#Jack hates his voice

[dollypopup]

hm. idk, maybe the reason Luke Newton isn't announcing new projects or posting any Bridgerton content is because some of you demons treated him like hot trash instead of a creative that you wanted more work from and he decided fuck it, this isn't worth the stress. you know, like a lot of creatives who get mistreated do?

like this is a man who went from couch surfing in a friend's house and bartending to make ends meet, deciding that the Bridgerton audition was the last one he'd do before he quit, to suddenly being recognized on the street because that last audition propelled him to star in a global show where fans who have zero media comprehension blamed him for his character's actions and literally stalked him at any hotel he happens to stay at. he went from being a dude doing musical theatre and shopping at thrift stores and recording random songs with friends and posting silly memes on Twitter to being harassed on his only social media page and his friends insulted and his partners bullied by his supposed 'fans' and anything he posts being so microanalyzed that he can't do a damn thing without someone coming out the woodwork screaming about how he's the WORST and won't he think of the FANS!?

like damn he can't have a girlfriend without being harassed, he can't travel without being harassed, he can't like or not like social media posts without being harassed, he can't post a fucking MEME without being harassed, he can't take a vacation or cut his hair or hold someone's hand or just live his life without being blamed for some bullshit or another. but yeah, okay, 'when will Luke Newton come back?' as if it isn't your fault he's AWOL now

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

leona in club leadership

Me: I’m safe after the hitman that was Epel’s Birthday Jacket jumpscared me with the “Leona is a reliable senpai” talk Broomquet Leona: Broomquet Leona: *slowly raises the broom for a bonking*

why Why WHY

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I THOUGHT I HAD PUT IT ALL BEHIND ME BUT NO 😭 HERE COMES CATER BAITING LEONA TO TAL K ABOUT AMGIFT /SPELLDrIV3 CLBU IN THS BROOMQUET......... . . ........ .. . ... . . . .. . QHJEBIYslbiufadbadf TO GET THESE THOUGHTS OUTTA MY HEAD I'M GONNA RANT A ND RAVE A LIL' aboUT L*ONA AND HIS cLUB

Alright, so. 🤡 We all know that Leona's the captain of the Magical Shift/Spelldrive Club at NRC (moving forward, I will refer to this as "Magift Club", since that's the shortest phrase). What's more is, we actually get quite a bit of information about how he goes around running the club and training its members (although the information is scattered across various vignettes, so it may be difficult to piece it all together if you don't know where to look or don't read certain vignettes). THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF THOUGH, THIS IS A GOLD MINE OF LuONA CHA EARCTERiXATION AND I'M GOINOG TO POP of DFF ABOUT IT

Firstly! In book 2 of the main story, Jack tells us that he was impressed by Leona's amazing play in a Magift game three years ago. This would later become a part of Jack's motivation to attend Night Raven College--so he could become a great athlete, and, perhaps, get to play against or alongside that player that he admired so much. Even when Jack learns that Leona is playing dirty to eliminated Diasomnia from the interdorm tournament, Jack exposes that he believes Leona is capable of securing a victory by playing fairly. Maybe you could call it a freshman's naive beliefs, but Jack knows that Leona is better than this. What book 2 shows us is that Leona is willing to resort to underhanded tactics to come out on top--but he's also very skilled in his own right, both physically and intellectually, and even at his lowest points, he has people who trust him to lead them: people like Jack. But where does this faith and respect come from???????? For that, we'll have to dive into additional materials.

In many vignettes, such as Ace's PE Uniform and Ruggie's Outdoor Wear, we hear from other characters that the Magift Club members train rigorously (usually to the point of exhaustion). Ruggie, a fellow Magift Club member, confesses to his inexperience; he never played Magift before coming to NRC and he's not a born athlete. He seriously considered quitting the club due to their physically demanding practice and training. However, Ruggie credits Leona for the vast improvement he has made, citing that Leona would give him all kinds of assignments to hone his skills. More importantly, doing all of these assignments also taught Ruggie how to endure and persist in the face of adversity. Ruggie could have just lied here and said the training was easy to quickly and artificially inflate the numbers of new recruits he pulls in to please Leona (some of the new recruits would end up dropping out anyway) BUT HE DOESN'T. This leads me to believe that Ruggie is being honest about what it takes to be in Magift Club and is genuinely praising Leona's guidance as a part of why it's beneficial to join. "Leona makes every session worthwhile [...] He makes all the calls during our games, but otherwise lets us do our thing. Which means we can work out our problem spots for ourselves. He's a great captain!"

Epel, the other main cast member in Magift Club, has not yet joined at the time of the flashback in Ruggie's Outdoor Wear vignette. Upon hearing Ruggie's praise of Leona, Epel gets the impression that Leona is an incredible person. Post-joining the club, this impression continues. In his Birthday Jacket vignettes, Epel describes Leona as someone who is quick-witted, fierce-looking, and has a cool personality. He really admires Leona and wants to be like him someday, making him the second first year that has these sort of sentiments. Epel tells stories similar to Ruggie, saying that Leona has helped him out a lot during club and is generally good at looking out for others. He specifically mentions that everyone counts on Leona for his leadership during games and provides individualized advice to help each team member improve (details which supports what Ruggie initially told the freshmen). People outside of Leona’s reign also comment on this, such as Ace in Endless Halloween Night. He remarks that the first thing Leona thought to do was untie Epel; this leads Ace to conclude that Leona, does, in fact, look out for people despite how he usually acts 🤡

Epel also says that he "knows" Leona would help him study if he were on the verge of failing a class. AND YOU KNOW WHAT??????????? Leona actually DOES tutor Ruggie (who initially descibes his grades as being "in the dumpster") and gives advice and materials to him. Now Ruggie's grades are average, but passing. In his Labwear vignettes, Leona doesn't formally teach Epel, but he does make a voice-changing potion to help Epel out (although his own ulterior motive was to avoid Rook, who was the one that originally helped Epel). When Epel and Grim then beg Leona to show them his technique, he refuses and seems annoyed at their requests. In other words, Leona doesn't seem eager to teach others unless it serves a purpose for himself.

Leons is oftentimes pushing others to perform well, and in a way that serves a dual purpose of helping the individual out but also ultimately benefitting him. For example, Leona helps sand Azul’s contracts because he wants to as terminate an agreement he has with Azul. Additionally, he plots in book 2 not only to help his dorm mates be noticed by Magift scouts, but also to prove his own worth as a leader. In yet another instance, Leona shows students outside of his club how to efficiently mine for magestone so they can fulfill their goal and earn a Vargas Badge. This clears them out of the cave so he can nap there. Leona is working smarter, not necessarily harder. Relating this to Magift Club... As Ruggie and Epel have told us, Leona runs his members ragged during practice. As a rich kid and royalty, he’s said to have a natural inclination for being demanding and ordering others around—but there’s always some kind of compensation or reward for following orders well. Ruggie gets many perks from doing Leona’s errands and chores for him, so he willingly follows Leona. For the Magift Club, the intense training causes those unable or unwilling to keep up to quit, leaving behind the go-getters, the tough, and the willful. Not only are these the types of people most likely to do well in actually playing the sport, but they’re also the types of people Leona himself is seeking with play with.

When your players are willing and able to train hard and by themselves (knowing what their strengths and weaknesses are, as well as how to improve), it encourages… independence. It means less work for the captain to do. It means having a group of people who are obedient and obey your every word. It means Leona can get away with napping during club practice. He's working them hard now so they can take care of themselves later and he has to do less. That seems to be the implication in some instances, as Riddle had noted before that, “it has been a while since [he has seen Leona] sincerely apply himself to his club activities.” (That's because Leona has already trained his team to be comfortable train on their own! This is demonstrated in the flashback of his Beastly Garb vignettes, when Leona instructs his club to do cooldown exercises "on their own while he heads off to nap.) And believe me, when he’s “applying himself”, his talent shines through (just as his intelligence does when he wants to employ it). As Epel and Ruggie say in Leona’s Halloween vignette (flashback), 5 people tried to get the disc away from Leona for 30 minutes and still weren’t successful while Leona barely broke a sweat. Part of the reason why Leona is able to afford bossing his team members around is because he can walk the walk. His own abilities, then, also serve as a point of motivation for the rest of the team. They want to be able to perform on the same level as him, want the honor to play with someone like that. We see one prominent example of this in his Dorm Uniform vignettes. In them, Jack is being bullied by Savanaclaw (senpai) mobs because they're annoyed with his athletic abilities and righteous attitude. These mobs also accurse Leona of being unworthy to lead them because "all [he does] is slack off during practice". They quickly learn the true magnitude of Leona's strength when he defends Jack from 30 mobs at once, not only demonstrating that he is fit for the title of captain, but also someone that has earned Jack's respect.

Though the Dorm Uniform vignettes ultimately frame Leona as siding with Jack, there is a lot of strategic thinking and wisdom in the advice he imparts to both parties involved in the quarrel. He argues in favor of the mobs "skirting the rules", which falls in line with his willingness to disregard morality so long as he achieves an end goal (see: his actions against Azul in book 3, and his actions in book 2 against Malleus). In this case, Jack preaching about playing by the rules is getting in the way of their goals (which will resurface in book 2). That's why he gets put in time-out to "think about his actions", and how he sees the world as black and white, evil and good. To Leona, it's not cheating, it's just playing smart and within the rules specifically specified (the mobs still acted within the boundaries set by rules) or what isn't specifically outlawed (they can't lose to Malleus if he can't play to begin with) to get what he wants. To this point, Leona also sees no shame in strategic retreats and surrenders. This is illustrated by him willingly turning himself into STYX when they approach, and passing on temporary leadership to Ruggie while he's gone. Again, he's just working with what he has in the systems that are presented to him, and he expects everyone else to be able to play the same game. While Leona tells Jack off, it's also true that Leona does have some code of honor as it relates to his own interests; he tells the mobs they're acting embarrassing by "punching down" and being jealous of a freshman. This doesn't come from a place of concern for Jack, or from worry about their attitude, but primarily from irritation that he has to clean up after their behavior. As we see in book 2, Leona himself has no issue with playing Magift against freshmen who are new to the sport (Ace, Deuce, etc.) when they've come unannounced into his dormitory. It's Jack who has to intervene there and call Leona out for picking on the small fry. Even Leona warning the mobs for using magic outside of Magift is a ploy to serve his own agenda. It's against school rules to use magic unless instructed; Leona is, therefore, against his students wailing on Jack using magic instead of fists because it could attract undue attention from staff (and thus cause issues for him, as their dorm leader). This is also why Leona wants to take on the Heartslabyul detective group in a game of Magift instead of just fighting them then and there; it's to avoid causing such a ruckus right before the big interdorm tournament. Leona has a problem with people challenging his authority and making unnecessary trouble for him to fix. When it serves his interests, he'll turn, and/or he won't side completely with one party. He can easily see the pros and the cons of both sides. If Jack is black and white, then Leona is all grey.

This is another notable quality of Leona's: he can identify and understand people's strengths and weaknesses, sometimes even better than they do themselves. His own club members can attest to how Leona gives them specific advice to improve their skills. In fact, we get to see one instance of it in Leona's Beastly Garb vignettes. Epel asks Leona for advice on how to better control the disc, since he's been missing passes and dropping them a lot. Leona responds by telling him not to worry about it and then walking off. A lot of people might look at this and say "he's just being lazy and shirking his work again". But later in the vignette, Leona explains his rationale: Epel's strength is his speed. When he's handling a disc as he's flying, that significantly cuts down on that speed and hinders his overall performance. If Epel tries to get better at all these things at once, he'll neglect his actual strength and not be useful to the team. Leona reasons that since making objects float is a fundamental skill for a mage, Epel will naturally practice it more and improve with time, so in the meantime he should dedicate his time in club to what he's already got as an asset.

This discerning eye is not just limited to club members, either. Leona has shown that, time and time again, he can key in on people. It was Leona who recognized Ace's craftiness and how Ace planned to use Leona's presence to his own advantage in Endless Halloween Night. Leona doesn't worry about the potential harm a wayward disc could have caused Riddle because he knows Riddle could easily deflect it with his own magic (in Ace's PE vignette). He alone noticed that Jamil's eyes "always glare" and senses his malicious intent against Kalim (in Jamil's School Uniform vignette). This is WAY before the events of book 4 ever came out too. Then, in book 6, Leona points out that Ruggie knows how keep to the strongest people to make up for his own deficits, how Jack knows how to adhere to a hierarchy, and how even Kalim has strengths in how amicable he is, and the wealth he was born into. He knows when people aren't meeting their full potential too, telling Jamil that he keeps making excuses instead of actually acting.

What makes the whole conversation Leona has with Jamil so great is that a lot of what is said is relatable for the two of them. Leona, too, knows what it's like to be in a situation where others shun his talents in favor of another. That's why he's able to speak so pointedly on the matter. It's that connection that helps to move Jamil and motivate him to finally act on his own to fulfill a support role for Leona that he needs later on. There's a parallel here with how Leona acted in book 2; he tried and tried and tried, and when he failed, he sat down and gave it all up, blaming his team mates and claiming he played along with their game. Leona was a quitter before. But now he's seeing that same behavior in others and he's calling it out, bluntly posing the question of if they're going to continue to wallow or if they're going to pick themselves up and move forward. It's the same lesson that HE had to learn for himself. If you consider that his Dorm Uniform vignettes play out prior to book 2, it becomes even more fitting for his growth since he tells Jack back then: "[...] guys who own up to their mistakes are all right in my book. Keep at it and model that behavior for the rest of Savanaclaw." This is Leona owning up to his own mistakes. He never openly and formally apologizes what his wrongdoings or promised to "be better" (then again, some OB boys just don't), but he's making up for his past behavior by imparting the wisdom he learned with his peers, whether subconsciously (like, out of guilt) or consciously.

This all goes hand-in-hand with the high standards Leona has set for Magift Club. Cater asks him for the details of his club's training (in Leona's Broomquet), to which the birthday boy responds with a story about how a team member didn't have enough stamina for a game, so instead of training them to pass the disc, he purposefully chucked the disc as far as it would go. It's to demonstrate to the club member that was lacking in stamina that this is the distance they need to be able to go, and this is their current disparity. It comes off as perhaps too harsh (and certainly a means to quit the club), but as Leona puts it, he doesn't want nor need cowards with him. His team should be full of people who get frustrated when they cannot meet their goals and will actively think about how to be better, then come back and try again and again. Think of it like how Mulan found smarter ways to tackle the challenges put forth by the army, rather than training the conventional way. That's what Leona expects of his club members, and it's the same mentality that drives himself. Tackling the same problem using creative solutions--it's like a game of chess. qbkhldyuFVYOwovyifS ;fslh ihof Aana dnAn thEN MCaER T SAYS smsethbha TH LIKE "waaaah~ Leona-kun is such a cool leader~" AFSHYJASVYOIFADOS AND THANE THAT FUCKE R LONA ' JUST G oeaS "this is to be expected of every leader, it's the basics" UNM???????? ??? ??? ???? ? BITCH EXCUSE YOU???? ???? ??? ? ? ? ? ? 😭 IW ANS'T EXPEC TING TO BE FUCXKIGFN A ATTACKED LKIKE THIS, CA T MAN

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P.S. I'M SO SCARE D THAT HE'S GONNA OUTRPAVE ROOO K ON MY FAOVRIRTS LIST I'M SOC UFKC IUNG SCARED

[simptasia]

i am amused by the thought of somebody watching lost cuz of me and being like "...jack is a lot more annoying than i thought he'd be"

[izzyspussy]

i have so much love in my heart for travis. he was So Much this episode and justin was audibly annoyed with him, and everything he did was endearing to me anyway. 💕

[soullessjack]

I be like “I need to get back on this agenda” and the agenda is just trying to make people actually care about jack outside of him being a destiel baby

[itsabee]

literally. I tried to find a dude with a deep British voice but was unsuccessful the only ones that showed up weren’t even that deep, they were like medium 💀

All British men voices annoy me so you’re my hero. Thank you for proving none of them have deep voices .

Also I don’t think I’ve said this since the server but our voice claim for jack (corpse husband) ? I hate his voice. I hate it so much. Literally sends me into a meltdown it hurts my ears so bad . I tried to listen to him for descriptions for Jack but I couldn’t do it .

[amidstthemists]

I have a question!

Do you think Frosty the snowman comes alive with magic that comes from Santa Claus? Or Jack Frost? Or other?

imo I think Jack Frost (bc his name is literally Frosty) but then I just picture Martin Short as Jack Frost bringing a snowman to life and either he is really lonely OR MY FAVORITE THEORY Frosty the snowman is part of some greater evil plan to take down Christmas that Jack Frost is working on. Just imagine… Frosty has to keep getting melted/dehatted like the Winter Soldier when he’s brain wiped/on ice because he keeps making friends with neighborhood kids and iT’S HOLDING UP THE MISSION, YOU DIRTY SNOWCONE.

[hecksupremechips]

Replaying p3 is such a frightening experience because it forces me to remember Ikutski is a real character that exists

[ohlooh]

DP x DC prompt

The Fentons were a loud family. Jack didn't know the concept of an inside voice, explosions follewed them everywhere and their driving left wreckage anytime they they got on the road. Most importantly of all, they were loud about their emotions.

Loud and obvious about their love, or hate. Rarely changing their minds, once a Fenton loved they loved with everything they had, with shouting, broken down walls, fudge, cringe worthy nicknames, loud proclamations and dramatic actions.

Now, Tim knew this before he started dating Danny. Knew that Danny wouldn't be ashamed to scream his love from the roofs. But it still took him by surprise when the grand gestures, loud confessions and over the top actions continued the longer they dated, if anything Danny got more intense.

He could admit that he expected Danny's displays to slow down or stop completely the more he got to know Tim. The more stupid excuses he made, the more dates he missed because crime never stops in Gotham, but Danny just kept accepting excuse after excuse with a smile. Danny still showed up randomly with flowers and homemade sweets and gadgets he made specifically for him.

And Tim just couldn't keep lying, so he came up with a plan. Invite Danny to next family dinner, let Danny charm the Bats enough they let Tim confess about being Red Robin. Truly a flawless plan.

Except Danny, upon first meeting Jason started a fight. And threw a knife at Damian, Damian threw it first, but that was beside the point. And argued with Bruce. And somehow managed to insult even Dick by going on about he hated circus. This just couldn't get worse.

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

tell me again that you hate me

a/n: i kinda just poured all of the filth ever into this one fic... you're welcome.

summary: “you know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.” 

warnings: bully!stepbro!rafe cameron x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, enemies to lovers, rafe is in college while reader is still in high school (everyone is over 18), blackmail, alcohol consumption, allusion to drug use, drunk driving, hidden cameras, panty stealing, references to somno, possessiveness, kissing, loss of virginity, size kink, belly bulge, pain kink, dirty talk, impact play, oral, pussyjob, just the tip, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, no aftercare and not really any foreplay, public sex, rafe is mean and pervy and dark but it's all fun because it's just a silly fantasy

word count: 5153

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Your life had turned into a living nightmare.

You thought that when your high school bully graduated, you’d finally get rid of him. But little did you know what the future held in store, just who your own mother would decide to marry and what particular family you’d be forced to fuse with. 

Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. Sure, when you’d first met him, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, but that was until he noticed you and truly showed you the notorious bully that he was. And now that he, the very person who had turned your teenage years into literal hell, had become your stepbrother, you couldn’t wait to get out of there, move halfway across the globe just to never see his face again. 

It also didn’t help matters that you got situated in the room right next to his, even had to share a Jack and Jill bathroom with him. 

Now what you didn’t know was how Rafe’s feelings truly were towards you. How he only started bullying you because you made him feel some type of way that no other chick did, but you came from the wrong side of the island, so getting those feelings out in the form of cruelty only seemed natural to a guy such as him. You had no idea that it was actually you whom he thought about every time he jerked off on the other side of that incredibly thin wall you shared, or even that his wicked fascination with you only seemed to grow now that you were a part of the family. 

The impatient knocks were no use, so swiftly you swung the door to Rafe’s bedroom open. He was nowhere in sight, but before you could turn around to search for him in another place, the light that his computer monitor blared out into the space caught your eye.

Your vision however grew wide as soon as you saw the taboo tab that was open. It was porn, but not just any porn. The open page was littered with rows and rows of graphic videos that all fell under the stepsister search he had typed in. 

Frozen in your stance, you wanted to sprint out of there, though at the same time, some part of you wanted to inch closer and snoop further. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” a voice blared from behind you and caused you to jump.

Skittering away from the desk, you spotted the familiar buzzcut standing in the doorway. 

“I–, uh,” you swallowed and recalled the reason for your hunt, “my mom’s forcing me to go to that party at Topper’s tonight.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed. 

“And so, because I don’t really do that sort of thing–”

“Because you’re a fucking loser who never gets invited.”

“Because I have better things to spend my Friday nights doing, your father wanted you to keep an eye on me and to make sure I got home safe.”

The only way you were gonna get through the night was if you got as wasted as possible.

Which is exactly what you ended up doing. 

When the clock chimed two, the raging headache you were developing from the blaring music convinced you to finally call it a night. You’d given it enough of a chance, enough experience to go home and state that partying simply wasn’t for you. 

But if you didn’t find the literal demon of a stepbrother and let him complete his end of the bargain, then maybe your mom wouldn’t believe you alone and force you to go to another. 

However, locating him turned out to be a much more difficult task than you’d thought. As you stumbled around the massive house, supporting your wobbly weight on the walls as you peeked into each of the rooms where some partygoers had migrated to, you soon dug your phone out of your jeans and dialled up his number. 

It was on the third attempted call that you finally stumbled into him. Sitting with a random blonde on his lap and the remnants of a mysterious white powder dusting the coffee table separating you from him. 

“There you are,” you grumbled, “I’ve been trying to call you!”

His expression turned sour as he noticed your presence, swiftly flipping his phone around as it layed on the table, though the caller ID that lit up the screen wasn’t of your name as your phone still buzzed in your palm to get through to him. Instead, it spelt out fleshlight in big bold letters. 

“So, you have,” he exhaled, “what do you want?” 

“I wanna go home,” you shoved your phone back in your pocket. 

“So, go home. What do you want my fucking permission? Are you that obsessed with me?”

“You have to take me home,” you reminded him, though when he began to laugh in your face, you shot back, “or you can just deal with your dad yourself when you get home. Your choice if you wanna keep being in his good graces or not.” 

That managed to shut him up. Though as he reluctantly pushed the blonde aside and got up from the couch, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “fucking prude,” like a curse on the wind just before he marched passed you and grabbed a hold of your arm to drag you with him. 

“Ow, Rafe, you’re hurting me!” you tried to tear yourself free of his grip. 

“Oh, shut up you baby, no I’m not. You wanna feel what does hurt?” his long fingers then dug further into your flesh and caused it to actually ache, “this.”

As he pushed open the front door, you whined, “ow, please stop,” but when he finally did, he only traded the grasp out with a light shove to your shoulder, directing you further towards his parked car. 

When you were planted in the passenger seat with your gaze firmly fixed out the window as the dark streets rolled by, you crossed your arms and mumbled, “I hate you…” gaining enough courage from the dizzying alcohol ravaging your system to utter it out loud. 

“What was that?” Rafe cast a glance in your direction.

Twisting your neck to glare back at him, you hesitantly repeated, “I hate you,” though the faint flicker of bravery you’d acquired was snuffed out as swiftly as it ignited when you saw the smirk that bloomed on your stepbrother’s features. 

“Aw, don’t tell me that, princess,” he chuckled, “you’ll just make me hard.” 

Eyes widening, they briefly fluttered down to the crotch of his trousers before you blinked away, a reaction that was evidently satisfying enough for Rafe to cause him to keep going. 

“But you probably wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”

“I know what to do,” you said defensively, though regretted your humouring him as soon as the words slipped out past your lips. 

“Oh yeah? Just how would you know that? Everyone knows you’re a fucking virgin,” something he was to blame for, though that wasn’t a fact you ever had to know. You didn’t have to be aware of just how many times he had stopped guys from asking you out, just because he wanted you all to himself, “but are you secretly a perv, sis? Is that how you think you know what to do?”

“Don’t call me that,” you cringed lightly. 

“What? A perv? Or sis? Don’t you wanna be reminded that you’re my stepsister?”

“Not particularly...”

As the car curved into the driveway to Tanny Hill, an offer suddenly rolled off Rafe’s tongue. 

“You know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.” 

Your mouth hung agape as the vehicle rolled to a stop, the sudden shift made you fear that your latest drink would come up again. 

Utterly stunned, you couldn’t form a single word as you stared back at him. 

“I mean, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he went on, turning in his seat to gaze over at you, already undressing you with his eyes, “haven’t you always had the hots for me?”

“I–…” it felt as if the car was swaying around even though it stood completely still, “…I drank way too much tonight, and I think you might have as well.”

“You’re drunk?” darkness glinted in his eyes, “well, I honestly don’t know if I should be impressed or run inside and wake everyone up so you can get grounded for fucking ever,” he laughed. 

“No!” you gasped, “You can’t tell them, please! I–…” you felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes and blur up your already hazy vision, “fuck!” 

Leaning even further back in his seat, he cocked his head, “I mean, I could also keep it a secret…” the tip of his tongue mischievously slipped out to poke his lip, “for the right price, that is.”

“Seriously?” you glared back at him, “are you serious right now?”

Capturing your hand, he swiftly brought it to the palpable tent in his pants, “do I not seem serious?” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly to a squint. 

Your lips parted in shock, stare flickering away from his eyes to spot how he ever so slightly pressed your palm down against him. 

He was so hard that you could nearly feel his pulse through the fabric of his trousers. 

“I mean, really I’d be helping you out,” your gaze stayed glued to how his broad hand engulfed your own a moment longer before you glanced up to find his unwavering stare once more, “so you should really thank me for both keeping your secret and doing you such a massive favour…”

As a shaky breath escaped your lungs, you whispered once more, “I hate you…”

But the proclamation only conjured a smile to appear on his lips, “tell me again,” and he leaned in a bit closer.

“I hate y–,” but you didn’t get the last bit out as Rafe then crashed his lips against yours.

It took a second for you to react with anything other than a surprised whimper, but when you did, it was slow and cautious compared to his boldness. 

A string of saliva strung you together as he eventually parted from you. Offering himself a small caress, he pressed your palm down against him one last time before he let you go. His breathing was heavy as he momentarily let his thumb trace your bottom lip, briefly slipping it crudely in your mouth, before uttering, “get inside.”  

Why, after all of this time, after all of the pain and torture he alone made you go through, why did he still have to give you butterflies the way that he did?

It was your room that he led you to, a hand ever rooted on you as you made the journey. At first, you thought it was because he saw the way you occasionally stumbled over your own feet, but perhaps it was just in case you wanted to make a run for it, just a precaution, a safety net already halfway over you. 

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded in a cold tone as he shut the door behind you. 

“W-what?” you turned to look back at him.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he repeated, “take your clothes off,” though they came out sounding slightly impatient. 

He palmed himself through his pants as you slowly began to strip. Though as you’d shyly peeled your t-shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his voice halted you just as you began to undo your jeans. 

“Stop,” his voice cut the thick air like a knife, “turn around when you pull those down,” you twisted away from him as your thumbs sank into either side of the waistband, “and do it slowly,” he made you put on a show, ogling as you gradually revealed the curve of your ass, “that’s it…” he nearly moaned as your pants crumbles to the floor, “bra and panties too, princess. Unless of course, you’re backing out of our deal already.”

Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and shed the rest, ignoring his soft wolf whistles and crude comments as you exposed yourself. 

Slowly turning back around to face him, your hands were clasped before you out of sheer timidness and not knowing what to do with them. 

“You gonna stand over there all night?” he raised his chin slightly.

When your feet stood rooted right before his seated position on the bed, your hands began to fiddle as he pulled his shirt over his head and caused your pulse to somehow beat even harder than it already did. 

One of his palms then scooped up your stomach and briefly grabbed one of your tits before scooping you closer, “come here,” and utilised his leverage to toss you down on the bed beside him, “let me get a good look at you.” 

Grabbing for the bedsheets as the mattress momentarily bounced beneath your spine, you blinked up at Rafe as he sat next to you, twisting his form and craning down to near your core. 

You tried to clamber your legs shut, embarrassed for what his cruel reaction might be, but he was not only faster, but stronger than you, and grabbed a hold of your thighs. As he split you apart, his lips curled up into a grin. 

“Look at you… fuck,” he let out a short chuckle, “this is gonna be fun.” 

A gasp curled out of your frame as he then grazed his thumb over your folds, smearing some of the mortifying wetness that seeped out and made you feel even more intoxicated than you already were. He lightly spread you apart and studied intently your dripping pussy, how it looked, how it glistened and how your little hole twitched when he lightly circled your clit. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he rubbed your puffy pearl with a mean lightness that caused your hips to buck slightly, “you like it when your big stepbrother touches you like this?” but when you didn’t reply, he reached down and grabbed your jaw, angling it for you to meet his eye, “answer me.”

“I–… y-yes,” you quietly admitted, feeling as if you were in some strange dream. 

“Of course you do, you dirty little girl,” he bent down again to gaze at your pussy a little too close for your taste, “I knew you were a slut since the moment I met you.”

Letting go of your face, he then snaked his free hand down to give himself an ounce of relief. 

“You know, part of me doesn’t even wanna prep you with my fingers first,” he smirked and let his fingertips sweep down to tickle your entrance, “I like the idea of not stretching you out first and letting my cock do all the work, let it feel just how tiny and pure you are for me.” 

“But isn’t that gonna hurt?” your breath caught in your throat. Sure, you’d played with yourself nearly till your hands fell off, but that idea still managed to scare you. 

“God, I hope so,” he groaned and briefly leaned down to press a hot kiss to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and sloppily making out with it. 

When he then stood up and pulled his pants down, your jaw nearly hit the floor as well when you saw how thick his dick was. Fat and veiny, curving proudly up towards his abs. 

Seizing your hips, Rafe yanked you closer to where he stood, nearly letting your ass dangle over the edge of the mattress.

“Wait,” you suddenly reached out to touch his forearm as he gave himself a few lavish strokes, staring down at your cunt, comparing the obscene size of him to your puff, “what about a condom?” you squeaked as he flicked his leaking tip down to tap your core. 

Sucking in a fierce breath through his nose, he glared down at you and shot back, “what about you shut the fuck up and just be grateful,” before he sent his open palm down to smack your pussy. 

“Ah! I’m sorry, I just–, fuck!” you shuttered beneath him as he soothed the slap with the nudge of his length, rubbing it against you and teasing your cunt before he started sweeping it through your folds, nearly fucking your soppy slit, the tip of him kissing your little pearl on each silky advance.  

A dollop of spit dropped from his lips and joined the mess he already tickled at between your parted legs. 

“It’s too big…” you murmured as you stared down at how his fat girth parted your pretty petals, though the observation only conjured a smile on Rafe’s lips, “maybe you could just put the tip in?” you tried through your foggy mind, “that would still count.”

A rumbling chuckle bubbled out of him as he stared down at the two of you together, “just the tip…” his movements then grew more erratic as he slid through your folds, “is that all you think your little virgin cunt can handle?” shy gasps escaped you every time he deliberately let his cock catch at your opening, “just the tip?” 

As he slowly pressed just the flush head of his length in to breach your entrance, your brows crinkled up at the mind-numbing stretch. 

“Like that, baby?” he only moved ever so slightly, “is that all you think you can handle?” and you nodded foggily in return. But as you let your eyes flutter shut and breathed through the staggeringly wonderful sensation, Rafe’s voice once again washed over you, “nah,” like a splash of cold water while you were licking up warm sun rays, “that’s not good enough. This is,” and he then slammed the entirety of his length into you.

Your eyes instantly shot back open and your legs curled up even further on either side of you at the shock. 

“What?” he cooed at you mockingly as he slowly dragged his dick back out for just the memory to remain, “does it hurt?”

You were a blubbering and cursing mess, trembling beneath him as your pussy tried to accommodate him.

“Come on, princess,” he bent down over you and let his nose ghost against yours, “tell me that it hurts.”

“It h-hurts,” you whimpered as his hot breath fanned across your blazing cheeks. 

It did sting, a lot, but though you hated to admit it, a part of you loved it, a part of you sank even further into the pit of pleasure he so slowly dunked you into. 

“Tell me that it’s too big for you,” he nuzzled his nose against yours as he plugged you back up. 

Your body shook beneath his every time he moved as much as a millimetre inside you, “i-it’s too big.” 

Letting out a low moan of satisfaction, he then leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing your breath away even further. 

You tried, but couldn’t really focus on kissing him back, not that he seemed to mind much as he moaned into your mouth, soon letting his sloppy kisses dance over your cheek and down your neck, letting hickeys bloom in his wake and mark up your skin like a brand.

As he sucked down on the spot where your pulse went wild beneath the skin, his hips drove against yours harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, as well as letting the tip of him bully the deepest part of you. He didn’t just do it once, but kept it up as he enjoyed the little squeaks you let out every time he bumped against your cervix. 

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he only offered them the briefest of pecks before raising himself off of you, just ever so slightly, and one by one, grabbed your already wide-spread legs and rested each one of them onto his broad shoulders, efficiently folding you in half. 

“H-holy shit,” you panted as the mattress rippled beneath you at every one of his rough thrusts, “Rafe–”

“Yeah?” he smirked down at your melted form, the vein in his forehead popping from the strain, “are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum on your big bro’s dick?” one of his hands swept up to squeeze your tit, then gave it a swift tap before growling, “come on, princess. I can feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. Do it, I fucking dare you. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You almost screamed as you tumbled over the edge, your head curling to the side to hide yourself in the crumbled duvet beneath you as your pussy gushed all over his fat girth. 

“Oh, fuck,” Rafe croaked as he straightened back up to get a good view. Pulling out of you, he briefly flicked his dick through your folds to urge more of your nectar to leak out, before he slid it back inside and asked in amazement, “you ever squirted before?” 

Trembling from the overstimulation, your eyes rolled in your skull as you shakily mumbled, “maybe twice, I think.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” he growled proudly, “squirting all over me like a proper whore. Just look at you,” his grip dented your thighs as he pressed them further down against the bed, “you’re already a pretty little cockdrunk mess.”

“I–, I–,” you blubbered as you felt drool begin to trickle down your cheek. 

“Oh, fuck,” he then groaned, glancing down at where he split you apart, “hold your legs back,” he requested, though had to help your sluggish hands find their way, “look at this, baby,” he scooped a palm behind your head and ushered you to spot what he had noticed. Splaying a wide hand over the lower part of your stomach, he traced the faint bulge that rhythmically appeared, “sure as fuck not a virgin anymore, are you? Fucking ruining that perfect little pussy of yours. Now that’s how you pop a fucking cherry. Aren’t you happy I was in such a charitable mood tonight?” he then pressed down on the imprint rudely, the overwhelming sensation causing your pussy to drizzle a little more around him, “aren’t you, sis?”

“Yes,” you mewled, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud and not getting your guts rearranged. 

“You’d let me do anything I’d fucking want, wouldn’t you?” he smirked down at your dazed form. 

“Y-yes,” the word flowed out of you, though you couldn’t quite comprehend all of his dirty talk any longer. 

“Hold on,” he briefly slowed down and stretched over to reach a small apprentice obscured and hidden in all of the cluttered decor on your nearby dresser. Turning it in his hand, he pointed the discrete camera down to film you, “say it again,” he picked his pace back up, “tell me that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

“Anything,” the words bubbled out through your moans, “anything you want.” 

“Say that you’re my little slut.”

“I’m yours–, I-I’m your s-slut.”

Tilting the hidden camera down to get a few close-ups, his voice then seeped into you once more, “now tell me again that you hate me.” 

One of your hands fluttered down and began to rub your puffy clit.

“I hate you.”

“Again,” he reached down to give your left nipple a harsh pinch.

“I hate you.”

“Keep going, princess.” 

And the more times the phrase flowed out past your lips, the more it began to lose its meaning and morph into just another sound, one that was almost akin to the complete opposite kind of proclamation. 

Just like you barely noticed when Rafe dug out the hidden camera, so too did you miss it when he put it back down, obscured somewhere among your things, possibly not even the only one. 

When you came once again, Rafe didn’t so much as pause when you creamed around his cock and drenched the sheets beneath you that much further.

“There you fucking go,” he sent a palm down to smack the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, “god, you’re so hot. I can’t believe you actually let me do this,” he grinned as your fingers stretched out to graze his wild hips, trying and failing to slow him down, “you’re such a little freak,” he glanced down at the ring of your essence that marked the base of his throbbing cock, “so fucking nasty for your stepbrother. I bet you’d even let me keep using you after you fall asleep. I mean, who’s to say I haven’t already,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking cute when you sleep. No annoying remarks, no dumb comments… I think I might prefer you that way…” his slamming grew sloppy as he soon moaned, “fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Pull out,” you begged through your hazy pants. 

And just when you thought he wouldn’t respect your wishes, he yanked out and furiously stroked himself before your winking and wrecked hole as it slowly retraced from the severe stretch. Moaning loudly, he swiftly painted your pussy with his load, getting it all over your puffy petals till he was panting above you. One hand rested on your thigh as he brushed the sensitive head of his cock over the cream, messily tapping the hefty weight of him against your aching clit and making you jump a few times as he smeared it in. 

Throwing himself down on the bed beside you, he let out a long sigh and said, “you’re welcome.”

You felt like you couldn’t move, like you might never be able to move again. Your breath still came in ragged as the only thing you could focus on was the sore throbbing centred at your core, that blossomed out through the rest of your nerves. 

“Well,” Rafe huffed as he soon lifted himself up to a sitting position, “night,” and without another word, slipped out through your shared bathroom into his own bedroom. 

“I can’t believe they made you take me,” you grumbled as you watched Rafe shadow you in the clothing store, “I could have just gone to the mall on my own.”

“You don’t have a car though–, also, why are you the one complaining? I’m the one being forced to go fucking shopping with you of all people.”

Somehow, for some mysterious reason, since you’d moved into Tanny Hill, your collection of underwear had shrivelled down till you barely had enough to get you through the week. Guess that was the price you had to pay for letting someone else do your laundry, though you’d always assumed it would more just be a single sock that commonly vanished in the wash…

When you dipped into the fitting room to try a few of the gathered options on, you only managed to test out two of them before the curtain slid back open and you swiftly scrambled to cover yourself.

“Rafe!” you let out a hushed screech, “what do you think you’re–”

“Try these on,” he handed you a wide stack of hangers. It wasn’t just underwear dangling from them, but also some clothing, though all of it way too revealing than you were used to. 

Glancing down at them, you refused to grasp the items and simply stated in a clear tone, “no.” 

Letting out a low sigh, he then turned to close the curtain back up before he twisted back to face you, “do you need me to have a little talk with your mom and my dad?” he took a few steps towards you, slowly pushing you into the corner by the tall mirror.

Glaring back at him through your pout, you huffed, “no…” 

You stayed in the corner as he then hung the clothing up on the hooks before taking a seat on the small stool where your purse was resting before he swept it to the floor. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s boring as shit out there. At least in here, I might get a moderate amount of entertainment.”

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly began to try the attire on. 

“I hate thongs,” you muttered as you tugged a pair into place over your hip, trying not to catch your stepbrother’s stare as his gaze wandered from your reflection to the perfect view he had of your backside. 

“I recall you hate a lot of things you still don’t hesitate to jump on.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “you have your fun, enjoy this little fashion show, but I’m sure as hell not getting any of these.”

“Well, good,” he uttered demeaningly, “because I’m buying them for you.”

Catching his eye in the mirror, you told him, “I’m still not wearing them. You can’t make me.” 

“Yeah,” he puffed out a smirk, “we’ll see about that,” and then tore his gaze away from you to gesture to one of the hangers, “try that dress on, but keep the pink thong on underneath, only the thong though.” 

You had to shut your eyes in annoyance a moment before you fulfilled his request, soon standing before him in a scantily cut, pastel mini dress, crafted in a fabric so thin that you could see the faint shadow of your nipples poking through them, especially after they’d turned all pebbly after Rafe had torn that privacy curtain to the side. 

“You happy now?” you turned to face him and propped your hands on either side of your hips. 

“Hm,” he cockily pursed his lips as his gaze studied you, “I was right…”

Your brows stayed furrowed till you watched his palm slide down to squeeze himself through his shorts. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes growing wide. 

“You do look hot in normal clothes.”

“I don’t think any of this is normal…”

“I think it’s time you learned how to suck a cock,” he suddenly announced, eyes still glued to the dress’ low neckline as he unzipped his slacks. 

“Rafe…” you breathed. 

His eyes flickered up to find yours, “get on your knees,” he tilted his head, “come on, princess. You’ll love it, trust me.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[s0dium]

Warning: Horny Geto Suguru, male masturbation, fantasizing about various sexual activity, breeding

Geto Suguru cannot stop having sick fantasies about you.

He hates himself for it. He hates the fact that you linger in his mind like a melody he can't forget, weaving through his thoughts at unexpected moments, filling him with a relentless desire that only grows stronger with each passing day. He wants to forget about you he really does, but his stupid brain can't seem to let go of you.

Of course, you wouldn't know this. You have no idea that he spends hours dreaming about you, undressing you with his mind, and playing with you until his heart's content. Certainly, you have no idea how various his fantasies are, from stuffing your cute hole with loads upon loads of cum to sticking a vibrator on your clit and watching you squirm and cry for him. Fuck, he's drooling right now thinking about it.

The fantasies have become so intense, so tangible, he's even started to engage in less-than-savory activities. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Geto finds excuses to be near you, to catch the faint scent of your shampoo or the unique fragrance that seems to encapsulate your essence. At the dead of night, Geto will touch himself to your beautiful pictures on your Instagram, staring at your pretty lips and imagining them around his dick. God, how would you feel if you knew these innocent pictures of yourself were being used to get yourself off?

Geto shudders as he drags his hand up his shaft. He's already so sensitive just from the thought of you. The pleasure dulls his senses as well as the wall he kept up against those sick thoughts he has of you. Geto bites the inside of his cheek as he moves his hand faster up and down his length. The euphoria is immediate, milky white beads of precum dribble from his angry red tip that he uses to accelerate his motions. Oh god, he can't stop them now, the dam has been broken, now he can't stop the thoughts, the thoughts about what he'd fucking do to you.

"Fuuckkkk y/n.." Geto is not a whining man, but here he is, his voice laced with a certain vulnerability as if he was pleading for you, begging for you. He wonders what you would look like underneath him, face covered in his milky white cum. Jesus, he'd probably smear it all over your tits and lick it off you, maybe even force you to swallow his load.

"Y/n please please please," He practically gasps, the syllables of your name roll off his tongue like a caress, each one imbued with a sweetness that contrasts starkly with his unholy ministrations. Geto jacks himself off feverishly, desperate to feel the pleasure that he can taste so sweet on his tongue. He knows, lord he knows that his fist will be nothing compared to the real thing, compared to the squeeze and wetness of your soft walls but right now he will have to make do.

Thats when a new idea hit him. Could he make you squirt on him? Geto moans at the thought, his hips bucking up into his fist. Oh yes, that would be a dream, for you to squirt all over his dick, his fingers, shit, his face. If, no, when, he gets the chance, he won't stop licking your sweet cunt, he will suck and lap at your clit like an animal in heat.

Strands of Geto's black hair are starting to stick to his forehead. He is so close, his abs are contracting and his toes are curling and uncurling from the pleasure. Yes, Geto Suguru swears he will do all of those things, he will get to live these fantasies in his head with you he promises himself this. He will fuck you in doggy, in a mating press, on a table, on the floor, fill you up with cum in all your holes until your begging him to stop oh god hes gonna cu-

"Nghhh y/n fuckfuckfuck."

Geto suguru's mind goes blank white as his hips buck into his hand and white ropes of cum spill from him.

Yes, Geto Suguru will experience those sick fantasies he was with you.

[bi-writes]

what you want you cannot find. so you let someone else find it for you. (18+, dark!simon x curvy!fem!reader, arranged marriage)

you don't really know what you were thinking when you answered the ad. it is many things, maybe, why you chose to apply. why you were grateful to be chosen.

the loneliness, it aches. you cannot find yourself in anyone else, you cannot find the thing that should move you and hold you. you cannot find what it is that should ignite what is asleep, the thing nestled between your ribs that feels like it beats to a rhythm that you cannot hear.

the bitterness, too. there is something sour that you taste. there is acid under your tongue, something rotten between your teeth, and you wish for anything that you would stop tasting it because it reminds you of how alone you are, how alone you'll remain, the inevitable thing that you wish you weren't but that you unfortunately are.

it is the thing you cannot die for because there isn't anything to die for. you live, and you breathe, and you exist, but there isn't anything there. this is nothing that makes you want to gnaw on your own flesh, there is no life you would take in sake of another, there is no purpose to your existence except the hope that perhaps there is still time to have what you want more than anything.

but you don't know what you want. you don't know because everything that you thought you wanted, you do not want any longer. you never feel anything with other men. they are beneath you. they maim what they shouldn't. they complain about things that they can fix. they stare at a problem head-on, with the solution at their back, and they chase their tails. they do not know their right from their left. you hate them. but you want it. you want something. you want one of them, but you don't know which, so maybe if you don't choose, you will find what it is that you don't know you're looking for.

you're alone in the room. they gave you a bouquet of white roses. you hold them nervously between clammy palms. you wear a silk white dress that skims the floor, fabric falling soft over the curve of your waist and gentle along the swell of your cleavage. your hair is loose, and there is a short veil over your head, covering your face.

you stare at your handler. he's dressed in his military fatigues, tactical vest still strapped with the Union Jack across his chest. he has introduced himself as captain john price, and he is the one who arranged for your arrival. he is the one who told you to wear white, and he is the one who gave you the roses.

captain john price is rugged. captain john price is kind. and captain john price is not what you want. you are grateful that you are not yet disappointed with your match.

the door opens behind you. you straighten your posture that extra inch when you hear his heavy gait. there is a pause as the door shuts behind him, and you see his captain nod to a figure that you cannot see. his boots hit the floor low, and you swallow when the sunlight that comes through the window is blocked entirely by the size of him as he stands at your side.

the vows are short. you say your i do first, soft voice that hits his ears in a way that makes him nearly purr. when it is his turn to say i do, your eyes sparkle. he speaks in such a low voice, a Manchester accent that makes your toes curl in the white kitten heels that you wear. a drawl that you can feel in your chest, an accent that ticks a corner of your brain you did not know was there.

"you may kiss your bride."

you turn away from the captain. you tilt your head to look up at him, and you let out a soft breath when you realize the sheer breadth of this man.

he is barely a man. he must be something else. he is dressed all in black, and he wears all of his gear. his tactical vest is stocked well, magazines tucked into their pockets, a grenade dangling from one strap, a handgun tucked into its holster on his chest and around his thick thigh. his belt is heavy with more, knives in sheathes, devices in their places. even without all of the weight, you know the size of him won't shrink.

you cannot see his face. he covers it with a mask, one that resembles the front face of a skull. it is dirty. you aren't certain if it is blood or soot or dirt. maybe it is all of that and more. you cannot see his eyes through the veil either, but they are dark, and they are intense.

you keep your eyes fixed on his as he lifts your veil. the delicate fabric settles over your head, and you see him without obstruction.

there he is.

it is like seeing a man for the first time. it is like being in the presence of the dream you've always had and could never remember.

he tilts his head to the side, curious. he is seeing your face for the first time, too. soft eyes. glossy lips. the curve of your mouth. the untouched skin of your cheeks, the unmarred flesh that you wear. he follows the line of your throat to the peek of your tits dressed in silk. you are a present wrapped in luxury. hand delivered goods, of the finest quality.

his bride. his wife. something he will have forever. he does not know if he has ever been able to say that about anything else. he's never had anything except for his life. nothing except for himself has ever belonged to him, but even now, not even his life is his own, it belongs to someone far away, someone in an office somewhere, who moves the chess pieces of his world around, where he cannot do anything but follow.

you stand on your toes to get closer to him. he thinks for just a second you will ask him to remove his mask, but you don't. you cant your head, and you kiss him over the mask, sticky gloss leaving a light imprint on the fabric. you settle back onto your heels, and your breath hitches when one of his gloved hands comes to settle at the dip of your waist.

"she's all mine now, eh, cap'n?"

you blink, your eyes still on his. you don't move, and you don't say anything. you wonder, if you could see his face, if he would smile.

"all yours, simon."

you let him drag you closer, shuffling on your feet until your hips press against his. your back arches gently as he uses both hands, gripping you around the middle and feeling the soft flesh underneath your silk dress. he is a rabid dog, his next meal at his fingertips. she is his, and he wants to take her home. if his captain was not standing at his back, he knows he would take you on this very floor.

she is mine. she is mine. she is mine.

he has studied your picture. he has memorized your name. he has been waiting for you. he is too awkward to leave base. he is too quiet to attract birds, birds that matter, birds that sing. he is too ravenous to be anything but permanent, he isn't capable of the mundane, of casual. it is everything or nothing at all, and at the sound of permanence, he foamed at the mouth.

at the thought of something to keep, he was blinded. when beasts lose control, they call their keeper, and he had none. this change could be good. this change would do him well. when he ignores the order of a commanding officer, he will bend to yours, because he is bound, wrapped, tied to you with something invisible that weaves between his bones.

you do not know what you were before, but you know what you are now.

you follow after him. he turns to leave, and you let him lead. your heels click as you walk, and when it is hard for you to keep up, you reach for his hand. he grunts when you do, but he doesn't push you away. you hold wilting roses in one hand, and you clutch him in the other. recruits and privates stop to salute or step out of your way, and they stare when they see a trailing angel behind their lieutenant, a pretty girl in a pretty white dress with a veil fluttering against the breeze as you try and keep up with your husband's long strides.

the door he stops in front of is plain and unmarked. he fits a key into the lock, turning it and opening it, and he invites you over a threshold that no one else has ever stepped over. you stand on the other side, holding the roses to your chest. he turns when you don't follow him inside. you get a glimpse of him as a whole, the man that he is, big and menacing and taken. you wonder if he will wear his ring under his glove or if he will put it on the chain that holds his dog tags.

"is this where you live?" you ask. you stay on the other side, looking in, a little timid as you stand there.

he nods, silent. he crosses his arms over his chest, and you admire the bulge of them, the paint of skeleton bones along the fingers of his gloves. you look him up and down before smiling a little.

"is this where i will live, too?"

he shakes his head, a no.

"can't have a thing like y'here," he murmurs. "boys'll eat y'up."

you tilt your head to the side.

"i find that hard to believe," you quip. "do people often eat what's yours, lieutenant?"

he snarls, narrowing his eyes. "no one takes wot's mine."

"then what are you so afraid of?"

"that 'f y'r 'ere, i won't get any fuckin' work done."

you break out into a big smile, pearly white teeth flashing, and he clicks his tongue at your reaction. he reaches up and lifts his mask, pushing it up until it rests over his nose. his nose is crooked from being broken so many times. his face is scarred, as if someone took a blade and carved out the skin and muscle. a deep one stretches from somewhere under the mask to his lip, where it looks as if the skin was haphazardly stitched back together. another long jagged grey streak comes over the line of his cheek down his jaw, as if someone tried to peel his face off.

he grins. it's ugly and unsettling, as if he sees prey that he knows he will catch. your own smile does not fade. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you want to taste him. beast, bear, killing machine, the boogeyman, a ghost that haunts, you do not know exactly what he is, but you know, immediately, that he is what you have been searching for.

you do not know him. you do not love him yet, but you will. you are sure of this. you are sure that he is missing piece. he will fill the spaces that you have always felt hollow. he will scratch a place in your head that has always itched. there is something in his eyes, you're not exactly sure what it is, but you can't wait to discover it. you can't wait to explore, to indulge, to lick the salt of his skin and know that everything he is has been waiting for something like you.

you did not choose him, but he chose you, and now you see it clearly. you see this thing, and you know the truth of what's been hiding from you all your life. the curtain has been taken down. the veil is off. the walls are invisible.

"come 'ere," he says lowly. "won't ask so nicely next time."

you drop the flowers onto the floor, crossing the doorway. you kick the door shut, hearing it click, and he comes closer, until you can feel his breath fanning your nose.

"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"

he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.

"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."

"w-what...what?"

"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."

your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.

"is it really that easy, simon?" you ask. his gloved hands slip over your throat, sliding low and skimming the silk of your dress before he cups both sides of your ass and squeezes, drawing you closer until you are uncomfortably pressed up against him. his gear digs into your softness, sharp edges cutting into you, but you ignore it as he begins to draw up the skirt of your dress. "is it really that easy to say you'll do all of that for me? isn't it...it's wrong, isn't it? to do those things for me?"

he laughs. humorless, condescending. as if that is the stupidest thing you could have ever said.

"'s olright, swee'eart. gonna take all those ideas outta y'r pretty lil' head."

you relax when you feel his gloved hand under the hem of your white lace panties. your eyes shut, and you reach forward and grip his vest for stability.

"christ..." he hisses. "y'r soaked..."

you are. you have been since you first laid eyes on him, on everything he is. you know why you are here, and he knows why he is here, and that is because there were two people so desperate to find one another, that they let someone else choose. the gods, fate, whatever they want to be called.

matched by design, together by choice.

you lean forward and kiss beside his lips, and you whine when his big fingers slide between your folds, soft on your clit before he fits two fingers inside of you. his gloves are warm, and you wet them easily.

"wot a good girl," he breathes. "knew y'were the right one."

"y-you did?"

"could see it in y'r eyes, dove. could see wot y'needed. could see it plain as fuckin' day. dyin' inside, just like me, aye?"

you shake your head.

"n-not anymore...not anymore..." you gasp, and he tsks as he steps backward, the weight of him heavy as he takes a seat on his perfectly made bed, bringing you with him. you fall into his lap, unafraid to because you know someone of his size can carry you easily, and he hums as you spread your thighs apart. you straddle him, pressed up against the gun holstered to his chest, and you moan softly against his scarred face as he fucks you open with three unforgiving fingers.

"not anymore," he echos, baring his teeth as he pumps his hand. the squelch of it is filthy, but it isn't enough. he wants you to soak his arm, his thighs, his bed, let the slick of you stain him from the outside in. "not anymore. not as my wife."

you scramble. you rip the veil out of your hair, untie the corset of your dress. there's a naked angel in his lap, perky tits and soft figure, giving way to the gorgeous place you keep hidden by white, wet lace. the place that is his, the place that belongs to him, a pretty pussy that will keep him satiated until he breathes no longer.

after he tears apart his enemy, he will have you. after he tastes the blood he desires to see run, he will have you. the adrenaline, the fire, the shout of every order and the sound of their cries, it won't exist anymore in this place, he knows it.

"y'll never want for anythin'," he mutters. "y'll never be lonely. always get wot y'want...wot y'need...wot y'deserve..."

you reach up and cup his cheeks gently, pressing your mouth to his as you ride his fingers eagerly. you want him, you want this, you want all of it, even if it isn't what's right. but something brought you here, right into his arms, and this is what you deserve.

he's not even human, you don't think. he must be something else. with how good he makes you feel, with the sheer precision that he rocks his fingers into you, the way he smiles, he must be made of only something synthetic, something not organic.

you feel so small underneath him. he tosses you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow gently. you giggle, and his grin widens. he has a warm pink tongue, and it's between his teeth, and you giggle again when he moves his head from side to side, staring down at you. he's studying you. you assume he has seen photos of you, but this is his first time seeing his bride for all that she is. soft, pretty, unscathed by war. at least on the outside--but on the inside, you are not as you seem.

there's a parasite in you. something that slithers behind your eyes and settles in that corner of your brain that only he can touch. he knows that feeling well. he feels it every time he is in the field, and he feels it now, with you. he chases this tick when he works. it knocks his senses just right, makes him feel good and big, like the reaper that he really is. he can be this with a rifle in his hand, and he can be this without it, with the weight of his wife in his hands.

you smile, biting your lip, and you spread your legs for him. his eyes fall between your thighs, and he chuckles. he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, the one that smells like you, and you watch as he slips it inside, sucking on it for a moment before he uses his teeth to take both gloves off.

he bends, still in all his military glory, and he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up the seam of your cunt, using one thumb to pull the puffy lip apart and suckle on your clit for just a moment.

you gasp, arching your back, and he stands to his full height again, laughing.

"oh, y'taste sweet," he purrs. "y'taste good. hard t'believe i'll have this cunny for m'whole fuckin' life."

"believe it, baby," you coo, and he sighs. he nods his head, reaching low, gripping himself through his cargo pants and squeezing his cock. you follow his movements, watching him pay special attention to the tip of him, running his finger over where you guess the slit is as he watches you squirm. "why are you so far away, simon? don't you want me?"

he laughs again, smiling wide, and he nods.

"course i want ya, swee'eart. who wouldn't want ya, huh? who wouldn't want this?"

you meet his eyes. the question is a sound one, but it never mattered that you were wanted, what mattered is that you never wanted. not really. not until now.

you watch him as he reaches for his zipper. he undoes it easily, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them low. they won't go very low, thanks to the holsters around his thighs, but it's enough that you watch his cock stand at attention, the red tip of him leaking down the sides, making the bulging vein on the underside of him shine.

you whine a little, and he growls happily, watching as you cup the swell of your tits and squeeze them in anticipation. perfect, perfect, perfect girl, practically a mail-order bride that checks every single fucking box.

he grips you by the thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. you whimper when he slides the tip through your folds, letting it catch at the entrance before smirking down at you.

"'s big," you hiccup, and he tsks, shaking his head.

"y'can take it, swee'eart," he murmurs. "y'r a riley now, luvvie. y'know what tha' means?" you shake your head, your eyes a little watery, and he smooths a hand up your sternum, gripping you around the throat gently. "gonna find out...gonna find out how well a riley takes wot they're given."

"simon--"

"'s alright, luv, we'll start nice, yeah?" he breathes. you grip onto his forearms when he feeds you his cock, slowly, and your back bows at a sharp angle as you squeeze him for everything he is. "fuckin' hell...yeah, just the tip, yeah? oh, good girl..."

good girl, yeah...i'm a good girl--

you cry out, digging your nails into him when he mutters fuck it and bottoms out. his palm flattens just under your belly button, a choked groan leaving him as he presses down, a rush of something fucking glorious running down his spine. it's a high--he's so fucking high, as if he is popping fucking pills.

"feel me here, yeah?" he drags his hips back, smoothing a hand further up your stomach until he paws one of your tits, squeezing it firmly. you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, fisting the fabric of his mask at the base of his neck. you feel him everywhere, you feel him in your chest, running down your spine, you feel him in your mouth and in your head, and it feels so good, it feels so so so so good.

"yes--yes!" you gasp. fuck, he's huge, he's putting a shadow over you. you're naked, bare underneath him, and his gear rocks with every thrust, and it's filthy because you wonder if he worked, you wonder if he didn't even change before he went to marry his perfectly-picked bride, you wonder if he got off the tarmac not even an hour after killing his target to go and take what is his.

how long ago was it that he last fired his weapon? the gun on his chest, did he use it before he saw you?

i bet he did. i bet he used it. i bet he smoked the cigarette that i smell on him, and i bet he came here, and then he married me, and now he's all mine, and he's fucking me six ways to fucking sunday--

you think you're drooling. your lips are wet, and with every smack of his hips against yours, you feel a little more trickle down the side of your face. you're moaning, gripping his neck, pulling him further down on top of you. you want him all around you, you want him inside, you want him to come every day wearing this terrifying fucking uniform and to fuck you so stupid, you forget everything except for the name he has given you.

you want to know nothing except for his name. simon. riley. simon. riley.

you want to know nothing except for what you are. his wife. his wife. his wife.

it's so hard to remember to breathe. his hands grip you tight around the hips, and he's losing momentum, hissing, letting out choked groans as he brands the shape of his cock into you. he never wants you to forget what he feels like--he never wants you to know anything except for him, for the rest of your life.

"simon--" you whine, and he smirks, reaching up to hold your face in one big hand, keeping you still as you chase the grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit. "simon--!"

"tha'sit, luvvie...yeah..." he nods, "look at me--look at me," he leans down, a big weight over you, suffocating you, "good girl, yeah..." he clicks his tongue, "cum f'me, swee'eart. cum f'y'r husband, yeah?"

you lean up, chasing after him, gripping onto the sides of his face as you kiss him hard. it is the first time you really kiss him. slotting your mouth over his, slipping your tongue into his mouth, the sting of your wedding ring cooling his warm face as you taste him for the very first time.

it is gone. the bitterness that you always taste, the acid and the sourness and everything that always is so unpleasant under your tongue, it is gone when you have him. he takes it out of your mouth completely, and you chase after this just as you chase after the harsh grind of your clit against his pelvis.

he is carrying you. you're lifting, coming over some kind of sweet, exhilarating euphoria, and you're blinded by it, by the feeling, by him. you want more, more, you want it all, and he said you could have anything you want, that you'll never need anything ever again, he said, he said, he said--!

he laughs when you come. he swallows your moans, hisses when you soak his pants. you are the prettiest thing he could ever hope for, the personification of the things he does not deserve and could never have, and it is selfish that he has taken you this way, but he does not fucking care.

the things we cannot have are the sweetest, the most desirable. and simon is nothing if he isn't a thief.

he is nothing if he doesn't just take what he wants. he likes to think that perhaps he adopts the "ask for forgiveness, and not for permission" philosophy, but he does not ask for forgiveness. and he has never asked for permission.

"please--simon--" you gasp, looking up at him. your eyes are wet, and a few tears wet his hand around your face. "please--inside me, please..."

"'s olright, luv--" he grunts, pumping faster, his pretty little wife just begging for him, for more, and how could he say no to that? "easy, baby...i'll give it t'ya, don't worry, fuck--" he hisses, "lieutenant's wife gets woteva she wants..."

"please--inside--" you choke. "simon, inside, i-i want it inside--"

fuck, that is all he needed. he nestles deep, pressing his hips to yours, and you kiss him once more when you go blind again. a second high, when he stuffs you full. just as you should be. just as you always should be.

"yeah, fuck--" he breathes. "tha' wot y'wanted, yeah? nice and full, good girl..." he licks his lips, standing up straight, and just when you think he is pulling out, he yanks you back towards him, cum leaking down your thighs as you cry out from being so sensitive.

"simon!" you gasp, giggling, and he grins, patting your ass gently before pulling out. you let your knees fall onto the cot, swallowing hard as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. he brings the mask back down, and you watch as he slips his gloves back on. "hmm..."

he tilts his head to the side, sighing as he watches you settle there. something warm settles in his stomach, something satisfied.

"like havin' y'in my bed," he says lowly. "look nice there."

you smile, and he holds out one hand, beckoning you to sit up. you do, slowly, a little shaky as you try and compose yourself, and he leans down and kisses you through the mask. you close your eyes, humming, leaning into his touch.

"so i can stay?" you ask, and he chuckles.

"mmm...y'r so cute, luvvie..." he rumbles. "a doll, yeah? can't say no to ya."

you look down at the ring on your finger, a solid gold band complete with a precious diamond. you will have to get used to this--you are his wife, you can ask things of him, and you don't think he'll say no.

you look up at him when he tosses something at you. an army green shirt of his, and you slip it on, letting the fabric fall, and you lay back down in his cot as he moves around his room. you lay in comfortable silence, watching as the thing that calls himself your husband looks for files on his desk, adjusts the gun strapped to his thigh, shuffles his boots across the linoleum. you are mesmerized by what he is, and you haven't known him even a day.

you don't believe this is your vision askew. the honeymoon phase. the sugary sweet moments in time at the beginning where nothing is wrong, where all is well. simon riley is a practical man. he does not lie. he does not do things he does not want to do, and he does not say things he does not want to say. he is not in the business of comfort and ease, that much is clear to you.

simon riley is practical and resourceful. you think maybe he counts his words. that he doesn't say more than he has to. waste his energy on things that don't require it.

his wife. i'm his wife. his wife.

"why..." you swallow. "why...why did you pick me?"

he pauses as he stands in front of a locker. when he opens it, you see shelves of personal weapons stashed away, handguns of different sizes and shapes, knives of differing steel, toys that with a small push of a finger could destroy whatever building they went off inside. you don't flinch, don't blink, don't feel fear. you don't know why, but you just don't. you don't think it's possible.

he doesn't look at you as he surveys what lines the walls of it.

"just knew y'were the one f'me, swee'eart," he mutters. he shuts the locker, and the lock clicks. he comes closer, twirling a small blade between his fingers, and you don't cower away when he flicks it towards you, holding your chin up with the sharp tip of it. he hums appreciatively at this. "in all honesty, had no idea really until i saw ya, 'f you'd be mine."

he bends down, leans close, and you follow the curve of the blade with your head, keeping your eyes on his. there is no timidness in your gaze, and for that, he beams under the mask. perfection in one woman.

"and what would you have done if i wasn't the one?"

he shrugs.

"would've killed ya, luv."

"just like that?"

"just like tha'."

the tip of his blade drags, sliding up the length of your throat, along the line of your jaw. your lips part as he traces your mouth with it, and you tilt your head to the side as you trace the edge of it with your tongue. he leans forward more, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can see where the eye-black around his eyes fades into his pale skin under the balaclava. you see yourself in those eyes. the you that you have been waiting for. the you that you have missed for your entire life. the you that has been hiding, too scared to come out, too afraid of what might be said if someone saw the real you.

she had not been hiding. just lying dormant, in someone else, waiting for you to come home.

you smile, big, and simon presses his mouth to yours again through the mask, kissing you there, growling from deep in his chest, a purr that only emanates the contentment and the relief he feels because he has found that thing to live for. it is so easy to die. it is so easy to give oneself for what they believe. it is not hard to give the best of yourself away, he knows that.

what he has never been able to do is find something that will keep him alive. he has only ever lived because he found dying pathetic. he found it cowardly. but the alternative had been just as unforgiving, just as unfulfilling. but not this. not you.

you will make it difficult to die. you will make death a challenge. and when he eyes that smile, this one that you give only to him, he is happy to be given this new objective.

"but don't worry y'r pretty head about all tha', luv."

you give him those eyes, and he drinks it all in, all that you are. finally, finally, finally--

"until death do we part, yeah?"

NEXT

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 3

Finally getting a tiny bit of Bruce's monologue!! And uh oh, looks like you've gotta clock in!

As the car began to move, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of panic. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on you. You tried your best to focus on anything but the Waynes, your mind desperately attempting to process what just happened in the parking lot. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. It was then that Damian decided to break the awkward silence.

“Father, what is the meaning of bringing her along with us?” Damian spoke curtly, disdain marring his voice when mentioning you.

As much as you disliked him as well, he had a point. Why the hell are you sitting here with them?

Bruce glanced at Damian. Truth be told, he didn't quite know why. While you were his child, one out of the only two biological children he had, he had never really had the time or care to acknowledge you. You coming into his life abruptly disturbed everything, so he paid you no mind. He’ll admit, it wasn't fair of him to do so, but he had bigger things to worry about. He was tired, and a child that wasn't involved with his night business, who did not understand what his life of vigilantism took out of him, would never understand the sacrifices that he's had to make. It wasn't until seeing you on the football field, happy, talking to your friends and acting in a way he'd never seen you do, he'd begun to realize what he missed. 

When did you get so tall? He could have sworn you were no taller than his waist. And when did you join the cheerleading team? And who was that girl throwing her arm around you? Who was that boy? Gods, just how much has he missed? 

But he couldn't say all of that. So instead he just replied, “She's a part of this family, Damian and she needed a ride back home.”

He could feel Cassandra’s knowing stare, she could read him better than anybody and she knew the inner turmoil brewing in his heart. That's coupled with Stephanie’s smirk and Dick’s predatory grin. Jason grunted in response, clearly not pleased with the arrangement. Lastly, he could see the disbelief on your face, as if you couldn't believe you'd even be considered part of this family. And he’s mostly to blame. 

He internally sighed. He'd have to work on that. You were his daughter. His. It was his job to keep you safe and happy. It was his job to make sure you felt loved. And right now? He was no better than Jannet and Jack Drake leaving poor Tim to fend for himself. But that would all soon change, starting with himself and his children.

You on the other hand were still reeling from Bruce’s words. “Family”? Is he fucking kidding or what?

Dick, always the one to break the tension with his charm, spoke up next. "Hey, (Y/n), when did you become a cheerleader? I didn't know you were into that sort of stuff." Dick said with that condescending tone.

Your eyes twitched. You did not like his tone.

“That's none of your business Dick.” You shot back before you could even think.

Everyone looked your way. Whoops, that was your bad. 

It was Jasons turn to get upset, “Watch your fucking mouth.” He growled, ever possessive over his older brother.

You immediately froze up, offering a quick and quiet apology before retreating into your own head. Jason–Jason scared you more than any of the others. You knew about his pit rage, you knew about the bloody and beaten bodies he's left in the wake of his rage. You knew he’d never dream of hurting his family, the pit often aiding in his possessive tendencies over the rest of the bats but– you weren't family. And you'd hate to be on the receiving end of Jason’s wrath.

If anyone had continued talking to you, you wouldn’t know. The sound around you was muffled like your head was filled with cotton and you could feel yourself shaking. You wanted out. Now. Thankfully, the rest of the ride was mostly quiet. Sure, everyone would occasionally turn their eyes towards you, making you shrink further in on yourself, but you were almost at the manor. The vehicle barely came to a stop before you were throwing yourself out the door and into the manor. You bid Alfred a quick “goodbye” and “thank you” before bolting up the stairs and into your room. 

You locked the door, not that anyone would bother coming up to your room, but still it gave you security nonetheless. You stripped and hopped into the shower, the soreness in your body now making itself known. God it was gonna suck tomorrow. Why? Because it was Friday today, that meant tomorrow would be Saturday, and that meant that you'd have to go to work at the ass crack of dawn, 5 am. Plus, you didn't even have your bike, so you’d have to rely on Alfred to take you and bring you back. Great.

So with a heavy heart and heavy limbs, you tucked yourself into bed ready for the worst sleep of your life. 

You wake up to the grating sound of your iphone alarm, as you groggily get up to brush your teeth, shower and get ready for the long day ahead. Making your way down for a cup of coffee, sleep still in your eyes, you fail to notice the looming figure of Tim Drake already sipping his own coffee. It was dark downstairs and you were still fighting off exhaustion from the day before, so who could blame you for not seeing the corner of the cabinet. Before you knew it, you were hunched over on the floor grabbing your pinkie toe in pain. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurt! Holy shit, kill yourself, kill yourself! Who the fuck puts a cabinet there, oh my god.” You wailed in pain, cursing at the damn cabinet. You’d blame it on delirium and exhaustion. Honestly, it was an expected crashout.

You laid pathetically on the floor for a couple of more seconds before you heard a monotone, disinterested voice make itself known.

“Are you done now?” Tim says from behind you.

You yelp in surprise, before clumsily scrambling up and turning around. And there he was, sitting at the counter, coffee in hand and an almost (dare you say) amused look on his face. You blanche. Shit, how long has he been sitting there? Oh god, please don't say he’s witnessed the entirety of your embarrassing crashout? 

And as if reading your mind, he cryptically answers, “Yes, I've been here this entire time.” All while sipping his coffee as his calculating eyes scarily bore into your figure.

You don't know what to say, embarrassed out of your mind, so you just apologize. 

“Right–um, sorry about that. I’m just tryna get some coffee. I'll be out your way.” You hastily say before turning, tail tucked back towards the coffee pot. 

You could still feel the weight of Tim’s stare on you but you're too tired and embarrassed to care. You pour yourself a big cup of straight up black coffee and proceed to chug it while walking towards the sink. After finishing it, you proceeded to gag for a few seconds, the bitter taste still permeating your mouth. God you hated the taste of black coffee, but you’d do whatever it takes to not fall asleep on the job. You discard your cup into the sink before you decide to find Alfred, it was 4:37 am and you needed to clock in by 5:00 am or else your ass was grass. You conveniently ignore Tim who has watched all of your misfortune happen this morning. He doesn't say anything when you leave the dining/kitchen area, just eerily watches. 

God, he made you nervous.

Anyways, your quest to find Alfred was short lived as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere, Damian in tow (you could feel the scar on your face burning). Great, was everyone up at this ungodly hour or was it just them two? You avoided the heat of Damian’s glare as you relayed to Alfred your predicament, apologizing profusely since you did ask him last minute. He simply smiled at you, letting you know that “it is never a hindrance when you need something Master (Y/n).” You smiled back in relief, thanking him once more as Alfred got ready to drop you off.

But of course, Damian just had to break the silence. 

“What could you possibly need to do at this hour? Alfred has better things to do other than encouraging your galavanting.” Damian spoke sharply.

You just sighed, “Not that it's any of your business, but I have work.”You don't offer any more information as your hand unknowingly caresses the scarred tissue on your face. 

Damian’s eyes draw to your face at the movement, seemingly fixated on the scar he left on you. He doesn’t think much of it, but sometimes, something green and dangerous purrs inside of him. Yes, his mark. It was his mark on your face. As much as he hated you, you were his only other blood-sibling no matter how weak and useless you were. He had bested you, and usually would pay you no mind, you knew your place and would typically remain docile. But recently you’ve been showing a new abrasive side, one he is not particularly fond of.

He’d have to talk to father about it.

Silence permeates the air as he doesnt bother to dignify your disrespect with a response. You’re saved when Alfred comes back with keys, both you and him rushing to whatever vehicle he's pulled out from the large, large selection of coveted cars Bruce owns. Looks like it's a BMW today. You practically throw yourself in, as Alfred speeds away to the cafe you work at. You arrive at work in record speed, bidding Alfred a “goodbye” before rushing to throw your apron on and clock in. 

You’re greeted by the one other person working your shift, Matheo. He’s a sweet boy, very soft-spoken and mostly sticks in the back near the kitchen to bake the pastries while you work the register. Of course he comes and helps with drink orders when it's particularly busy, he’s too kind to leave you to fend for yourself. Regardless, you have a pretty straight forward agreement, which is what spells your doom. It was a regular Saturday shift, with the pilate moms coming in, middle schoolers loitering, and the occasional customer with an attitude. Everything was fine and dandy till three familiar faces walk in.

You were ever the busy body, finishing one last drink before yelling out a quick “I’ll help y’all shortly!”, to whoever just walked in. You quickly rush over to the register, not even bothering to look up from the register.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait! Now what can I get you?” You said in your regular customer service voice.

“Well, well, well, turns out you were right Dami, she does work here.” A chillingly familiar voice jests.

You freeze, slowly looking up only to be met with Dick smiling at you. It was not a kind smile, no, there was something dangerous about it. Behind him, you could see the familiar figures of Cassandra and Damian. What the hell are they doing here? God, you should have never mentioned anything to Damian, now you had to deal with this.

“R–right, what can I get you?” You shakily say, putting back on your customer service persona. 

Dick’s smile grows, his teeth now visible, almost as if he was baring his teeth. Danger. Something inside you screamed.

“I’ll just have a vanilla cold brew, extra cold foam. Dami, Cass, what do you want?” Dick grinns.

“Tch, I don't want anything from this place.” Damian says, uninterested.

“Cass?” Dick asks, looking at her.

She comes up to the register, giving Dick a one-off-glance. Worryingly, her eyes seem to be fixated on you. She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, holding immensely uncomfortable eye contact with you before relaying her order.

“Just a caramel latte.” Cass says, still looking down at you.

You frantically fill in their orders on the register.

“Will that be all?” You ask. You hoped that was all, you didn't want them spending another minute talking to you.

Dick says a quick cheerful “no” before you ring them up and get started with the two drinks. It doesn't take too much time before you’re calling out their names to come get their drinks. You hope they leave right after. But of course, nothing goes according to your wishes as they grab their drinks and seat themselves at a table. Great.

The minutes after result in further disaster. After a couple of more customers, a lady comes up to you, face already molded into a scowl with a half empty drink in her hand. Oh great, a “karen”.

“Hello ma’am, how can I help you?” You kindly say.

“You! I need a refund. Right. Now!” The lady booms, wagging her finger in your face.

“A refund, right, is there a reason you’re requesting a refund?” 

“A reason!? You made my drink wrong and I want my money back!”

“Please correct me if i'm wrong, but I believe you ordered a double mocha cappuccino, correct?” You ask slowly.

“Yes, that's what I ordered! Why are you asking me all these questions?!”

“Sorry ma’am, but that is the drink I gave you. Is there something specifically wrong with the drink?”

“The drink that you gave me is wrong, you made it wrong! It doesn't taste anything like regular coffee!”

“Oh, well sometimes different cafes use different recipes for the same drink, i think maybe that's why–”

“–Well I don't care! I want a refund!”

You could feel eyes on you as the other patrons start to notice the commotion brewing.

“Ma’am, i'm so sorry but i can't give you a refund, you’ve already drank half the drink. If you would have let me know sooner, I could've remade it for you, but–I'm sorry ma’am I can't give you that refund.”

“Are you serious! Why I never!? It's always bitches like you who try scamming people out of their money!”

“Ma'am, I'm really sorry, it's the company policy. I just work here–” You gently say, trying to calm her down.

“–Go to hell you bitch!” Is all you hear before you’re doused in the face with warm coffee. 

You just stand there is shock, blinking through the coffee. There's no way that just happened. Theo, comes out having heard the commotion (albeit a little too late), only to be met with the sight of you covered in coffee.

“Oh my gosh (Y/n)! I should have come sooner, are you okay?”

“Peachy.” You say, voice audibly watery and cracking.

“I'll take care of everything up here, you go take some time in the back. Clean up or honestly if you don't feel like it, just rest in the back–”

“–It's okay Theo, I–I just need a couple of minutes. I'm fine.”

He gives you a quizzical stare.

“I'm fine. I promise.” You smile, although you could feel your eyes starting to water. 

You hastily walk off to the break room and proceed to cry for a good 2 minutes before deciding to start cleaning yourself up. You do your best to get the coffee that's dried into hair out while wiping down your now sicky arms and face. Changing your apron gets rid of most of the mess, but your shirt underneath still has a couple of large patches of coffee. Sighing, you tidy yourself up as much as possible before heading back to the counter, Theo worriedly waiting for you. You just shoot him a thumbs up and let him know that it’s okay for him to retreat back to the kitchen; he lingers for a moment, hesitant to leave you alone, but drudges back regardless.

There are eyes on you. You look up perturbed, only to find Dick, Cass, and Damian still sitting at their table, sharp stares pinned on your figure. They saw all that happen, didn't they? You mentally cringed. 

Checking your watch, you realize that there are still four more hours left on your shift. Great, that's great–just another four more hours, which is technically thirty minutes eight times, which is technically fifteen minutes sixteen times–and you’ve lost it. Jesus you were losing your mind, which was understandable (honestly you're surprised it hasn't happened sooner) during one of the worst shifts of your life.

It’s fine. You got this. Just four more hours, and you can have your “Mental Breakdown Part Ⅱ™”.

Tag-list!!:

@sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323 @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @erikasurfer @toast-on-dandelioms @hazbinlove @h0neysiba @shycreatorreview @ch1cky-093 @kore-of-the-underworld @krazy-kattzz @ceramic-raven @randomlyappearingartist @bleep-bloops-world @hasty-desert @bellethesleepypotato @lilyalone @delias-stuff @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @soriansick @vanilliona @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @vanessa-boo @kitsutsugikuni @mottysith @beeaskewwrites @starsdotalk @yandere-fetish @mybones537 @mochien0tfound @black-swan-blog27 @phoenixgurl030 @meowmeeps @tatsuri-zomushiki @sereinitysmind @l0g0phobe @alias-sam @fairygardenprincesss @chocolatesweetsdestiny @lunaastars

[5sospenguinqueen]

Take A Break - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: Toto has been pushing himself too hard trying to get the upgrades sorted. As his concerned wife, you plan a surprise visit.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Bad writing

Requested: Yes by Anon (Hope I did this justice)

2024 season. There's a little blurb halfway through as well.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff_official, lewishamilton and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work 

1,198 comments

ynwolff_official you better be looking after him

→ mercedesamgf1 yes, ma’am. we’re doing our best 

→ ynwolff_official tell him if he doesn’t stop working late, he’ll be in trouble when he comes home 

→ mercedesamgf1 stop making the admin team threaten me, schatz. they keep coming into my office shaking and you’ll get me into trouble with hr - toto 

user1 tell him to make an insta 

georgerussell63 he looks like a sith lord

→ ynwolff_official i think you mean, very handsome

→ georgerussell63 i’m not going to say that about my boss

→ alex_albon why not? you were telling me the other day that you think he looks much better in the white shirt than the black zip up 

user2 anyone else think he looks tired lately?

→ user2 he’s been working extra hard to get the upgrades ready, i’m guessing 

→ user3 plus wifey and jack haven’t been able to make a race in a while so he’s probably missing them after that triple header

user4 george won’t be getting those upgrades once yn tells toto that he wouldn’t admit he was handsome

→ mickschumacher i’ve already told 

→ georgerussell63 betrayal

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Strolling through the Hungaroring paddock, you kept a tight hold of your son’s hand. Bustling bodies brushed past, paying the the pair of you no heed, which worked well with your surprise.

Over the past few weeks, Toto had been working tirelessly to ensure the upgrades were ready and working in time for the Hungarian Grand Prix, albeit to the detriment of his own health. He’d been sleeping less, running himself ragged to ensure Mercedes didn’t remain fourth in the constructors. After winning at Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, he knew the potential was there. All he had to do was unlock it. But that had meant shorter calls with his wife and son, fewer responses to messages and a growing distance that he hated feeling during the season. And so, arranging a surprise visit during race weekend had been the most obvious solution.

Mercedes hat sat atop his dark hair, Jack babbled about everything he could see as the tall form of George Russell guided you towards the garage. 

“Hello, stranger.” Lewis’ voice met your ears when he caught sight of you. “Toto didn’t tell me you were coming. What’s up, little man?” 

George vanished into the back of the garage, searching for the Team Principal. Leaning over to the Brit, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the 7x WDC. Lewis gave your shoulders a squeeze before pulling Jack up into his arms, whisking him over to where the W15 was being polished. 

“George, this better be important. I was in the middle of an analysis report-.” A disgruntled Austrian accent filled the garage, bringing a smile to your face. You could picture the deep frown twisting his handsome’s features without even turning to see it.

“Liebe?” 

The silver arrows watched the tension seep out of their Team Principal’s face as he took in the appearance of his wife. Striding across the garage floor, he pulled you in for a tight hug, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. Aware of the eyes on you both, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to yours. Denying you both the deep kiss you truly desired.

“Surprise,” you whispered, slipping your arm around his waist. Your hand automatically rubbing soothing circles against his hip. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home. 

“You sounded like you needed us.”

“I always need you.”

“Well, then, let’s go rescue your son from Lewis.”

Holed up in Toto’s office, the Wolff family basked in their first moment of family time since over a month. Toto had ordered everyone to leave them alone until qualifying was due to start or somebody was dying. Thankfully, the team listened and so he spent the past hour listening to his son tell him about school and watching Lewis win a race on telly.

Fussing over the amount of coffee cups in the waste bin, you turned to lecture your husband on his inability to get enough rest but paused, mouth open. Curled up on the deep couch pushed against the wall, Jack was snuggled into his father’s lap. His iPad had fallen to the side, and soft snores escaped from his mouth. Glasses askew, Toto’s chin rested on his son’s head, eyes closed tight. Father and son, exhausted from the excitement of their day.

Taking a quick picture on your phone, you smiled at the sight of your family. Reaching into Jack’s backpack, you pulled out his blanket, draping it over your favourite boys.

“Ich liebe dich,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and others

mercedesamgf1 our favourite family 🐺

1,554 comments 

georgerussell63 admin, you used the same quote for a photo of toto with me, lew and mick the other week?

→ mercedesamgf1 we were paid to do that 

→ alex_albon great now he’s crying 

→ landonorris ha! at least our admin love us more than zak

→ mclaren don’t tell on us! 

mercedesamgf1 inside scoop; toto asked us to print out the photo of yn and jack to put in his office 

mickschumacher does this mean i can take the little wolff karting?

→ ynwolff_official only if you promise to come for dinner

→ georgerussell63 and me? 

→ user5 poor toto can’t escape his drivers even during his time off because his wife adopted them all 

lewishamilton nice to see you and jack in the paddock again, yn

→ ynwolff_official and you, lew. hopefully we can attend a few more now that the summer holidays are here 

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ynwolff_official just posted

liked by valterribottas, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynwolff_official my favourite part of summer break is the view 

1,003 comments 

mercedesamgf1 tell boss man to bring that smile back with him 

→ ynwolff_official don’t worry. i’ll be sending him back to work extra happy 

→ lewishamilton yn, love, this sounds less than family friendly 

→ ynwolff_official oops 

user6 oh she’s FEEDING us 

user7 has george joined you for a sleepover yet

→ ynwolff_official of course. he’s like the son i didn’t ask for 

→ georgerussell63 but you love anyway?

→ user8 silence speaks volumes 

user9 yn wolff thirst trapping her husband was not on my 2024 bingo 

→ user10 silly season is extra silly this year so yn obvi thought she would participate 

→ user11 and we love her for it

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[no-144444]

mishaps online- o.piastri (81)

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summary: oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! fem! reader

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As you stared at the screen in front of you, your eyes filled with horror. Oscar Jack Piastri, your boyfriend of 3 years, had just posted a nude to his instagram story. 

What the fuck. 

You immediately sprung into action, calling him since you were in Berlin for a concert. He didn’t pick up.

You called Lando next, knowing they were in the same hotel, especially since it was 3am in the fucking morning. You were already getting bombed by tweets and messages, from friends and fans, all asking if you’d seen it. 

“What?” he groaned, groggy from being woken up.

“Lando! Go into Oscar’s room right now please,” you pleaded, happy that you had gotten ahold of someone. 

“What?- Why?” he asked, but obliged all the same, getting out of bed. “You know we're supposed to be on vacation right? He can go to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” You asked, ignoring his complaining. 

“Osc?” he called as he knocked. “Y/n’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you!” 

“Huh?” you heard a yawn from Oscar, then shuffling as he got up. Of course Oscar would send you a nude, then immediately fall asleep. For fuck’s sake. “Baby?” He took the phone out of Lando’s hand and held it to his ear. “You alright?”

“You posted a nude on instagram, please go delete it now,” you blurted out.

He stood still for a moment. “W-what?” 

Lando laughed so hard he fell over. “There’s no way!” 

“I-I didn’t,” he panicked then lowered his voice. “I sent it to you.”

“Well, you sent it to me and your instagram story,” you explained. 

Lando was on the floor, cackling as Oscar almost tripped over him to get to his phone and delete the photo. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as he went through his phone, taking down the photo. 

“You are such a muppet!” Lando cried, breathless from laughing. 

“Shut up!” Oscar replied. “This is your fucking fault! You told me to send the picture!”

“To Y/n, not the fucking world Osc!” he chuckled.

To be fair, you understood where Lando was coming from, this was objectively funny. You’d probably be laughing if you weren;t his girlfriend, and if you wouldn’t have to explain this entire situation to your family, including your parents. God, just thinking about it made you sick.

“Is the photo down?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s down,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry baby I just-”

“Let’s not have this conversation with Lando in the room,” you stopped him and he chuckled. 

“Good idea.”

“Zak’s probably going to call you, and I’m going to go call Margaret now. I love you Osc, talk later?”

“I love you too,” he sighed. “Talk later.”

You hung up the phone and let yourself scream into your pillow for a few seconds, then dialled the number of your manager, Margaret. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Oscar posted a nude on instagram by accident,” you sighed. “He’s sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “You know how I love you, right?”

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly. 

“And how I love you and Oscar and how happy he makes you?”

“Yes?”

“Well right now, I fucking hate him and want him dead. Please give me a few hours to work on this before I can properly face you again, alright?”

You smiled, happy she was taking care of it. “Thank you, and sorry- again.”

She hung up the phone with a groan of frustration. 

Next, someone else called. Oscar’s mom. 

“Hey Nicole,” you tried to keep calm as you spam-texted Oscar about the situation. No way his mother was calling you about this. 

“Hey Y/n,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” you nodded. 

“Is my son really stupid enough to accidentally post a nude picture of himself to his instagram and leave it up for a whole 5 minutes?”

“Apparently so,” you shrugged, slightly laughing. 

Nicole chuckled. “Are you laughing?”

“If I don’t laugh I’ll probably cry, so, yeah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m logging off the internet for a while, tell Osc to text me, yeah?” 

“Of course,” you smiled. “Sorry about this.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Shocked,” you answered truthfully. “And a bit scared of what’s coming next.”

“I just hope you two are ok,” she added. “I need you as my daughter-in-law.”

You smiled a genuine smile. Nicole was always so welcoming and lovely. “We’re all good, don ‘t worry.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, love you, talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” you smiled and she hung up. 

Immediately, Lando called you.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” you teased. 

“Trust me, being in the room for Zak and Oscar’s call was worth the missed sleep,” he chuckled and you heard Oscar sigh in the background. “He’s gotten his phone taken off him!” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, they’ve given me a fucking flip phone instead,” he revealed. “How’d it go with my mum?”

“She’s not ecstatic with your choices, but she’s alright. She mostly wanted to know if we were alright, which we are, in case you were wondering,” you explained. “She wants you to call her.”

“Now?"

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.”

“How are you?” He asked, worried about what you’d say.

“Not an ideal situation, but I’m not mad at you. It was an honest mistake, seriously darling,” you reassured him. “Plus now the internet knows why I constantly have a bruised cervix,” you added, wanting him to loosen up and relax. It was a mistake, an honest mistake. 

You heard Lando laughing, and you got a chuckle out of Oscar, which was enough for you. You stayed on call with them for a while, then turned off your phone to get some rest.

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

You woke up to about a million messages from hundred of different people. Family and friends teasing on the various groupchats, management and your record label freaking out, and Oscar just being upset.

Osc <3: I feel like such an idiot. I cannot believe I did that, especially the night before the start of your tour, and the night of the launch. I'm so sorry baby.

You: It's alright Oscar, I promise. Margaret is already sorting something out right now. It's ok, I swear.

Osc <3: I still feel awful. I'm so sorry.

You: It's alright. Did you at least get your phone back?

Osc <3: Yeah but no social media on it anymore. I can't even look at your instagram :(

You: I think you'll survive lol :) I love you

Osc <3: I love you too.

You got up and out of bed, tired from the stressful night. The concert tonight, the launch tonight. What were your fans going to say?

comments:

ynsbff: something as big as oscar's d-

-> user12: GIRL

user56: girl is bouncing back fast from the shocker last night was

-> user29: fr i'd still be shook my boyfriend posted THAT

landonorris: legend 💙

pierregasly: 💙💙💙

logansargeant: can't wait 💙💙💙

lewishamilton: burning it down and shining on 💙

-> user58: ????? what does this mean????

-> user80: the return of XNDA????

russellgeorge: 💙

valterribottas: 💙

mclaren: 💙🧡

user23: why is the entire grid in the comments with blue hearts?

-> user82: literally? like what do yall know?

danielriccardo: don't know what's gonna hit 'em 💙💙

mercedes: 💙

user13: why is oscar the only one with pink hearts?

-> landonorris: he's not allowed his phone, it's his publicist 😁

-> user90: DAMN. exposing ur bro like that is crazy

-> landonorris: so is posting a nude 🤷🤷🤷🤷

kmag: 💙

charlesleclerc: 💙💙💙

maxverstappen: can't wait 💙

fernandoalonso: Mi favorita💙

lancestroll: it's going to be a wild one 💙

alexalbon: legendary 💙💙💙

lilymhe: my girl 💙💙💙

-> alexalbon: *cough* i'm ur boyfriend? *cough*

-> y/ny/l/n: bless you? do I need to call u a doctor?

zhouguanyu: 💙💙💙

carlossainz: 💙

nicohulkenburg: 💙

estebanocon: 💙

-> landonorris: plz don't crash into this bro 🙌

-> y/ny/l/n: HAHHAHHAHHA

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

You stepped onto the stage and the crowd went crazy. This was it, your first world tour. You were living your dream.

"Hello!" you cheered into your microphone. "I am so happy to be here, thank you all for coming!"

The crowd went wild again.

"Now, before we start, I have a pretty special announcement to make..." you paused for dramatic affect. "My next album 'Curious' drops tonight at midnight! And a very special feature from one of my very good friends, XNDA!"

As the crowd screamed over you and Lewis, who just came on stage, the opening of 'Save your tears' played. You two danced around the stage as you sang, excited with the reception from fans. For the rest of the concert, Lewis stayed on (since he was on another song, but also because he helped produce the album) and you two had so much fun. The concert ended at exactly midnight, and you came off stage on such a high. And there he was. Your Oscar, with a wide smile on his face and his arms open for you to jump into. Which you did, happily.

"Congratulations," he smiled, holding you close.

"Congratulations to you too," you smiled.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "What for?"

"Listen to 'Stargirl Interlude'," you shrugged, a smirk on your face. "And tell your mom not to listen to it, yeah?"

He smirked. "Whatever you say baby," and with that, he kissed you. His large hands holding your cheeks as you kissed him back, happy to be in his arms again.

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

comments

user15: OMFG 'STARLGIRL INTERLUDE' WHAT IS GOING ON

user12: wishing i was y/n rn....

landonorris: being horny on main? cringe.

-> y/ny/l/n: not winning for 6 years? cringe.

-> maxfewtrell: HA

lewishamilton: we told yall 🤷🤷🤷

pierregasly: kika has not stopped playing this 💙💙💙

-> user51: as she should.

danielriccardo: since when was my back replaced with oscar's y/n???

-> oscarpiastri: sorry mate, just better 🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: at least daniel's better at keeping his pants on online 😁

-> oscarpiastri: ok I deserved that.

-> landonorris: HAHAHHAHAH

alexalbon: RELAX I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT UR SEX LIFE.

-> y/ny/l/n: bitch ik all about urs too. lily tells me everything.

-> alexalbon: brb, having a breakdown.

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri first i had to see your dick and now this? mate leave us alone.

-> oscarpiastri: SHUT UP I APOLOGISED.

-> logansargeant: NOT ENOUGH.

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comments

lewishamilton: mr. stargirl interlude? mr. billie boss nova? mr. the diner? mr. chihiro? is that you?

-> oscarpiastri: hush

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri hate club leader

-> landonorris: can I join?

-> y/ny/l/n: lando you've been singing chihiro all day. stfu.

-> landonorris: ...

-> user37: were you silent or silenced?

y/ny/l/n: MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND

-> y/nsbff: thirsting on the main?

-> y/ny/l/n: what have i become?😥

user89: ok, but who is 'i didn't change my number' about?

-> y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant actually wrote it about williams 😥😥😥

-> logansargeant: Y/N. TOO FAR.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)