lucky she’s so far away because you're a fighter, not a flighter, and you’re sure you would’ve punched her straight in the face.

“Why the hell are you hiding in the dark? You idiot!” you blurt out, the initial shock now giving way to frustration. The tables have turned, and you can’t help but question Leah’s peculiar choice of location for this conversation.

Leah lets out a short laugh. “Hiding? I wasn’t hiding. Just needed to grab a few things from the cupboard”. She lifts up her hands to showcase the foam rollers you deduce she was looking for.

“Beth said you wanted to talk”

“That’s right”

“Do I need to ask what it’s about?”

She laughs again and you start to lose your patience a little. She notices and glances at you with a more serious expression when you don’t look impressed, so she gestures for you to join her in a quieter corner of the gym.

“I get it; the suspense isn’t helping,” Leah admits, her tone softening. “But you’re not stupid. I think you know why I’ve called you in here”

As you follow her, Leah’s demeanor takes an unexpected turn. The serious expression gives way to a playful twinkle in her eye. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. Nudes, I mean,” she teases, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Nipple piercings too? You’ve been hiding some interesting secrets, haven’t you?”

Leah’s teasing catches you off guard, and your words stumble over each other as you stammer, “I, uh, well, it’s not—I mean, I didn’t…”

“Don’t get all nervous on me now” she says as she perches on the edge of a massage table. “You seemed pretty confident last night”

You attempt to salvage some dignity, but Leah’s mischievous grin suggests she’s thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. “I didn’t mean to send it to you. It was a mistake”

“No?” She pops her bottom lip out in a pout. “That’s a shame”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach, and your attempts to defend yourself only seem to fuel Leah’s amusement. “I-I…” you struggle to form a coherent response. And you silently curse yourself for not being able to hold your ground.

“If not me, then who?” She asks as if it’s any of her business. If you weren’t so stunned by the whole thing you’d have told her to fuck off. But the words don’t quite make it past your lips, and you find yourself at her mercy. “I won’t judge”

There’s a pregnant pause where you decide if you should tell her. Then with a reluctant sigh, you decide to reveal the truth. “Someone… a girl I met last month”

“Bar Girl” she deduces.

You were never really close to Leah. You played for the same teams, sure. But you never frequent the same social circles. Not really. So to find out she knows about what you get up to in your free time is a little jarring.

“Yeah, her,” you admit, feeling exposed in a way that extends beyond the painful fact she’s seen your tits.

“Hm” is all she says before she holds her hand out to you. And you take it without even thinking.

“You know” she starts. Settling you so your front is almost flush against hers as you stand between her legs. “I’ve always wondered what you’ve been hiding under that jersey of yours” she finishes, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Her fingers brushing your skin and setting it on fire.

“The same parts as you, I’m guessing”

“Funny”

“I do try”

There’s another lull, and in the silence you swear you can hear your heart beating.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her question is barely above a whisper.

You shake your head no. Because she isn’t making you uncomfortable. Confusing you, yes. Intriguing you, certainly. But uncomfortable? Not exactly.

Leah leans back slightly, studying your expression. “Good, wouldn’t want to cross any lines.” Her fingers continue to play with your hair, a casual touch that feels anything but.

“Lines can be subjective” you say, your eyes trained on hers as you watch her mouth pull into a smirk.

Where this new found confidence has come from you don’t know.

“Can they?” She questions. Her eyes glint as she tilts her head to the side. Is she mocking you?

“Sometimes”

She likes your answer, you think, despite the still of her hands in your hair. Because her expression shifts and she leans in, her gaze dropping to your mouth.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, untangling your hair from her fingers and brushing her thumb over your bottom lip. You catch a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she notices the blush deepening on your cheeks.

Without breaking her eyes from yours, Leah leans in just enough to tease. Close enough that you can feel each breath angst your skin. Far enough away that it’s infuriating. Then she pulls away, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation.

Then she’s gone.

You stand frozen while she unfurls herself away from you, sidestepping from the space she occupied between you and the massage table.

You only turn when she clears her throat behind you.

“Message me again sometime?”

The way she asked was softer than you expected. Softer than how she was talking to you for the last five minutes. It catches you off guard and a response gets stuck in your throat again.

You nod because that seems to be your default reaction to all of her questions. A smirk must be hers to you, because she flashes another one in your direction.

With that, she was gone. Leaving you alone in the dark with a skip in your pulse and two discarded foam rollers at your feet.

And a sneaking suspicion your spot for both club and country were going to be okay.

[hobiebrownismygod]

can you do a fic where 42!miles gets hurt after you two had a big argument and now you have to clean him up while still mad at him?? sorry if this didn't make sense

yess!! This is so cute I love it!! Thx for requesting <3

TW: BLOOD, mention of being hurt/wounds, use of Y/N in place of reader's name, very very slight angst (mostly fluff)

___________

Click

You locked your window and pulled the curtains closed with a huff. Your phone was silenced, your door was locked and you had promised yourself that no matter what, you were ignoring him.

Complete silent treatment.

The two of you had had a pretty big argument (and you could barely even remember how it'd started) so of course, you decided to be petty and pretend he didn't exist.

He always tried to make it up to you when you fought, climbing in through your window late at night, with a bouquet of hand-picked flowers or a movie he rented for the two of you to watch.

He'd be pretty silent about it, pretty nonchalant, and he'd plop down beside you on the bed and hold you. Not a word would be exchanged. And you'd always forgive him.

Not this time though. You were too mad.

So you decided you'd sit down, do your homework, and if you heard a knock at your window you'd simply pretend it never happened.

He could take care of himself.

You weren't going to be his little nurse. Not tonight.

But then of course...you were never one to leave him hanging.

It'd barely been fifteen minutes from when you'd started your homework when you heard a quiet knock at your window. You ignored it.

And then he knocked again. This time, you hesitated. You wanted to open it, you really did...but you didn't. No. You had to stand your ground. You weren't going to give in.

"Y/N" you heard his voice. The tapping on the window got louder, sloppier. "Y/N!" his voice was hoarse, not quiet and playful like usual. It was different.

But you stayed silent. You weren't going to let him in, you promised yourself.

"Y/N, please." You dropped your pencil. His voice was just a whisper now and you could barely hear it outside the locked window. He tapped one more time. "I'm hurt."

You felt chills on your neck and you immediately walked towards the window, pulling the curtains open. There he was, crouching against your balcony. His Prowler mask was on, his gauntlets were hanging off his hands.

And his shirt was soaked in blood.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight. He reached his arm up with a pained groan, pulling his mask off. His brow was soaked in sweat, his face glistening slightly in the moonlight. "Please." he mouthed.

Robotically, you pulled open the window. You took his arm and helped him in, and he basically collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.

You helped him sit up, his back pressed against the wall. You quickly got to work, like you always did when he showed up in pain, grabbing your first-aid kit from underneath your bed and snapping it open quietly.

He winced as you began cleaning his wounds, pulling his shirt up so you could get to where the blood was coming from. He had a slash right across his stomach, blood gushing out in ribbons of red. It was never-ending.

You pressed an old t-shirt to the wound, trying your best to make some sort of tourniquet to stop the flow of the blood before pouring the rubbing alcohol over it. He covered his mouth with his hand and groaned, eyes squeezing shut, tears prickling the edges.

As you worked, he fell completely silent. You did too, too focused on keeping him alive to notice his eyes on you.

Not a word was exchanged.

Then a quiet, "Are you still mad at me?"

You looked up for a moment, eyes meeting his as he stared at you. They were hooded, but filled with sadness. He tilted his head back, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he blinked, still keeping his eyes on yours.

He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't.

So neither did you.

But after another moment,

"I'm sorry."

It was just a whisper, so quiet you'd barely even heard it, but it meant so much. You felt your eyes tear up and you refused to look at him, continuing to gently work on his wounds.

"Say something." he whispered, pushing your hands off of him and sitting up. He grabbed your arms, holding your hands in his. "Please. Anything. I'm-I'm sorry."

You looked at him, taking a shaky breath. Suddenly, you jumped towards him, practically melting into his arms when they wrapped around you.

And just like that...everything felt better.

"Ow-" he winced as you accidentally put pressure on his sore wound, and you immediately shifted yourself, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I-I'm sorry. You shouldn't be sorry, I'm sorry." he stammered, taking your face in his hands as gently as he could. He smiled slightly, wiping away the remnants of tears in the corners of your eyes. "Are you crying?"

"No!" you quickly responded, pulling back. "I just-I just-"

"It's okay. You can cry" he said with a grin, sitting up again with a grunt.

"I'm not crying because of the argument, you jerk." you said with a huff. "I-I just hate seeing you like this. I get scared." your voice sounded so small in the moment, it was like a completely different person had appeared.

His gaze softened. "I see." He gestured for you to come back towards him and you did, resting your head against his chest as he held you close. "Thank you. For letting me in." he whispered, kissing the top of your head gently, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual.

"Of course." you replied with a smile, looking up at him with crinkled eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." he said, returning the smile before giving you a gentle kiss, hands cupping your face as he pulled you close. You giggled before snuggling up to him a little closer, making sure to be careful not to graze his still sensitive cuts.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked tentatively, closing his eyes as he buried his face in your neck. You stayed silent for a moment and you could swear you felt his heart drop when you didn't respond.

You grinned. "No. I'm not mad anymore." He chuckled, nervously almost. "You had me there for a second." he whispered, kissing your cheek gently.

"I am sorry though."

"What for?"

He froze. "For...for the argument."

"What part of the argument?"

He stayed silent and you couldn't help but laugh. So he'd forgotten how it'd started too. Funny.

"I forgot too, Miles. Don't worry."

He breathed out a sigh of relief and laughed, tilting his head back. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Not as bad as you scared me, knocking on my window like that. There's blood everywhere" you said with a frown, glancing back towards the window.

He pulled your head back gently. "Don't look at the blood, just look at me. We can worry about that later, yeah?"

You smiled, nodding before hugging him again. His fingers brushed through your hair as he held you close, breathing matching yours. A tender moment.

"I love you, you know that right?" he asked softly, lips moving to kiss your forehead one more time.

"I know, Miles. I love you too."

_______

🥺🥺🥺 im gonna cry

why did I write this it literally hurts how cute it is

:((

hopefully you liked this anon!!

______

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[starkeyisthelastname]

a trailerpark!rafe blurb for @islandclubchampagneroom 🚬 this is a lil filthy.. you’ve been warned. 😶💦

You looked like a little gorgeous doll, skipping from trailer to trailer with your basket full of goodies you made. You came across your new favorite place, which was Rafe’s trailer. It was kinda run down, but that didn’t matter to you. To your surprise, he was outside already, washing his beat down pickup. You couldn’t help but ogle him a little as he was shirtless, his toned upper body on full display. He made your tummy feel funny every time you were around him, especially when you heard him speak. “It’s a lil’ hot for you to be outside, ain’t it’ baby doll?” He would rasp out.

He held a cigarette in the same hand as he did the hose, rinsing off the rusty truck as the other one brought a can cheap beer to his lips. His hooded blue eyes would stare you up and down, the nasty thoughts already running through his mind as he soaked up every inch of your stunning little self.

“I made cookies! Do you want some?” You asked, voice sweet as you ignored his question about it being too hot.

He eyed you, gulping down the rest of his beer before smashing the can and throwing it behind him. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth, motioning you to come closer. He wrapped an arm around your waist, peering down into your basket. “What kind you make, sweet cheeks?” He asked, squeezing your hip roughly.

You felt giddy every time he touched you, biting your glossy bottom lip as you felt the heat shoot down to your core. “Sugar with sprinkles and umm.. chocolate chip with pink frosting. It’s kinda getting melted though…” You pout, not realizing his hand had slipped lower to feel the lack of panties you had on underneath your cotton dress. He blew out the smoke away from your pretty face, before chuckling darkly. “Well how about you come inside and cool off for a lil’ bit and you can set those pretty cookies down..” He suggested, knowing you’d fall for his trap.

He’d be three more beers in, last cigarette in his hand as the other lifted up your dress. “Why you walkin’ around the trailer park with your cunt all out?” He finally asked, large hand coming down to give it a firm smack. He’d have your back, pinned to his broad chest, his sparse facial hair, tickling your neck. You wiggled against his denim covered lap, the funny feeling in your tummy growing the more he touched you.

“You think this sweet lil’ hole is ready for a grown man’s cock?” His voice in a low drawl as the cloud of cigarette smoke blew down your body.

You were an adult, but your father had kept you sheltered away from everything that was bad. You never had been touched by another man until you met Rafe, and you were desperate for more. You didn’t know what his words meant, but they sounded dirty and your poor little self couldn’t help but nod. He shuffled a bit behind you, putting out the cigarette bud into the overflowed ash tray and lifting you up a little from his lap.

With a pop of his jeans and tug of a zipper, his fat cock smacked against his lower abs as he positioned you back against him. He ran the tip along your dripping folds, loving your whimpers as he teased your greedy little hole. He felt you tense up, gasping as he began to slowly push up into your untouched flower. It took every ounce of him not to completely ram up into your fluttering pussy, your cunt squeezing the fuck out of his dick. “That’s a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grunted to himself.

You were so full, already dumb on the older man’s cock as the pain subsided for a pleasure you had never experienced. You were at a loss for words, body lazily collapsing against his muscled chest as his dirty hands hooked under your thighs. He began to thrust up into you, his light mustache grazing the smooth skin of your shoulder as he started talking dirty to you. “This is why you don’t come around a bad man like me, sweet baby doll. You get your fuckin cunt ruined.”

You were already too attached to him. Your head spinning as he said the most filthiest things you had ever heard in your sheltered life. Even if he was the exact type of man your father told you to stay away from, you didn’t care. You just didn’t know any better but to be obsessed about the first man to ever give you attention and that happened to be one of your father’s tenants.

“I own you now, sugar. Got that?” Rafe groaned in your ear, the sounds of your pretty moans getting increasingly louder throughout his messy trailer, while he fucked you through your first orgasm. “That’s right.. cum all over daddy’s fat cock, make a mess all over that shit my little fuckdoll.” He told you, feeling you clench around with a scream.

Oh how he was gonna have some fun with you…

[ceesimz]

I'm a Star, How Could I Not Shine?

This is just a lil soft blurb I got the idea to write tonight, I still have my other story in the works and I'm loving creating it :)

Life was hardly fair, that much you knew. But it seemed like the last few months had been especially harsh on your girlfriend. And it was a hard watch, almost agonising to see her come home a shell of her true self everyday.

Today, though, it reached its peak.

Work was being a lot kinder to you; you typically had a lighter load than Alexia but the past few weeks had kind of been a breeze, you were promoted to a new branch and it was a dream to be there. So, as you watched on from the sidelines as the media tore Alexia apart, inventing new reasons to needlessly hate on her, you were doing your best to make life at home a safe haven for her.

Today was Friday, and your plan was to come home from work and get all the chores out of the way, before ordering food in so that there was as little as possible for Alexia to have to worry about. Maybe you'd run a bath for her, give her a massage, or let her have some alone time before falling asleep with your chest to her back as you ran a hand softly through her hair.

What you weren't expecting, however, was to find a familiar figure in a black tracksuit curled up on the sofa, soundly sleeping.

You froze in the doorway, unsure what to do next. The first thing you thought was just how much the sight concerned you. Alexia wasn't meant to be home for a number of hours yet, her day was filled with meetings after she'd had training in the morning. Tie that in with the fact that she was adamant in never taking naps, ever, as well as how she always followed her schedule to the second, and your body was wracked with worry from head to toe.

Long story short, this only alluded to unimaginable things consuming her right now. You didn't even want to think about it. If it hurt you this much, and you weren't even the one experiencing all she was, then god only knows how she's feeling. Hopefully you can coax it out of her.

Instead of disturbing her right now, you backed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. Once in there, you off-loaded your bag and your jacket onto the dining table, before opening your phone and putting in the order for dinner. Then you took a moment to compose yourself, to come up with a way to approach the delicate situation currently festering in the lounge of the apartment.

Alexia could wake up and be in one of either two moods: she doesn't really want company as she needs time to process what's pacing through her mind, or, and you're not sure if you preferred this one or not, she'd be in such an utterly wrecked state of mind that she would just melt into your arms and unload weeks, if not months, worth of bottled up emotions. You knew the latter would happen at some point, but you definitely didn't think it would come about so soon.

Really, this wasn't how you expected the night to go, you just assumed that Alexia would complete her work day before coming home, speaking very few words for the rest of the evening. It wasn't out of displeasure, it was how she processed things. Until the pressure built up inside her and exploded, she would keep pretty schtum about how things were going for her, and no matter how much you tried to shake her out of these habits, it was just something about her you had to deal with.

But now, with somewhat of an idea built up in your head, you slip your shoes off and put them on the rack by the front door, and walk back towards your sleeping girlfriend. As you get closer to her, you spot the scowl to her brow and slight frown on her lips - even as she sleeps, she still can't catch a break. She looks perturbed and uncomfortable, like there's things she can't quite shake off, and it breaks your heart.

With a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sleeps on her side with her face slightly covered by her hood, you gently nudge her.

"Hey, Ale, wake up. It's me, wake up." You whisper, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple. At the affectionate touch, she jolts awake, breathing a little heavy. "Hey, it's only me."

"Oh." She muttered, rubbing her eyes and sighing. "Por qué estás aquí?"

"I just got home from work, it's half four." Wrong thing to say.

She sits up in shock, looking at you agasp, her stomach churning with dread. She never missed meetings, she never missed any kind of work, period.

"Mierda. Lo siento, tengo que irme, ahora." Alexia jumps up and rushes to grab her keys from the kitchen, but you grab her hand and stop her. "No, amor, I-"

"Ale, take a breath. Slow down." You say, standing up and taking her other hand. Her eyes are everywhere but you, her body language is tense and radiates anxiety. "Look at me. Hey, mírame, Ale."

"Amor, you do not understand, I am missing a meeting ri-"

"No, you are here with me, and you need to take a minute. Just a minute, if anything. Please." You plead, dropping her hands to cup her face and get her to look at you. "Sit down with me, relax for a moment. I won't hear otherwise."

A reluctant nod later, she sits down with you on the couch, though she perches on the edge like she could take off any second. You don't doubt that she won't.

"Sorry." She states a quiet moment after, her hands coming to cover her face as she sighs heavily yet again.

"For what, Ale?" You ask, shuffling closer to her side and draping an arm across her shoulders. She shrugs, making you frown, so with your free hand you delicately turn her head to face you. "Take the day off. Anyone can see you need it."

Her nod isn't so hesitant this time, and that's terrifying in itself. The ease in which she agreed to skiving the rest of her schedule is so unnerving that you're not entirely sure where to go from here. You were expecting more of a fight, expecting her to be hard work for the night, but here she was just giving up in front of you. Near enough relinquishing her role as if it wasn't such a mental battle for her.

At her agreement, you tug her into you and she follows easily, resting her forehead against your collarbone and breathing out shakily.

"Let me look after you tonight, Ale. You don't have to apologise, not for anything." You whisper, scattering light, caring kisses across her cheek.

You pull down the hood of her jumper and, finally, see the full effect of what the month's brazen nature has done to her. The bags under her eyes are more prominent than ever, there's a permanent frown line etched onto her forehead, and she's a worryingly grey colour. Her face gives off a perturbed look, and to be honest you didn't think it was possible to be able to visibly see the aftermath of a mentally degrading few weeks.

Right now, it seems like sleep is the best option for her. And fortunately for you, and for Alexia, the restaurant you ordered from won't deliver your dinner for another forty or so minutes. It's a small miracle you'll happily take at this time, and if Alexia was in the right mind she'd probably laugh, because the wait time normally drives you crazy. You've never been more grateful for it though.

"Why don't you sleep some more? I got us some food, it won't be here for a while yet and I really think you need the rest." You suggest, tucking a few wisps of hair behind her ear.

"You... you will stay here?" She questions in such a childlike manner that it splits your heart in two.

"Yes, I'll be right here, Ale, I promise. I'm not going anywhere, ever." You tell her, and that's when she meets your eye. The look she gives is devastating, it's filled with all sorts that would take you the rest of the night to unpack. And, quite frankly, Alexia isn't ready for that.

You urge her to lay down just like she was earlier, except this time you take the place by her head and let her rest it on your lap. It's now that you're carding your fingers through her hair, not in your bed. It's now that Alexia finally breaks, as sniffles sound through the room sporadically.

"Tan cansada." She uttered, almost unintelligibly, as she covers her eyes with her hand and buries her face in your stomach.

"It's okay. You can relax now. It's just us here, and you're safe. You're gonna be okay." You reasurre her, and you mean it with every ounce of your being. How could you not, when the light of your life has been dimmed by clouds of disdain from people who aren't even aware of the joy she brings you?

Alexia may come across as a force to be reckoned with, but after all, she's just your Ale, the one that cries at animal shelter adverts on TV and smiles like a fool at the little things like when you bring home her favourite snack as a surprise one day. She's a sensitive soul, but that's what you love about her. Everything she does, she does it with her whole heart, and you'd sooner be six feet under than to let your love for her go untold.

"I love you, Ale, and I'm really proud of everything you do. Everything."

"Even when I am not strong enough to go to one meeting?" She mumbles insecurely, stealing a glance up at you with one eye.

"Especially then. You are strongest in your weakest moments, when you're afraid to ask for help but you do it anyway. So, I'm always proud of you, and I always will be. I swear by that."

[artemis32]

Locksley

yandere Batfam x reader

yes, i do love them. yes, it is a problem. yes, i will make this my entire personality for the next two and a half months

also, necessary disclaimer, there’s a piece of dialogue in this that i took from a youtube asmr channel (bite me, they’re interesting and i’m starved of attention) - it’s jimち asmr, if you’re interested

word count - 4.8k

mbe masterlist

You wouldn’t call yourself a hero, not in any sense of the word. Likewise, you didn’t consider yourself a villain. You were something in between - you did bad things for good reasons, you did good things for bad reasons. 

Living in Gotham changed people. No matter how kind or well-intentioned, everyone ended up corrupt sooner or later. Some just fell further from grace than others. 

The people you helped would argue that you were a hero, someone who deserved recognition and respect for your actions. The people you stole from tended to disagree.

You didn’t care much about what you were. Heroes, villains… They were all the same in your eyes. They wrecked havoc and left people like you to deal with the aftermath - an ordinary citizen who had neither the means nor the aspirations to fix what they’d broken.

****

You started years ago, before you were even a teenager.

It was small things at first. Single fruits, a loaf of bread, a blanket, cough syrup. Things people wouldn’t usually notice. 

You realised pretty soon that you were good at stealing, good at getting away without people noticing. Very good.

Stealing felt justified in your young mind. You told yourself that it was okay. It was okay because you weren’t stealing for yourself. Never for yourself. Never committing a crime for personal benefit.

No, you stole to help others. You did what you could to help those that were too weak or scared to help themselves. 

In those early years, when you were still young and hopeful, you likened yourself to Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

Now, years later, the sentiment had faded. 

You still stole from the rich. You still gave everything you stole to the poor. 

Poverty in Gotham was a disease. The densely populated apartment blocks in the Narrows, where you lived, housed more people than it should have, and those people had become somewhat of a family to you. Or at least as close as you’d ever get. So you did what you could to keep them safe and alive. Stealing food to keep them fed, stealing clothes and blankets to keep them warm, stealing medicine to keep them healthy, stealing toys to keep the children hopeful.

That was your job, your purpose in life.

It made you feel as though you had a use. Seeing how people’s faces brightened, how happy they looked to see you when you bought a spare blanket or some extra food, or a toy a hopeful child had been eyeing for a while, it made you feel as though your life wasn’t completely meaningless.

Your life had a purpose. And that purpose was to help those who couldn’t help themselves. 

So you did.

And you never got caught. Not once. 

Until you did.

****

This uniform is so fucking uncomfortable. How do these people do this all day? You think, slipping your index finger beneath the buttoned collar of your shirt, tugging at it in a lacklustre attempt to catch a breath.

As much as recon was necessary, it was also an annoyance most of the time. It was times like these that you thanked the stars above that you weren’t born into a wealthy family. Stuffy galas and boring board meetings were never your thing.

The crowd of wealthy tycoons and aristocrats barely paid the waitstaff a second thought, primping and preening as they mingled amongst one another, trying to impress people who were too self centred to notice them. 

You would’ve rolled your eyes and gagged at the sight, had it not acted as the perfect cover for you. 

Stealing the name tag and uniform off of the service roster was simple enough, and sneaking in through the service entrance of the disgustingly lavish manor was a breeze. Now, as you flit through the crowd of supercilious pricks, you feel grateful for your own nondescript appearance.

Blending in with the average service worker was a blessing, one you took full advantage of as you scanned the large ballroom. There were several large windows, massive panes of glass bordered with ornately carved ebony wood frames. The doors were just as grand, two sets of double doors, and a smaller service door in the very corner of the room, all dark stained ebony to match the windows, were just as detailed and lavish.

It made you sick.

How could these people live so wastefully? How could they live so easily? Their biggest worry was keeping their faces youthful and their houses fancy. It didn’t make sense. Even now, after months, years of doing this, it still confused you - the fact that you lived such a jarringly different life, one that seemed so pathetic in comparison to the vapid crowd that surrounded you.

At the very least, it eased your conscience, and made your job easier. You felt no pity, no remorse for stealing from people like those gathered around you. Very few of them had actually worked for what they had in life. No, it was handed to them at birth. Life was funny like that. Those who work hard are left impoverished, and those who give in to gluttony and greed never have to work a day in their lives for what they have.

You discarded the now empty serving tray behind a potted plant, slipping out the large double doors and into the empty corridor beyond. The halls were silent and dark, moonlight casting large shadows over the walls.

The manor’s antiquated runner rug muffled the sound of your footsteps as you crept along the wall of the corridor, carefully taking note of each door, drawing up a mental map as you continued. 

Every corner you turned was more extravagant than the last. You could practically feel the wealth seeping out of the walls. It disgusted you. 

At least it was nice to look at.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve made it up to the East Wing, the furthest part of the manor from the ballroom. It seems to be the personal quarters of whoever the hell owns this abomination of a house. On the trek up several flights of stairs, you’d passed a collection of bedrooms, several smaller living rooms, and,to your great delight, a study. Though, ‘study’ feels like the wrong word to describe the room.

It looks more like a grotesque mix of a library and a maze, and if you were any more wet behind the ears, you might’ve been intimidated by the sheer size of it. In fact, if you’d stumbled upon a room like this a few years ago, you’d have been in awe. The value of a single item in this room would have you set for life. 

But you don’t allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, keeping steely focus as you move silently, swiftly between towering shelves. You don’t take anything. Not yet. The time for that would come later. Right now, you focus instead on gathering information. The layout of the manor, alarms, sensors, residents.

The last part was always the hardest, especially with people like the elite of Gotham city. People came and went as they pleased, and the odds of you running into someone was higher in extravagant homes like this, what with their abundance of butlers and maids. But you’d avoided them all up to this point, never once encountering anyone in more than a decade of prowling.

And this manor - the famous Wayne residence - never housed more than a dozen people on any given night. You knew the staff and groundskeepers all went home in the evening, leaving the property all but abandoned at night.

You reach the end of the room, pausing only to glance over at the large grandfather clock nestled between two shelves before you turn on your heel and stride back towards the door. You’d gotten what you came for. Now, it was time to take your leave, full mental map in tow. 

Getting out of the gala was a lot easier than getting in, and you took the time to register the smaller details of the manor. In this time, you confirmed one thing you knew for certain:

Wayne manor disgusted you in all its excessive wealth.

Bruce Wayne may have appeared as some kind of well meaning philanthropist or humanitarian, but you knew his pockets ran deep. Much of his wealth, generational and unearned, was hoarded while the rest of Gotham was left to rot in poverty. 

It was, in part, the reason that you didn’t feel bad about what you were doing. He, alongside the rest of Gotham’s elite, had done nothing to earn what they had. You were just levelling out the playing field, giving those in the Narrows a fair chance at life.

And if you had to dirty your hands to help them, then so be it.

****

The thick carpet muffles your landing, though you don’t really need it.

Over the years, you’d mastered your movements, learning how to move silently, without notice. It’d been born from necessity, rather than genuine desire. Growing up in the Narrows wasn’t good for much, but at least you learnt pretty quickly that it was easier to get by if you went unnoticed.

You gently close the window, pushing the polished wooden frame with your fingertips, wincing at the soft click of the lock. Any noise was too much.

The corridors are empty as you silently sweep through the manor, as expected. You aim for the lavish library you’d scoped out a week prior, mental checklist ready. 

Avoiding the cameras and alarms is easy enough, especially when the majority of them scoped the perimeter, rather than the interior. The lack of security, combined with the excessive luxury confirmed what you’d always thought.

Rich people were fucking dumb.

They really thought their money could protect them from everything. Well, there was one thing that no amount of money could save them from.

People like you. People with absolutely nothing to lose.

You had no family, no prized possessions, no desire or greed. And you sure as hell didn’t harbour any fear for people like them.

Eventually, you arrive in the East Wing, slowing your stride slightly. You strain your ears for any hint of movement, blending seamlessly into the shadows as you prowl the corridor. The ornately carved solid wood door opens with a silent swoosh, and you slip into the room a mere moment later.

Someone’s here.

You take note of it a moment too late, slipping between two towering shelves the instant you hear the soft murmurs of a conversation. The lighting is dim, shadows dancing across the room, sourced from the crackling fireplace at the back of the study.

Fuck.

It takes you a beat longer than usual to calm your now racing heart, and the instant you get it under control, you’re back to creeping along the shadows, hands darting out to grab at ornaments and books, shoving them silently into every pocket and gap in your suit and small backpack.

If you could, you’d have brought a bigger bag, but you needed to travel light - light enough to make a swift exit if needed. 

You manage to grab quite a few things without nearing the source of conversation, which you’ve now determined to be two men murmuring lowly near the fireplace. Relief settles heavy in your bones as you creep back towards the door, thankful for the numerous shelves hiding you from view.

Lady Luck was a fickle being, and it seemed she’d decided your time was up.

When you’re about ten steps away from the exit, senses on high alert, time seems to slow, the baroque handle dropping slowly as the door is pushed open. You’re back in the shadows before it fully opens, back pressed against the wall while you weigh your options.

The door is out of the question. There’s no way to slip out without being noticed. The window, maybe?

One glance at the tightly latched windows across the room dash that idea immediately.

Panic swirls up your spine, threatening to take over. If you got caught here, there’s no telling what would happen to you.

As you scramble to come up with a plan, the door swings open and a man steps into the room. He’s young, fresh-faced, perhaps a year or two younger than you. He’s handsome too, in the way aristocrats often were - light eyes, tanned skin, full lips. He was striking. 

And he turned to look right at you.

You’re up, on top of the nearest shelf seconds before his eyes slide towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut, sweat slicked palms pressed flat against the dusty wooden shelf underneath you.

Fuck.

He lingers for a moment, taking a step closer into the shadows, to the spot you’d stood in moments ago. 

There’s no way he knew. He couldn’t.

After several tense, painful seconds, his brow twitches and he turns on his heel, striding over to the other two men, his gait confident and swift. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing only a bit as you try to stop the nervous tremors in your hands.

Escape comes hours later, near three in the morning, when all three men eventually retire to their rooms. You couldn’t get out of that eerie, shadowed manor fast enough.

****

“You really should lock your door at night, especially in this area. You never know when some creep might think about inviting themselves in. Windows too, for that matter - or else B&E’s would just be… Well, E’s.” 

It was barely two in the morning. You’d crawled into bed, still fully clothed, less than an hour ago, exhausted from a long day of work in the hellscape that was hospitality. You hadn’t even had the energy to look over your next few potential hits, never mind take a shower or have dinner.

So it’s no surprise that you’re disoriented, thrown off guard when you wake up to a masked man leaning far too casually against your derelict old couch, slim katana resting comfortably in his hand while he twirls it around.

“Then again,” he continues, ignoring the wide eyed look you give him. You flinch back, the movement too slight to notice as he straightens and strides over to you. “You’ve made my job easier. So I should thank you.”

He stands, hovering over you, arms hanging casually at his sides beneath his cloak as he regards you. The mask he wears hides his eyes, and it feels as though you’re staring up into dark, never-ending pits rather than eyes.

“Hm. You look different than what I expected. Younger. How old are you?”

If you weren’t so terrified, you might’ve laughed. Here, in your cramped, dingy bedsit, stood someone who appeared more demon than man, and he was presumptuous enough to critique your appearance. Worse still is the fact that you might’ve answered him, had he not swiftly changed topics.

“It doesn’t matter. A criminal is a criminal. Blackgate has a cell with your name on it.”

The train rumbles by and shakes the thin walls of your apartment, casting an eerie half glow bright enough to just barely light up your apartment.

Your blood runs cold.

Robin.

You’re moving before he has time to register what’s happening, tossing your worn knit blanket at his head as you leap from your bed, the small single’s frame groaning beneath you at the abrupt movement. You’re across the room when he recovers, hand on the doorknob. Seconds later, a vaguely bird-shaped dagger embeds itself into the doorframe right beside your hand.

“Don’t move.”

For once, despite the alarm bells blaring in your head, you listen. You fight against your instincts and the burning in your limbs as he approaches, closer and closer with every taunting step until he’s right in front of you, another stupid bird-shaped dagger nicking the soft underside of your jaw.

“You’re coming with me. Peacefully.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his tone. It’s so condescending, as if he thinks he’s talking to a child. If this was anyone else, you might’ve fought back, but of the list of people you avoided, the Gotham vigilantes associated with Batman were top of the list. 

They were so irritatingly self-righteous, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d view you as a scum of the earth criminal, should they ever catch you. It was part of the reason you’d avoided them so religiously, and you’d done a great job of it up until this point. The only question on your mind right now, though, was-

“How?”

Robin tilts his head, mouth flat. “How what?”

You lift your chin a bit more as he raises his dagger, softly piercing the skin, as if in a warning.

“How did you find me?”

If you could see his eyes, you were sure they’d hold an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you stupid?’. But you weren’t. Not like this. You weren’t sloppy. And you sure as hell didn’t step on toes when you stole, especially not enough to gain the attention of a run of the mill vigilante. There was no reason for him to be standing here, in your apartment, all but pinning you to the door.

“How did you find me?” you insist, pushing forward despite the slight sting against your jaw. “What did you see?”

He sets his jaw, tilting his head down as he speaks through clenched teeth. 

“Stealing from Bruce Wayne of all people was a dumb move.”

Your blood chills in your veins.

So someone did see me then… That man. That boy. Fuck.

“It was especially dumb to stick around for four hours afterwards.”

At that moment, you weigh your options. 

If you go with him peacefully, all but turn yourself in, Blackgate would be the least of your worries. You stole from Bruce Wayne.

Wronging such an influential man would have its own set of unique consequences, and it wasn’t yourself you were worried about. Anyone you’d helped in the process would be incriminated. All those innocent people, the women and children, the elderly people who lived around you… 

No. You couldn’t go with him. 

Prison was one thing. Endangering those you swore to help was another entirely.

With your mind made up, everything else is easy.

You grab the wrought iron coat rack beside the door and swing it upwards, aiming for his head without a second thought. The moment he releases you and shoves you back, you’re out the door, sprinting down several flights of stairs.

Too slow. Faster. Move faster.

You hear him behind you, footsteps ringing out like a death knell. 

He wants you to hear him. You know he does. A vigilante like that, someone as skilled as him - you wouldn’t hear him unless he wanted you too.

Honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. You’d made it further than you’d expected. The uneven gravel stings against your bare feet as you sprint through the side alley, aiming for the main street.

It was pointless. You knew it was. Even if you could make it that far, it wouldn’t amount to anything. No one would help you. No one could help you.

Regardless, you still feel disappointed when he grabs you by the collar of your thin, old sleepshirt, yanking you back. The exit to the alley, a mere two metres away, seems to mock you.

In that moment, you think about what you’d done. You truly think, and realise that you didn’t regret a single thing. You didn’t care about what happened to you. Everything you’d taken had helped so many people, far more than it would have helped Bruce Wayne, gathering dust in his old study. 

Everyone had been so happy, so relieved at how much you’d managed to help them. The amount you’d received for the stolen goods had been enough to care for everyone in your building ten times over. 

So no, you didn’t regret your decision.

This time, Robin doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries, gripping the back of your neck tightly and knocking you out a moment later.

****

“Who is she?”

“Her name is-”

“I know what her damn name is. I mean, who is she?”

Tim pauses, eyeing Damian with a strange expression, clearing his throat and continuing after throwing a perplexed glance at Bruce.

“...well, uh, she lives in the Narrows, has for more than a decade. She went to Gotham public high school and received her high school diploma, with no further education. She’s… pretty unremarkable, to be honest. Works in a shitty diner in the East End, earns less than minimum wage...” he trails off for a moment and shrugs. “There’s not much else to say.”

Damian clenches his jaw, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Her address. What is it?”

Again, Tim throws Bruce a glance, sharper this time, choosing his words wisely.

“I… don’t think that’s necessary information. It’s not a big deal, she only took a few things. And it doesn’t seem like she kept any of it. Actually, I’m kind of impressed–”

He’s cut off in an instant, Damian’s glare sharp and filled with rage.

“It does matter. She stole from us. She–” 

The green-eyed youth sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his arms to his side, flexing his hands.

“...she was right there. She was inside the manor, ten steps away from me, and I didn’t fucking notice. It took us two weeks to notice she’d been here at all!”

His words are like venom, belying the real reason he’s so worked up, and Bruce watches him with a blank expression, stepping forward after he’s calmed down slightly, placing a heavy palm on his shoulder.

“I understand your frustrations, but you can’t allow them to cloud your judgement. Don’t allow your emotions to rule your actions. While I agree we should find her, I don’t think we need to be as… extreme as you’re suggesting. She’s just a civilian - albeit a very… efficient one. Take some time, calm down, and we’ll discuss what to do from there, okay?”

Damian shrugs the hand off his shoulder, stalking out of the Batcave with a few short, clipped words thrown over his shoulder.

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

****

A very frazzled looking man is the first thing you see when you come to, temple aching terribly where the angered Robin had decked you hours earlier. Presently, the man hovering over you sighs when he sees your eyes open, though it doesn’t seem to be a sound of relief. His mouth tugs down at the corners, brows pinching together.

“Don’t.”

He presses a palm to your shoulder, keeping you flat on your back when you try to sit up. His tone is stern, flat, accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders sag and he loosens his hold, fingers flexing against your shoulder.

“Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

The words seem more like a plea than a demand, but you listen regardless. Even if you wanted to move, the pain rippling through your skull makes you too dizzy to sit up, let alone stand.

“...do you remember anything?” he murmurs, bright blue eyes roaming your face worriedly.

Licking your dry, cracked lips, you avoid his gaze. Would it be better to lie, you wonder? Would he know? You had a feeling he might. And you had a feeling that somehow, being honest just this once would help you a lot more than lying ever could. 

You swallow thickly, glancing back at him before answering. 

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, head lolling forward as he mutters.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Before he can ask you another question, before you can say anything else, there’s a flurry of movement at the entrance to the room, several people storming in. The racket makes your head throb, and you feel faint and woozy as you lean back against the admittedly plump pillows.

You wonder distantly why you weren’t in a prison cell or a hospital. If you’d been in a better headspace and perhaps not concussed, you might’ve been concerned, but it was effort enough to focus on staying conscious at the moment.

“No, Damian! I have had enough! You explicitly went against my instructions– You kidnapped a civilian!”

Chancing a small peek at the arguing duo, you catch sight of little more than two blob-like shapes, the taller of the two yelling animatedly while the shorter stands stoically, staring off to the side, towards–

Towards you.

“She’s awake.”

That has the taller man falling silent for a moment. He sighs heavily, murmuring. 

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, I have to deal with your mess.”

With that, he turns and strides over to you, placing his hand on the shoulder of the young man at your bedside, a silent dismissal. He remains standing while the other two leave, staring down at you expressionlessly.

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

…I’m so dead.

You jolt up, wincing at the pounding in your head as you blurt out.

“Mr Wayne, I–” 

He holds up a palm, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

There’s a pause, one in which he looks down at you before sitting down with a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“I don’t care that you stole from me. Usually, I'd just file a police report and go about my day, but my son… Well, you upset him.”

He leans back in his seat, unbuttoning his blazer.

“You see, he’s a prideful boy. It’s never caused problems before, at least, not like this. I mean, involving a civilian, that is. But you seem to have struck a nerve. He’s holding quite a bit of animosity towards you.”

Bruce leans forward again, elbows resting on his thighs as he regards you with a critical eye.

“And I’ll admit, you caught me too, to a degree. You broke into my home without my notice. You were right under my nose.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh, as if the very idea of you evading him was impossible. “It’s impressive, I won’t deny it.”

A strange flutter fills your chest, something that feels oddly akin to pride. Bruce Wayne of all people was complimenting you. Or, at least, it felt like a compliment. 

“Why is he so upset?” 

You regret the question the instant it leaves your mouth. His gaze, which had been slowly warming up, turns cold and flat at that.

“...because you slipped right by him. Do you understand what a feat that is? How much you’ve wounded his pride? For you, an untrained young woman from the slums of Gotham to have fooled him, a trained assassin. Robin. You understand, don’t you? He took it as a very personal offence.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Was this some kind of twisted punishment for stealing? Did this man, Bruce Wayne, really expect you to believe that his son, the sweetheart of Gotham’s high society, was the Robin? And an assassin to boot?

He huffs a silent laugh, brows raising as he regards the expression on your face.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s shocking. Damian Wayne, Robin? You’ll get used to it.”

Your hands are shaking now, sweaty and white knuckled as you clutch the bedsheets, and you feel your blood pressure rising. If you weren’t careful, you’d pass out soon. Swallowing thickly, you ask the question urgently gnawing at the forefront of your mind.

“If he’s Robin, then…?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. He was handsome, in an older gentleman kind of way - tall, strong, sturdy build. Even the wrinkles and lines marring his face looked attractive. No wonder women fell over themselves in an attempt to catch his attention.

“Yes. You catch on quickly, don’t you? Well, that’s to be expected from Gotham’s own do-good Robin Hood, I suppose. Yes, I am Batman.”

A choked noise dies out in your chest. 

Of course I’d steal from Batman. Of everyone in Gotham, this is who I choose? God, why is my luck so shitty?

His admission sows a seed of unease in the pit of your stomach, and your eyes dart around the room for the first time since you’d arrived. It was large, larger than what you were used to, though the only furniture was the bed, a vanity, and a small couch near the window. The window that was locked tight, covered with solid iron burglar bars. Bars you had the sinking feeling were put there to keep you in.

You turn to him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Why are you telling me all this?” 

He stands, posture straight and assertive as he eyes you callously. “Because, unfortunately, your actions, and my son’s impulsive decision have both pushed me to make a decision I have no choice in. It means that, until we decide what to do with you, you won’t be allowed to leave–”

Evidently, his admittance to essentially abducting you is what sends your blood pressure through the roof. You pass out before he finishes his sentence, praying with the last of your fading consciousness that this was all some twisted nightmare.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green

WC: 1329 Masterpost CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.

The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.

Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”

“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”

“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.

The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”

“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”

“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”

“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”

There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.

The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”

-

The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.

Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.

This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.

“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.

“Red—”

“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”

The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.

Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.

“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.

“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”

“Lends credence to…”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”

“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.

He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.

Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.

“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”

Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.

“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”

“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.

It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.

“Don’t run his DNA.”

“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”

“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”

All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”

“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”

Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”

“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”

“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”

“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”

“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”

“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.

Tim flicked him off just to do so.

After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.

“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”

--- AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.

Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)

Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!

[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.