#Best Modelling Agencies in the World

[nicorobinphd]

stg, being an enjoyer of jane twdg is like being forced into an expert-level course on the way misogyny manifests in video game spaces.

god forbid a woman be complex or difficult or provably mischaracterized (see tags) at the end of her arc to service the culmination of a man’s storyline.

[bookstattoosandtea]

Audio Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: The Sunny Side by Lily Morton

Audio Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: The Sunny Side By Lily Morton Narrated by Joel Leslie The Model Agency, Book 1 Jonas Durand is successful, rich, and controlled. He owns a prestigious modelling agency and has the world at his fingertips, but a turbulent childhood has taught him to be focused and never deviate from a plan. Dean Jacobs threatens that stance. He’s one of the world’s most…

[dovveri]

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google’s new phones can’t stop phoning home

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most brazen lies of Big Tech is that people like commercial surveillance, a fact you can verify for yourself by simply observing how many people end up using products that spy on them. If they didn't like spying, they wouldn't opt into being spied on.

This lie has spread to the law enforcement and national security agencies, who treasure Big Tech's surveillance as an off-the-books trove of warrantless data that no court would ever permit them to gather on their own. Back in 2017, I found myself at SXSW, debating an FBI agent who was defending the Bureau's gigantic facial recognition database, which, he claimed, contained the faces of virtually every American:

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/11/sxsw-facial-recognition-biometrics-surveillance-panel

The agent insisted that the FBI had acquired all those faces through legitimate means, by accessing public sources of people's faces. In other words, we'd all opted in to FBI facial recognition surveillance. "Sure," I said, "to opt out, just don't have a face."

This pathology is endemic to neoliberal thinking, which insists that all our political matters can be reduced to economic ones, specifically, the kind of economic questions that can be mathematically modeled and empirically tested. It would be great if all our thorniest problems could be solved like mathematical equations.

Unfortunately, there are key elements of these systems that can't be reliably quantified and turned into mathematical operators, especially power. The fact that someone did something tells you nothing about whether they chose to do so – to understand whether someone was coerced or made a free choice, you have to consider the power relationships involved.

Conservatives hate this idea. They want to live in a neat world of "revealed preferences," where the fact that you're working in a job where you're regularly exposed to carcinogens, or that you've stayed with a spouse who beats the shit out of you, or that you're homeless, or that you're addicted to Oxy, is a matter of choice. Monopolies exist because we all love the monopolist's product best, not because they've got monopoly power. Jobs that pay starvation wages exist because people want to work full time for so little money that they need food-stamps just to survive. Intervening in any of these situations is "woke paternalism," where the government thinks it knows better than you and intervenes to take away your right to consume unsafe products, get maimed at work, or have your jaw broken by your husband.

Which is why neoliberals insist that politics should be reduced to economics, and that economics should be carried out as if power didn't exist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/05/farrago/#jeffty-is-five

Nowhere is this stupid trick more visible than in the surveillance fight. For example, Google claims that it tracks your location because you asked it to, by using Google products that make use of your location without clicking an opt out button.

In reality, Google has the power to simply ignore your preferences about location tracking. In 2021, the Arizona Attorney General's privacy case against Google yielded a bunch of internal memos, including memos from Google's senior product manager for location services Jen Chai complaining that she had turned off location tracking in three places and was still being tracked:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#goog

Multiple googlers complained about this: they'd gone through dozens of preference screens, hunting for "don't track my location" checkboxes, and still they found that they were being tracked. These were people who worked under Chai on the location services team. If the head of that team, and her subordinates, couldn't figure out how to opt out of location tracking, what chance did you have?

Despite all this, I've found myself continuing to use stock Google Pixel phones running stock Google Android. There were three reasons for this:

First and most importantly: security. While I worry about Google tracking me, I am as worried (or more) about foreign governments, random hackers, and dedicated attackers gaining access to my phone. Google's appetite for my personal data knows no bounds, but at least the company is serious about patching defects in the Pixel line.

Second: coercion. There are a lot of apps that I need to run – to pay for parking, say, or to access my credit union or control my rooftop solar – that either won't run on jailbroken Android phones or require constant tweaking to keep running.

Finally: time. I already have the equivalent of three full time jobs and struggle every day to complete my essential tasks, including managing complex health issues and being there for my family. The time I take out of my schedule to actively manage a de-Googled Android would come at the expense of either my professional or personal life.

And despite Google's enshittificatory impulses, the Pixels are reliably high-quality, robust phones that get the hell out of the way and let me do my job. The Pixels are Google's flagship electronic products, and the company acts like it.

Until now.

A new report from Cybernews reveals just how much data the next generation Pixel 9 phones collect and transmit to Google, without any user intervention, and in defiance of the owner's express preferences to the contrary:

https://cybernews.com/security/google-pixel-9-phone-beams-data-and-awaits-commands/

The Pixel 9 phones home every 15 minutes, even when it's not in use, sharing "location, email address, phone number, network status, and other telemetry." Additionally, every 40 minutes, the new Pixels transmit "firmware version, whether connected to WiFi or using mobile data, the SIM card Carrier, and the user’s email address." Even further, even if you've never opened Google Photos, the phone contacts Google Photos’ Face Grouping API at regular intervals. Another process periodically contacts Google's Voice Search servers, even if you never use Voice Search, transmitting "the number of times the device was restarted, the time elapsed since powering on, and a list of apps installed on the device, including the sideloaded ones."

All of this is without any consent. Or rather, without any consent beyond the "revealed preference" of just buying a phone from Google ("to opt out, don't have a face").

What's more, the Cybernews report probably undercounts the amount of passive surveillance the Pixel 9 undertakes. To monitor their testbench phone, Cybernews had to root it and install Magisk, a monitoring tool. In order to do that, they had to disable the AI features that Google touts as the centerpiece of Pixel 9. AI is, of course, notoriously data-hungry and privacy invasive, and all the above represents the data collection the Pixel 9 undertakes without any of its AI nonsense.

It just gets worse. The Pixel 9 also routinely connects to a "CloudDPC" server run by Google. Normally, this is a server that an enterprise customer would connect its employees' devices to, allowing the company to push updates to employees' phones without any action on their part. But Google has designed the Pixel 9 so that privately owned phones do the same thing with Google, allowing for zero-click, no-notification software changes on devices that you own.

This is the kind of measure that works well, but fails badly. It assumes that the risk of Pixel owners failing to download a patch outweighs the risk of a Google insider pushing out a malicious update. Why would Google do that? Well, perhaps a rogue employee wants to spy on his ex-girlfriend:

https://www.wired.com/2010/09/google-spy/

Or maybe a Google executive wins an internal power struggle and decrees that Google's products should be made shittier so you need to take more steps to solve your problems, which generates more chances to serve ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Or maybe Google capitulates to an authoritarian government who orders them to install a malicious update to facilitate a campaign of oppressive spying and control:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

Indeed, merely by installing a feature that can be abused this way, Google encourages bad actors to abuse it. It's a lot harder for a government or an asshole executive to demand a malicious downgrade of a Google product if users have to accept that downgrade before it takes effect. By removing that choice, Google has greased the skids for malicious downgrades, from both internal and external sources.

Google will insist that these anti-features – both the spying and the permissionless updating – are essential, that it's literally impossible to imagine building a phone that doesn't do these things. This is one of Big Tech's stupidest gambits. It's the same ruse that Zuck deploys when he says that it's impossible to chat with a friend or plan a potluck dinner without letting Facebook spy on you. It's Tim Cook's insistence that there's no way to have a safe, easy to use, secure computing environment without giving Apple a veto over what software you can run and who can fix your device – and that this veto must come with a 30% rake from every dollar you spend on your phone.

The thing is, we know it's possible to separate these things, because they used to be separate. Facebook used to sell itself as the privacy-forward alternative to Myspace, where they would never spy on you (not coincidentally, this is also the best period in Facebook's history, from a user perspective):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

And we know it's possible to make a Pixel that doesn't do all this nonsense because Google makes other Pixel phones that don't do all this nonsense, like the Pixel 8 that's in my pocket as I type these words.

This doesn't stop Big Tech from gaslighting* us and insisting that demanding a Pixel that doesn't phone home four times an hour is like demanding water that isn't wet.

*pronounced "jass-lighting"

Even before I read this report, I was thinking about what I would do when I broke my current phone (I'm a klutz and I travel a lot, so my gadgets break pretty frequently). Google's latest OS updates have already crammed a bunch of AI bullshit into my Pixel 8 (and Google puts the "invoke AI bullshit" button in the spot where the "do something useful" button used to be, meaning I accidentally pull up the AI bullshit screen several times/day).

Assuming no catastrophic phone disasters, I've got a little while before my next phone, but I reckon when it's time to upgrade, I'll be switching to a phone from the @calyxinstitute@mastodon.social. Calyx is an incredible, privacy-focused nonprofit whose founder, Nicholas Merrill, was the first person to successfully resist one of the Patriot Act's "sneek-and-peek" warrants, spending 11 years defending his users' privacy from secret – and, ultimately, unconstitutional – surveillance:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/03/depth-judge-illstons-remarkable-order-striking-down-nsl-statute

Merrill and Calyx have tapped into various obscure corners of US wireless spectrum licenses that require major carriers to give ultra-cheap access to nonprofits, allowing them to offer unlimited, surveillance-free, Net Neutrality respecting wireless data packages:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/09/22/i-have-found-a-secret-tunnel-that-runs-underneath-the-phone-companies-and-emerges-in-paradise/

I've been a very happy Calyx user in years gone by, but ultimately, I slipped into the default of using stock Pixel handsets with Google's Fi service.

But even as I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of Google's Android and Pixel programs, I've grown increasingly impressed with Calyx's offerings. The company has graduated from selling mobile hotspots with unlimited data SIMs to selling jailbroken, de-Googled Pixel phones that have all the hardware reliability of a Pixel, coupled with an alternative app suite and your choice of a Calyx SIM and/or a Calyx hotspot:

https://calyxinstitute.org/

Every time I see what Calyx is up to, I think, dammit, it's really time to de-Google my phone. With the Pixel 9 descending to new depths of enshittification, that decision just got a lot easier. When my current phone croaks, I'll be talking to Calyx.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/08/water-thats-not-wet/#pixelated

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again. 

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them. 

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway. 

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut. 

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit. 

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd. 

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?” 

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.” 

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face. 

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully. 

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece. 

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble. 

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting. 

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over. 

“Did you see them?” 

“See who?” 

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?” 

‘You’re not his type.’  Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it. 

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face. 

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule. 

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway. 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up. 

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’ 

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax. 

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes. 

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all  the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home. 

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them. 

“Tim…” 

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?” 

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.” 

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!” 

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week. 

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-” 

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face. 

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours. 

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not. 

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful. 

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred. 

“You never said anything.” 

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them. 

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them. 

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying. 

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-” 

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.” 

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him.  Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own. 

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself. 

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred. 

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle. 

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes. 

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued. 

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–” 

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his. 

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice. 

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money. 

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him. 

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of. 

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian…. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left. 

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family. 

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads. 

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage. 

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used. 

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes. 

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo. 

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’  Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines. 

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair. 

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves. 

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?” 

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this! 

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt. 

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it? 

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?” 

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.” 

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?” 

“I did. So we can talk freely.” 

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.” 

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it. 

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu. 

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.” 

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live. 

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this. 

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.” 

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.” 

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains. 

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app. 

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game. 

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs. 

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway. 

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick 

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on. 

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest. 

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item. 

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.” 

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor. 

Not worthy of anything. 

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder. 

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral. 

Just how Batman does. 

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified? 

“You did great Y/N!” 

“Looking beautiful Y/N.” 

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!” 

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils. 

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work. 

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.” 

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all. 

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne. 

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes. 

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.” 

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.” 

“At least let them change, Dick.” 

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that  it is snowing outside.” 

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms. 

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call– 

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today. 

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?” 

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet. 

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them. 

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run. 

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

[luvgavii]

color me jealous - (pg8)

summary: jealous pedri featuring rúben mf dias ;) (model!reader)

dedicated to all the pedri girls <3

You were smiling at your phone while you sipped on the expensive champagne, replaying your Instagram story over and over again, the imagine you posted of the flowers your boyfriend sent to your dressing room before your modelling show never failing to spread a smile to your face. But of course, your happy moment had to be interrupted.

Turning on your heels, a strong scent of perfume met your nose as two arms wrapped tightly around you, the elder woman air kissing your cheeks.

“you were absolutely beautiful up there, y/n!” The lady, one of whom dresses you wore tonight spoke in an elegant voice yet thick accent you could only recognise as french.

“thank you! the dress was beautiful,” you smiled brightly, the woman giving your hands a squeeze, whispering another few rounds of praises before disappearing somewhere in the gallery to mingle with the rest of the stuck up, posh people. You knew you had to join them, but your thoughts were filled with one person only.

You looked around, your eyes scanning every table, every single corner of the big gallery for Pedri, yet you could not spot him anywhere.

A frown crept to your face, a thousand thoughts filling your mind.

‘did he leave early?’

‘why would he leave before coming up to you, kissing you and telling you he’s proud of you?’

‘maybe he had a football emergency?’

‘football emergency this late?’

“I saw Pedri outside taking a phone call a few minutes ago,” the familiar voice of Rúben Dias came from behind you, making your eyes widen as you whipped your head around, meeting Rúben’s warm smile and eyes.

“Rú? What are you doing here?” You asked, a chuckle escaping your lips as you went in to hug the tall man.

Rúben laughed, wrapping his arms around you before speaking, “As if I’d miss out on seeing you on that runway,” his smile could almost reach his ears as he looked down at you.

While any other girl would absolutely melt under Rúben’s eyes, you always made sure to keep a respectful distance, first because you had Pedri who was your person in every possible way and second because you didn’t want to fuel into Rúben’s flirting too much. You were loving the attention, though.

“thank you! I appreciate it,” you smiled, you were happy to see him, the last time you two had hung out was a long time ago when you were modelling in England, but the Man City player always seemed to have some interest in you, even before you started going out with Pedri a few months ago.

You and Rúben have always been friendly, sure, he was always playful flirting with you, but whatever attraction you had felt for the portuguese has quickly disappeared when you met Pedri. As soon as Rúben had posted a picture of the two of you at the gala, arms wrapped around your shoulders as your hand rested on his chest, the fans and media went wild.

It didn’t take long for the fans to figure out where the location of the after party of your modelling agency took place, and while Pedri was on the phone with his manager, he couldn’t help the frown on his face when the fans a few feet away were chanting Rúben Dias’ name.

You met Pedri almost six months ago when your best friend insisted on going to a Barcelona game, and while you didn’t know much about football at the time, your interest was quickly growing when you saw the man who wore number 8. With the help of a friend of a friend, who happened to be married to one of the players, you stuck around long enough to meet them after the game and you and Pedri became inseparable ever since.

He was confused as to why in the world there were people holding Man City jerseys, chanting the name of another football player, until he checked Instagram and saw the photo that was now on every gossip page. People were speculating, asking if you and him had broken up so short after hard launching your relationship and Pedri hated that more than he liked to admit. He hated being in the spotlight with things like these but he hated even more the way Rúben fucking Dias held his arm around you.

Back inside, you were laughing at whatever Rúben had said, your head falling back and your nose scrunching in that adorable way Pedri always said he adores.

Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, your mind repeated over and over again.

Your eyes met across the room, his brown eyes softening when your gazes locked. His eyes hid some kind of harshness in them, and you could immediately tell that there was something bothering him, and that something happened to start with an ‘R’ and end with an ‘úben’.

While it was morally wrong to fuel Pedri’s jealousy, you couldn’t help yourself and keeping your boyfriend on his toes wouldn’t hurt.

Your palm pressed against Rúben’s bicep as you leaned up to whisper something in his ear, Pedri’s eye twitching while he watched from afar, wondering what the hell you could’ve said that got Rúben smiling so brightly. He clenched the glass of whiskey harder in his hands until his knuckles turned white and for a second Pedri considered calling Gavi to help him commit murder, knowing his best friend would definitely help dig away the body.

“you’re really trying to tick Pedri off, huh?” Rúben laughed, making you chuckle and making Pedri picture his murder in graphic detail.

“he’s really sweet, I like it when he gets a bit rough and jealous sometimes,” you laughed, shaking your head at Rúben, your eyes meeting the familiar chocolate brown orbs.

“what, like, throw you to the wall rough?” Rúben raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the smile that spread to his lips.

“no, not like that,” you laughed knowing you were not about to discuss your sex life with Rúben, at the after party of your show.

“mi amor?” you heard the soft, familiar voice calling out for you, both you and Rúben turning to see Pedri.

He looked almost sad, and you couldn’t help the pain in your chest when you saw that disappointed glimmer in your boyfriend’s eyes which was probably because you barely got to see him after the show. The quicky in your dressing room before hitting the runway was good tho.

“can I talk to you for a second?” Pedri dragged his voice, his eyes falling from Rúben to you, not caring how rude the other football player might consider him, “alone.”

You nodded and bid Rúben goodbye, thanking him for coming. Pedri was still a golden retriever, so even if he was slightly pissed off because you paid so much attention to Rúben, he still shook his hand.

“looking forward to that friendly,” Rúben said with a slight tease in his voice, making Pedri clench his jaw, he barely recognized himself, he was never this jealous.

“I’m looking forward to rearranging your jaw—“ Pedri muttered under his breath as you and him walked away, his words caused you to laugh and hit his shoulder.

“can you not? he was nice to you,” you chuckled, stopping in a secluded spot in the gallery.

“by flirting with you all night? damn, we have different definitions for ‘nice’,” Pedri huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

Jealousy, rage and so much love and affection was in them. No matter how much you annoyed him, Pedri never seemed to be able to lash out at you and that was the greenest flag you could think of.

“you did that on purpose didn’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when you smiled cheekily, your arms wrapping around his waist and your chin resting on his chest, “you’re so annoying,” Pedri mumbled when he realised all that overly friendly stuff with Rúben was an act.

“you love meee,” you chuckled, laughing at Pedri’s narrowed eyes, knowing he was either plotting your murder or thinking of how to get you back.

His lips curled into a grin, his nose rubbing against yours as he spoke against your lips, “too much, mi estrella.”

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part I

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of drugs and alcohol, Substance Use, Mature Themes.

A/N— Comment to be a part of the tag list, hope you enjoy this series <3

Series Masterlist

The glossy conference room table reflected the headline of the magazine tossed unceremoniously in front of you.

“America’s New Wild Child: From Runways to Rock Bottom”

Below it was a photo of you stumbling into a hotel lobby, visibly intoxicated, mascara smeared, and your once-iconic dress askew. It wasn’t just one headline, it was everywhere. Every blog, tabloid, and gossip page seemed to have some variation of your downfall plastered across their pages.

Your manager, Angela, sighed heavily from across the table, rubbing her temples. “You see this, right? The Shade Room picked it up. TMZ is all over it. Even Vogue is doing a piece on whether or not you’re the next Kate Moss, but not in a good way.” She leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You’re toxic right now. Nobody wants to touch you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This isn’t true. My ex-best friend—she’s jealous. She made this all up.”

Angela gave you a pointed look and slid her iPad across the table. On it was a video—paparazzi footage of you from a few nights ago. You were stumbling out of a car, practically being carried by someone, slurring your words as you waved off photographers.

You groaned and pressed your fingers to your temples. “Y’all please, that was one time.”

“It’s never just one time with you!” snapped Melanie, one of the executives at your agency. “This is becoming a pattern. And we’re not here to babysit you.” She stood, exasperated. “You’re one of the highest-paid models in the world, and now look at you. You’re a liability.”

Angela raised a hand to calm the room. “Give me a few days,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll clean this up. We’ll fix her image. She’ll be the ‘it girl’ again. I just need time.”

Melanie crossed her arms but didn’t argue. “Fix it fast. Otherwise, we’re done.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you sat silently, staring at the incriminating headlines. After years of grueling work, endless runway shows, and clawing your way to the top, it was all unraveling because of your past addictions and your inability to leave it behind.

Angela pulled you aside as the others left. “You need to clean this up. No more excuses. No more scandals. And definitely no more drunken or high paparazzi shots. Got it?”

You nodded numbly. “Got it.”

“Good. Now, start small. Let’s use that mansion of yours. Throw a party. Invite everyone who matters. Show them the glamorous, sophisticated version of yourself. Make them forget the messy headlines.”

Your lips curved into a small, defiant smile. “A party? That, I can do.”

2 Days Later

The house practically glittered under the LA moonlight, perched in the most exclusive part of the city. Your glam team buzzed around you, perfecting every inch of your hair and makeup as you sipped champagne. Outside the window, you noticed the usually dark house next door was now bustling with activity.

“Looks like someone’s moving in,” you said absently, gesturing with your glass. From the corner of your eye, you saw a guy carrying a box inside. He looked young, around your age maybe two years older, and vaguely attractive, though you didn’t pay much attention.

“Maybe he’ll be better than the last neighbors,” you joked to your stylist, smirking. “If he’s cute, I might even invite him to the party.”

As the night fell, the party roared to life. The mansion was packed with models, actors, and influencers. Music pounded through the walls, and laughter echoed in every corner. You danced like you had something to prove, the champagne flowing freely. At one point, you made out with a fellow model on the balcony to the cheers of a crowd. You were chaos incarnate, and you loved every second of it.

Around midnight, you were helping a tipsy friend into a waiting limo when you noticed someone approaching from the house next door.

“Excuse me.”

You turned, your vision slightly blurred, and found yourself face-to-face with the new neighbor. He was dressed casually—jeans and a hoodie—but his sharp jawline and piercing eyes caught your attention.

“I’m Nicholas,” he said, offering a tight smile. “Nicholas Chavez. I just moved in.”

You arched a brow, leaning lazily against the limo. “And?”

“And I have an audition tomorrow,” he continued, his tone calm but firm. “Your music is loud, and I can’t sleep.”

You laughed, the champagne fizzing in your head. “Well, didn’t you know who you were moving in next to?”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I found out too late,” he said dryly, a pointed reference to the headlines.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Funny. I’ve never seen a single headline about you.”

This time, he chuckled softly, though it was more condescending than amused. “Well, I’ll try to keep it that way.” His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

You noticed, scoffing. “Nice try, but staring at my chest isn’t going to make me turn the music down.”

“Noted,” he replied smoothly, his tone unreadable. “But seriously, could you tone it down? Just a little?”

You waved him off, turning back toward the house. “Good luck with your audition.”

The door slammed behind you as the party continued to rage on. Whatever Nicholas Chavez wanted, it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you were untouchable—or so you thought.

You weren’t worried Nicholas would turn out like your last neighbors, the ones who had gleefully run to the press with tales of your ‘wild, disruptive parties’ adding fuel to your already blazing reputation as a noisy party girl.

The party raged on, and you weren’t exactly innocent in keeping it under control. The music blasted as guests danced, smoked, and drank with abandon. Lines of coke were casually set out on mirrored trays, and you caught more than one person lighting up joints in the corners. Even you, despite promising yourself you were done with that lifestyle, gave in after a few glasses of champagne, doing a line or two when a friend coaxed you into it.

By the time the sun started to rise, people were passed out on your marble floors, the air heavy with the stench of spilled liquor and smoke. You stumbled to bed without bothering to clean up, the haze of the night swirling in your head.

You woke to the sound of chaos downstairs—your housekeepers already hard at work, scrubbing every inch of the aftermath. Your head pounded as sunlight streamed in through your curtains. Groaning, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked at the time. It was already midday.

Dozens of missed calls and messages from Angela stared back at you. She’d been blowing up your phone about a last-minute shoot, one you had completely missed. You cursed under your breath, knowing she’d be furious.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom for a long, scalding shower. As the water poured over you, you couldn’t help but rethink the night before. You’d promised to get it together, to clean up your image, but it was getting harder to hold yourself accountable.

After drying off, you wrapped yourself in a silk robe and walked to your window. Across the lawn, you noticed Nicholas pulling into his driveway. He stepped out of his car looking exhausted, a coffee in hand, wearing a nice suit. You figured he must have just returned from his audition. It must’ve been early. For a brief moment, guilt pricked at you. If he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, it was probably your fault.

Angela didn’t wait for you to sit down when you arrived at her office. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, slamming her laptop shut as you walked in.

“I’m sorry, A,” you began, your voice hoarse from the night before.

“Sorry?” she cut you off, standing up and pacing the room. “Do you know what I’ve been dealing with all morning?” She grabbed a folder from her desk and threw it onto the coffee table in front of you. A stack of printouts slid out, screenshots of articles and photos from the party.

The headlines were brutal: “A Drug-Fueled Disaster: Is Y/N Destroying the Modeling Industry?”

Photos showed passed-out models, trays of coke, and worst of all, a video of you taking a line.

You froze, your stomach twisting into knots.

Angela slammed her hands on the desk. “This was supposed to be elegant, extravagant, a chance to clean up your image. Instead, you turned it into some rockstar-adjacent drug den!”

“I didn’t know people were recording,” you said weakly, avoiding her glare.

“That’s not the point!” she barked. “You were supposed to set an example. Little black girls look up to you. This is the image you’re giving them?”

You exhaled sharply, frustrated. “Angela, with all due respect, I’m not their mother. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model.”

She rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. “Well, congratulations, because you’re not much of one anyway. This is your last chance. Do you hear me? Last chance.”

You nodded quickly, desperate to make it right. “I’ll fix it. I swear.”

“I already have something cooking up,” she said sharply, leaning against her desk. “But in the meantime, go downtown, look beautiful, and give them something positive to talk about. No booze, no drugs, no nonsense. Just smile, shop, and sign autographs. Sober.”

You groaned inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out in public, especially hungover, but you didn’t dare push back. “Got it.”

Your driver dropped you off at one of the most exclusive shopping districts in the city. Bodyguards lingered in the background as you strolled from boutique to boutique, taking your time and letting the paparazzi get their shots.

Every time someone asked for an autograph, you smiled warmly and obliged, posing with fans here and there. This was your coping mechanism—shopping your problems away, hoping the public would eat it up.

“Looking good, Y/N!” one of the paparazzi shouted as you exited a store with bags in hand.

You forced another smile, playing your part, and waved at the cameras before ducking into the backseat of your car.

When you arrived home, the guilt from last night gnawed at you. You couldn’t undo the noise and chaos, but maybe you could soften the blow. After all, Nicholas didn’t deserve to suffer because of your mess. Deciding to make amends, you ordered a small cake from a local bakery with “Welcome” scrawled neatly in frosting.

Holding the cake, you made your way next door and rang his doorbell. At first, there was no response, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was ignoring you. Maybe he had seen the articles and already formed an opinion. The thought annoyed you, but just as you were about to turn away, the door opened.

Nicholas stood there in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes dropped to the cake in your hands.

“Hi, neighbor,” you said with a small, sheepish smile.

He raised an eyebrow, reading the icing. “Welcome?”

“It’s for you,” you explained. “To welcome you to the neighborhood. And, uh, sorry about last night.”

His surprise lingered as he stepped aside to let you in. “Didn’t strike you as the generous, ‘welcome-with-cake’ kind of girl,” he said as you followed him into his sleek, modern kitchen.

The place was immaculate—white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and tasteful art on the walls. He set a glass down on the counter and gestured toward a barstool for you to sit.

“Well,” he added with a smirk, “especially not after a night like that. I’m surprised you’re even standing.”

You groaned, slumping into the chair. “Please don’t tell me you’ve seen the articles.”

He grabbed a knife to cut the cake. “The articles, the pictures, the videos, yeah, I’ve seen them.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Great. Just what I needed. My new neighbor thinking I’m a train wreck.”

“Not thinking anything,” he said casually, slicing into the cake. His tone was calm, nonchalant. You couldn’t read him, and it annoyed you. Was he judging you? Laughing at you? You couldn’t tell.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood. And again, sorry for the noise.”

He placed two plates on the counter, handing one to you. “Thanks. Want to eat this with me? That’s if you’re one of those rare models who actually eat carbs and don’t starve themselves.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t joke about that. And yes, I’ll have a slice. Or two.”

He chuckled softly, taking a seat across from you. As you ate, you studied him a little closer. His face was sharp, striking, he was definitely good-looking, though in a boy-next-door-meets-Hollywood kind of way. Then it hit you where you’d seen him before.

“You’ve been everywhere lately,” you said, setting your fork down. “You were in that Lyle and Erik Menendez show, right?”

He looked up, surprised. “You watched it?”

“I caught the first episode,” you admitted. “It was really good. Intense, but good.”

“Thanks,” he said, his expression softening. “It was a tough project, but worth it.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Hollywood’s a mess. Be careful.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The conversation felt easy, almost too easy. Sitting across from him, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt hugged his chest and arms, or the way his jaw tensed when he chewed. You realized, with a twinge of irritation, that you were definitely attracted to him. The idea of tearing his clothes off flashed through your mind, but you quickly shoved it aside.

You had too much going on to add that kind of complication to your life. Besides, sex was supposed to be the last thing on your mind right now.

Standing abruptly, you pushed your chair back. “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash your place. Enjoy the cake.”

He walked you to the door. “If I need anything, should I come knocking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan on babysitting you, but sure, I guess.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Noted, neighbor.”

The moment you stepped through the door, your phone buzzed. Angela’s name flashed across the screen.

“Good,” she said briskly when you answered. “You’re home. I’ll be at your place first thing in the morning.”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“There’s a plan,” she said, her tone leaving no room for questions. “I’ll explain everything then, and we’ll put it in motion. Be ready.”

She hung up before you could respond. You stared at the phone, curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever she was planning, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. If this was your chance to claw your way back into the spotlight, you’d take it.

For now, you poured yourself a glass of water, settling into the couch as you tried to shake off the day. Tomorrow was a new start—or so you hoped.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter one:

<next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: shitty mom.

➴ word count: 2.6k

💌 from me to you: and finally, the first chapter of TYPA is here. i wanted to post this only when i had at least the first five chapters ready so you guys wouldn’t wait too long for updates, so thank u all for waiting. again, i cannot stress this enough: read the story’s warnings before reading the story!!! aaand i love u all!!! (also thank u for 200+ followers? insane!)

౨ৎ

2024, MARCH

YOUR ALARM went off at half past five, and you grunted, smacking it with your right hand, trying to make it stop yelling.

After you turned it off, you laid your bed on your pillow again, sighing. Turning your head to the side, you watched as Bella snored like she paid all of your bills and worked a nine to five everyday. You smiled, happy to see her so relaxed.

You got up, put on your slippers and walked to your bathroom, turning on the lights and regretting immediately after, because your eyes took a long time to adjust to the bright, white light.

You opened the tap, putting in warm water and gently wetting your face, before closing it and grabbing your cleanser and starting your morning skincare routine.

Even though you loved to stay in bed, there was something about the early hours of the day. You could go on with your morning with no one bothering you, just working on the steps of completing your morning routine with ease, while the world was still asleep outside— even though Los Angeles never got entirely asleep.

You can wash your face and apply your moisturizer, before stepping in the shower after letting your skin absorb the products. Then, you can scrub your body and exfoliate it, humming to this week’s top song on Spotify charts. You can dry yourself with your fluffiest towel, smear your skin with your favorite vanilla scented body lotion and perfume.

Then, you can wake Bella up, and force her to leave your bed so you can make it. She’ll growl and bark at you, but in the end she’ll be too eager to go outside to do anything else.

You’ll change into your outfit of the day, something cozy, and grab your keys before leaving the house with Bella by your side, taking her to the dog park your apartment complex has, and let her enjoy the synthetic grass while you stare at her, smiling from ear to ear.

You’ll both stay there for ten minutes, with you talking to her about everything and anything, while she sniffs around the place and answers your yapping with occasional barks.

Then, you’ll call her name and go back to your place, starving for food. You’ll make your breakfast, nothing too heavy— a cup of green tea and a yogurt bowl.

You’ll leave your house at sometime around seven a.m., after grabbing everything you’ll need for the day and saying goodbye to Bella, telling her that her dog sitter, Carly, will be there in just a few hours. You’ll get into the car your agency sent to you, greeting the driver and sitting in the back, checking the texts on your phone. And then, you will feel your heart stop inside your chest, because—

What the hell does she want? You thought, squeezing your phone so hard between your hands that, for a second, you thought you’d actually break it.

You haven’t seen your mom in a year. Or your family, for that matter. Your parents, your brother and Canada felt just like a distant, hurtful memory that you wanted to keep away from yourself, buried deep inside your heart.

After making your teenage years feel like hell, and after making you hate yourself in more ways you’d ever think possible, your mom got you signed at the most prestigious modeling agency in all LA, IMG Models. Some people online talked about how you were only the cover of last year’s VOGUE because you’re basically a Nepo Baby, and even though your social media team did their best to debunk those comments, you knew— everyone did— that they were right: you only reached the top that fast because you are the daughter of the editor-in-chief of Fashion and retired model, Jessica Carter.

Not that you weren’t pretty, no, you were. But your last name opened more doors for you than your face and body ever would.

But at the end, you were grateful to be living a normal life— as normal as it could get— away from Canada. That country held painful memories and people that you would much rather watch from afar.

You didn’t reply to her text, you didn’t need to. She made it very clear that your attendance wasn’t an option. Even at twenty-two years old, your mom would always have the final word.

You arrived on set ten minutes after reading that text, sad to have your good mood ruined. But you still had a long day of work ahead of you, so you should just do what you’re best at: pretending you’re fine.

You spent your entire morning at a photoshoot for Elle, posing for infinite pictures and changing as fast as you could, while trying your hardest not to focus on your mom’s text.

Glad to be working with people who were actually nice, you slipped into your work headspace and when you checked your phone again, it was lunch time.

Grabbing the biggest salad from the agency’s restaurant, you ate with no hunger or pleasure. Thinking of your life back in Canada made you sick.

After lunch, you were sent to another location so they could take more pictures of you, the photographer, Garret, making sure to get the right photos of you.

At six, you were ready to head back to home, but unfortunately, part of your job meant interacting with people on social media. Sometimes answering questions online, making TikToks or even posting on Instagram.

౨ৎ

liked by gigihadid, champagnepapi, darianka and 560,929 others.

madisoncarter @britishvogue 🧸

View all 12,082 comments

user1 she’s just so pretty i cant

user2 looked at my gf and sighed

user3 user4 this yo boyfriend?

user4 user3 EX boyfriend now.

britishvogue Stunning 🤩

imgmodels you never disappoint bbg 😌

user5 i love u thank u for blessing my feed

౨ৎ

“ARE YOU leaving already, darlin’?”

Nicholas’ voice echoed as you bend over to grab your purse.

Looking at him, you smiled, tiredly. “Yes, hum. Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” you took a step further, stopping in front of the man you've known as your boss the past four years.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He leaned against the wall, waiting.

“I need to have Friday off,” you started, biting your lip. “It’s a family thing. Promise I’ll be back on Monday.”

“Madison, you’re literally the only model here who hasn’t missed a work day for an entire year, maybe even more than that,” he laughs, blond hair moving as his head turns around. “If you want to take the entire week off, you’re allowed to.”

A week in Toronto? No, thank you.

“No, I just need Friday.” You replied, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

“You’re free to go, my love. Send kisses to your mom, okay? Tell her to visit us sometime.”

“Of course, thank you.” You kissed his cheek quickly before heading back to the elevator.

On your way home, you thought about all of the things your mom might want of you. Sure, she said that she wanted the family to get together and all of that, but you’re sure there’s more to that. She wouldn’t make you fly to Canada just because she wants to have dinner with you. She’s just not that kind of person.

Entering your apartment, the first thing you did after removing your shoes was go looking for Bella, who had somehow managed to lock herself inside the guest's bathroom, and was whining loudly.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” you kissed her, petting her fur gently. “How did you even do that?”

She just licked you and you sighed, the long hours of work finally hitting you completely. You just needed to shower, drink your daily glass of warm milk and play with Bella for a while before going to bed.

Locking away all thoughts related to Canada, you followed your night routine like you’d usually do, trying your hardest to let the people you buried years ago stay away like you wanted them to.

[localboobsenjoyer]

While many would call yours a dream job, it can be pretty tiring, so you were overjoyed to finally be on vacation. Being on the beach for two weeks away from any potential future top model to scout for the best agency in the world while doing nothing is exactly what you need. That, unfortunately, lasted for 20 whole minutes. That's when an extremely attractive lady, even by your standards, was timidly advancing toward you. While her face was pretty unremarkable, her body tells a whole other story. She was very tall, easily over 6 feet. Despite this, she was also extremely curvy. Her boobs were quite big and hardly contained in her tiny turquoise bikini. Her stomach was flat, and her waist was impressively tiny, especially considering that her thighs and hips were incredibly plump and wide. You couldn't see her ass, but it was definitely very big considering her build. You were also sure that she was 100% natural since everything was bouncing left and right, despite her moving rather slowly. After she finally reached you, she introduced herself: "Hello, sir. You don't know me, but I know you. My name is Sophia. You were quite puzzled since attractive people tend to be more confident, but she was extremely shy and visibly unconfortable. "Enchanté, Sophia. My name is John. How can I help you?" You said, trying to help her feel calmer. "Despite me being 27, my body recently underwent some drastic changes. I grew 1 full foot taller, and my breasts quickly grew many cupsizes as you can see, as if they were sucking all the fat from my now nonexistent belly. My ass also grew accordingly. I didn't pay much attention to these changes, but my mother says that I look better than many of the models in your agency, and I should try to ask you for a job opportunity." Speaking to you must have been really hard for her; she was visibly sweating, her gesture grew increasingly awkward with each word, and she kept pausing and stuttering as she spoke. Despite her shy personality, her body is really full of potential, so you started to explain how things work in your industry. After some time, however, you could clearly see that she was in pain, so you asked if everything was okay. "Sorry, I'm about to explode," she said, removing her top.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Her boobs were growing right in front of your eyes. Despite being almost two full sizes bigger, they don't sag at all. Her nipples, now that you can see them, are also exquisite, perfectly round, big, and a beautiful shade of pink. You had never seen anything like this. This girl is going to make you the best model agent in history.

[i9messi]

Bonita — Ruben Dias

You met Ruben while you were on vacation in Ibiza, and even though you're strangers, an instant connection bonds you together.

Word count — 1,3k

a/n: I'm currently obsessed with Rúben, so I'll probably never stop posting stories about him. And, just a little reminder that I'm not a native english speaker, so don't be rude.

ruben’s masterlist

It was a gorgeous sight. The waves clattered against each other, making a sound that gave you calm. The sun was burning your skin, while you protected your eyes with sunglasses. With a book resting on your lap, you were talking to your best friend about how much you were enjoying your vacation.

You two arrived a couple of days ago in Ibiza, and you practically lived on the beach, on yachts and drank margaritas all the time. It was a girls' trip, and all you did was talk about gossip and people that you thought were attractive. You were no longer interested in your work or on your busy schedule, none of that mattered anymore.

“I need to meet a handsome man,” you said to her, as your eyes turned on the men walking down the beach. Most of them were attractive for your eyes but none of them made you feel things. The kind of things you thought were obvious, like a faster heart beating, red cheeks and a warm feeling.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but that one over there has been staring at you for a while now.”

You looked in the same direction as her, your gaze met a man that was also looking at you. It was a brunette guy, a very good looking guy. Everything about him caught your eye, even that smile he gave you when you started smiling. His smile was a mix between sincerity and charm.

“Is he real? I think all that alcohol made me hallucinate.”

Handsome men were a typical thing in your world. You worked as a photographer in a modeling agency, so you saw attractive women and men all the time. But the man who was looking at you now did not look like one of them, the man who was walking in your direction looked like a real man.

The stranger didn’t take long to arrive at your side. You saw his abdomen and a couple of drops on his tanned skin from getting into the water moments before.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, hi.”

Your friend got up from her place and winked at you. “I’m going to the water, let me know if you need something.”

Now alone, you pointed out the empty seat in your friend’s chair.

“You can sit down if you want. You’re too tall and my neck is going to start hurting if I keep looking up.”

He smiled and took a seat. “I saw you there and I couldn’t help but think I needed to come to chat with you.”

“Your face is familiar, are you a model?”

“No, I'm not. Why‘d you think I would be a model?”

He was handsome and had a body built like someone who spent a lot of time taking care of himself.

“I work with a lot of models, maybe I saw you there once.”

“I’m in sports.”

“Oh, let me play a game. I want to guess your job.”

He smiled at your sudden interest, “Guess.”

“Tennis player?”

“No.”

“Basketball player? You’re tall, that would make sense.”

“No, but you’re close.”

“Well, my last try. Footballer?”

He nodded. “We have a winner.”

The truth was, you already knew he was a footballer. You grew up in a household where everyone watched football and sports, so you knew several players. Also, your residence was in Manchester, so you knew some players who played for the citizens and Rúben Días was one of them. You didn't want to admit all of that, you didn't know why but making everything anonymous sound more pleasant.

"What’s your name?" he asked, seeming interested in knowing more about you.

“I think we should keep our names secret.”

His smile grew bigger. “You want to make things interesting, okay then. I’ll call you bonita.”

“Oh sir, that’s your way of flirting with me?”

“It’s not flirting if I say something true. You're pretty.”

You smiled, “Thank you, stranger.”

“By the way, I'm flirting.”

“Uhm, sadly for you, I need much more than a guy calling me bonita to fall for him.”

He laughed, a noise that provoked a blush in your cheeks.

“Don’t you fall for my charms? Well, I’m not a man who gives up easily.”

He was joking, but you thought there was some sincerity in his words. You couldn’t help feeling a little flattered.

The conversation started, it was a genuine interest on both sides, wanting to get to know each other. He spoke about his career as a professional football player and his passions in life. With the beach and the sunset involving you in a comfortable surrounding, it was simple and lovely to meet him more. When the sun started to fade and the dim light of the evening illuminated both of you, you knew it was time to leave.

“Will I see you again?” he asked, his accent and his voice making you feel things.

Your friend was waiting a few feet away and you stood up from your seat, holding your bag in your hands.

“We may meet again if fate wants it.”

“Can I at least have your number?”

“No, stranger. What did I say about fate?” You approached his face and left a kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, Rúben.”

“Hey! How do you know my name?”

You let out a laugh. “A good magician never reveals their secrets.”

His smile was the last thing you saw when you left the beach.

It was your fourth day in Ibiza and your friend and you had decided to see the sunrise. You had arrived early to the beach, with your cameras and phones to photograph the sun appearing on the horizon. But when you arrived, your eyes caught someone else. Rúben was there, this time a shirt covered the upper part of his body. He might have had the same idea as you, because he was photographing the sunset with his phone.

Your friend knew your intentions, so she winked at you.

“Go, go, lioness.”

You walked until you reached his side, just then he noticed your presence.

“Hello, Rúben.”

“Hi, stranger. Have you followed me? I feel like you know everything about me but I don’t know anything about you.*

“I just know your name, don't be silly.”

“It’s much more than I know about you.”

“Well, I’ll tell you my name.” you let him know your name and he tasted the pronunciation on his lips.

“I was right, a bonita girl like you has a pretty name.”

“You're really flattering, Rúben.”

“Okay, now, how do you know who I am?”

“I live in Manchester, and my whole family loves football. I grew up with them explaining what an offside is."

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, now that we’ve cleared things up. Are you happy to know my name at least?”

The sun slid over the horizon and your eyes began to look at it.

“I want to know you better.” he said, and then, you heard the sound of his phone taking a picture of you. He smiled at the view.

“One day and you’re already in love with me, Rúben?”

“Stop, you make me sound like I’ve proposed. I barely know you, stranger.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to know me better.”

He came closer to you, step by step, his brown eyes looking directly at your lips.

“Can I kiss you, bonita?”

“Yes, you can, bonito.”

Everything happened. His lips clashed with yours, while his hand settled on your hip, right over your summer dress. Something let you know that it wasn't a one night stand or a brief moment with a random guy, this was intimate and romantic at the same time. When you separated in order to fill your lungs with oxygen, he left you a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll make my summer even warmer.”

[cozmicwonder]

Eyes on You

Warnings⚠️(18+ but you know good and well um you don’t care😉) p in v, oral-f receiving-, choking, slapping, nipple play. (Ngl this is my third time writing smut so I’m b it sure if it’ll be good😫 lmk what you think. I like constructive criticism.)

Summary- Your dreams of meeting the one and only Ken Sato comes true after the giants are accepted for a photo shoot. Partnership quickly spirals into Lust.

Being one of the top models in Japan wasn’t an easy title to hold. The pressure was always on no matter how great you were. Sure you never messed up and never planned too, but that was the stressful part. You had people looking up to you, you couldn’t mess up now. All eyes were on you. All eyes except one. Ken Sato.

You’d always see him on TV. The first time you saw him you were like a starstruck teenager all over again. You always tried to watch as many of his games as you could on TV. You even managed to make time to go to one of his games. He’s the reason you even bothered to learn about baseball. Before you found out about him you didn’t even care about sports. The thought of meeting him had quickly turned into the thought of being with him.

You’d be lying if you said your late nights didn’t end with your fingers between your thighs and thoughts of him in your head. God, you were obsessed. You couldn’t get him out of your head. You had it bad. Luckily the agency you worked with was hired to take photos of the Giants team for a sporting magazine. You didn’t know who to thank. Your agency accepting the job or the giants being good enough to make it into a magazine.

Saying you were excited was an understatement. You were ecstatic, but you had to keep it professional. The shoot was later this afternoon. You and a few other models have a chance to take a few shots with the giant players. This was your chance to talk to him! Maybe ask him out on a date..or something fun!

You were freaking out. Hoping you didn’t make a fool of yourself as a first impression. You were walking with your best friend Liza to work to get ready for the shoot. She was a photographer and you were a model. You two were so excited to be accepted into the same workplace. “Dude I can’t believe the giants are going to be here today” you squeal out while jumping lightly. Liza looks and you and chuckles.

“Yeah, I know right! But unfortunately for me, I have another group to work with so I can’t be there” she frowned. I look at her sympathetically. “Oh yeah right..so sorry Liza..I’ll be sure to get an autograph from one of them.” You smile her way hoping what you said would cheer her up, and it did. “Thanks y/n. You’re the best.” She holds you tightly in her arms. You hug her back and let go. “I know, it’s what I do.” You say flicking your hair dramatically as you joked.

Your act received a laugh and a slap on the arm from Liza. “Yeah whatever,” she says as she rolls her eyes. You guys continued to joke as you walked and you two didn’t realize that you made it to your place of work. The thing that took you out of your little world was the flashes of cameras and loud voices begging for attention. Your face was curious and confused. ‘Why are the paparazzi here already? The Giants don’t get here till 3:45’. You look at your watch and it read 3:00 pm in big white numbers.

‘Why are they here so early?’ You questioned yourself. Thinking of different possibilities for the situation. “Hey I think we should walk faster if we want to beat the paparazzi to the door” you spoke quickly and quickened your pace. Although you were in heels you could run like hell If the time called for it. So here you were at 3:01 pm running in pitch black stilettos to the door of the agency with Liza right behind you.

You closed your eyes for a split second chanting ‘please don’t break please don’t break’ and the next thing you knew you were on the ground after hitting something that felt warm and strong. You didn’t dare open your eyes, not ready to bear the embarrassment of the incident. “Hey, are you ok?” Someone in front of you spoke softly. Fear settled in the pit of your stomach. ‘Oh god no! It couldn’t be!’ You slowly open your eyes to reveal your worst nightmare. Ken Sato standing above you. I mean under a different circumstance this would be great! But not now, especially after bumping into him is awful.

He held a hand for you to grab and you took it. “IMSOSOSOOOOOSORRYFORBUMPINGINTOYOUIWASNTLOOKINGATWHEREIWASGOINGSORRY!!” You quickly stuttered out your words, bowed several times, and bolted for the door. Your face was beet red with embarrassment. You didn’t stop running until you were in the ladies' room.

You could of started crying from how embarrassed you were. You walked to the sink and placed your purse on the countertop. You run your hands over your face and take deep breaths to calm yourself down. “Wonderful first impression that was y/n” you mocked yourself quietly. Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing steadied. You let out a sigh followed by a groan. You wanted to scream and disappear.

You grabbed your purse and left the bathroom to the dressing rooms to get ready for the shoot. The briefing was short and simple. Pick a numbered jersey to match the player and come up with pose ideas. ‘They’ll follow your lead’ Mr. Ito’s words replayed in your head. You had to make sure you got lucky number 7.

As soon as you made it to the dressing room you went straight to the rack for your specific shoot. You greet most of the makeup artists and hair stylists as you make your way to the rack. As you get closer you notice someone already there. You silently prayed they didn’t take number 7 or you might’ve broken down and trashed the place.

When you got close enough you realized it was Lexie. She never really cared about anything. She was the ‘I just do what I gotta do so I can go home’ type of gal. You sighed, relieved you still had a strong chance of getting what you wanted. You had waited about a minute behind her. Not that you were checking your watch every few seconds or anything. As soon as she walked off you got straight to work to find number seven. The only sound you could hear was the sound of a metal hanger sliding on a metal rod.

You went from left to right since it had to be in number order. If it wasn't, someone was going to get a stern talking too. I giant stupid smile plastered on your face as your eyes laid on a big number 7. “Yes yes yes!” You said a little loud. Your outburst got you a few looks but you didn’t care at the moment.

You practically ran into a changing room. As you were about to change you realized you didn’t have any pants to change into. You ran back out jersey in hand and went to pick a pair of bottoms. Browsing the options you settled with a thigh-high plain black schoolgirl skirt. You rushed back into the changing rooms and decided to grab a pair of heels on your way out.

You unclothed yourself starting with your jeans and slid up the skirt. You then pulled your shirt over your head, hair falling along your arms. You didn’t want to fully button up the shirt so you left a few buttons unbuttoned near the end of the shirt to leave an opening to show some of your stomach.

You stare at yourself in the mirror trying to figure out what’s missing…a baseball cap could do the trick but what else..? You thought to yourself. ‘Oh yes! A chain dangling from the side will definitely look good! But I need to match Mr .Sato. Hmmm…I could get one for him, yes there we go! Problem solved.’

You grab your clothes and leave the dressing room. Before you head to get accessories you need to go to your locker. You walk a nice distance from the dressing room to the back area where the lockers are located. You do the code on the lock for your locker and open it, placing your things inside. You checked your watch for the time. ‘3:27 perfect! Enough time to finish getting ready’ You close your locker and make your way back to get accessories and a pair of shoes.

As you made your way back you heard loud frivolous laughter. It startled you a little, nearly jumping out of your socks when a loud voice boomed through the hall. You decided to get closer to get a better hear to see who it was. It was coming from the male bathrooms. You decided a minute or two of listening wouldn’t hurt.

As the laughter died down a new conversation started. “Hey did you guys see that girl that bumped into Ken?” One voice spoke sounding excited. The voice is kind of high-pitched. “Hell yeah dude she’s a total babe” one other voice spoke up deeper this time. The comment made you smile a little. Something in your heart was hoping to hear something from Ken Sato himself.

“Yo dude, what’s up? What’s with the furrowed brow?” This voice came with a slapping sound. Wonder what happened. “It’s nothing” it was Ken’s voice. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. “C’mon dude you gotta agree she’s a total babe!” The same deep voice from earlier spoke again.

“Yeah, she’s fine or whatever” he was dismissive and his voice sounded slightly..irritated? The words were like a knife in the back. You almost teared up, but the sounds of people shuffling and walking stopped you and you sped walked away to not suspect anyone of any noise.

You made it back to the main area to get shoes and accessories. It was your favorite part about the place. Minus working with your best friend. Getting accessories and shoes was like shopping it was set up like a store and everything. The walls were decorated with shelves and shoes. The main floor area was decorated with racks and countertops of accessories.

You greeted Shelly when you walked in, she was a sweetheart. You went to the far right corner In search of a black cap. You browsed for a few moments before your eyes fell on a cap that would do the outfit justice. You then head toward a rack that has countless pant chains dangling from them. You found one you really liked but it didn’t have one that matched. So you tried again.

You then found a silver chain that had a few clear jewels on it and jewels as clips at each end. You found a similar one to match it was silver and had jewels at each end as clips. You smiled at yourself at the thought of matching with the Ken Sato. ‘All that’s left is a pair of heels. What kind though..’ you pondered on the thought while staring into space.

‘A chunky platform heel would work.’ You made your way to the shoe wall and browsed for your vision. You decided on a pair of Black chunky platform heels with a thick leg and a strap around the ankle. ‘Time to cash out’ you made sure you had everything you needed and headed for the register.

“Hey, Shelly!” You smiled as you placed your things on the countertop. “Hello y/n, is this all for today?” She asked scanning everything. “Yup! I’m so excited for my shoot today! These are the final touches I need then I’m done”. You decided to check the time. ‘3:38. OK enough time to add accessories’. “Oh yeah you’re working with the Giants today right?” She asked, looking excited as well. You nod rapidly. “Ok, we’ll just type in your name and Id number and make sure you return the items at the end of your shift. Have fun!” You finish typing and grab your things “Will do! Bye!” You say happily and walk out and sit at a nearby bench.

You take off your socks and put on your new heels. You clip them close and fix your hair into a ponytail that’ll stick out the back of the baseball cap. Lastly, the chain. You decide on the left to hold the chain. You put your socks in the bag, grab out the nearly identical chain and head to the picture-taking area. ‘Luckily I did my makeup before this or I’d be totally screwed.’

As you approached you saw the group of girls you were working with today huddled by Mr. Ito. You quickly slid into the group to not miss anything, luckily it seemed he’d just started. “Good afternoon ladies. Today's shoot is a big one so make sure you put in as much effort as you can and do your best. Whatever number you have on your jersey is the player you’ll be working with today. They are going in numerical order number one starting here behind us down to the left. Have fun ladies.” Mr. Ito sent us off with a wave of a hand and the girls flooded the area looking for their partner.

As you followed the many individual white backgrounds you made it to lucky number seven. Your body suddenly felt hot and sweaty and your heart began to race. As you approach, He looks to be in deep thought staring down at the ground. “Uh, Mr.Sato?” you managed to make yourself speak. You now stood in front of him. His head snapped up from his view of the ground. “Uh yes?” He spoke, sounding slightly spooked. You held a hand out for him to grab. “I’m y/n. I’ll be the model working with you today.” You gave a gentle wide smile. “It’s nice to meet you”. He studied your hand momentarily before grabbing it and shaking it gently.

“Nice to meet you too.” He returned the smile. ‘Ugh, he doesn’t know what that smile does to me’. You bite your inner cheek to stop you from biting your lip. “I brought you a pant chain so we could match since I have one.” You hold up the chain. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to wear it. I can Just ta-” Your rambling is cut off by him grabbing the chain and putting his hand up to dismiss your rambling.

‘It’s alright I don’t mind. But might I say you have some pretty good taste in accessories…” He says inspecting the item. You felt warm and bubbly inside. Your cheeks felt hot like fire, and you were sure they were bright red. “Thank you” you smile sheepishly as you watch carefully as his fingers play with the buckle of the chains to clip them onto his pants.

Images of late nights with your fingers between your legs wishing they were his popped in your head as you watched. His hand flexed, and it made your knees weak. You were staring so hard you didn’t realize he had finished putting it on. Him clearing his throat brought you back to reality. You mentally slapped yourself for getting caught. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. He chuckled. He chuckled. ‘God, his voice is attractive, he’s attractive. GAH I need him so baaaddd’.

“It’s alright. Mr. Ito said you guys would be in charge of the poses we do and props used-” ‘You can use me as a prop if you know what I mean.”. “Yes we were tasked to pick out multiple poses to try for the shoot. Only the best will make it into the magazine.” You speak with sudden annoyedness. “Kind of sucks that the fun ones never make it in.” You say and sigh.

This sparked a chuckle from him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right..Now what's first?” He asked clapping his hands together. “So for the first one I was thinking we could capture the back of the Jerseys.” he looked confused. “So like our backs are facing the camera and our thumbs are pointing towards the number on the back of the jersey.” He nods in agreement.

“Then I was thinking we could do something with the baseball bat. So where I’m standing in front of you with my hands on the bat. Afterward, we could do some back-to-back shots and solo pictures. Or even pictures with a Large number seven.” You shrug as your ideas pile out. He nods in agreement with the ideas. “Yeah, it sounds good to me.” He smiles and positions himself right of the middle of the background and turns around. You follow him but move to the left more and point your thumbs to your back, turning around.

You heard the flashes of the camera quite a bit before they stopped. “Ok now let me grab the bat and You figure out what face you wanna make. You made your way to the basket with baseball bats in it and you could swear you felt a pair of eyes on you the whole time. You make your way back and stand in front of him. You flip the bat upside down and place your forearms on it. Almost leaning on it. You bend over with your ass nearly touching Ken. “Is this alright?” You question not turning around. You waited a few seconds and didn’t get a response. You were about to turn your head when you felt slender fingers on your waist pulling you back so you were now currently touching Ken freaking Sato.

You put a smile on your face and a few smirks as the photos were being taken. Though your face displayed a calm professional look you were burning hot. By the end of it you could have sworn you felt something poking your ass. As the shoot progressed you felt lingering gazes from Ken, long touches, and the eye contact got longer. You’d be out of your mind if you said it wasn’t turning you on.

By the end of the shoot, you were hot and bothered. “It looks like we’re all done!” You turn around to face Ken. “This was fun.” You smile at him and all you get in return is a small nod. It disappointed you to say the least. ‘Did he not like having to partner up with me? Maybe it was the girly chain I gave him, it could’ve been the poses.’ You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize you were staring.

When you came back to you realize Ken was staring at you intensely and he had some kind of glint in his eye. You try to rub your legs together discreetly. Partially because you felt like you wanted to disappear with his intense gaze on you. You could tell he knew what you were doing from the way his eyes flicked down and then back up. You really wished you could roll up into a ball and pretend you didn’t exist.

“Do you think you could show me where the bathroom is?” His words broke the deep silence. You blinked a few times, the words sinking in. “Oh..uh yeah, Of course. Follow me.” You turn on your heel and begin walking away. The walk there is dead silent. You never understood the term you could hear a pin drop, until today. You felt his eyes all over you. It made you shiver.

As you two were walking you nearly passed a family bathroom. As you were about to pass it you felt a hand grab yours and pull you into the bathroom. As you were pulled in you were pushed against the door. Lo and behold Ken Sato stood in front of you. You felt him lean in and then heard the door lock. Your heart was racing at this point and your face felt hot once more.

Ken put an arm above your head and rested it on the door. His other hand was used to grab your chin and tilt it upward to see his face directly. He leaned in for a kiss. Your eyes were bolted wide open in shock. ‘Is this really happening, please be real please be real’. Your eyes slowly fluttered close as you returned the kiss.

The kiss started slow and passionate but quickly turned heated full of lust. His lips felt soft on yours and tasted like.. Cherries? Your tongues danced against each other as they both fought for dominance. Ken’s tongue came out on top. You both separated to catch some air. “You know,” He said in between breaths. “I’ve had my eye out for you for a while now”. He spoke while he trailed kisses down your neck. His tongue moved smoothly down your neck as he littered it with hickeys. Sucking and biting on your skin red marks began to appear across your neck and collarbone.

Soft murmurs of delight fell from your lips. “That’s funny because…I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now too.” You laugh softly but it is quickly replaced by a pleasurable wince. His hands found their way into your shirt and under your bra. He lifted the bra up enough for your boobs to fall out into his hands. His fingers pinched and pulled at your already hard nipples. Quiet moans were pulled from your throat.

He chuckled at your comment. “Yeah? That so?” His voice sounded low and breathy. It made your knees weak. “Mmm yeah,” You say mildly out of breath. His mouth latched onto your right nipple. His tongue swirled around the nub and nibbled on it while his left hand toyed with your free nipple. Your moans got louder at the new sensation.

After sucking on your nipple for a time that satisfied him. He let go of your nipple with a pop. His hands traced your waist down to your hips and snuck behind to grab your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze and a nice slap. This received a surprised gasp from you. His hands then fell to your thighs as he fell to his knees.

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder giving him a better view of your sex. He began to kiss your inner thigh. Repeating the same process he did on your neck until he stopped. You watched him in anticipation. “What’s this?” he says, bringing a hand up and tracing the now visible tattoo that read eat me. “Tsk tsk tsk, never would’ve thought you of all people would have something like this.” He looked up at you. “But if I may?” He asked with a raised brow.

It made you a hell of a lot wetter than what you would like to admit. “Yes,” You said quicker than you’d like to. He chuckled at your fast response. “No worries sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”. He moved your leg out further to get better access between your thighs. He ran a thumb down the center of your panties, “My…Someone’s excited”. You internally died.

He moved your panties to the side and ran a finger down your slit. A trail of your arousal followed. Retracting the finger he licked his finger clean. He let out a sound of satisfaction. He grabbed the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down pulling them down one of your legs so they dangled over the other. He wasted no time stuffing his face between your legs.

He licked a stride between your folds with a flat tongue gathering all of your slick. His tongue retracted and did the same motion twice more. Your head is now up against the door and your mouth is agap. His pace is agonizingly slow. He began sucking on your clit which made your moaning louder. You put your hands in his hair. His hair is unsurprisingly soft, silky, and smooth.

You pushed his face into your cunt for further satisfaction. As he continued to suck on your clit you felt something penetrate your hole. It was his fingers. ‘I knew those slender fingers wouldn’t disappoint.’. ‘Mmm fuck!” you spoke out, dragging the word out. His eyes remained on you taking in the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes sealing shut. The way your hands gripped his hair made him feel like his pants had just shrunk.

This is even better than what you imagined on your late nights alone. The pace of his fingers quickened and your walls clenched around them. Your thighs clamped around his head when he hit the right spot. “Ahh~! Mm right there” you moan out loudly. “Shh sweetheart don’t want us getting caught do you?”. The thought of someone catching you made you wetter. “Mm, but I guess you’d like that huh? Dirty girl”. He let out a chuckle. The vibrations go straight to your heat.

It felt as though a tight knot had formed in your stomach itching to be untied. Your grip on his hair got tighter as you grinded on his face chasing your release. You felt his tongue flicking and sucking on your clit faster. No head you ever got felt this good. Your breaths shortened and got higher. You let out a loud moan before you reached your climax. Your cum and arousal are being caught by Ken’s tongue. Your rock-solid grip on his hair loosened and your breathing began to steady.

You took a few deep breaths. As he pulled away his chin was shining in the light from your juices. “I just wanna stay between here for hours. Gah, you taste so good.”. He said licking his lips, removing your leg from his shoulder, and standing up tall.

You’re standing against the door with your chest heaving while Ken Sato stands above you. You’ve finally come back, to and see Ken just staring at you. “What is there something on my face?” You question while patting your face in search of the unknown article. He laughs “You’re leaned up against a door with no panties on and that’s what you’re worried about?” He raises a brow at you.

You smile, “I mean yeah, I can’t be getting fucked by the Ken Sato and looking a hot mess.” You laugh. He hums “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve been thinking a lot about this” He puts a hand to his chin. You look away, “Whaaat noo”. He doesn’t seem convinced but he drops it. “Well I know just the thing to get your mind off it” he smirks, grabs your hand and brings you to the countertop. He pushes you against it and pulls your head back gently so you can face yourself in the mirror.

“I want your eyes on the mirror at all times ok? You can do that for me sweetheart can’t you?” He asks whilst unzipping his pants. “Hell yeah, I can” You pride yourself in the way you could keep eye contact with certain things. Let’s just say you always won a staring contest. “You sound pretty sure..Better not disappoint.” He leaned against you and whispered in your ear.

He lifted your skirt up and grabbed his cock running it up and down your folds, gathering your slick before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. You wince at the burning stretch. From what you felt he wasn’t very thick, about a little over average but he sure was long. You shut your eyes tight, the stretch feeling to be too much. Your eyes opened just as fast as they closed when you felt a harsh slap on your ass.

“Thought you said you could keep your eyes on the mirror…Fuuck.” His head fell back as he bottomed out. The look on his face made you clench around him. “If you keep wrapping around me like that I’ll cum before I even start.” he began moving slowly, each slow thrust made you yearn for more. His pace began to quicken and the sound of skin on skin was now very audible.

You regret being cocky when you said you could keep your eyes on the mirror. He was hitting all the right places and the view from the mirror wasn’t helping. The pussy drunk look on his face mixed with his toned flexed arms made you want to come undone right then and there. Moans spilled out like a prayer. He let out a few grunts and moans here and there. His hands were tight on your hips, sure to leave a bruise or two.

“You know, that little stunt you pulled out there back at the shoot. Fuck…It was a real dirty move.” He says slowly trying to keep concentration on the rhythm of the thrust. He brought a hand up to your neck and gripped it tight but light enough so you could breathe. His thrust got harsher pounding you down on his cock. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he hit your g-spot, your gummy walls clamping down on him once more.

“Ahh, YES, fuck! Right there…Keep going” you managed to get out. You moved a hand up onto the mirror for more stabilization, the grip on the sink wasn’t enough. The fucked out look on yours and his face was embedded into your head, never to be forgotten. “Yeah, right there sweetheart? What do ya say, hm?” his voice was degrading. You lock eyes with him in the mirror “Mmm please, ahhh~ please keep going.” Your voice was desperate and whiny.

“Since you’ve asked so nicely” he continuously rams into the same spongy spot, rearranging your guts. Another hand left your side and went in between your thighs rubbing and pinching your clit. You were seeing stars at this point. Trying your best to keep your eyes on the now slightly foggy mirror. The same knotted feeling from earlier came back in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Ken, m’cuming!” you say mouth a jar and head fogged. “Yeah? C’mon sweets give it to me. I know you can” his words push you over the edge and the coil in your stomach snaps. Your breathing is heavy as your chest rises and falls. The thrust continues as Ken fucks you through your orgasm and chases after his release. The continued stimulation on your clit plus the thrusting becomes too much for your overstimulated body. “Ah ah! Ken mmm s-slow down”. His pace doesn’t let down. “S’too much” Your fingers are bent in on the mirror giving up on trying to stay focused on it.

Your head is hanging low between your shoulders. “Mmm, fuck. I know you can take it sweetheart…mm, ah. You’re doing so…so fucking good.” he whines in the last few words. The rhythm of the thrust begins to falter as his climax approaches. His pace finally lets down as he finishes inside. After he finishes he stays in and continues to toy with your clit determined to give you a third orgasm. You clench down on him. “C’mon sweetheart, give it to me,” he says, voice demanding.

The coil breaks again and you squirt everywhere. Ken continues flicking your clit stimulating you through your orgasm. Your breathing is raspy. “Fuuuck, I haven’t been fucked that good like ever.” You say laughing at your own comment and removing your hand from the mirror. “I can’t believe you came inside. You better hope I don’t end up pregnant. I don’t want to be involved in a scandal.” You say looking at him in the mirror. He pulls out and slaps your ass.

He smirks, “I wouldn’t mind having a mini-me around.”

[avianconcept]

Agency, value systems, and growth: the fate of the Perfect Court tattoos.

Been thinking about the Perfect Court tattoos today, and I’ve finally decided what I personally hope happens to Jean’s. I know there's a lot of discussion about a cover up like Kevin’s, suggestions like a flower, a sun, a fleur-de-lis; and I see that, but I raise you: he gets it completely removed. 

I think it has something to do with what the tattoos mean to each character. More specifically, how each character got them, and what that means to them. Most of this comes from a quote I found on my last re-read of TKM: 

The first time someone asked about Riko’s and Kevin’s tattoos, Riko hadn’t beat around the bush. He was the best striker in the game, he said, and he wanted everyone to know it. The story changed a little when Jean made his first public appearance with a “3” on his face. Riko was supposedly handpicking the future US National Team. He called it the ‘perfect Court’, and even though it was unofficial and unbelievably arrogant, his talent and upbringing gave some credibility to the idea. ‘

According to Neil in the first book, Riko and Kevin had been sharpie-ing on their numbers since they were children. This quote adds some more crucial context to that. It establishes that Riko and Kevin’s 1 and 2 came before the perfect court, and that the perfect court was what Riko decided their 1 and 2 (and newly minted 3) meant. This bit is what changed it for me, I think. 

Riko and Kevin are both referred to as the sons of exy. Both are heirs to the game, Riko through his uncle and Kevin through his mother. They do it to signal their place in the world of exy– heirs, future best in the game, destined for greatness. And then Jean comes along, and Riko changes the narrative. He comes up with the perfect court, and tells the world. The perfect court are his chosen players (read: his property). It furthers his control and possession of Kevin, who is allowed to be excellent, just not better than Riko. Kevin can be good, he just has to be good Riko’s way, subscribe to RIko’s model of success. 

Riko dies with his tattoo on his face. He dies clinging onto the idea of the perfect court, that he is the best, and that the only way to be the best is through pain and abuse. There is no real change for Riko in the series, so it fits that the way he’s marked himself (read: the way he defines himself) doesn’t change either. 

Kevin gets his covered up with the infamous chess piece. For Kevin, the challenge is reclaiming the sport that is also his birthright. He is physically free of Riko and Tetsuji, but mentally, he isn’t. Even with states between them and a new team, he is still understandably afraid of standing up to Riko. It goes against the status quo that has been beaten into him, and it takes him a while to be able to fully leave them and their limits behind. What holds Kevin back is that his greatness has always been defined. It has been defined by Riko, upheld by Tetsuji. He can be second best, a Raven, a prince to Riko’s King. Kevin changes his tattoo right before the final game– in order to beat Riko, he has to first reject Riko’s hierarchy, the limiting belief that was forced onto him that Riko was best, Riko was king. To me, its extremely fitting that Kevin’s evolution involved him putting his own mark on his talent. Instead of challenging Riko for ‘King’, or for that 1, he invents his own symbol. For Kevin, it's a reclamation of a game that was always partially his– just on his terms now. 

Neil’s tattoo gets burnt off by his father’s henchmen. This also fits well in my mind, because in my opinion, Neil’s number one challenge wasn’t actually Riko. Riko was Neil’s adversary, but Neil’s true terror was his father. The tattoos and their removal/evolution appear to be symbolic of the character’s growth, so it makes sense that Neil’s wasn’t on his face for long, and was taken off by (basically) his father. Each of the perfect court members had something keeping them trapped, things that wouldn’t let them grow into who they were supposed to be. Riko’s was the wound of his fathers rejection, and the toxicity created and maintained by Tetsuji. Kevin’s was Riko, and by extension Tetsuji. Neil’s is his father. Unlike Kevin, Neil’s not trying to be the best exy player in the sport. The sport makes him feel less like no one and nothing, and his continued playing is an expression of his will to live and his desire for personhood and a future. Neil wants better than what he has at the beginning of TFC, and the thing keeping him from that isn’t Riko. Sure, Riko is connected to the Moriyamas, and Ichirou owns his contract now, and Neil fights with Riko a lot. But to me, the thing that caused him real terror and stripped him of his personhood and autonomy was Nathan. Riko branded him with the 4, and Nathan’s people took it off, as if to say, “No, Riko isn’t who you have to reckon with, it’s me.” Neil’s internal fight was with being the butcher’s son, not with being number four. 

Jean’s situation is best described by a line in the EC– Jean never asked for this. 

In his own words, he loved exy, and was excited for what he thought was an opportunity to improve, but it doesn’t seem like he was ever vying for greatness. Then his father sold him, he was given the 3, and he was made perfect court. 

Much like Neil, didn’t have a say in his involvement. Unlike Neil, Jean adopts the mentality and hierarchy of the perfect court as his truth. Riko’s estimation of his value becomes his own. 

For Jean, the 3 has a lot to do with pain and self worth. In TSC, the only time Jean speaks positively about himself is when he calls himself perfect court, or when he talks about himself as a backliner. He has been conditioned that the only place he has worth is on the court. Nothing is important about him, just about what he is, the position he occupies. Where his personhood and bodily autonomy is denied over and over, his talent cannot be denied on the court. He is allowed to matter on the court, and nowhere else. In a sense, that 3 becomes the only thing about him that could be his. 

The other thing about the 3 is that he didn’t ask for it, but he has bled for it. So much of his relationship with the Ravens is defined by his rank.  Even though the Ravens do not like Jean as a person, they want to be his partner, to have that 4. The reason someone protects Jean from repeated sexual assault is that 3, and how it could lead to a 4. This is why Zane strikes a deal with him, why Grayson goes all the way to the Gold Court to hurt him. It is what the sexual assault from the backliners is blamed on. The 3 was given to Jean as a mark of something he didn't ask to be a part of, and then he was forced to fight tooth and nail to keep it.  It became the defining part of his identity because he wasn’t allowed to have anything else. He wasn’t even allowed to have his name. 

In my opinion, I think that the ultimate expression of Jean’s growth would be to take the tattoo off. He doesn’t have to subscribe to that value system. Covering it would feel like half assing it. He can change it, but he has to keep a tattoo of some sort, because Riko put one there. 

Note that I don’t think of the cover up the same way for Kevin. For Kevin, exy was likely always going to be important to him, with Kayleigh as his mother. He is inheriting it, same way Riko is, and this inheritance is symbolized by that 1 and 2. Kevin wanted to be the best, and so the ultimate expression of his healing is him becoming the best his way. Jean has his tattoo because he is seen as an object, a talent investment belonging to the Moriyamas. What is a limit for Kevin is a brand for Jean. 

For Jean, I think true freedom wouldn’t be freedom to be the best, it would be not having to be the best. It would be not having exy be the most important thing in his life. To not need to defend something he didn’t want. I hope he becomes so sure of his worth in the world, and so sure of his own autonomy that he doesn’t need the 3 to tell him he’s worth something. I hope he realizes that he is his own before he is anyone else's, and doesn’t need to carry around a value that someone else gave him.  

In TSC, the legacy, abuse, and dehumanization of the Nest is killing Ravens as soon as the Nest is taken away. Without the strict environment and the imposed value systems the Nest and team gave them, the Ravens crumple. They seem to feel they can't go back (I suspect that whether ‘back’ means back to their old lives or back to the Nest is different for every Raven), and that death is their better option. Ravens don’t seem to be meant to survive outside the Nest. It is designed to be all consuming. Jean doesn’t know who he is if he isn’t a Raven, if he isn’t perfect court, if he isn’t ‘3’ anymore. To live again, he has to leave the perfect court and its poison behind. He has to learn himself again, to rebuild and repair and create out of nothing. 

Neil says it about Grayson, that he could have chosen to walk away from Riko’s poisoned legacy, but it applies to all Ravens. To survive, to live a life worth living, they have to chose to fight their way out of that kind of thinking. Taking the tattoo off feels like him choosing to leave the Nest behind. Jean taking it off represents him shedding that entire ideology. No three, no expectation, just him and whoever he wants to be. 

In short, the toxicity that the perfect court represented killed Riko with its symbol still on his face. 

The Moriyama’s never really owned Neil, and they weren’t who he had to overcome. The tattoo was never going to be around long. 

Kevin was held back from his birthright. His potential was conditional, and there was a leash on him. He needed to reclaim the game that would always be his, mark himself in his own image. 

Jean needs to see himself as a person beyond his place on the court. He needs to walk away from the perfect court ideology and reclaim himself, with no one’s mark on him. 

[maretinelli]

BORTOLETO-HAMILTON

Lewis Hamilton X Bortoleto!fem!reader

Summary: With her younger brother and husband racing together in Formula 1, Y/n's nerves are doubled when they're both on the track.

Words: 8K+

Warnings: Mentions of many Brazilian things, Lewis in the Ferrari, cigarettes, drinks, partying and Brazilian music, maybe some swearing and suggestive lines between Y/n and Lewis.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies if there are any spelling or typing errors. Well, I'm addicted to Lewis and as a Brazilian I'm loving watching Bortoleto. I had to put these two together.🇧🇷❤️ I will mention Brazilian songs, but I will put them at the end of the story!!

MASTERLIST

Y/n Bortoleto didn't remember exactly when her life ended up TOTALLY on the grid, tracks, races and podiums. Being a sports agent, older sister of the most promising rookie in the category Gabriel Bortoleto and wife of Lewis Hamilton, she definitely had no escape. Y/n's world was taken over by Formula 1. She was in the eye of the storm.

Y/n and Lewis met years ago at a charity gala for young motorsport talent. Lewis was already a multiple champion and charismatic spokesperson for the sport, while Yin was just starting his career at the athlete agency. The conversation between the two began simply, about strategy, sponsorships and, inevitably, Ayrton Senna. "If you don't have Senna as a role model, then you're in the wrong sport" he joked that night.

The conversation turned into laughter and, at the end of the night, an exchanged business card and the promise of a coffee that, eventually, never happened.

At least not right away.

A year later, chance brought them together again. Y/n was hired to take on a project at the agency as a representative for a renowned athlete. When she opened the folder, there he was: Lewis Hamilton. "So, are we finally going to have that coffee?" he teased, and the rest was history. Now married for a few years, they formed one of the most iconic couples in the world of Formula 1: a brilliant sports agent and the greatest driver of his generation.

During this time, Gabriel Bortoleto, the woman's younger brother, was making his mark on the go-karts and Formula 3...2 tracks. When Gabriel was still a child, the eldest would take him to the go-kart tracks, racing to get the best seats in the stands and cheering him on every lap. She could see his talent manifest itself from the first moment he put his hands on the steering wheel.

She was always with the boy, acting as his manager, sister, best friend and representative at the time, when they both grew together in their respective careers.

Inspired by his idol Ayrton Senna and his brother-in-law Lewis Hamilton, the 20-year-old Brazilian finally reached F1.

Y/n couldn't be more fulfilled with her two boys and her career.

Lewis and Gabriel.

Hamilton had known the youngest Bortoleto since the boy was 12 years old. When he and Y/n started dating. They had an incredible connection, a friendship that went from family Sundays to the GPs they had raced together. Lewis always. teaching and learning from the youngest.

And in the first GP of the season that Lewis got on the podium, he couldn't help but raise the Brazilian flag high, next to his home country. The Brazilian flag was a tribute to his wife and brother-in-law who was new to the category.

This weekend would be the first GP in Interlagos that Gabriel Bortoleto would participate in Formula 1. Fans, family and friends could not be more excited. With the euphoria of being able to see a Brazilian on the podium, after years without seeing Brazil in Formula 1.

Lewis and his wife had gotten off the plane a few minutes earlier. With their disguises, no one seemed to recognize the couple as they walked to the parking lot so they could pick up their rental car.

Hamilton adjusted his cap as he whispered something in his wife's ear. She laughed as she had Roscoe tied to the leash she was leading.

"Hey, is anyone here faking it or is too tired to walk!" She said, and Hamilton looks at the dog next to her.

"Pretending, definitely," Lewis replied, chuckling softly. "He knows if he makes a fuss, I'll carry him in my arms."

"That's your problem, love," Y/n scoffed. "You're the one who spoiled him like that."

Lewis paused for a second, feigning indignation.

"Are you suggesting that I'm the problem? Because honestly, Roscoe is the perfect son."

"Perfect son who snores and drools on your shirt," she replied, smiling.

Lewis chuckles, pulling her closer to his side.

Walking to the parking lot, to be able to pick up the car they had rented to spend the days in Brazil, they saw a journalist outside, who probably knew what time the couple would arrive in the country.

But the good thing is that he was alone. There was no one else in the parking lot other than people who probably didn't know the couple.

The young journalist approaches. "Hello, Lewis Hamilton and Y/n Bortoleto Hamilton? Do you have a minute?" He asks, a little shyly.

Y/n and Lewis looked at each other smiling. The young journalist was probably still in college and was nervous.

"Yes. Ourselves," Lewis says, as he stops to give the young man his attention.

"Sure, no problem"

"I promise not to be too intrusive. Just a few questions," he says, and points his phone's microphone in front of the couple. "How do you feel about this weekend's GP?"

Lewis smiles. "Honestly. I feel confident, Brazil has always been a country that I feel at home in. So, I'm definitely in a good place. It's like racing in England." Hamilton smiles.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched Roscoe lay on the parking lot floor.

"What about you, Y/n? How do you feel about seeing your little brother running around the house?"

"It's exciting in a way I can't even describe." Y/n smiled, taking off her sunglasses. "Seeing Gabriel race in Brazil, in Interlagos, where he grew up watching Senna and Lewis... It's surreal. He's worked his whole life for this moment, and I couldn't be more proud. Not only as a sister, but as a former agent and number one fan."

"And you, Hamilton? How do you feel about your wife's brother being on your tail in every race? Is there a rivalry between the two of you?"

"Definitely not! I've known Gab since I started dating Y/n. I can say that I've seen the younger one grow, as a person and professionally," he smiles. "So no, there's no rivalry or anything like that when we're at the races. It's like when he stands on the podium, the victory is for both of us. I've seen how hard he's worked to get here. And I know he feels the same way about me." Lewis smiles politely, while his hand is clasped in his wife's.

"Okay. Now one last question. You might be tired from the flight." The young journalist says, and turns a page of his small notebook. "Y/n! There are some rumors going around the internet. And we want to know, when are the mini Hamilton-Bortoleto coming?" He asks smiling.

Y'n laughs, lowering her head and Lewis squeezes her hand, smiling too.

"I think next week. Our little cat Poppe is pregnant at home. There should be at least 7 mini Poppe Hamilton-Bortoletos!" She jokes, not really wanting to talk about babies in front of the cameras.

Lewis laughs at his wife's comment and the journalist smiles sympathetically.

"Okay. We'll never get that answer, until there's finally a baby here"

"Sure thing" Hamilton says smiling.

"Thank you very much for the interview. And good luck racing.

Lewis and Yin thank the young man and say goodbye, heading to the car that the woman managed to rent before arriving in Brazil.

"I found him to be friendly and respectful with questions," Lewis praises the young man.

"Yes. Sweet boy," she said, as she tried to get Roscoe to walk. "Come on son, the car is right there!!"

Roscoe let out a short bark, turned sideways, and collapsed to the ground as if all his energy had gone.

"All this drama, Roscoe?" Lewis asked, laughing, as he bent down and picked the dog up in his arms.

Y/n puts her hands on her hips, indignant at the upbringing Lewis was giving her four-legged son.

"Hey, that way you don't let him be independent!!" Y/n jokes, walking a little behind Lewis, who had Roscoe in his arms. "And when he's a baby?"

"I'll be the same. I'll carry it in my arms until I'm 20," Lewis says, unlocking the car with the key.

"You're impossible," Y/n chuckles, walking to the passenger door as Lewis clips Roscoe's leash to the backseat.

Lewis chuckled, settling into the driver's seat. "And that's why you love me."

The drive to the condominium where Y/n's parents lived was peaceful. Lewis drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on his wife's leg. Roscoe, more energetic after his nap at the airport, watched out the window, attentive to the new smells and movements of Brazil.

"What do you think about stopping by the bakery near your parents' house?" Lewis asked, quickly looking away at Y/n.

She smiled, remembering the fresh cheese bread her mother always praised from that place. "I was waiting for you to suggest that. You're already more Brazilian than most Brazilians."

As soon as they arrived at the condominium entrance, the doorman allowed the couple to pass, where Lewis drove to the end, where the Bortoleto house was. A large house to fit the whole family, with a deck that gave a view of the lake behind the house.

The front gate was the same as always, painted dark gray with slight signs of age. The garden was impeccable, with colorful flowers. Certainly Clara's idea, Y/n and Gabriel's mother. Y/n felt her heart warm that house had always been the perfect refuge, no matter how many years had passed.

When they parked in front of the house, Y/n and Lewis could see that they were already waiting for the couple, with a warm smile on their faces. Hamilton turned off the car and took Roscoe out of the back seat. While Y/n ran out to hug her parents.

She was 30 years old, but with her parents there, in front of her waiting for her to get home, it was as if she were back when she was 15.

"They're finally here!!" Y/n's mother, Clara, says, with her daughter in her arms, "I missed you guys so much!

"Sorry I'm late," Lewis said, setting Roscoe down. "Roscoe decided to be dramatic at the airport.

"Worse than a spoiled child" Y/n says, hugging her father.

Lewis walks up the front steps to greet his in-laws. Meanwhile, Roscoe runs excitedly across the front lawn.

"I think he was saving it for the barbecue later." Lewis hugs Y/n's mother.

They laugh.

Y/n's father, Mr. Lincoln, approached with that calm air of a patriarch. "Lewis! Welcome back, son," he said, giving his son-in-law a firm handshake and a pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. You can be sure I missed it here!"

Y/n's father smiles: "Great! Gab and I prepared a great picanha for the barbecue."

"Lew and I brought cheese bread from the bakery nearby. For afternoon coffee, Y/n runs to the car and grabs the things they bought and gives them to her mother.

"Then we'll have cheese bread for the whole weekend," Clara says. "Your father came by earlier to buy some for Lewis."

Y/n coos looking at her father.

"Look how cute you are! Spoiling your son-in-law more than me and Gab" Y/n nudges her father's shoulder and he rolls his eyes.

Lewis smiles.

"Let's go inside! We were there on the deck before you arrived" Clara opens the large front door of the house.

Y/n calls Roscoe to come inside, but he was so excited running around the house without a leash that he didn't even hear his owners calling.

"ROSCOE!! COME ON MAN!" Lewis yells, nothing from him came. He just ran.

"This dog has more energy than Lewis in GP" Y/n comments and smiles.

Lewis laughs amusedly

"That's because he doesn't even need training. Roscoe just needs love and cookies." Clara says, making her son-in-law smile.

After much struggle, Roscoe comes to Lewis and enters the house. Exploring everything inside.

As they walked to the porch, Y/n looked at Lewis and for a moment felt a surge of gratitude. It felt good to be back, surrounded by family, with the man she had chosen by her side. Everything felt exactly as it should be.

"So, how was the trip? Was the flight very crowded?" Y/n's mother asked as she walked through the room,

Lewis was watching Roscoe walk around the house, while he had one hand holding his wife's shoulder.

"It went well, we had no turbulence. Lewis slept the whole flight"

"Hey!!" He turns his head towards her and smiles. "You don't have to expose me like that."

They laugh.

Once settled on the deck, Clara brought a tray with coffee, juices and some snacks. Roscoe was sitting on the porch rug, watching the birds flying through the trees around him.

"Roscoe already jumps on one!" Lewis speaks, referring to the birds.

Y/n laughs and sits down on a chair, petting the dog.

"Where's Gab-?"

Before he could finish, his brother's voice echoed down the stairs of the house, followed by the hurried sound of his footsteps. He appeared in the doorway, an amused smile on his face.

"Finally! I thought you guys had given up on coming,"

They turn and see Gabriel standing at the large door that led to the deck. Y/n smiles and stands up to hug him.

"Give up on beating you in the GP on Sunday? No way!!" Lewis greeted his brother-in-law with a brief hug and a touch of complicity. "How are you?"

"Keep dreaming, Hamilton. I'm going to leave you behind here in Brazil." Gabriel laughs. "I'm fine!"

Lewis responds in Portuguese: "Vou deixar você para trása!"

Y/n lets out a loud laugh, before correcting her husband's Portuguese, "Dear, it's: Para trás ,"

"Hey, poor thing. Don't laugh," Clara says, and Yin laughs more.

When Hamilton started dating the Brazilian woman, he made a big effort to learn to speak Portuguese, so that it would be easier to live with her family. She thought it was the cutest thing. And to this day, he took a few classes before coming to Brazil. And he is making progress, his communication is much better.

Y/n's parents also made an effort to learn English. To welcome Lewis.

Gabriel approaches his sister: "I missed you, old lady" he hugs his sister.

She slaps him on the shoulder. "Hey!!" Y/n can't help but laugh. "Okay, I'm in my 30s, but let's tone it down."

Gab laughs.

Lewis watched the interaction, laughing along. "You're brave to call her that."

Gabriel shrugged, blinking. "It's the only advantage of being the youngest. I'm untouchable."

The family smiles.

"Roscoe, hi champ!" Gabriel calls the dog and he gets up excitedly heading towards the man.

Gabriel gives him a caress and soon Roscoe leaves. "I'm going to pick up Isabella at her parents' house. Does anyone want to come with me?"

Y/n stands up: "Me!! I miss Isabella!" She says smiling as she touches her sister-in-law's name.

Before leaving with his brother, Y/n approached Lewis and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Behave yourself, okay? Don't eat all the cheese bread without me."

Lewis held her hand, smiling. "I promise not to end it all. Enjoy and send a kiss to Isabella."

"Okay. Come on, old lady." Gabriel puts an arm around his sister's shoulder and Yin pats his shoulder again.

"Shut up!"

The family laughs.

Lewis stayed at home, talking to his in-laws and taking the opportunity to rest from the trip. Tomorrow he would start training and it would be tough.

Lincoln, Y/n and Gabriel's father, stood up, saying he was going to start the barbecue. Lewis stayed with Dona Clara on the deck talking.

"So Lewis... When are the grandchildren coming?" She says, nudging her son-in-law's tattooed arm.

Lewis lowers his head shyly and laughs.

"We're, um, trying..." He stops and rethinks what he said. "Wait, let me try again..." He makes Clara laugh. "That's not quite it." He looks at Clara, more nervous now. "We're preparing, I guess. And, that's the right word."

"Preparing?"

"Yeah. Yin's started weekly appointments with her gynecologist and is trying to be healthier before she actually decides it's time to have a baby," he says, watching Roscoe run off. "She's also trying to quit smoking. You know how she is when she's nervous. She takes it all out on nicotine." Clara nods, knowing about the daughter she has. "We're taking it slow so that everything will go smoothly when we finally get pregnant." He smiles and Clara gives him a beautiful mother-in-law smile.

"You're right." She smiles and rests her hand on her son-in-law's arm. "You're a great husband. And I know you'll be a great father too. Both of you." She smiles.

"I hope I live up to it," he smiles at the compliment.

"Yes, it is." Clara gets up to get another cup of coffee. "I just hope it doesn't take too long. I want to see this house full of children during the holidays."

Lewis laughs.

"We promise!" He smiles.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Next day - Friday, Interlagos.

The day dawned cloudy, the overcast sky reflecting the typical weather in São Paulo at that time of year. Lewis left early for the paddock, as usual, leaving Y/n to rest a little longer in the apartment. It was a busy morning at the circuit, with fans crowded outside and teams racing against time to adjust the cars before free practice.

Y/n arrived about two hours after Lewis. As she walked around, dressed in comfortable clothes, she politely greeted fans who called her name and took a photo with some who asked.

She stopped to take a selfie with a young fan who held a sign that read: 'Bortoleto-Hamilton is our champion!'

Y/n smiled genuinely and said, "Thank you, you made my day!"

The sounds of engines warming up echoed through the paddock corridors, mixed with the excited voices of fans and the constant clicking of photographers' cameras.

As they approached the garages, journalists behind the iron fences began to bombard her with questions about her brother, her husband and her career. Photographers took pictures of every move Bortoleto-Hamilton made.

With so many asking questions, she stopped in front of a young journalist, who was holding a microphone with the logo of a local sports channel.

"How do you balance your career with traveling to keep up with Lewis?"

"I think because I'm his sports agent, the balance between our careers and travel is flexible. What really causes a headache is deciding which sponsorship to choose for Lewis," she replies smiling.

"Do you often give your opinions on strategies or do you prefer to just be supportive as a wife? Does he usually listen to you?"

Y/n smiles: "I even joke with him sometimes about strategy, but honestly, I prefer to leave that to the engineers. He's the one who understands the subject, so I just support him from outside the track. But I think he even listens when I give an opinion!"

Upon hearing the answer, the journalist smiled, nodding, while in the background the clicks of the cameras seemed to have increased, Y/n knew that any word from her was a full plate for the headlines.

"Good morning. It's great to see you here in the Paddock. But what the fans want to know... is... Are you team Bortoleto or Hamilton this weekend?" He asks amusedly, and Y/n can't help but laugh.

"Now you've got me," she smiles. "But since I'm both a Bortoleto and a Hamilton, I have to say I'm torn. I want them both to do great.

"Who knows, maybe a double podium? Then no one will complain!" She laughs. "A podium is always our goal!"

With a farewell wave, Y/n continued through the paddock, her firm steps taking her towards the Ferrari garage, where she knew that Lewis was already fully focused on training.

As she got closer to the Ferrari garage, she could already hear the loud engine noises and engineers talking loudly. Yin politely greeted those she passed along the way.

"Hey Charles!" She greets Lewis's teammate.

"Hey, Y/n! Here to watch the boss?" he teased, winking slightly before heading to the driver's room.

She laughed in agreement, "Always, isn't it?"

As soon as Lewis saw her, his face lit up. He walked towards her with a warm smile, gently pulling her in for a kiss.

"It's finally here"

"I was late because I was dealing with reporters," she said, laughing. "They always ask me who I'm rooting for. Can you believe it? After all this time."

Lewis chuckles, his hands on her waist.

"I've also been asked a lot about Gabriel. You're becoming a secondary subject," she jokes, poking her husband's chest, covered by his red uniform.

"I'll take second place. But only if it's for him," Lewis joked. "He deserves it. I remember when I raced at home for the first time in Formula 1. It's an inexplicable feeling."

She nodded, crossing her arms and walking slowly with Lewis into the garage. "Did you sleep well? You look like you woke up thinking about the car."

Lewis smirks. "I slept very well and you know why."

She rolls her eyes smiling, we make her cheeks swell.

"But yeah, I slept well. And yeah, I've been thinking about the car a bit. But overall it's been fine," he says, grabbing his helmet.

Before she could respond, Lewis's engineer approached with a clipboard in hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need you to test the car now, before we adjust anything else."

"Sure," Lewis replied, exchanging a knowing look with Y/n.

"Go on, honey!! I'll be watching you," she says, leaving a kiss on his cheek and another on his helmet.

Lewis returned the kiss with a quick peck before getting into the car. Soon, the roar of the engine echoed through the garage as he pulled out onto the track.

Y/n took the headphones given to her by one of the engineers and sat down next to the monitors, watching each lap on the TV. Her eyes followed each curve, attentive to Lewis's precision as he communicated details about the car over the radio.

Hamilton must have been on lap five, while Y/n was looking at the monitors, until she saw Gabriel drive the Sauber car past the Ferrari garage. This caught the woman's attention.

With one last look at the monitor, she excused herself from the Ferrari engineers and handed over her headphones to go after her brother.

She walked a few garages until she reached her brother's garage. Gabriel got out of the car and took off his helmet when he saw his sister standing at the door, with a smile on her face and her arms crossed.

"Hey, sis!" He pulls the balaclava off his face. "Come to spy on the competition?" Gabriel jokes, as he hands the helmet to one of his mechanics and walks over to his sister, pulling her into a loving brotherly hug.

"I am the eyes that see everything" she smiles, leaving the hug, and Gabriel asks her to go further into the garage.

She excused herself and smiled politely. They knew that the woman was Bortoleto's sister. They knew her from other races and genetics did not deny it.

"How was training?" She asks, as she leans against a wall and crosses her arms, watching her brother take a big swig of water from his bottle.

"It was good. The car is better than last time. Just a few tweaks to the aerodynamics." He replies, closing the bottle.

Y/n smiles in agreement. "So? How does it feel to race on the Interlagos track for the first time, with the stands full of Brazilians?" She smiles more.

Gabriel's shy smile widened even more, and Y/n saw, for an instant, the 5-year-old boy, with a helmet bigger than his head, dreaming of racing a go-kart.

"It feels amazing," he said, finally sitting down on a nearby stool. "I'm not going to lie, it made a lump in my throat. I remembered all the years of dedication and effort. It was like... I don't know, it all made sense. And it's only Friday! I know Sunday will be even better more intense." He paused for a moment, looking down at his feet, before adding, "But that comforts me too. I'm home."

Y/n smiles from ear to ear.

"I'm so proud of you, little one." She lightly pushes the brunette's shoulder. "I know all the years were worth it."

"Of course, I had my sister by my side the whole time," he smiles, thanking her. "I know that without your support I would have nothing. Our parents were there. But you are an extra boost to our family. We would be nothing without you. Both me, mom and dad. And especially Lewis!" He says softly, making Y/n gather a few tears in her eyes.

She turned her face quickly, wiping away a stubborn tear. "Oh, stop. You're going to make me cry in the middle of the paddock."

Gabriel smiles, before teasing his older sister. "Sentimental old lady."

Y/n rolls her eyes laughing.

Gabriel thinks for a moment about a more relaxed subject, because if he kept talking, his sister wouldn't stop crying anymore, and he definitely doesn't know what to do when someone starts crying. And he knows what a sister he has.

"And Lewis? Are you already thinking about how to not let Sauber pass?" He jokes.

Y/n laughed. "He said he'll accept second place, but only for you and only here in Brazil!"

Gabriel laughed

"It's okay. I respect my brother-in-law."

"Well, just don't be too respectful," she teased. "I still want you on the podium, got it?"

Y/n and Gabriel were still laughing when a movement in front of the garage caught their attention. She turned her head and saw Lewis approaching the garage, with his jumpsuit half open and headphones around his neck.

After so many years, he still took her breath away.

"Lewis. Come in!" Gabriel says, as if the garage were his home and Lewis a regular visitor.

Y/n laughs, his Brazilian accent sounding good.

Lewis laughed, stopping to greet a few of the mechanics politely as he approached. The atmosphere already seemed more relaxed with his arrival.

Y/n automatically smiled when she saw her husband. The way he carried himself, with that natural confidence and usual charm, made her heart warm every time.

"Well, apparently, the boss is here passing information to her rival, right?" Lewis joked, casting an amused glance at Yin and then at Gabriel. "Or is she taking information for me, youngest?"

Y/n rolls her eyes laughing.

She loved the friendship they had as brother-in-law and fellow athlete.

"I'm neutral, okay?" Yin threw up her hands, laughing. "Family is family. There's no spying here."

"That's what you want me to believe," Lewis retorted, feigning suspicion and nudging his wife's shoulder.

Gabriel just laughed, shaking his head. "You know she's impartial, Lewis. But if you want, you can try to bribe me with some tips on the Ferrari car."

"No way," Lewis replied, pointing at him with a smirk.

Y/n laughs at the exchange of provocations between the brothers-in-law.

"Are morning trainings over?"

"Yes!" They both answer together.

"I was thinking. We could have lunch together before we come back here in the afternoon again!" Y/n says, uncrossing her arms and looking at her brother and husband, "Like family!"

"Sure, let's go!" Lewis looks at his brother-in-law.

"I'll go, only if you're paying." He points to his older sister.

"Of course. It's the role of older brothers." She rolls her eyes and they both laugh.

Leaving the garage, the woman waits for her brother and husband to change, so they can leave the Paddock and go to lunch.

"You know, I was just thinking..." Gabriel arrives after Lewis, and sees his brother-in-law hugging his older sister sideways.

"I'm scared when the sentence starts like that Y/n laughs, as they start walking away from the garages.

"Where are my nephews?" Gabriel asks and Lewis laughs.

"Huh, I don't know. You don't have any nephews." Y/n teases.

"That's right!! Where are they?" Gab says, and looks at his brother-in-law. "Lewis, please. Do your part!" He provokes the older man.

Y/n lowers her head and laughs.

"I'm trying. She's the one who's complicated," Lewis pretended to whisper to his brother-in-law, and they laughed. "You know what your sister is like..."

"HEYY!" She complains. "I'm here!! And in the middle of the two she says smiling.

The two men just laugh.

Finally leaving the garages, they arrive at the beginning of the Paddock, where it is full of fans, journalists and photographers.

When they saw the trio, they started asking questions and taking pictures. There were flashes coming from every possible direction. And it was also impossible not to hear the euphoric screams of the fans coming from the stands nearby.

"Let's stop at the headlines" Lewis comments and the Bortoleto brothers laugh.

"Ferrari driver is seen leaving hand in hand with Bortoleto's sister, Sauber driver. Who was with them." Yin creates a headline and they laugh. "And I bet some won't even know we're married" she looks at Lewis.

Lewis smiles.

"Or else...Ferrari couple decides to adopt Sauber driver as a son, since they won't budge to have one of their own." Gabriel provokes the couple again, about them not having children yet.

"Aaaah shut up" Y/n says between laughs.

Lewis and Gabriel exchange a laugh.

As they headed out of the paddock, Y/n couldn't help but smile. As intense and chaotic as the world of Formula 1 was, moments like this, alongside the people I loved, were the ones that really mattered.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Race day Sunday, Interlagos.

The day in São Paulo dawned hot and cloudy, typical of the city, but the energy at the Interlagos Race Track was electrifying.

Gabriel and Lewis arrived much earlier than they usually arrived at the racetracks.

Perhaps because it was the rookie's first time on the Brazilian track.

Y/n only heard Lewis whisper something like 'I'm going to the racetrack early, and I'll stop by your parents' to pick up Gab'. The woman just gave a thumbs up with her finger, and turned to the other side of the bed.

Lewis laughed and left their city apartment.

Now, Y/N walked through the paddock alongside her parents, greeting the fans who approached. Even though she was nervous, she maintained the polite and charismatic posture that won everyone over, while taking some photos with fans.

Y/n was always nervous for races, this increased even more when Gabriel arrived in Formula 1. But today, today the nervousness was coming out of Y/n's eyes, ears and mouth.

"Good luck to Lewis today! And Gabriel too!" said a fan, as soon as she took a picture with Y/n.

Y/N smiled, even with her heart racing, returning the girl's cell phone with trembling hands: "Thank you!"

Y/n's parents, who were further away, saw their daughter's nervousness and exchanged a worried look.

Y/n walks back to where her parents were waiting for her, her comfortable sneakers making a noise on the asphalt.

"Daughter, calm down. You've been to so many races. Today is no different."

Y/n tries to smile and hooks her arm through her father's arm.

"I know. But today is Gab's first day running in Brazil. And you know how it is with Lewis. How I feel when he runs

The parents exchanged a friendly smile.

"The way you are, it looks like you're the one who's going to run today." Lincoln says, making Yin smile.

Walking a little further, they arrived at the beginning where all the garages were. Y/n looked around, trying to locate her husband or brother.

"Here old lady!" She heard her brother's unmistakable voice. Y/n turned around and saw Lewis and Gabriel walking side by side, already dressed in their uniforms.

Y'n laughs before answering. "Hey, look at my boys over there," she says, and Lewis walks over and pulls her in for a kiss. Soon, her brother hugs his sister, followed by their parents. "How are you?"

"We're fine. A little nervous, but that's normal," Lewis says.

"Unlike your wife, who was shaking with nervousness until now," Bortoleto's father says.

"Good!!"

Lewis turns to his wife, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Hey, don't be like that. You run so many races and you never get this nervous. Relax!" He kisses the top of her head.

"Difficult. But I'll try!!" Y/n smiles.

Gabriel approaches the couple, touching his sister's shoulder: "We were going for a walk around the track. Do you want to come with us?"

Y/n smiles, "Of course!"

"Your father and I will be in the VIP area, up there. See you later," Clara says, kissing her children's heads and squeezing her son-in-law's shoulder.

Lewis smiles

The trio headed towards the track, walking around the circuit while talking. The view of the race track was breathtaking, with the stands already packed with excited fans.

Y/n was saying something about her and her husband's life in Italy now, when Gabriel started to look at her.

"Why are you still wearing a coat?" he asks. "We've been walking for about 10 minutes in this hot sun and you didn't even think to take it off."

"True!! I'm sweating here in my uniform and I can't take it off and you're in your coat" Lewis says.

"No, I'm fine like this!" She says, but in fact, she has a surprise under her coat.

"You're sick!" Gabriel says, before they move on to the subject.

As they approached the stands, fans began to notice the presence of Lewis and Gabriel. A small commotion broke out, with shouts and people asking for photos and autographs.

Gabriel was the first to stop and wave to the fans, followed by Lewis, who seemed to be used to the affection of the fans. While the two took pictures and signed shirts, Y/n stood further away, watching the scene with a proud smile.

"Y/N, Y/N!!" A fan screamed, Y/n walked over to where Lewis and Gabriel were. Leaning on her husband's shoulder so she could hear the woman over the crowd's screams. "We want to know, which team are you rooting for in today's GP. Due to the circumstances of us being in Brazil" The fan says and points to the woman's jacket. A light denim jacket.

Usually, she arrived in a Ferrari to cheer on her husband. But the Brazilian GP deserved something surprising.

Y/n laughs at the question.

"Everyone asks that, and I say it's for Lewis and Gabriel. No team, I have my own private drivers," she says, making some laugh. Especially Hamilton and the youngest.

As she took off her coat, Y/n felt her heart race. She had been planning this moment for months, thinking about how to honor the two most important men in her life.

The screams echoed like thunder, and some fans began jumping in excitement while others frantically took photos.

The woman was wearing a Brazilian T-shirt. From the front, it looked plain, but when she turned around, her brother’s and husband’s car numbers were glued on with little stones. Next to each number was embroidered the coat of arms of each country.

Lewis and Gabriel found themselves together when the screams started and Yin was too quiet. When they saw it, their eyes widened and a wide smile fell on both of their lips.

They definitely had no idea of the woman's surprise.

"You're kidding!" Gab says in disbelief and still laughing. He does a 360 on his sister and smiles. "You did this to us?"

"Obviously!!" She says and laughs.

Lewis was still standing in place, with the få pen in one hand and a Ferrari t-shirt in the other.

Lewis held her hand for a moment, intertwining their fingers. "You amaze me every day, you know that?" he said softly, but the sparkle in his eyes spoke louder than any words.

"The Brazilian GP deserved a surprise. Because of our entire history!"

"You know what would look better?" Gab says. Lewis and Y/n looking at the boy.

The newbie borrows a pen from a fan and approaches his sister.

"Our autographs!" She says and Yin lets out a laugh.

Lewis smiles at his brother-in-law's idea and does the same, lending the pen and signing the front of his wife's shirt and returning it with the autographed Ferrari shirt for the fan.

"This should be in a museum!" Hamilton says, looking intently into his wife's eyes.

She smiles shyly.

With a quick movement, Gabriel picks up his sister and puts her on his shoulder. She screams in fright, trying to balance herself, while Lewis stands behind his brother-in-law in case she falls.

"LET ME GO, YOU'RE NO GOOD!" She says between laughs, making everyone smile at the Bortoleto brothers' amusement.

The youngest obeys his older sister and puts her on the floor again. She smiles and pats him on the shoulder.

As soon as they returned to the Paddock, everyone couldn't take their eyes off the Brazilian's shirt. This would result in many, many media posts throughout the week.

Hours passed, and the race was about to start. Lewis was inside the garage getting ready when he realized that Yin was not there. He thought she might be in her brother's garage with her family. But Dona Clara stopped by the Ferrari garage asking about her daughter too. So, she was definitely not with her brother.

Lewis asks permission from the garage staff and especially from his engineer, who was talking to him, to go after his wife.

He went out the back door of the garage, and called for his wife. Nothing.

In a place away from the garages and the eyes of fans and the media, Y/n was sitting on a wall with a cup of black coffee in her hands and a lit cigarette in her fingers, while inhaling the nicotine.

"Y/n?" Hearing her husband's voice, the Brazilian woman hides the cigarette behind her back and smiles.

Lewis spots her and walks towards the woman. "I thought I lost you," he says laughing, and then sees smoke coming from behind the woman. "Hey, what's that behind you?"

Y/n smiles without showing her teeth.

"Nothing! Just...just my cup of coffee," she says, lifting the cup and placing her other hand behind her back.

Lewis rolls his eyes, laughing a little. "No, behind you. There's smoke coming out." He crosses his arms, a little serious now. "Are you smoking?"

Defeated, Yin lets out a sigh and pulls the cigarette forward again. Halfway through already. "Yes..."

"What did we agree on, honey?" Hamilton says softly now, taking the cigarette from her hands and stubbing it out on the floor with his foot. "No cigarettes. For your health and for our future baby!"

'Our future baby.'

Those words warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected. No matter how nervous she was, she knew she had to be better, not just for herself, but for the family she and Lewis were about to build.

"I know. But the Brazilian GP is getting on my nerves." She looks at the floor. "I know the fans are really looking forward to Gabriel.

"It's okay. You have concerns about Gab because it's his debut in his home country. But don't worry, Gab knows what he's doing on the track." Lewis pulls the woman into a hug.

She felt the familiar warmth of Lewis's embrace and realized that even in the most tense situations, he had the power to make the world seem less scary.

"Now let's go! I need my extra energy in the pits so I can race." Hamilton places a peck on the woman's lips.

Y/n responds and gets up, going hand in hand with Lewis to the Ferrari garage.

The race was about to begin. It would definitely be time.

Leaving the hiding place that Y/n had found for herself, Lewis and his wife walked through the back of the garages, passing by the Sauber garage. She saw her younger brother, Gabriel looked and made a victory sign and pointed to his heart, as if to say: For you, sis. Yin felt her eyes water, but quickly wiped the corner of her eye, sending a kiss in the air to her youngest.

Arriving at the Ferrari garage, Lewis began preparing to enter the track. Putting on his helmet and about to get into the car, he turned to his wife.

"God bless you, my love," she kisses her husband's helmet. "I'll be here cheering you on." Lewis returns with a tight hug and gets into the car. Giving a kiss in the air.

She smiles and watches her husband come out of the garage, putting on his headphones and taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. She hears Lewis's voice on the radio, steady and confident, as he makes the final adjustments to the radio.

Remembering that Lewis had taken pole position and Gab was in 10th, his heart began to beat in time with the engines.

The engines roared as the cars lined up on the grid. The red lights began to go out one by one, and in the blink of an eye, they were in motion. The race had begun, and tension filled every fiber of his body.

The first few laps were intense. Lewis quickly moved up to P2, and Gabriel surprised everyone, climbing to P6 in just a few laps.

Y/n couldn't deny it, the race was tense. Two drivers had crashed right at the beginning. Her heart raced, just thinking about this happening to her husband or brother. But the dark thoughts disappeared when she received a message from her mother, who was in the Sauber pit.

"Gab's engineer says everything is going well, he'll be in the pits to change the tyres shortly. How's Lewis?"

Y/n smiles and answers her mother, saying that there were some problems with Lew's car, but that they would soon fix it.

On lap 65, Lewis took the lead after a perfect pit stop, but when he heard his voice on the radio, his heart sank.

"The car is slow on the straights. I need more power! The frustration in Lewis's voice was evident. Y/n pressed the headphones against her ears, trying not to show her nervousness.

"Lewis, try to stay calm. Bortoleto is 18 seconds behind you. There's still a chance you could take first place!"

Lewis quickly responds over the radio, leaving Y/n with her heart in her mouth.

With one lap to go, Lewis was still leading, but Gabriel was right on his tail.

"Hey Lewis, your brother-in-law is on your tail. 5 seconds difference" Hamilton's engineer says, and they can hear the driver's laughter over the radio.

Lewis knew he had a chance of losing first place, Bortoleto was right there, but he couldn't be frustrated to see his brother-in-law win in Brazil.

"Tell Y/n that I won't go easy on her brother," he says amusedly over the radio and Y/n, who had headphones on, listened and laughed.

All playful eyes turned to her in the garage.

Each corner was contested with millimeter precision. In the penultimate sector, Gabriel saw the opportunity and made a bold maneuver, overtaking Lewis on the inside. The crowd went wild.

Tears were already streaming down the woman's eyes. The checkered flag began to wave. Gab came in first, with Lewis right behind him in second and Charles in third.

A heavy sigh left Y/n's lungs, she took off her headphones and placed her hands on her knees, bending down and letting out a sob.

"Two podiums in the family. You'll need a cup too, Y/n." One of the Ferrari engineers jokes, looking at Hamilton's wife.

"A sedative right now is more than enough," she says, smiling and sniffling with tears.

Looking at the monitor, she saw Lewis and Gabriel's car approaching the garages. She left the phone on the table and ran out,

She looked around, trying to understand where they were coming from, until Lewis's car appeared at considerable speed. He got out and hugged his wife tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" She says, kissing his helmet again.

Lewis takes off his helmet and balaclava, pulling his wife into a passionate kiss. "It was an incredible race. I gave it my all, but to see Gab win here was something special. I think the Brazilian GP will always be in his family."

Y'n smiles, touching her husband's face: "You were perfect. You will always be my champion." She pulls him in for another kiss.

"Now, go celebrate with your brother. We can continue our celebration in the apartment's bedroom later." He says in her ear, making her shiver.

She smiles and leaves Lewis with the team grinning crookedly.

Arriving at the Sauber garage, he sees his brother hugging his parents and the team. Someone touches Gabriel's shoulder, saying that you were there. The youngest turns and sees his sister crying with a wide smile on her face.

"First place, huh, little guy!" She approaches her brother and hugs him.

"I'm still numb. It's strange to hear so many people shouting my name," he says muffledly, as he's hugging his younger sister.

Y/n laughed in response, pulling out of the hug. Gab kept his hands on her shoulders. "So, I saw your fingers crossed in the Ferrari garage. You said you were going to root for both of them!!!"

The Brazilian rolls her eyes laughing. "I was hoping neither of them would crash, that's what!" she says, and then sees Júlia approaching. "Go over there with your girlfriend before you get on the podium!" She pushes her brother and sees them hugging.

Clara approaches her daughter, smiling. "Hey, are you okay? Your heart must be racing seeing your husband and brother on the podium."

Y/n laughs and hugs her mother from the side. "Now that I'm able to breathe

Minutes later, everyone in Interlagos heard the Brazilian anthem playing, while Gabriel was on the podium in first place. Y/n was down there, with a smile on her face and tears almost falling again. Lewis saw her and smiled at her. A smile that overflowed with love.

Shy Y/n sends a kiss in the air and Lewis pretends to catch it, making them both laugh at their own joke.

When it was time to pop the champagne bottles, Gabriel, with a mischievous smile on his face, quickly approached Lewis and, without hesitation, began to throw all the liquid in the direction of his brother-in-law. The champagne splashed all over Lewis's red uniform, and he was initially startled, feeling the cold liquid seep through his overalls.

"Oh, is that how it is?" He smiles back, his eyes shining with amusement, and in one swift movement, he grabs the bottle of champagne and pops it, splashing the liquid all over Gabriel.

Gabriel, now completely soaked in champagne, lets out a loud laugh. Making Y/n smile down below, as she watched the two fight like children.

"Today I'm going home dry," Charles says smiling. Lewis and Gabriel exchange a knowing look and, in a synchronized movement, throw the rest of the champagne from the bottle at Charles.

"NO!! I didn't want to get into this family champagne fight" he jokes cringing.

Lewis and Gabriel laughed, before leaving the podium to give some interviews.

During the interviews, Lewis smiles proudly as he praises Gabriel's performance, and Gabriel returns the compliment, saying that one of his greatest inspirations on the track has always been his brother-in-law. The connection between the two is clear, and the Brazilian public, euphoric, recognizes the friendship and respect between them.

Hamilton, who was now in the Ferrari garage with his wife, was talking about how proud he was of his brother-in-law, until he started hearing loud music approaching the Paddock.

Y/n lowers her head laughing, already knowing who it is.

The two leave the garage and go to the Paddock, seeing Gabriel with a speaker bigger than him with loud music, his girlfriend laughing behind, shaking her head.

"ARE YOU GOING TO LOSE YOUR EARDRUMS LIKE THIS?" Y/n speaks loudly, watching her brother.

Gabriel, with an irreverent smile, makes a gesture indicating that he doesn't care about the volume. The music stops, and then a new Brazilian song starts playing. Y/n's eyes widen, and can't help but start dancing, approaching her brother enthusiastically.

Julia approached Lewis smiling. "It's our burden for dating Brazilians" she laughed, making her brother-in-law smile and watch his wife celebrate with her brother.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything!" He smiles lovingly, seeing his wife.

Julia crosses her arms, smiling too. "Neither do I..." The two share a moment of understanding, before turning back to the joyful chaos in front of them.

Y/n continues dancing, caught up in the music and the joy of the moment. Gabriel joins her, and little by little, Lewis and Júlia join in the dance, everyone joining in a spontaneous celebration. Brazilian music, with its vibrant rhythm, unites everyone, and for a few moments, there are no rivalries, just family and happiness.

At that moment, Lewis smiled. He couldn't choose another family to be a part of this madness. And he was already very excited to expand the Hamilton-Bortoleto family with Y/n by his side.

Author: As a Brazilian, I'm addicted to this song. And then, I imagined Y/n and Gabriel dancing to this one in the Paddock hahaha.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part nine

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.7k (2711)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part ten!. This is my first time trying a chapter with images, but I need them for the plot

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

You look at your phone, your hands shaking every time you reread even just two or three of the comments on the post: it's incredible how everyone, everyone except Gabriel, has sensed your discomfort in his touch and his simple presence. Or maybe he understood it too, but he forced it because he knew it would bother you, which would be typical of him. On the other hand, there are also many comments that note Michael's presence at the fashion show, how he looked at you and how you actually looked back at him. Many also noted how he seemed angry when he saw that creep of your ex

You didn't think you'd make his presence so obvious, but you're obviously bad at keeping it under wraps. On the one hand, it's normal that he was at the show tonight, after all, for the media you're still best friends, but maybe it was the way you looked at each other that made someone have doubts, because in the midst of the sea of comments about Gabriel there are also some about Kaiser and his gaze towards you

The show ended less than half an hour ago, it's already midnight and the agency published the post, tagging you. The fashion show, beyond the unexpected, was a real success: you came back viral in less than a few hours, and now everyone seems to forget the hatred they poured out on you when you were still considered the one who cheated on Gabriel. You have many emotions in your body, such as joy and happiness, but also many similar to sadness and anger

But also a lot, a lot of confusion

Why didn't you know that Gabriel, who until a few weeks ago was your boyfriend, was one of the founders of this fashion agency. Why did he seem to be so in tune with the designer, that you swear he never mentioned you in all the time you were together? How could you not know these things?

Gabriel had an agency, yes, but an Italian one... the same one you worked for and from which you voluntarily resigned. You don't deny that he had often mentioned to you that he had some connection with some agency in Germany, but none of these involved being a founder. Also, the designer seemed to be the same age as you, so why didn't you know her? In the fashion world everyone knows each other a little, even you knew models or designers for whom you never actually worked, so why did this Ursula seem to have appeared out of nowhere for you but not for Gabriel?. Everything seemed to have a common thread, but you lacked the light to make it work and therefore understand it

A notification from your phone wakes you from your thoughts. You look down, at the screen

You read the message, and sigh to release some tension. Maybe having Kaiser to comfort you now would be nice, but hell, you don't want to look like someone who waits for the person you love only to unload on him all the bad you have inside

You look at yourself in the mirror: you are still wearing your makeup, your hair is loose and there is no trace of the dress, replaced by underwear and a simple white tank top. You left the clothes you were wearing before in the dressing room, but evidently they took them to be washed without your consent. You still have something else to wear to go home, but you don't have the physical strength when it comes to searching through the big wardrobe that the staff has granted you

Your phone keeps getting notification after notification, and you notice how the post has now been replicated on another social, where there are several people arguing in the comments

There are people who support you, others who have noticed Kaiser's presence, others who still believe the version that Gabriel gave of you where you are the one who cheated on him. It is precisely this last thing that bothers you the most, because you are probably one of the people in the world who viscerally hates everything that deals with cheat, physical and in the field of friendship. They called you a whore, a slut, but traitor is what bothers you the most

And now, seeing the situation you are in, you regret having abandoned everyone years ago to go to Italy with him. Italy has given you so much, you can't help but admit it, but you would have preferred never to have met the man who is now destroying you after you were back to square one after so much pain. You wanted to go back to being yourself, the same you were and always will be, but you wanted to do it with the knowledge that Gabriel can no longer do anything to you

But apparently, he still can

And that means you can't really start over yet

You sigh, resting your head on your folded arms on the vanity table. You have to be strong, because no one will be for you, or rather, you know that Kaiser would be, but you have always been an independent girl

Lost in your thoughts, you hear some female voices in the hallway. It's probably some model, but there's a voice that you can't quite recognize as a female. You raise your head when you hear the door suddenly open, and your eyes widen when you see who it is

Gabriel. You don't know how he did it, but he's here, with his usual dick face

"What?" you say, turning to him, nerves on edge. You watch him slowly close the door behind him, leaning his back against the finely crafted wood "Surprise". You look at him disgusted, while he seems absolutely amused by your behavior "I didn't know you were the founder of an agency in Germany. Not only do you tell false things about me, but also to me" you say in a sour tone, and he doesn't seem at all hurt by your words, which slide off him without hitting him "About you, to you... I don't see any difference, honestly. As long as you're in the middle it's fine, right?" he asks giggling, and you are tempted to take the perfume bottle next to you and throw it at him

"Seriously, what do you want?" you ask annoyed, and he seems serious again "You already know. Back together, you and me, back to our home in Italy. I'll say that I said things about you in a moment of anger and everyone will understand me because oh, they love me so much. And you'll go back to having a respectable life and a respectable boyfriend" he says

You swear you're fighting a battle with yourself to not throw yourself at him and beat them until he's dead. He knows all about the pain he's caused you, and now what does he want? To get back together? You and him back in that house? You'd rather puke until the day you die, which would be soon anyway. Gabriel has destroyed you, and you know that if you accept his apology he'll do exactly what he's done before. It's a wicked game, one he loves to play with his favorite victim, you

He loves the feeling of knowing you are beneath him, compliant, always ready to accept his screams at you. He knew from the beginning that you simply needed someone to love you, and he turned the situation to his advantage. But now he doesn't know that you don't want to play his games anymore, that you've finally understood that he has reached the limit of everything he can do. He doesn't know that the role of respectable boyfriend that he used to have is now held by Kaiser, who has always been the boy he didn't have to worry about and who he has always kept away from you since you've been together

“You’ve always been good at jokes, I’ll give you that” you say sarcastically, rising from the stool you’ve been sitting on, slowly walking towards him “But if you have any intention of making me be who I’ve always been with you, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m sick of all your fucking drama, your lies, just being you! You enjoy using me because you know you can do it, but hey, bad news, that girl you love is gone. Subjugate another person, another whore since you always thought of me as one, but don’t even joke about me getting back into a relationship with you" you say, walking towards him, your voice firm and confident “You’re a worm, one of those parasites. You only love the ones you can use, because no one really loves you for who you are, because you suck. You change people’s minds so much that you make them your lovers, and hell, I admit you did that to me too and you succeeded, it worked for our entire relationship. But parasites, if they come into contact with insecticide, they die" you say

You end up in front of him, a few inches away. You hold his gaze for the first time in a long time, and you have no intention of looking away. The pressure is building, but so is your desire to make him understand what a shitty person he is

"The insecticide is my self-respect, which you tried to take away from me. But you can't make me whore, a slut, yours anymore. And if you think that-" you keep talking, but you feel his hands coming to your jaw, holding you still. You remain paralyzed, trying to free yourself from his grip "What the fuck do you want to do to me? Shut me up? What do you mean, that I'm right, that you know how much you suck?" you say in a challenging tone, not wanting to stay quiet

His gaze is fixed on you, while his hands tighten their grip more and more. It's hurting you, but it's nothing you can't handle after everything he's done to you. "You remain a whore even when I give you the chance to fix it" he says, and moves his hand just enough to pinch your cheek, leaving a huge, painful red mark

"Who would be a whore?"

You turn to the door, behind Gabriel. Kaiser's slender figure looks like a miracle, and hell, from the look on his face he seems to have heard far too much of everything he's told you. You breathe a small sigh of relief, and your grip is released the moment Gabriel seems to hear Kaiser's voice. He turns, meeting the gaze of your secret boyfriend, who is clenching his hands into fists at his sides, making the veins in his hands stand out

They look at each other, and you see the hatred that has always united them. Gabriel has hated Kaiser from the first moment, and you know after reading the letters that Micheal has never tolerated him. Gabriel has forbidden you to see him for a long time, and Kaiser blames him for having taken you away from him. But now, beyond the hatred, you reflect in your ex's gaze a hint of fear, which he is trying not to show

"I only see one whore in this room, maybe two, but I don't have the necessary proof" he says, and you are surprised at how he still tries to play the role of the righteous one, even though he knows that everything is against him. Gabriel knows very well that Kaiser in terms of strength can even kill him, and yet he is acting as if he doesn't feel even a shred of fear, even though his eyes tell another story. Michael looks at him for a few seconds, even chuckling. His tattooed hand then meets the other man's head, who ends up lying on the floor with his head crushed "Whore? Me?"

It's a quick gesture, which takes you a bit by surprise. You rub your cheek with the pinch, from which you feel a trickle of blood coming out when you bring your hand in front of your gaze. Kaiser watches the scene, noticing both the blood and the red on your face, and this thing seems to ignite something in him: he picks the man up bodily from the ground, slamming him against the wall while holding him by the shoulders "What the fuck is wrong with you to do something like that to her? Isn't it enough for you to be a piece of shit?" he yells at Gabriel, who is now seriously starting to shake. You jump at the gesture, coming up behind Kaiser as you shake his shoulder to calm him down, but he doesn't even seem to notice you as he looks at the man in front of him with the same intensity he's concentrating on scoring. It seems like he's now venting everything he feels for Gabriel, lethal hatred

"Micheal please, don't overdo it" you say in a pleading tone, but nothing seems to stop his raging river "How the fuck do you call yourself a man if you don't even know how to treat a girl who until recently was your girlfriend? Are you really so disgusting that you don't know how to react to reality except with your hands?" he screams, and in a messy way he slams him against the wall. The situation seems to be seriously getting more serious than you think, and you shake his shoulders so as to at least make him understand that if he continues like this he will be the one to be in the wrong

"I don't care if you call me a whore, because I don't care what you think of me. But if you, who are shit, call her a whore, who only put reality in your face, it pisses me off. If you can't accept reality it's not my problem, but it's my problem if you try to put your hands on her" he says harshly, and only after a while can he feel your agitation. With a sigh full of tension he releases his shoulders, and Gabriel falls to the ground as he tries to catch his breath. The scene seems to play out in front of your eyes on repeat, as you tremble for some reason unknown to you. You look at Kaiser, who is still looking at the floor, where Gabriel is still sitting. He also seems to be tense, but you see him turn in your direction, putting a hand in front of you, as if he is waiting for you to recover. You gulp down a lump of saliva, taking a few steps forward as you grab his hand, a gesture that after that exit from the hotel, has become important to you. You squeeze it, and you feel it reciprocate from his fine fingers. “Go away" Kaiser says, his tone calmer now but still harsh. You watch the scene still shaking a little, but less than before. It was a bad and harsh experience

In this situation and after hearing your current boyfriend's words, you think about how he didn't hesitate to defend you, which is not a given. Michael had no problem putting your ex in his place when he crossed the line, and you realize how much he cares about you, which makes your heart explode. He had no problem being called a whore, but when he said it to you? Oh, he exploded. It does your heart good to think about how now someone finally genuinely loves you

Gabriel stands up hastily, straightening his suit as if nothing had happened. He doesn't dare look at either of you, but breaks this situation as he is about to leave the room, where he turns to you, completely ignoring Kaiser at your side

Gabriel hates you. He hates that you're finally realizing how shitty he's always been to you

Gabriel hates knowing that the old version of you no longer exists, that can no longer subdue you

Gabriel hates you

And you know the shit just started

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[sp0-t]

Preview of some upcoming stories?!! (sort of rambles)

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

You and Simon used to date, it was a while ago, 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago to be exact. You never kept count, you wanted to forget everything. It was Simon that kept count, every second, every minute, every hour. He was there keeping track. You moved on, you had a whole new life at this point, new job, new house, new car, even a new partner. You wanted nothing to do with that old life that old place, that old job still haunting you some nights. But that was all behind you, long ago, no reason to dwell on it, you have a new life a new start that not many got. Your old life was behind you forgotten, like a bad dream.

Except this dream came back to haunt you, physically, in the present. In the physical form of Simon “Ghost” Riley. He was the reason you couldn’t sleep at night, the reason you needed a new life in the first place, needed to run away from the past.

Him

HIM

The last person that deserved to come back into your life was here. And he is persistent per usual, no matter what you do, or what you say to him, he was not going to budge he’d stay stolid and still and he’d be that way for the rest of time if he had to.

He’d wait…

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Gaz and you are two of the biggest names in the modeling world. You can’t talk about it without either name popping up. What makes it even more of popular topic, is the rumor of a certain type of relationship between you two. However these aren’t true they can’t be, at least not yet…

You are in a contract with one of if not the biggest modeling agency in the world, you being their top model, however, you have a very close runner up. They’ve been gaining more and more attraction every year, placing them higher and higher in the rankings. Social media isn’t helping in this case, it’s the very thing that gained them their popularity in the first place. One post about their new male model and the internet goes fucking batshit.

“Who is he?”

“I need him!”

“He’s so fine, omg!”

“The things I would do…”

Well, who is this mystery man, no other than Kyle Garrick. He normally goes by his stage nickname “Gaz”. No one knows where it comes from, but then again no one really cares enough.

However this year both your agency’s are competing for first, both agencies have to put out their best models in a runway show, a panel will then decide who the best is. But then why do people suspect a relationship between the two. A simple cigarette, that was it, a cigarette. Paparazzi can be some nosey individuals, it was after a clothes fitting, both agencies were required to have it done by the same tailor company to remove any bias, and no changes could be made to outfits by this point. It was late out probably 11pm, about to be 12. I guess paparazzi doesn’t sleep, you went out for a cigarette or two. About to light your second you hear the door open behind you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Of course it was him, why wouldn’t it be Gaz

“Do as you please.”

Your voice comes out a bit muffled from the cigarette between your lips. You try and light your cigarette again, you spark the lighter multiple times no flames ever coming to light. You get more and more frustrated the longer it takes to see flames. You bring the thing up to your ear and shake to hear if there’s any liquid, it’s empty. In frustration you throw the lighter against a nearby wall.

“Fucking piece of shit.”

Still muffled from the unlit cigarette you sigh out in frustration and defeat, leaning against the wall behind you. You run your hand through your hair as your about to push off the wall to walk back inside the building, when a flame is placed in front of you.

“Need a light?”

You look up at him a bit confused

“Yeah. Thanks.”

SNAP* SNAP* SNAP* The image of Gaz leaning over slightly cupping the flame to prevent the wind from blowing it out, while you tilt your head a bit up to get your cigarette to reach the flame while Gaz looks down at you. That’s what was going viral, the image, the circulating stories and rumors going around. Both of your names were everywhere, one couldn’t be without the other in the media.

All over a damn cig

💿: I only have two for you today, these are just quick summaries. I’m sorry these are on like “cliff hangers”, I really wanted you guys to make your own assumptions and theories. I do want to start writing an actual full on story for one of the quick ideas I’ve wrote(author!price, PoliceForce!141, and these new ones). I’ll most likely put up a poll for people to vote on which one I’ll write first, so definitely stay around for that if you’re interested!!

(sorry the Simon one is so short but if I added more it would be like double this whole page)

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[hannahleah]

Monica Bellucci - the partner of “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” director Tim Burton - dazzles in September issue of Numéro Magazine (N°247 – Septembre 2024). Photoshoot taken by Jean-Baptiste Mondino.

Benjamin Button effect exists, Monica Belluci is the best proof

Bellucci is getting more and more beautiful with age. It's hard to believe that on September 30th she'll turn sixty (she was born in 1964).

Monica started career in the 1980s. She got luck - a friend of her father was the director of a modeling agency and offered her photo session. Soon after that, sixteen-year-old Monica got her first contracts.

Monica Belluci planned to become a lawyer

She combined catwalk job with high school studies. She managed it very well, graduated with excellent grades, which led her to law school at the University of Perugia.

She planned to work as a model to pay for her studies. However, it soon turned out that the world of fashion interested her more than being a lawyer, so she dropped the college.

A famous agent criticized her assessment

Although Monica's fans loved her for her feminine curves and sensuality, famed agent Piero Piazzio thought she was unfit to be a model. As he explained - that kind of beauty type, was not in trend in those days.

He was wrong. Monica showed on the runway collections of major designers, was the face of many brands, and posed for the most talented photographers. Piazzo was right, however, that she would be perfect in movies and advised her that she should try to become an actress. She took this advice.