#prodigal son week

[all-pacas]

CHASE: Why's Foreman quitting? HOUSE: He wants to breed llamas. CHASE: Interesting. [House turns back.] You're ashamed of the reason, too. (3.22)

the way house grins and then turns back and grins again he loves it when chase does this shit btw. house thinks it's so great when chase is all your motives are transparent to me

[rickybaby]

also your tags are excellent, truly the culmination of a 10 year long narrative

and no one is more aware of the narrative than Daniel.

he reeled christian in by making a whole show of giving toto his merch to wear which of course led to the whole clandestine hotel room meeting in mexico of all places. He sat across christian at a swanky restaurant and told him point blank he wanted to race for redbull again, when he hadn't yet been near another race car, when all he had to back himself up was just his belief that christian would do anything for him. And every time he went about making his batshit crazy fairytale comments about redbull (re miami and monaco) his main opponent didn't just stumble but had a glorious fall

and of course, being aware of what the Silverstone test represented? The 'yeah i had a young driver's test at silverstone ten years ago that ultimately got me the red bull seat' and treating it like his one-shot audition and nailing so fucking much that they had to give him a seat only after 7 laps (like it was just a formality for christian, mr. i was just going in to work and stopped by to see how daniel was doing when he had his phone in hand hyping him up to marko)

[hamletthedane]

What’s with all the Godfather posts?

I want to saw open Michael Corleone’s skull and poke at his brains with a stick in the name of science

[17goiingunder]

@gareththegreat

"Okay, you’re goin’ to drink this beer, and then you’re goin’ to go over to that girl and introduce yourself. It’s simple.” Dave pushes the overflowing mug of beer towards Gareth, before picking up his own mug. “Don’t worry, I’m with you. I’m not goin’ to let you drown.” Still, it must seem terrifying. Maybe he should stick to tennis instead of being a self-appointed dating coach. “Cheers.”

[something-of-a-hermit]

Why is O Superman (Laurie Anderson) so incredibly comforting but also I’m sobbing my eyes out at 12am over the line “and when force is gone, there’s always Mom (hi, mom!)”?

[bruciemilf]

Normal regular people should slowly plant themselves into the Wayne clan.

There’s this busboy that works with uncle TJ. Dick learns his name is Mikey when he stops by the restaurant. He hasn’t been since Bruce took him when he was 10.

the Bat has no idea the prodigal son returned to the nest. So Mikey’s suddenly babysitting a strange vigilante with the horsepower of 4 drunk girls in an Uber.

“It’s just so fucking frustrating because I WANT to be here but he doesn’t TELL me he wants me here! I want him to want me! I want him to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re my son, you’re always welcome here, I know you get lonely!’ But he doesn’t! He doesn’t! I miss Jason. This sandwich is so good. Thanks cousin.”

Mikey, who’s been working there for about a week, stares at the 300 dollar tip for a straight 30 minutes, wondering who Jason is.

From then on, the flock multiplies.

POV you’re cousin Mikey and Red Hood just walks in while you’re closing, covered in blood, and Spoiler’s leg is broken but she really wants a meatball sub, Signal asks why they upped the prices on the pizza, Orphan stares and nods her head and oh my god that’s an 8 year old with a sword:

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

we've been hosting this girl idk really the specifics but she's from guatemala and my dad (who is never here) basically called my mom at like five in the morning one morning being all like "go pick up this random girl because we're hosting her." supposedly he was "under the impression" that she was his supervisor's son's fiance and he was requesting a green card for her idk how any of that works so idk but anyways turns out she's not the supervisor's son's fiance (they barely know each other and are online friends at most) and the supervisor's son isn't actually the supervisor's son he's just some random guy and the supervisor just calls young men by "hijo" and my dad just aSsUmEd and this random girl has been here for almost a fucking month and I'm going about-to-tear-my-hair-out crazy because I haven't been truly alone in almost a MONTH because obviously she doesn't know anyone here and doesn't leave the house because she doesn't know english or the area or ANYthing! and I'm on the verge of a meltdown because I need ALONE alone time which I am obviously not getting when she is always here and her being here is disrupting ALL of my routines and none of it is her fault but I want her OUT and she's so unassuming and nice and does the dishes (which I appreciate a lot because it's my least favorite task) but she has moved EVERYTHING in the kitchen and all the spoons are a mess and all the pots and pans are in the wrong place and all the plates are stacked wrong and I am ABOUT TO HAVE A MELTDOWN ABOUT IT because up until this weekend I was under the impression that she was at least somehow known to someONE close to me so it meant my discomfort was worth it because it meant we were helping someone close-ish to the family but it turns out she's just SOME RANDOM GIRL??? and of course we can't just kick her out I mean she doesn't even know english she has nowhere to go but I am this close to ending it all and going to live in the woods

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

[the-daydreaming-show]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧(?) 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 (but patience).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A small collection of stories like Batmom! Scarlet Witch as a mother for her children, unintentionally but not by accident, and how it started all with each one.

Being a member of the Wayne family comes with its quirks.

Being Bruce Wayne's wife has twice the quirks when you consider your husband's nocturnal activities, and it's this second category of quirks that usually concerns you the most.

Or at least that's what you thought would happen when you married him. But, even with being a retired vigilante yourself and already knowing everything that Bruce was Batman implied, it turned out that the other side of the coin was the one that began to bother you the most.

¿Your husband goes out every night dressed as a giant bat and comes back just before the sun rises?

No problem, you handled that like a champ.

¿The city press, who are desperate to know about the woman who finally put Gotham's prodigal son off the market and how the marriage goes every moment of every day?.

Yeah, you hadn't been ready for that.

Over time you got used to the drama and the questions, it helped that you could read their minds before they asked the question for your response planning. But there was one question that haunted you from the first official gala you and Bruce attended after the wedding (which was less than two weeks after the wedding, by the way): ¿When are you going to be pregnant? ¿When do you plan to have a child? ¿Can we soon expect ball gowns to become looser for a bulging belly with a Wayne heir?

And so, on and on, for infinity.

The answer had been maybe or someday, considering that they were both of you still young and in no rush.

In truth, tho, you two had never really considered the possibility of having children. Bruce didn't feel fit to be a father for many reasons. And the possibility of you passing your powers to a biological child was too high to risk. So it was never a card on the table to have children together when you got married, and you both were fine with that. There were talks about adopting as a possibility, but far in the future, like it was almost like a fantasy you two knew that would probably never happen anyway.

But then, things happened…

ACT ONE: a boys tale.

chapter one is Richard “Dick” Grayson

chapter two is Jason “Jay” Todd

chapter three....... (coming soon)

chapter four....... (coming soon)

chapter five....... (coming soon)

ACT TWO: is a girl's world.

chapter six....... (coming soon)

chapter seven....... (coming soon)

chapter eighth....... (coming soon)

TAGLIST: If someone wants to be added or removed from this list, you can request it. The TAG LIST is OPEN.

@some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @thedazzlingburglar @chxrry-blxssxm-tea @stilesxreid @blarba-girl @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @undecided-shipper @g0shikix3 @athenniene @cluelessteam @urminebutidontwantyou @pato-spoiler-27 @beanpd

[all-pacas]

CHASE: [walking into House's office] You sabotaged Foreman's job interview, didn't you? HOUSE: Foreman's already been over this. It wasn't me. CHASE: Everybody's chasing ghosts over this. Which means either nobody did it, or somebody wants everybody chasing ghosts. Now who does that sound like? HOUSE: [almost smiling, growing serious:] Now, why would I do that? CHASE: Because as long as Foreman thought you were guilty, he was gonna be useless around here. HOUSE: [laughs] Sometimes, I forget why I hired you.

(they then proceed to have a short and completely honest conversation about why house did it, no bullshit at all.) just!!!! first of all, this is the nicest thing house has ever said about chase. but also! chase is sharp as hell. he is pretty consistently good at Getting house, at reading people, and in turn house actually gives chase quite a lot of honesty -- maybe because chase so rarely pushes for it. chase in s8, after being stabbed. knows and explains that house was worried, that he was making up excuses to visit. chase in s5, promising to do surgery if house tells him why; house telling him the truth -- that the patient reminds him of himself. in the same scene, house asking chase to manipulate his boss: house at other times calling chase sneaky. a schemer.

house, despite the "his dad made a phone call" line, admitting with a proud little smile: this is why i hired you.

one scene earlier, house and foreman have an argument over treatment. house says foreman has two choices: a futile argument with house before doing what he's told, or just going ahead and doing what he's told. foreman throws up his hands and goes to obey, and house calls him out: he had a third choice, to not do what house asked. but he wouldn't, because foreman trusts house's instincts more than his own.

cut to chase in house's office. house says no, it wasn't me!. chase says yes, it was, and here's why. he knows he's right. house knows he's right. it's the next scene.

(also: in the first ten minutes of the episode, the patient complains to foreman he can barely bend his fingers. this turns out to be the Big Clue that leads to his diagnoses, but it takes house realizing it on his own in the last five minutes: foreman apparently forgot to mention it or didn't think it was important. another sign he's not Ready)

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Hugging your frame, you retreat.

“I think you should leave Coriolanus.”

Your parents frown. He shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own, princess.”

As he reaches for you, you shy away from him. 

“I’d rather be alone forever than be anywhere near you.”

His sky gaze clouds over with anger, the hand falling at his side slowly clenching into a fist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.”

Coriolanus gasps. A look of hurt spreads across his features as he gapes at you like you stabbed him in the chest. This is an expression you’ve never seen him wear. You grow uneasy. He turns to your parents and sighs.

“I told you she’d react this way,” he says, sounding dejected. “Between the hormones and…everything else I told you about. I knew she’d be in denial.”

Strabo squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. It’s not your fault,” you father says, giving a forlorn smile.

Your mother’s eyes shimmer with concern as she looks at you.

“Sweetie, everyone cares about you here. If we just sat down and-”

A wave of irate heat surges through you. It begins in the pit of your stomach, swelling as you watch Coriolanus’ interactions with your parents. The way they comfort him, hug him. Like he’s more their child than you are. The prodigal son they always wanted.

After all, you are the throwaway child, you’re viciously reminded. The District 2 orphan they graciously took in who never quite met their expectations. Tragically lacking at every turn. A disappointment.

Your palms tingle as your blood starts to boil.

You rush down the stairs.

“No! Ma, Dad…” You seize your mother’s hand. “He lied to me, did things to me. He kept me in his house. He-”

Coriolanus’ brows thread, his eyes misting over with unshed tears.

“If you need to make me the villain in your story to make this okay, princess. Go ahead.” A mirthless chuckle floats from his lips. Once more, he looks at you like you’re the one causing him great hurt, not the opposite. His shoulders slump. “I’ll be the villain if that’s what you need.” He rubs his eyes, sadness twisting his features as he talks to your parents. “I’m sorry. I never realized it’d be this…difficult for her to accept what happened between us.”

“Nothing happened between us!” you shout, tears of frustration pressing behind your eyes.

He scoffs, blue gaze flicking over your belly. “Nothing?”

Your mother cups your face, her expression puzzled. “So Coriolanus isn’t…the father? You two never-” She glances at him then you. “Is William the father of your child then, sweetie?” She caresses your cheek. “We’re not judging you. We just want answers.”

You chew on your lip. Your attention darts from him to your mother, your insides clutching. A lie sizzles your tongue, nearly spilling in desperation, but you quell it. What would be the point? Your mother’s always known you wanted to wait. That was the plan, initially. And William isn’t the one you spent every day with for the last few weeks. Your parents are also aware of that fact.

There’s no doubt who the father is. They know it. You know it. And from the smug way he’s standing by your parents’ side, he also knows it.

“No, it…it can’t be William. It’s Coriolanus,” you admit begrudgingly. The words alone ache as they skip off your tongue. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “But he lied to me, Ma. So much.”

She tilts her head.

“Lied about what?”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“The night of the party, Sejanus-”

Your father’s thunderous voice interrupts your tearful confession.

“Enough!” he curtly rumbles. “You dare bring your brother into this? When Coriolanus was the only real friend he made all these years?”

A shocked exhale leaves your throat. You shake your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“Dad, you don’t understand-”

 “You’re not a child anymore!” he bellows.

His razor-sharp tone has you leap back in fright.

Your voice comes out small.

“Dad?”

He heaves out a deep sigh, pulling out his breast pocket square to dab the fat beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead.

“However this happened, it did.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever mistakes were made, a child is involved now. A small, innocent child. My grandchild. I will not hear anymore about this senseless teenage drama.” You deflate, your eyes growing wide. The finality in your father’s words pulverizes the last shred of hope within you. “And I will not let my own daughter drag our house into further ruin after losing my only son.” Your father winces, his hand clawing his chest. His knees buckle and he starts sinking onto the floor. Your mother and Coriolanus rush to his side. Your jaw drops. All the color drains from his face. Your mother starts weeping. You go to your father, helping him sit in the living room with your mother and Coriolanus as he takes large gulps of air. It lasts a while, long, horrifying minutes, his wheezing breaths causing your own pulse to race. You begin to wonder if you'll lose a father on top of a brother.

“Breathe, Dad, please…” you whimper, holding his hand.

After some time, it thankfully stops. Your father’s exhales slow down and he regains some color. Relief fills you. You genuinely thought you were about to see your father die right before you.

“Take it easy, Mr. Plinth.”

“Honey, your heart…”

Strabo waves off his wife and Coriolanus as they fuss over him.

“I’m fine,” he assures, his frown returning. His disapproving stare cuts into you. You shrink. “You’re an adult now and you need to start acting like it.”

Your mouth opens then clamps shut. You don’t want to upset him again, not when the argument from before sent him in such a state.

You lower your head. “Y-Yes, dad.”

“Sit down,” he instructs.

“O-Okay.”

You take a dour seat on the opposite couch. 

“Coriolanus, you sit down too,” he adds.

Your stomach sinks. The blond’s eyes find yours across the room. Your father is still recovering, hand on his chest, and your mother is too busy caring for your father. None of them see what you do. The winning glint dancing in his blue orbs and the almost imperceptible smirk as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Of course, Mr. Plinth.”

Once your father is better, he and Coriolanus start discussing the logistics of your new…situation. The entire conversation is a vivid nightmare, making you question your own sanity. You are there, but might as well not be, with the matter-of-fact way your future is being discussed as if everything is already set in stone. 

Your heart skips a beat when Coriolanus promises your parents to marry you before the fall. He says he wants to do it quickly to avoid any gossip, before you start showing, but also provide enough time to make it grand and memorable. It’s a stark contrast to what you and William had in mind. A small, intimate gathering of only your parents and a few of William’s closest friends. You both decided you only really needed the other in the end.

Coriolanus however sounds like he wants the entire Capitol to watch him slip a ring on your finger. 

Your insides curl in horror.

The moment living arrangements are brought up, your heart races.

“I can’t move in with the Snows,” you interject, shocked by what your father just suggested. Though, it shouldn’t surprise you. Your father’s a traditionalist. Of course, he’d agree with Coriolanus that you should move out of their home and swiftly into his.

“You will have no choice. We’re selling the house.” 

You bolt to your feet, your brows grazing your hairline.

“What?”

“The paperwork is already signed.” Your father crosses his arms. “We are moving on the floor below theirs. I had the entire place renovated. It’s quite spectacular, you’ll see.”

A humorless laugh escapes from your throat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be good, sweetheart. A fresh start,” your mother assures, rising to clutch your hands in hers. Her hopeful smile sends a wave of queasiness through you.

Your father’s gaze narrows.

“Coriolanus has graciously agreed to salvage your virtue by taking your hand in marriage…or whatever’s left of it, I suppose. You should be grateful he’s allowing you to save face. Many men would shirk the responsibility. You are lucky it was him.”

Your mind races, a million thoughts crowding it at once. 

“When is this move supposed to occur?”

“The entire house will be empty by the end of the week.”

Your breath catches. You give a slow, acrid nod.

“So it’s all been decided. I don’t get a say.” You snicker, backing away from your mom, backing away from all of them. This is a madhouse. Your brother died and they all lost their minds.

…Except for him.

He looks far too content with himself not to understand what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you. How could you be stupid enough to trust Coriolanus Snow?

You still remember the way he was at the Academy. Always observing, gauging, weighing in every situation to figure out what to do or say to get himself ahead. Always looking out for himself. You saw things in him that were never there. And now you’re paying the consequences.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to be here. Clearly, as always, you know best, Dad.”

“Sweetie…”

You slap away your mother’s tentative hand. Her mouth falls as heartbreak fills her eyes.

“May I be excused, Father?” you snap.

“You may,” he replies with a similar tone.

Turning your back to everyone in the room, you make a beeline for your room. 

The faint knock on your door is ignored as you bury your head further in your pillow. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now. No one in this house anyway. You have been betrayed. Sold out. Abandoned. By your own parents, no less. If Janus were here, this wouldn’t have happened, you’re sure of it. He always stood for what’s right. He never let anyone hurt you. He’d have never doubted a word coming out of your mouth. Your brother’s death left you prey to a monster.

“You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I knew you weren’t ready.”

Your head whips up. Adrenaline pours in your blood as you find Coriolanus leaning against your bedroom door. He locks it shut and you sit up immediately.

“All of this could have been avoided.”

“Leave me alone,” you hiss, shrinking in a corner of your bed.

Coriolanus frees a long, weary breath. He takes sluggish steps across your room. You tense when he sits on your bed. His deceptively soft voice propels ice in your veins.

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re making this harder than it has to be, princess.” He strokes your ankle. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ll be a good husband, a good father. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised.”

“How can you even be sure I’m pregnant?” you chance, hoping to erode that frustrating certitude laced in his tone. “It was just two or t-three times. It could be a mistake…”

A lopsided slant tugs his lips skywards.

“A mistake? After all the time I spent making sure it takes?” Befuddlement knits your brows. A chilling expression settles over the blond’s features. He chuckles. “Oh princess, god you are so sweetly naive. It wasn’t just three times.” A sinking feeling spreads through you. Coriolanus inches close to you, a small smile creeping on his face. “You know me, I’m a lot more thorough than that.”

You tremble, disarmed by his statement.

“What do you mean? It was. I remember…”

He arches his brow. “Do you?” Coriolanus cocks his head, fondling the side of your face. “You know, you look so pretty when you sleep. Vulnerable, defenseless. You also make such lovely noises. I mean, how could one resist…” You shudder, your eyes growing wide as saucers. “I’m glad the tea helped you find rest. You seemed so at peace. Like that sleeping princess in the fairytale. You never stirred, never woke up, never screamed. Not even once. You just kept making those sweet little noises…” His smile broadens, crooked and taunting. “Like you couldn’t get enough of it.”

You gasp and leap from your bed. The implication behind his words makes your head throb, queasiness engulfing your entire being.

All those times you awoke feeling strange, your body tired in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Now it makes all the ghastly sense.

A sinkhole opens beneath you, the blood seeming to drain from your body all at once.

You stagger backwards until your back collides with the wall, the only thing keeping you on your feet as your knees threaten to give out.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Get out of my room.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces matter-of-factly as he gets to his feet. He sighs. “Hopefully you’ll have calmed down so we can have the rest of your things moved to the penthouse.”

As your quivering frame clings to the wall, Coriolanus snorts.

“Cheer up, princess. You have a bright future ahead of you. I can already see us. Me as President and you as my beautiful First Lady. They will love you, I know it. Especially in the districts.”

“You’re…”

“Crazy?” he finishes. He approaches you. You’re paralyzed as he frames your jaw and articulates, “Not crazy. Focused.” His thumb skims over your bottom lip. “Which means when I want something, I usually get it.” His eyes twinkle. “Snow lands on top.”

He drops a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, princess,” he chimes. You remain still until he unlocks the door and disappears through it. When he’s gone, you let yourself crash onto the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore.  

You listen for the car outside, the sign of Coriolanus’ departure. Once the revving of the vehicle stops, only silence remaining, you make a mental checklist. You set aside the turmoil inside you, bottling every emotion tight. A warm coat. The sturdiest boots in your closet. Perhaps a dress or two. Sensible pants. Just in case. That stash of money Dad hides beneath a drawer in his study in case of emergencies. What else do you need? 

The more you mull it over, the more determined you become.

In a few hours, Coriolanus will return to take you away. He will not find you.

You will make sure of it.

As you rush through the cold streets of the Capitol, you keep pulling on the hood of your coat. Your panicked gaze darts across the night, your heart jumping every time so much as an alley cat crosses your path. Paranoia creeps in, making your nerves flare and your heart drum. 

What if Coriolanus had you followed? What if he was just waiting around a corner to drag you back to his house? Nothing is impossible nowadays. It might be silly but even as you snuck outside your childhood home, eyes seemed to trail your every step. Still, even as you peer around you, you find nothing but darkness crowding your sight. 

Your feet bounce as you linger on the doorstep. You hesitate before knocking, your fear and insecurities colliding inside you. You tremble as the chilly wind seeps through your coat. This could go so horribly wrong. You were so stupid. 

It would make all the sense in the world if he turned his back on you now. You wouldn’t even blame him. It’s what you deserve.

But before you can brace yourself to knock again, the door opens in front of you.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you toss your arms around him.

“William!”

He doesn’t move at first, frightfully still as you latch onto him. Your chest wrenches. Did you lose him as you feared? 

However, to your utter surprise, his warm, familiar hand sweeps over your back.

He lifts your chin.

“What’s going on…Are you okay?”

Whatever resentment he may have held onto, there is nothing but fondness and worry glistening in his forest gaze now. As if you never ripped his heart from his chest. As if you never left his loving embrace.

You grip the lapels of his shirt.

“William, I know what I said. I know you probably hate me…but I need to leave this place. Tonight.” Your voice warps with tears. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”

His brows draw together, confusion painted on his boyish features. He steps back to check you over. “Wait, slow down. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I’m pregnant.”

William stares at you for a long time. Shock, hurt and a million other emotions fleet across his face. Guilt flickers through you. You should have had this conversation with him a while ago.

He bites on his thumb and chuckles but it’s bereft of any amusement. He paces across the room for a while, looking at everything but you. Your heart shatters as you watch him. You didn’t want to put him through this.

He stops in front of you eventually, his mouth tight and his gaze sharp.

“Tell me everything. For once, I want the truth.”

“William, we don’t have time. In a few hours-”

He cuts you off sternly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you talk to me.”

Your shoulders sag.

“Right, that’s fair.” You gnaw on your lip. “I-I just don’t know where to start.”

He closes the door behind you. You let him take your hand and escort you to the living room. He points for you to sit across from him. William studies you, his hands joined in front of his face. His intense stares bears a hole into you. You fidget, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is hard to read. 

William releases a deep breath before running a hand through his tousled curls.

“How about you start at the beginning?” he says, his eyes diving into yours.

[therandomartmaker]

DPxDC, of dead hearts and brothers.

danny is damian’s older brother au; reincarnation type. danyal is the soft-hearted but still exemplary heir, but convinces ra’s that it is better to have him be the right-hand to damian, losing his heirship. ra’s, having danny as his favourite (cough danny and his inability to not be involved with old creeps lmao) allows him this; thinking that it’d allow danyal to be protected and also give him another option for youth (taking over damian’s body, afo-shigaraki style /hj)

this is all fine and dandy until ra’s decides damian has reached an equal skill to danyal’s stagnant training, and sets up a fight to the death. the lazarus pits are always there for the al ghul family, after all. he expects danyal to win. he expects damian to learn that all of his children are disposable. precious, but tools for ra’s’ use (all except precious danyal, the heart that kept giving).

danyal dies, damian’s sword stabbed into his heart, his last advice to “drive it in harder.” and his last words, “congratulations, brother.”

they bring him to lazarus pit, but it takes him. he sinks into the pool of acrid green and they wait; hours. a day. a week. he doesn’t resurface. they continue waiting because what else are they to do? they are al ghuls, not danal. not precious danyal who could mourn.

this proceeds, a sigil at the pit’s edge once a month, waiting for the lost son to return; but eventually damian is brought before the bat (far less dramatic, ra’s was tired of damian’s growing frustration without danyal to soothe him but no assassin’s had the same emotional state as danyal to provide a pseudo-sibling to play the same role; thus the bats’ family was the next option)

the bats only find out abt danyal when damian sets up for a day of fasting, facing the direction of the pit.

it’s dick who asks why he is fasting, and damian explains calmly. They learn of the boy who knew kindness, of the al ghul’s heart, of the prodigal heir turned advisor to damian. they learn of damian’s brother. when they find out why he’s dead, horror drips down their spines, at damian being forced to kill someone who’d only done good for him.

damian has one thing to say; “Danyal’s advice was not ‘how to kill’. i killed far better than he, after all. i was efficient, but danyal worked cleaner. Danyal’s advice… was ‘to kill your heart.’”

time moves on; damian is adjusted to ‘outside life’ far easier, danyal taught him how to interact with others and understand that words are rarely literal. the lazarus pits are quiet, madness unlikely in those brought from it, and jason affected far less in the long term. until one day there is a knock at the manor door.

alfred opens it, to see a dark haired young adult, assassins’ garb, injured. he does not seem conscious. alfred brings him in; calling the rest to reach a decision on how to treat him, and what his intentions are.

Damian wakes up to the sight of his brother in the moment that damian killed him.

[siobhans-world]

My God. If I wasn't so obsessed with Aziraphale, Dr Martin Whitley might just be Michael's best character. He plays a fantastic serial killer in Prodigal Son and his micro-expressions literally have me on the edge of my seat.

Also sorry it's taken so long for me to post chapter 5 of Heaven has a four week trial, but it'll be up tomorrow 😁

And also I LOVE MICHAEL SHEEN!

[mariclerc]

unexpected role request here! can you do one where the situation is about the Oscar and Ollie adoption joke? where they like invite them over and spend time like a family and another fic where the timeline was when Charles introduced y/n and lily his family :))

Thank you so much for this request!! I love the idea 🥺🥺🥺 and don't worry, I will make your other request very soon!!

An unexpected role (pt.7) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well. Warning: none, just fluff as usual featuring Ollie and Oscar!!

Follow the series! Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6 , Part 8, Part 9

Sunlight streams through the large windows of yours and Charles' apartment. Charles sits at the counter of the kitchen with Lily perched on a high chair wearing a bib. He's cutting up strawberries and feeding them to her, dodging sticky fingers with a smile.

In the living room, you are curled up on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You let out a surprised laugh.

“Charles, you'll never guess what I just saw!” you say walking into the kitchen.

Charles glances up from Lily, a strawberry halfway to her mouth. “What's that, amore?” he says with his mouth full of little raspberries.

Lily happily chomps on the strawberry.

“It seems you've become a social media dad already.” you say giggling.

Charles raises an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “A social media what now?” He says a little confused.

You hold up your phone, showing him a screenshot. It's a tweet with a picture of you, Charles, and Lily photoshopped beside Oscar Piastri and Ollie Bearman, the caption reads: "Charles Leclerc expanding his family with the next generation of talent! #adoptdontshop #F1fam"

Charles bursts out laughing, shaking his head. Lily claps her hands, delighted by the sound. “Oh my god, these fans... they're something else.”

“So, are you thinking of breaking the news to Lily that she has new brothers?” you say teasingly.

Charles picks Lily up from the high chair, placing her on his hip as he walks over to you. “Maybe someday, when she's old enough to understand that Oscar and Ollie are more like... racing cousins, I guess?” He leans and kisses Lily's head. “Though, the idea of them all hanging out here... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it? I mean, you already know them and, well, they seem to like Lily a lot!”

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile on your lips.

”You mean a whole house full of young, competitive drivers? Sounds like a recipe for chaos, you know?” you asked him.

“Maybe, but think of the stories they'd have for when they're older... "Remember that time Aunt y/n almost lost it when we turned the living room into a go-kart track?" That would be so funny!” he say grinning.

You reach out and softly touch his cheek. “Alright, alright, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As long as they promise not to give Lily any racing ideas before she's old enough.”

Charles throws his head back and laughs, a genuine sound that fills the room. Lily joins in, giggling at the sound of her parents laughing.

“Don't worry, amour. We'll keep her grounded... For now.”

He leans in and kisses you, the promise of a playful evening with the guys hanging in the air.

***

One week later, the kitchen is a whirlwind of activity. You're juggling chopping vegetables with keeping Lily, who's sporting a bright yellow construction hat, out of the precarious piles of flour on the counter.

Charles bursts in, a wide grin on his face, followed by two young men, Oscar and Ollie, they both have shy smiles on their faces, despite already knowing them in the paddock, they tend to be a little shy.

“Here they are! The prodigal... racing sons, I suppose?” says Charles, making an exaggerated announcement when they enter.

Oscar and Ollie exchange awkward smiles.

“Hey Charles, y/n. Thanks for having us! This place smells amazing, what are we making?” Ollie says, waving friendly.

“It's nothing Ollie, we're making pizza! Lily's been demanding it all week.” You say while cleaning the flour from your hands.

Lily, perched on a stool by the counter, happily bangs a wooden spoon on a metal pot and looks up at Oscar. “Osc! Osc! Osc!” she giggles while looking at the Australian.

Oscar smiles and carefully approaches Lily.

“Hey there you girlyclerc, you want some cuddles?” He says, caressing Lily's cheek gently, she nods and extends her little hands towards him. Oscar chuckles and Ollie bumps him with his shoulder.

“So, uh, is there anything we can do to help with the dinner?” Ollie asks a little shyly as he smiles.

You smile, relieved at the offer.

“Actually, yes! Can you two keep Lily occupied in the living room for a bit, please? We need some grown-up time to get this pizza dough under control.” you smile at the young boys.

Oscar and Ollie look at each other, then back at you, a mixture of amusement on their faces.

Charles notice their hesitation. “Don't worry guys, she's pretty easy to please. Just don't let her near any markers, and maybe hide the remote... Besides, she already adores you two, so... I don't think it's a big problem.”

Oscar and Ollie share a determined look and smile.

“Consider it done. Come on, pipsqueak, let's go build a fort!” Ollie says as Lily jumps into his arms.

Oscar starts singing a children's song, earning a delighted squeal, and they disappear into the living room. You and Charles exchange a look, then you two burst out laughing.

“Maybe they'll make better babysitters than racing drivers, don't you think?” you giggled.

“Maybe... But at least they're good driving too amour.” Charles says, pulling you in for a quick kiss, flour dusting his cheek. “Now, about this reckless dough...”

Meanwhile in the living room, where Ollie and Oscar are sprawled on the floor with Lily, surrounded by pillows and blankets. Lily, wearing a princess crown made of construction paper, is holding a plastic microphone, belting out a made-up song at the top of her lungs. Oscar and Ollie, despite themselves, are smiling so hard at lily's creativity, completely captivated by their pint-sized audience.

***

You and Charles have managed to wrangle the pizza dough into a presentable shape. Flour dusts your aprons and the air smells pleasantly of tomato sauce and oregano.

“Alright, that looks good. Time to get these in the oven!” you say while wiping your hands.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierces the air. You and Charles exchange a panicked look.

“Lily!” Charles says exalted.

You both race towards the living room, bracing yourselves for the worst, the scene that greets you is unexpected.

Oscar and Ollie are sprawled on the floor, their faces painted in bright, uneven stripes. Lily, holding a colourful marker in one hand and a triumphantly mischievous grin on her face, stands over them. Pillows lie scattered on the floor, a half-built fort forgotten.

“Uh, she may have gotten a little carried away with the markers...” Ollie says sheepishly.

Lily lets out a giggle that's both adorable and slightly terrifying. You and Charles can't help but laugh, the tension dissolving.

“Lily, sweetheart, what did we say about markers, huh?” says Charles as he tries to keep a straight face.

Lily sticks her tongue out at him playfully and he does the same, you giggle at the father-daughter interaction.

“Well, this is certainly a first. Looks like we need to add "washing paint out of hair" to the post-pizza agenda, don't you think guys?” you say smiling.

Oscar and Ollie exchange a sheepish glance, but there's a spark of amusement in their eyes.

“Consider it payback for the flour fight Charles had us do at Monaco last year.” Ollie giggled softly.

Charles throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, a little initiation never hurt anyone!”

You shake your head, but a smile tugs at your lips. It's chaotic, messy, and completely unexpected. But as you look around at the scene - the flour-dusted kitchen, the paint-striped drivers, a giggling Lily in the middle of it all - you can't help but feel a warmth spread through you.

The sound of the oven timer cuts through the laughter, Charles pats his stomach with a theatrical sigh.

“Alright, alright, enough shenanigans. Pizza's calling! Who's hungry?” Charles says.

Lily, ever the opportunist, throws her arms up in the air.

“Dada, pizza!” Lily says smiling.

Oscar and Ollie share a look, then grin. “We could definitely use some fuel after all this... creative art expression.” Ollie says smiling.

You herd everyone towards the table, grabbing cleaning wipes on the way. Charles pulls out a high chair for Lily, her paint-streaked face a masterpiece of pure joy.

“Alright, first things first, let's get this paint cleaned up. Then pizza, maybe a movie to wind down before you two head home?” you say while wiping a smudge off Ollie's cheek.

Oscar smiles “Sounds like a plan, y/n. Thanks again for having us today.” says Oscar, wiping his face with a cloth.

Charles ruffles Oscar's hair playfully and smiles. “Anytime, mate! Just don't give Lily any ideas about supergluing my helmet on next time, alright?” he says with a chuckle.

Ollie lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

“No promises, Charles. No promises.”

As everyone settles around the table, the air is filled with a cacophony of chatter, laughter, and Lily's enthusiastic demands for more cheese. The scene fades on a warm, messy tableau of a family, unconventional as it may be, sharing a meal and a stolen moment of joy.

***

After eating the pizza, Lily, now sporting a clean face (and a suspicious orange stain on her shirt), bounces around the living room with a juice box in one hand. Oscar and Ollie are sprawled on the floor, attempting to build a precarious tower out of Legos.

“You think they'll be alright for a movie? Or will they be bouncing off the walls?” you say towards Charles while stacking some dishes in the kitchen.

“They might be a bit wired, but a good movie should tire them out eventually... What did you have in mind?” he says grinning.

You grab a movie from the shelf, a classic Disney animation.

“Something guaranteed to put them into a sugar coma... Besides, Lily's been obsessed with this lately.” you say in a sweet giggle and Charles smiled.

You return to the living room, putting in the movie. The Lego tower teeters precariously before collapsing with a dramatic crash, Lily squeals with laughter, then turns to Oscar and Ollie with wide eyes.

“Movie time! Movie time!” she says giggling. “Ollie?” she says towards Ollie, while making little hands, a sign she makes everytime she wants to be hold up in arms.

Oscar scoops her up, settling her on his lap while Ollie grabs a blanket, draping it over them both. You and Charles settle on the couch, popcorn bowls in hand. As the movie starts, a comfortable silence descends upon the room, Lily snuggles into Ollie's side, her little eyes already drooping.

A small smile plays on Charles' lips as he glances at you. You catch his eye and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. On the screen, a princess embarks on a grand adventure... In the warmth of your apartment, your own unconventional adventure continues, one messy pizza dinner and movie night at a time.

[coldasyou]

TV Appreciation Week 2024: (Day Four) Favorite family - The Whitlys (Prodigal Son)

We are not your family. We are just a group of people tragically bound to you by blood.