#and i gave her permission to have my photos in them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pitlanepeach · 6 days ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, time-skips, the Oscar girlies are gonna looooove this one, also general warning for the shitbox that was the MCL60.

Notes — Amelia Norris, welcome back to McLaren.

*Max Verstappen voice* Mate, my taglist is fucked! — Peach x

Lando’s alarm never went off.

Because Amelia had turned it off at 3am.

She let him sleep. It was his day. She made pancakes in silence—banana and oat, the way he liked them best when he was following his meal plan—topped with a candle she’d found in the back of a drawer and a slightly wonky blueberry smiley face.

“Happy birthday,” she said, soft and fond, when he eventually shuffled into the kitchen, hair everywhere.

He blinked at the plate — the birthday plate. They shared it now. “You made me a goblin pancake.”

“It’s smiling!” She told him.

“It looks terrifying.” He told her.

He ate it anyway, barefoot and shirtless, perched on a stool while she scrolled through her phone and told him that no, he couldn’t open presents before coffee.

Later, he unwrapped things slowly. A framed photo of the two of them from a race weekend in 2019, (“Where did you even find this?”), and a book of Amelia’s annotated sim notes from her time at Red Bull. “You always said you wanted to understand how my brain works.” She shrugged.

“I was mostly joking,” he whispered, thumbing a tabbed page. “But this is…”

She leaned into him. “It’s yours now. Might help. Might not. Still yours.”

That night, after three hours dancing at a Jimmy’z, he fell asleep with his head in her lap and his hand curled around her wrist, and she thought; this was a good birthday.

—

Monaco was glitter and glass and sea spray in December. It didn’t snow, but Amelia didn’t care.

Their flat was warm and low-lit. She’d spent too long arranging ornaments, Lando had simply dropped all his on one side of the tree with chaotic delight. It looked ridiculous. It looked perfect.

They had no real schedule. No one expected them anywhere. They gave each other stockings stuffed with little gifts. Amelia gave Lando a pair of designer sneakers with her initials burned into the soles. Lando gave her a little wooden box he’d built himself (badly), lined with soft felt and filled with folded notes. Things I love about you, written one per page. He told her not to read them all at once.

She thought, after peeking at one, that she might never be able to read anyone—his handwriting was atrocious.

They went on a walk by the water, holding gloved hands. A few fans stopped them, gently, politely. Amelia just smiled at them all and when they were alone again, Lando kissed the top of her head.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I love you.”

They cooked together. Burned the first batch of roasted potatoes. Argued about how long to cook Brussels sprouts (Lando was very, very wrong). They watched a film under a blanket, her feet cold against his legs.

Later, under the twinkling Christmas tree lights, she kissed the side of his neck and whispered, “I know what I want for Christmas next year.”

He kissed her shoulder. “What, baby?”

She whispered the words in his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath. The apples of his cheeks went pink.

And then… Then he was beaming.

—

She always liked to keep her birthdays quiet.

No parties. No dinners. No events. Just them.

Lando had been preparing for weeks. Quietly. Sweetly. Every part of the day was hers. Coffee in bed with oat milk and a heart-shaped spoon. Her favourite music playing low in the background while he made breakfast. A note on the bathroom mirror; You are the prettiest wife in the world.

They spent the afternoon in pyjamas. She built a LEGO set on the floor while Lando FaceTimed with her mum to confirm the recipe for her birthday cake. He wore an apron. He got flour on his nose. She kissed it off.

That evening, they sat on the floor eating cake straight from the pan, and she cried when he gave her an expensive notebook embossed with her name.

Amelia Norris.

“It’s not flashy,” he said. “But all of your other notebooks still have your old name, so...”

She just stared at him for a long time, her head tilted. “You’re the best. You know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, smug. “I know.”

She laughed, tackled him, kissed him breathless.

They didn’t leave the flat all day.

It was perfect.

—

The McLaren Technology Centre always smelled the same—polished steel, ozone, something faintly botanical from the lobby planters—but everything else felt different this time.

Amelia had a keycard with her name on it now.

Not “Visitor.”

Just: Amelia Norris, in black and papaya.

Her shoes clicked softly on the curved white floors as she walked the familiar path from reception, past the design offices, into the engineering wing. The glass walls gleamed. The lake shimmered outside. It should have been intimidating. Overwhelming. But Amelia had done intimidating. She’d helped engineer two world championships. She’d married the boy everyone had tried to separate her from.

This?

This wasn’t pressure.

This felt like coming home.

She found her new office on the corner, just past the chassis lab, with a good view over the test bays. The door was closed. The old paper sign had been replaced—somewhere between Christmas and now—with a proper etched plaque.

Amelia Norris Race Engineer – #81 Performance & Development Group

Her throat pinched unexpectedly.

She remembered, all at once, being ten years old and walking into the McLaren building behind her dad for the first time. Seeing a plaque with his name on it. She’d stood there, tracing the letters with small fingers, wide-eyed and awed. Now she was here. Different name. Different door. Different role.

But the same lineage.

Belief.

Hard work.

Love.

She opened the door. The air inside smelled faintly like new carpet and fresh whiteboard markers. Her desk was spotless. A neat stack of McLaren-branded post-its waited beside a rendered miniature model of the 2023 car—her nose scrunched unhappily at the sight of it. A framed photo had already been hung on the wall; her and Lando on the wedding day, his arms around her waist, her hand on his chest, both of them caught mid-laugh. It was small. Tasteful. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

A knock at the open door.

It was Oscar, carrying two coffees, looking slightly overwhelmed but trying not to show it. “I got the ones with the oat milk,” he said, holding one out. “Because Lando said you don’t like dairy. Is that okay?”

“You did great,” she said, accepting the mug. “First day. How are you feeling?”

He gave her a tired smile. “Like this is all suddenly very real.”

“It is real,” Amelia said, settling into the chair behind her desk. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time in this office, you and me. Meetings, sim data, post-session debriefs, late-night panic coffee when the floor upgrades come in weird—so don’t knock if I’m already in here. Just walk in.”

Oscar glanced around the space, tentative. “Feels like… your territory.”

She shook her head. “Nope. This is ours now. I’ve just had a head start.”

That got her a small, grateful smile. He stepped further inside, letting his gaze linger on the whiteboards, the framed photo, the car model.

“So,” he said after a beat. “Where do we start?”

Amelia stood. “We start by checking in on the car.”

She led him down the corridor toward the fabrication bay, familiar turns in the MTC’s clean white maze. The sounds of drills and chatter floated up as they descended a level—production technicians deep in the quiet, obsessive rhythm of building something meant to move at 300 kilometres an hour.

The #81 chassis was sitting on its frame stand, half-clad in carbon and glinting under the overheads. Its nose wasn’t mounted yet. Wires trailed from the cockpit. The halo was freshly attached, still matte from the final torque tests. The papaya-orange paint was only partially finished—bare in some places, ghosted in others.

Oscar stepped forward slowly. His expression changed.

“I’ve seen it in renders,” he said. “But not like this.”

Amelia folded her arms and smiled beside him. “This is the part no one really gets to see.”

“You didn’t design it?” He asked.

“No,” she said. “But I’ve been talking with the aero team. There’s a lot I want to change, but it’s unrealistic to expect them to change the entire chassis so close to testing. So… this year, Oscar,” She gave him a look that she hoped conveyed hope. “This year, just grin and bear it, even if it’s awful, okay? I promise you that next year’s car will be better. Built for you, not the other way around.”

Oscar let out a breath. “It’s kind of insane, isn’t it?”

She glanced over at him. “Yeah. You think you’ll be able to trust me with this?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Then me and you, Oscar, will be just fine.” She said.

He didn’t smile—but his shoulders dropped.

And Amelia looked at the half-built car, at the number #81 she’d fought to earn, and felt something slide gently into place.

This was going to be one hell of a year.

—

The lights in the briefing room had dimmed. Most of the engineering team had filtered out hours ago, but Amelia was still there, flipping absently through tyre degradation projections from last season — data that wouldn’t mean much in a few weeks, but still gave her something to think about. Something to do with her hands.

She was about to pack up when the door creaked open again.

Her dad poked his head in. “Got a second?”

Amelia blinked, surprised. “Sure, Dad.”

He stepped in with that familiar slight limp — the one she’d grown up watching as he trailed alongside mechanics at every paddock stop, years of karting crashes softened into a permanent rhythm. Behind him came her mom, cardigan draped over her shoulders, McLaren lanyard around her neck. VIP badge and all. It made Amelia smile. “Hi, mom.”

“Didn’t think we’d find you alone,” Her dad said, settling against the edge of the long table. “You giving Oscar a break already?”

Amelia nodded. “He was starting to get a bit pale, so I sent him home. Told him to sleep, hydrate, and be back tomorrow at seven sharp. Then I got comfy here.”

Her mom set a bottle of water in front of her, like muscle memory. “You used to hide in closets with puzzle books when the house got loud. Same thing, right?”

Amelia chuckled. “Yeah. Some things don’t change.”

Her dad looked between them, something unusually soft in his expression. “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while,” he said, “but now just felt like the right time.”

She turned toward him fully, head tilting.

“I’m proud of you,” Her dad said simply. “And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here. McLaren’s lucky.”

Amelia blinked. Her throat pulled tight. “Dad…”

He raised a hand, gently waving off the emotion. “Should’ve made it happen a lot sooner. That’s on me. But now that you're here, I hope you know how much it means. To me. To the whole team.”

Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding and warm. “He’s right. You’re doing everything you dreamed about. Everything we dreamed about with you. I’m so proud I could burst.”

Amelia huffed a quiet laugh, but it cracked a little. “You guys can’t say things like this when I’ve only slept for four hours. I’m emotionally unstable.”

Her dad grinned. “That’s why it’s the perfect time.”

Her mom pulled her in gently, and Amelia didn’t resist. She let her eyes flutter shut, breathing in that familiar lavender hand lotion and wool-sweater smell.

“You belong here,” her mom whispered.

“I know,” Amelia said. And this time — for real, for the first time — she did.

Her dad cleared his throat, though his voice was still thick. “Now go home to your husband. Rest. The cars will still be broken tomorrow.”

Amelia rolled her eyes but smiled through it.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Anytime, Norris.”

—

Oscar arrived in Monaco for his pre-season training camp with a backpack, a foam roller, and the most earnest expression Amelia had ever seen on a human being — in fact, the only reason she could even name it was because she’d seen it a hundred times before. On puppies.

“You know,” she said from the kitchen doorway as he stepped in, “you’re not going to inconvenience us by being here. We invited you.”

Oscar set his things down neatly by the shoe rack, eyes flicking around the flat. “Yeah. It’s just—your place is really nice.”

“Thank you,” Amelia was grinning. “It’s still a work in progress, but it’s home.”

Lando padded in barefoot from the balcony, already in training shorts and a tank top. “Mate, if you think this is nice, wait until you see what Zak wants us to rent for the post-season media thing in Abu Dhabi. That place has a literal waterfall in the living room.”

Oscar blinked. “What? Why?”

“Rich people don’t need reasons,” Amelia said, stepping aside so Oscar could follow them further in. “And my dad is a show-off.”

The flat had that relaxed chaos of somewhere well-lived-in—running shoes kicked off near the front door, a stack of magazines on the coffee table, a lingering citrusy scent. It was spacious without being overwhelming, modern without being sterile.

Lando threw a hand over Oscar’s shoulder and guided him toward the guest room which doubled as Lando’s streaming room. “You’re in here. Don’t touch the minibar. It’s all mine.”

Oscar peeked inside. “Is that a fridge full of Capri-Suns?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” Lando called, already walking away.

Amelia leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them. She liked this. Lando at ease. Oscar softening. Her home being something useful, not just pretty.

Later that evening, after a sweaty cardio session and a cool-down stretch on the balcony, the boys collapsed onto the oversized sofa, Amelia wedged between them with a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

Lando passed Oscar the remote. “You get to pick tonight, since you’re the guest. Just know if you choose anything from the Fast & Furious franchise, Amelia will walk out.”

“I will not walk out,” Amelia said, indignant.

Lando arched an eyebrow.

“…I’ll just complain loudly the whole time.”

Oscar snorted, already scrolling. “Right. Noted.”

The movie ended up being some critically acclaimed indie drama that neither of the boys fully understood.. Lando made them all hot chocolate afterwards, and by the time they were all just about ready to turn in for the night, Oscar was laughing at something dumb Lando said and Amelia’s shoulders were loose.

As she brushed her teeth, Lando leaned on the doorframe beside her.

“He’s nervous,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. But he’s got you now,” Lando replied, bumping her shoulder with his.

She turned to look at him in the mirror. “Us.”

He smiled indulgently. “Yeah. Us.”

—

The morning sun spilled golden across the Monaco coastline, already warm against the stone path where Oscar was mid-sprint. His breath came in sharp bursts, chest rising and falling as he rounded the final bend and came to a staggering halt beside Lando, who was doubled over, hands on knees.

“Time?” Oscar huffed.

Amelia looked up from her iPad, where she’d been quietly timing their intervals with clinical precision. She didn’t even blink. “You beat him by two seconds.”

Oscar glanced over at Lando, who let out a dramatic groan and dropped onto the grass.

“I’m filing for divorce,” Lando muttered, voice muffled against the ground.

“You wouldn’t,” Amelia said, calmly tapping in their recovery timer. “The paperwork would confuse you too much.”

“Tell that to my lungs.” He wheezed.

Oscar grinned, sweat dripping from his jaw. “So what’s next? More hill sprints? Or can we just die now?”

“No. Dying is inefficient,” Amelia said. “Hydrate. Then core work.”

They obeyed without argument.

The thing about Amelia, Oscar had quickly learned, was that she didn’t bark orders. She didn’t have to. Her tone was measured, her words precise, and when she glanced up from the iPad and said things like, “Your balance is off on your left side, Oscar,” she was never wrong. She was observant. Quiet power in noise-cancelling headphones.

She didn’t train with them, didn’t have the interest or the inclination, but she was there every morning, hair up, thermos of coffee in hand, tracking performance and recovery stats like it was an active session at the factory.

“You know,” Oscar said between planks, “you could charge for this. Drivers would pay for a week with you.”

“I don’t have the patience for other drivers,” she replied, scribbling a note on a clipboard.

Lando groaned from the mat next to him. “She only yells at me because she loves me.”

Amelia snorted. “If you think this is yelling, you’ve never heard me at a strategy debrief.”

Oscar just grinned.

Later, after stretches and protein shakes and a failed attempt to get Lando into a cold plunge tub, the three of them sat in the shade of the terrace overlooking the bay. Amelia had her feet tucked under her on the lounger, iPad back in her lap, editing performance curves from Oscar’s last sim session at the factory.

Oscar looked at the way she leaned into Lando’s side without thinking, how his hand found her knee instinctively, like their bodies were in permanent sync.

They sat quietly for a minute, the breeze rolling in from the sea. Oscar took a long sip of his smoothie, then glanced over at Amelia. “So,” he said, carefully, “what’s it going to be like like—having you on comms?”

Amelia’s fingers paused mid-scroll.

Lando laughed before she could speak. “You mean what’s it like being managed by someone who knows when you’re about to crash before you do?”

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “That accurate?”

“Yes,” Lando said, grinning as he nudged Amelia’s knee.

She finally looked up, eyes cool and thoughtful. “You’re asking what kind of race engineer I’m going to be.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Firm. Clear. I don’t do sugarcoating unless it’s strategic. You’ll never have to wonder what I mean. I’ll say exactly what I mean — respectfully, but directly. And if I sound like I’m babysitting you, it’s because you’re doing something reckless and I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Oscar blinked. “Okay. That’s... intense.”

Lando sipped his drink. “It’s great. You don’t realise how much mental bandwidth it saves until you have someone like her by your side.”

Oscar looked back at Amelia. “You’re always confident?”

“No,” she said plainly. “I’ll never pretend to know something I don’t. And if I think I’ve made the wrong call, I’ll say so. Accountability matters.”

Oscar nodded slowly, letting that sink in. “And… if I mess up?”

“You will,” she said. “We all do. I’m not here to protect your ego. I’m here to make you better. As long as you meet me halfway, we’ll be fine.”

There was no warmth in her tone, but there was no cruelty, either. It was measured. Practical. Fair.

Oscar smiled. “Honestly? That sounds kind of ideal.”

She tilted her head. “You say that now.”

Lando leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be in the best hands, mate.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I believe you.”

—

Two weeks later, Oscar was slumped in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, while Amelia stood by the screen at the front, laser pointer in hand, calmly dissecting sector times.

“Your turn-in at turn nine still needs work,” she said, tapping the data overlay. “You’re braking a shade too late, trying to save the lap, but you’re compromising the exit.”

Oscar nodded, brow furrowed. “That’s the only part I can’t feel yet. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like—my brain doesn’t register it until I’ve already done it.”

“Give it time,” she said. “Muscle memory is a process.”

Lando appeared in the doorway, holding two takeaway coffees. “One for the newly-minted golden boy,” he said, tossing one toward Oscar, “and one for my beloved engineer wife who abandoned me for another driver.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Amelia said mildly, taking the cup. “You’re just in time.”

“For what?”

Amelia walked over to her desk, opened a tin, and revealed a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Perfectly golden. Still warm.

Oscar’s eyes widened. “You bake?”

“Only when you do well in a session,” she said, offering him the tin. “Which today you did.”

Oscar blinked down at the cookies. “You’re the best race engineer ever.”

Lando scowled. “Okay, rude. You never make me cookies.”

Amelia raised a brow. “When was the last time you called me the best race engineer ever?”

Oscar, mouth full of cookie, muffled, “She’s terrifying, but I love her.”

Lando leaned against the desk, narrowing his eyes. “I feel like I’m watching my wife emotionally cheat on me with my teammate.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “You knew what this was.”

Oscar glanced between them. “Wait, is this, like… a bit?”

“She calls you ‘ducky,’” Lando said, like it pained him.

Oscar blinked. “Ducky?”

Amelia shoved the tin toward him again, giving Lando a stern glare. “Don’t worry about it, sweet amazing talented driver of mine. Just eat your cookies.”

Oscar did as instructed.

Lando groaned. “I hate it here.”

“You love it here,” Amelia said, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Because you love me, don’t you? You did marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes, but there was no real heat there. “Fine. But I get the last cookie.”

Amelia snorted. “Of course.”

Oscar made a sound of betrayal. “You’re picking favourites.”

“I married him, Oscar.”

“Still feels unfair.”

—

The McLaren garages were alive. Mechanics moved with efficient purpose, telemetry streamed in real time on the screens, and the dry desert air seeped in through the open shutters. The scent of brake dust, sun-warmed concrete, and machine oil hung in the air. Cloying and irritating and perfect.

Amelia stood at the back of Oscar’s garage, headset resting around her neck, iPad in hand. Her new team uniform still felt crisp against her skin—papaya and black, her name stitched cleanly above the heart. It was real now. No more transitioning. No more waiting.

Oscar was getting into the car for his first run of the day, glancing over at her briefly as the mechanics helped him buckle in. She gave him a little nod, her calm face belying the thrum of nerves and excitement in her chest.

“You good?” Lando asked, appearing beside her. He was in his own suit, visor up, half-laughing at her expression. “You look like you’re about to start pacing.”

“I don’t pace,” she said, but her fingers were flexing on the edge of the tablet. “This is just… a big moment.”

Lando smiled, softer now. “Yeah. It is. You’re allowed to feel everything. Just don’t cry; you’ll scare the interns.”

She elbowed him lightly.

Andrea approached from the pit wall side, arms crossed over his chest. “There she is,” he said with a warm smile.

Amelia straightened a little. “Andrea. Hi.”

“I just wanted to say—welcome. I know everyone’s said it already, but truly… I’m very glad you’re here.” He told her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m really glad to be here too.”

“I’ve been following your work for years, Amelia. Red Bull were lucky to have you. And now we are.” His voice was kind, but earnest. “You and Oscar — I think you’re going to be a very strong pair.”

She felt a little warmth creep up her neck. “Yes. We will.”

—

She stepped up onto the pit wall platform, put her headset on, and opened the channel.

“Radio check, Ducky.”

There was a beat of static. Then, “Loud and clear. I’d prefer that nickname didn’t stick.”

“Okay,” she said, amusement in her voice. “Let’s see what this car can do. Prepare to line up in the pit-lane.”

—

Testing was over for the day; cars were tucked back into the garage, data was uploading.

Amelia was crouched by the pit wall, collecting her headset, untangling cords, and making a few tired annotations on her iPad. She didn’t look up when a bottle of water appeared beside her.

“Thanks,” she said, assuming it was Lando.

“It’s the least I could do,” said Will.

She blinked. Looked up.

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

Will Joseph, who had been Lando’s engineer longer than Lando had been allowed to rent cars, gave her a crooked smile and sat down next to her on the concrete step. His jacket was unzipped to the waist, arms wrapped around his knees.

“So,” he said casually, “you’re the other half now.”

Amelia stared at him. “Of the married couple?”

“No.” He gestured loosely toward the track. “Of the race engineer pair. Me and you. I figured we should talk before we both start yelling instructions across the garage like divorced parents.”

She laughed. “Good thinking.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“He’s doing well,” Will said eventually, nodding toward Oscar’s car. “Really well. And he listens to you.”

Amelia gave a small smile, then sipped her water. “He’s eager. Smart. Needs a bit of runway, but when he clicks, he clicks. Reminds me of Max, a little bit. All instinct and edge.”

Will nodded. “He trusts you. That’s the important bit. You can’t teach that.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

Will glanced at her, thoughtful. “And you — you’ve slotted in like you’ve always been here. It’s a little annoying, actually.”

“Sorry,” she said, not sorry.

“You should be,” Will deadpanned. “Took me five years to get a decent coffee cup in this place. You walk in and suddenly there’s a new espresso machine and colour-coded run plans.”

She made a face. “I’m a bit much, I know.”

“No,” Will said, serious now. “You’re brilliant. The way you’ve got Oscar dialled in already… it’s impressive.”

Amelia looked down, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Thanks.”

“You’re also married to my driver,” he added. “So I reserve the right to glare at you if he starts acting like a brat.”

“He already does that all the time,” she muttered, then smiled.

Will leaned back on his elbows, looking toward the now-quiet pit lane. “This year’s gonna be something, huh?”

Amelia followed his gaze. “Yeah. I think it is.”

—

The restaurant was one of Lando’s favourites in Bahrain — low lighting, good food, quiet enough that nobody bothered them. Amelia had picked the table. Tucked into a corner, facing a floor-to-ceiling window. Oscar had shown up five minutes early and had to hover awkwardly near the entrance until they turned up.

Now, halfway through their mains, Lando was poking at his pasta with a fork and Amelia was mid-rant about diffuser regulation changes when Oscar leaned back in his chair and went suddenly still.

“What?” Lando asked, around a bite of bread.

Oscar blinked. “I just realised I’m third wheeling right now.”

Amelia stopped mid-sentence. “What?”

Oscar gestured at them. “You two. Married. Clearly telepathic. Lando ordered for you.”

“That doesn’t make you a third wheel,” Amelia frowned.

Lando swallowed his bite. “Mate.”

Oscar looked at him. Warily.

“You’ve been a third wheel in this relationship since you were in F3.” Lando said.

Amelia nearly choked on her water. “Lando!”

“No, no, let’s be honest!” Lando leaned back, grinning. “He was always around. And you were fixated on him, babe.”

“I was literally just doing my job,” Oscar said, flat.

“Yeah, well,” Lando shrugged, “now your job is to let us be disgustingly in love while you sit there and suffer.”

Amelia laughed, eyes soft, and reached out to squeeze Oscar’s arm. “You’re not a third wheel.”

He gave her a look. “You just reached over your husband to comfort me for being your awkward sidekick.”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “But you’re our awkward sidekick.”

Lando raised his glass. “To being contractually stuck with us.”

Oscar sighed. “God help me.”

They clinked glasses anyway.

And when dessert came, Amelia passed her spoon to Oscar without thinking, and Lando threw a napkin at him for stealing a strawberry off her plate, and Oscar just smiled to himself.

Third wheel or not, it was kind of nice to be included.

—

Most of the media groups had cleared out by the time Thursday night fell, the floodlights humming softly above the garages.

Amelia had just finished her final round of pre-race checks with Oscar when she ran into Max. He was leaning against the railing, sipping from a Red Bull can, and raised a teasing eyebrow when he saw her. “Look who it is,” he said.

She smiled, tugging her McLaren jacket tighter around her. “You’re here late.”

Max shrugged. “You’re one to talk, zusje. Shouldn’t you be off managing your husbands nerves or something?”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Lando’s fine.”

Max tilted his head slightly. “Still weird seeing you in papaya.”

“I know,” she said, quiet.

There was a beat of silence. Comfortable, familiar.

“I miss you,” Max said.

Her eyes stung a little. “I miss you too.”

He didn’t move, but his voice softened. “It won’t be the same tomorrow.”

Amelia smiled faintly. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know. But still.”

She reached over, gave his wrist a squeeze. “Good luck tomorrow.”

He smirked. “Try to keep your rookie from crashing into me.”

“No promises,” she said, then stepped forward and let him hug her for a minute before they had to go their separate ways again.

—

When she entered their hotel suite an hour later, she didn’t expect Lando to be… well, naked.

“Hi baby,” he said casually from the bed, lounging. “Welcome back.”

She blinked. “Are you… is this going to become some kind of welcome-home ritual?”

“Could be,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Depends how much you like it.”

She laughed, kicking off her shoes. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“And yet, you married me.”

“Unbelievably,” she said, walking over and tugging the covers up over him pointedly, “I did.”

He caught her wrist and pulled her down beside him. “You okay?”

She nodded, nuzzling into his bare shoulder. “Yeah. Ran into Max.”

“Oh?” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Everything good?”

“He misses me,” she murmured. “I miss him too.”

“Of course he does. You were his second brain.”

“I was his friend,” she said, voice muffled by his skin. “Sister. Or something.”

“That too.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asked, quietly.

Lando tilted his head down to kiss her temple. “I’m ready if you’re there.”

She smiled. “Always.”

He grinned. “Even if I show up to driver briefings naked?”

“I will quit on the spot.”

He laughed, pulling her closer. “Okay. I’ll save that surprise for Suzuka.”

—

The sun was slipping below the horizon, throwing orange light across the desert as the cars rolled out for the formation lap. Amelia sat at the McLaren pit-wall, headset settled snugly over her ears, telemetry lighting up across her screen. Her fingers hovered above the radio trigger.

“Car 81, radio check,” she said, voice steady.

“Loud and clear,” Oscar replied, a hint of tension in his voice, but nothing she hadn’t heard before.

“Copy,” she said, softer now. “You’re all set. Let’s go through it one more time.”

He didn’t ask what she meant. They’d already talked about it in sim, in briefings, walking to the grid, but he let her say it anyway. Maybe he needed to hear it.

“Be clean off the line. You don’t need to win the race in the first hundred metres. Give yourself space, keep your head on a swivel through Turn 1; we’ve seen chaos there before. Stay tight and controlled.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve got good tyre temp. ERS settings look fine. Sensors are happy. You’ve done this a hundred times in the sim.”

“But not in real life,” Oscar said, and she could hear the nerves now.

Amelia smiled a little, despite herself. “Not in real life. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You’ve earned this. All I want you to do is drive the car the way I know you can.”

“Right.” A breath. “Okay. Thanks, Amelia.”

She glanced up at the screen. Cars were lining up now. The tension in the garage thickened. Engineers froze in place. Pit wall comms turned clipped and quiet.

“Hey, Oscar?” she said, just before the lights started to come on.

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you. I’ve got you the whole way. Let’s go racing.”

He didn’t respond in words, but the burst of static and the slight hitch of breath on the other end was enough.

Five lights. Four. Three.

And then they were off.

For maybe four laps, things were steady.

Then Oscar’s name blinked red.

"Car 81. Box box," came the call, clipped through Amelia’s headset. She didn’t flinch. Just hit her button and said calmly, "Copy. Oscar, we’ve got a pneumatic pressure issue. Bring it in nice and easy. No risks."

He confirmed. Voice low. A little shaky.

She switched channels immediately. “Can we get it back out?”

“No,” came the reply from the garage. “It’s terminal.”

Beside her, Will swore under his breath. “One down.”

“Could’ve been worse,” she said, tone even. “Could’ve been two.”

Which, of course, was the cue.

Just as they hit the halfway mark, Lando came over the radio. “Guys… I’m losing power. Something’s wrong.”

Will jumped in, trying to diagnose it live with him. Amelia kept her eyes locked on the data, flicking through cooling systems, oil pressure, everything she could find.

It was no use. It was happening again.

"Box, Lando. We’ll retire the car."

Silence. Then a tight, “Okay.”

Will leaned back from the wall, exhaling slowly. “Two DNFs.”

Amelia didn’t answer. Just stared at the screens in front of her, mouth pressed in a thin line.

Finally, she said, “Well. Shit.”

Will huffed a bitter laugh. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly. “Such a pleasure.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, just watching the race unravel without them.

Then Will added, “Next week can’t be worse.”

She didn’t look at him. Just sipped from her McLaren bottle and muttered, “Things can always be worse.”

NEXT CHAPTER

558 notes · View notes

httpsserene · 9 months ago

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 | 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

summary: you accidentally leak a private song you made as a birthday gift for your boyfriend.

content warning: mdni. suggestive and sexual themes. humor. i consider this to be crack taken seriously. menace and unbothered king oscar piastri. a couple uses of yn. one threat/suggestion of self-deleting (in minecraft ofc). song referenced is on the way by jhene aiko ft. mila j.

pairing: oscar piastri x singer! fem!black!reader

genre: smau.

from, serene: was this requested? no. i did this for myself. do what you will with that information. enjoy, loves !!!!

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

imessage • yn -> oscar

yn’s soundcloud

twitter

imessage • oscar -> yn

twitter

twitter • oscar & yn

instagram • oscarpiastri • april 6th

liked by 2,341,988 others

oscarpiastri everybody knows what's on my plate for my birthday breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert 😋🍽️

view comments

yninsta: gave you permission to post this and you didn't even tag me 😠

➥ oscarpiastri: tagging you is unnecessary. ➥ oscarpiastri: as you already made a whole song about how much you enjoy our..."activities" and posted it for public consumption :) ➥ yninsta: please deactivate your account 🫡

landonorris: mate just block me out of respect 🫠

➥ oscarpiastri: you see, i already respect you very little🫶🏻 ➥ landonorris: "tell your friends tinker bell fucked your brains out" ➥ landonorris: i vow to never let you have a peaceful day ever again 🫶🏻

charlesleclerc: my son, please. i have learned too many things i did not need to know about you in 3:42 song. have mercy 🤧

➥ oscarpiastri: somebody has to be the family disappointment 🤷‍♂️ ➥ olliebearman: it's me. i'm the one driving a haas next year 😖 ➥ leoleclerc: everybody's knows m not bringing the shame to our family's name :) 🐕🐾 ➥ alexandrasaintmleux: nobody is a disappointment! family dinner is postponed this month btw. i think charles might cry if he has to look at you oscar.

logansargeant: dude wtf 😳

➥ oscarpiastri: do you have something to say? ➥ logansargeant: ....no ➥ oscarpiastri: hm. that's what i thought

user1: oscar posting "for your eyes only" pics i can't believe it

➥ user2: we all know the song is dirtier than the pics

user3: it's always the quiet ones 🙂‍↕️

➥ yninsta: stay away from them they only cause headaches 😒 ➥ user4: don't you mean backaches? from the way he blows your back out CONSISTENTLY ➥ yninsta: i hope you know that i'm having you blacklisted from any of my future live shows and tours @/user4

user5: everybody tell him happy birthday 🫵🏻

➥ user6: ion have to tell him SHIT 👹 ➥ user7: he already got her, i'm not wishing him a hbd ➥ user8: i'm not spoiling him, she got it covered 🥱 ➥ user9: y'all r lonely n miserable HBD OSCARRRRR!!!!

mclaren: oscar, i respect your game—but i think you missed the point of the emergency pr meeting that i was forced to be in earlier - admin

➥ oscarpiastri: yolo - kimi raikkonen ➥ mclaren: valid ig

general taglist (ask to join):

@saintslewis/@cherry2stems/@lorarri/@mindless-rock/@biancathecool

@barnestatic/@darleneslane/@lovingaphroditesworld/@smoothopz/@vetteltea

@tallrock35/@spideybv28/@loomiscorpse/@hiireadstuff/@namgification

@gg-trini/@multi-fandom-rando/@landoslutmeout/@love-simon/@iloveyou3000morgan/

@rexit-mo/@oscahpastry/@sweatrevenge5436-blog/@bokutos-babyowl/@oliviah-25

@evermoreandroyalblue/@riveristhebest1/@xylinasdiary/@ashiekins/@flowergirl1134

@hearts4robs/@c-losur3/@bloodyymaryyy/@awritingtree/@lammys-thinking

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri fic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #serene's chapters.#serene’s fave.#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: op.

1K notes · View notes

toast-on-dandelioms · 11 months ago

Text

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.1 - [next]

Any names that you find familiar, in this part, were taken (with permission) from the fanart made by @the-broken-truth, while some changes like description of what's happening were made by me then modified by my beta reader, my bbg, Jamie.

tw: Joker, angst/no comfort, small description of injuries, small description/mention of a panic attack (I am unsure if it was that, please tell me if I am wrong).

Weeks passed with you still being Spider and a 'normal' teenager at the same time. But some changes and new things happened in these weeks.

You got visited by Superman almost daily, or nightly since he always visited when you were patrolling at night. You never questioned how he knew where to find you, you didn't want to think about it and just let him follow you during your nightly patrols.

He also helped you train while using all of your strength because you usually held back in fear of hurting people, so his tips helped a lot considering that he also had the same problem before.

Furthermore, now that you started to help with small problems around Gotham, like small thefts and gang problems, those problems started to slowly stop, giving you more time to train with Superman and help around the community.

You still didn't join the Bats or even the Justice League whenever Superman tried to propose it, you just didn't want to fight big shots like Joker or other super villains.

You liked doing small things and loved seeing the change it brought from you helping.

Just defeating super villains won't reward you with a pie from the nice old lady after helping her move her things in the apartment and give her groceries if she can't go to the supermarket, or getting drawings of little kids after you help them go home safely.

You also scored candies whenever the moms had them, which made you incredibly happy because they always had the candies you loved.

So you were happy, especially since Alfred never mentioned your breakdown after that night and kept on the usual routine of leaving your food on the desk in your room so you wouldn't have to come down to the kitchen.

You did notice him acting a bit weird but you pushed those thoughts aside since you didn't really notice anything weird happening around the Manor so you thought he was just nervous for something Bruce did.

You gave him too much trust and sooner than later you will regret doing that.

But something did change around the Manor, you just didn't notice because you started to walk on the ceiling, without shoes or Alfred would kill you, to avoid annoying encounters with anyone in the house, even if listening to music while on the ceiling was a bit difficult but you’re managing.

Well, Alfred knew that if he walked to Bruce and told him about you and what you felt he would've been ignored, especially since Bruce barely remembers that you even exist in the Manor and that you're a member of the family.

And even if Bruce did remember that you exist he would be annoyed, especially since he clearly hated your mother and was only paying the child support because he had to, especially since your mother threatened to take him to court if he wouldn't pay when he first got the news.

Talking to any of the batkids would've also been useless, because he also knew that no one in the Manor remembers you, especially now that you could walk on walls no one could even see you.

He couldn't count how many times he almost got a heart attack whenever he could see you on the ceiling, just hanging out or doing your homework, even though he still didn't understand how you could work without gravity making everything fall.

So he decided to do it in small steps, starting with leaving photos of you around the house in places where everyone sees them.

He put almost every picture that he owns of you, like you at a dance recital as the lead dancer or you at a science fair to which you won first place with an invention of yours.

One thing Alfred knew by putting your photos was that every person would notice how in all your photos you were alone and how your face never showed any emotion.

He knew it was small but he couldn't wait anymore, he needed to take action now or before you decided to leave for the Kent family, he couldn't let you go after he heard you talk about Clark and Conner while he made food in the kitchen.

He just hoped it wasn't too late for you, especially with your break down. He hoped you could still let someone in after all these years of being alone.

He did try his best but he was only a butler and he couldn't change someone's view of another person if that view was filled with hatred.

And you never noticed thanks to your walking on the ceiling or walls, moreover, you couldn't care less if they actually noticed you now. You were finally moving on and having a new start thanks to Spider.

But now it's not the time to think of Alfred's attempt of getting you acknowledged by the family, you were getting busier thanks to all the work as Spider, school and also dance classes.

You also kept on using yourself as a test subject, just to check the process of the spider DNA that's now in your DNA and seeing if anything changed or you had some mysterious new powers, taking videos to record the process of your evolution with the now Spider DNA in your body.

One thing you acquired after a while was invisibility, or camouflage as you called it since invisibility sounded magical and you didn't want it to sound like you were a kid.

How you found out you could use it was not a good experience.

You were in the kitchen with Alfred, just hanging out with him while he cooked when Damian suddenly entered the room to ask Alfred for some food for a new pet that he adopted.

In your panic at the sheer thought of Damian seeing you and hurting you like he did in the past made you freeze up, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that he would just disappear from existence. Praying to every god you could recall that Damian wouldn't find you, you tried to not breathe too loudly so he wouldn’t hear you.

After a few minutes of paranoia passed and you didn't hear anything around you, you slowly opened your eyes and saw Damian still waiting for Alfred to give him the food for a cat he adopted and completely ignoring you.

You were still scared he would see you so you stayed silent and waited patiently, albeit apprehensively, for him to go away before actually making a sound, which was a loud sigh of restrained relief as air poured back into your lungs. Somehow you hadn't noticed that you'd been holding your breath the whole time. Strange.

You slowly got down from the counter you were sitting on and walked up to Alfred, confused as to why the old man wasn't looking at you and instead was looking at the ceiling before softly calling out his name.

You got even more confused and slightly worried when he got scared since you were standing right in front of him but he, for some reason, couldn't see you.

After a bit of Alfred trying to explain that he couldn't actually see you and you not understanding why, you finally managed to make yourself visible.

You quickly went to work at the corporation to take a few tests to see what happened and didn't see anything with those tests but after a few days of trying to understand what happened and how you could make it happen again, you managed to go invisible on command.

It took a bit but you managed to do it, which got extremely useful to sneak into the kitchen when you need to get some snacks in the middle of the night so that Alfred doesn't catch you on the wall eating chips at 3 am.

Plus thanks to that time you found out that your eyes glow in the dark, which was a bit weird since the spider that bit you wasn't a bioluminescent one but you figured it was your own DNA that changed some things.

In the time following that discovery and training with Clark, you slowly started to join him in solo missions for the Justice League, but made sure to tell him that you didn't want to partner up with another person except him.

And you made sure that he knew you weren't an official member of the Justice League or of the Young Justice League, you just joined him so you wouldn't get rusty since Gotham is still filled with crime but fighting with teens or men who just swing a crowbar or knife is not really challenging.

You didn't want anyone except Clark to join those solo missions, not because you were scared of hurting another person since you learned to control your strength thanks to him and got pretty good with your spider senses.

You just hated being around people you didn't know or trust, especially if they were a member of the Wayne family, you absolutely detested them.

You refused to look at them and especially talk to them even though you had the voice modulator.

One of the many reasons you used the voice modulator was to not get recognised but also because you hated your own voice and the voice modulator helped when talking to lost kids or just kids in general.

You never told anyone why you hate your voice, you just refused to talk one day and learned asl to communicate with people and also used notes if people didn't know asl.

The mask was like a hearing aid, it changed your voice and helped you use it more so you could talk sometimes.

As time passed, the birdies (basically all of Bruce's kids, you just called them all bird to show how much you didn't care about them) kept on trying to talk to you and showing up where you were when you were patrolling.

You had a list of most annoying to less annoying since you couldn't really do much about them, especially since Clark forbade you to throw another one of them off a roof if they got too close to your liking or just breathed wrong.

They never sustained grave injuries since you always threw them to another building or a dumpster, or to Superman if he was around.

Most of the time in a dumpster to make yourself smile since you would take a photo then swing away before they could do anything, but they started to pose whenever you would take a photo, making you annoyed and ruining your fun.

The most annoying was Dick, with how persistent he was even if he was stuck on a wall thanks to your webs when he got too close or made you uncomfortable by continuing to call you nicknames that he would use with Damian and Tim.

You hated how he would just laugh and call you his little sibling, especially since he would never call you that if you didn't have a mask on and you felt that it was unfair that he suddenly cared about you just because of the mask.

It made you feel like you were getting ignored and forgotten once again but this time to a version of you that he likes while the one behind the mask is always getting ignored.

Just like at the Manor, the real you will never be appreciated and accepted with love.

The second most annoying in the list is Tim, it was gonna be Damian but Tim took second place with how creepy he is around you and how he knows too much of what you do.

Like, you knew he's the one who knows everything about every hero and villain since you saw him work on the bat-computer while you were stealing a few grappling hooks for your web shooters since they broke. (You were invisible and you got lucky that Cassandra wasn't there or she would've found you immediately.)

But seeing him open a folder and watching how many videos and photos he has of you in the bat-computer, like when you were fighting some gang members or when you were helping some nice old lady crossing the street.

If anyone else showed you their collection of you doing badass or just normal stuff while you were a vigilante then you would've felt impressed and very honored because you never thought someone would actually go out their way to be a fan of you.

But seeing Tim, someone you still had some respect for, having so many files, especially from when you first started and hit so many walls while swinging around made you weirded out and somehow violated, especially with how concentrated he was while staring at the videos.

Seeing that folder and all the information he had on you made you lose all the respect you still had for the boy.

Another thing he did was that, whenever you met him while patrolling or eating a few hot dogs with your favorite guy, he would always talk of things you did like he was there and creeped you out so much that you had to restrain yourself from throwing him off a roof or wherever you two were.

Most of the time you just tased him and went your way, paying the hotdog guy a little extra so he wouldn't stop selling you hot dogs.

You're also starting to think that hot dog guy is using you for the tips since you always tip him 50$ or more to stay silent and let you grab more hot dogs from him.

Third annoying but still so annoying that you want to punch his face is Damian. Mostly because he treats you like you're his older sibling.

Like he respects you and looks up to you. But you knew it was because of the mask since you also knew that if you ever took off the mask in front of him he would try to kill you.

You have to be supervised by Clark and even Jon since your only solution to get rid of Damian when he’s around you is throwing him off a roof without worrying about not using your super strength.

You hated the kid and didn't really hide it but he never said anything about it since he thought you two were bonding and you acting like you hate him is normal.

You wanted to tase him when he dared to call you his older sibling in Arabic, hating the look on his face that had so much adoration and admiration for you since it actually made him look like a normal teen.

(You learned some Arabic to get close to Damian when you found out where he was from when you were young)

Like he didn't create so many scars on your arms and legs with his sword and those batarangs. Like he didn’t make you so afraid of the Manor that Alfred had to assure you that he wouldn’t hurt you or you would get a panic attack by getting near the Manor.

Least annoying but still annoying is Jason Todd. You hate that mask he wears because you can't see his face and know what he’s really thinking about, and especially how he acts like you two are two old friends who meet up everyday.

You hate how he pats you on the head when you're distracted, since the spider sense doesn't really deem him a threat for you, and manages to evade your attempts to kick him away or throw him off a roof, laughing whenever you try to do so.

Like you two were just playing and you weren't angry at him and wanting to throw something at him but couldn't.

So your one solution was ignoring him and walking to the side of the building so he wouldn't reach you since he couldn't walk on walls like you.

Which did make you smug whenever he complained about it on the roof of the same building, finding it funny when he acted all offended when he understood you were smug by how you were acting even if your mask didn’t show your face.

Yea you and Jason did get along sometimes, most of the time if you were having a nice day and if he was the first one you would meet of the birds.

You had a decent relationship with Jason, yes you did have fun sometimes but you wouldn't call him a friend or even your brother.

Plus you never forgot about the years he would ignore you and especially when he punched you in the eye and didn't even apologize decently.

Or how he would complain about how terrible of a father Bruce is, or how annoying Dick is to anyone else while you would just stand there, completely ignored since he was probably talking to someone else or to himself.

And acted like he was the only one who's life was 'ruined' when Bruce got in his life when he's still loved even after everything he's done.

Even though he's still remembered every Christmas and given big gifts that means that the person who bought them thought of him, and birthday while no one even remembered you had a birthday and you always celebrated it with a cupcake or some friends.

So you preferred to ignore him or you would punch his skull if he tried to complain one more time about Batman and his death.

Not like Cassandra, Duke and Stephanie were any better.

Cassandra was annoying because of how silent she was. You always managed to see her but you knew she wanted you to see her.

Plus, 'hanging out' with her was just you doing your usual stuff while she followed since you couldn't push her away like the others.

And fighting wasn't in the option since she could kick your ass with just a hand and without moving, so you just ignored her, even though your spider sense was always going crazy when she was around since she was a walking threat.

Even five minutes with her would give you the worst headaches that you had to ask her to stand very far or you wouldn't be able to even walk around without wanting to puke.

You hated her because she was taken in by Bruce like you but instead of being hated because of her upbringing, she got accepted with open arms and he always loved her.

What did she have that you didn't?! Why does she get all the attention and love you always wished for while you're getting forgotten and hated?!

You saw her getting accepted, getting all the love you always wished for, seeing your father going to her dance recitals while he didn't even bother to even acknowledge that you do the same sport as her but in a different and smaller dance studio since you couldn't afford to go to the one Cassandra goes because of how expensive even one lesson was.

Stephanie was another person you hated. You knew of her past, you used the bat-computer whenever no one was in the batcave when you managed to control the invisibility.

You knew about what her dad did. You understood her reasoning to become a vigilante. You didn't hate her for her past, god you didn't even care who her father was.

You just hated her because of how loved she was by everyone. She was like Cassandra but once again, all the love was going towards the two and it never even touched you.

You did try to bond with her when you arrived at the Manor but she did look like she wanted to be everywhere but not with you.

Even when you only talked about things you knew she loved, it still wasn't enough for her. She still avoided you and preferred to spend time with either Barbara, Dick or Tim.

And after a bit you gave up and let her live her life without you in her way since she clearly didn't care about you.

The worst part was that everyone prefers Spider than you, since she also keeps trying to hang out with you when you're patrolling or spending time with kids and teens.

Or getting beat during a game of basketball since you sucked at that game and the teens you played with would tease you which made you laugh since you liked spending time with people the same age as you.

But it would be ruined when she would show up, wanting to play too even though she would just play with you and make it obvious she wanted to make you win.

Which ruined the game entirely for you and always made you leave after a bit with the excuse of being busy as a vigilante, which made the teens and also Stephanie confused.

Duke was the only one of them that you knew tried to hang out with you when you weren't Spider. That's why he was one of the ones you hang out with most if he came to see you while you were patrolling.

He came when you were almost 15, you didn't remember how old you were but you knew he was one of the ones who actually paid attention to you.

But after a while, all his duties as Signal, as a high schooler and as one of Bruce's kids made him too busy for him to spend time with you, to which he explained whenever he was late for something you two planned to do.

And you understood, you cheered for him from the back and always smiled at him whenever he was with you as Signal, even if he couldn't see it. And he did tell you the best places to get food during patrols so you liked him for that, but you remained loyal to the hot dog guy.

But then there was Bruce, acting like he was the savior from his kids that kept annoying you even though he wasn't any better than any of his kids, he was one of the worst in terms of how annoying he was.

He was starting to compete with Dick for the first spot on your list, which you didn't like since you just wanted to be alone, or with Duke and Jason.

Like he would keep on calling you kid and other nicknames you heard him give to his sons over the years, which made you sick because it reminded you of when you were little and that your biggest wish was to also get a nickname like your brothers and sisters and spend time with him as your father even if he never paid any actual attention to you.

But what you hated most was how he always smiled softly at you, even when you tried to kick him away and he would just grab your ankle like it was nothing, like you were his favorite child. Like he didn't tell you that he would never be a father to you when you gave him a father's day card when you were 12 and trying to bond with him.

Looking at you with so much love and adoration, making you disgusted since he was the same man who once looked at you with disgust and hatred just for entering his office because you needed his signature for something.

The same man who clearly told you to not expect him to treat you like his child since you weren't. You were just an annoying kid who had to come to his house since no one else wanted to take you in.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked with love, refusing to forget about everything he did just because you were a child of someone he hated.

You understood why Bruce hated your mother, you couldn't force everyone to like what you like, but you still didn't understand why he had to ruin your life by keeping you with him.

He could have sent you to a foster home, he could have sent you to boarding school all your life so he could never see the face of the one he hates. But he didn't.

No, he decided to accept you in his home and ruined your life, making you miserable by keeping you there and then basically neglecting you and forgetting you even exist.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked at you with love when you were Spider, you had to take so many showers and had to scrub your skin so hard it turned red by how hard you tried to wash away his touch whenever he managed to actually touch you on either the shoulders or head.

You found comfort in Clark since he never forced you to interact with the Robins and Batman and understood why you hated them since you explained to him who you were but didn't tell him everything.

He did annoy you whenever he tried to suggest you to come with him to Metropolis even after you explained that you couldn't just move to another city right in the middle of the school year.

Moreover you were still a minor and you would need Bruce's consent, which you refused to ask since you refused to acknowledge that he was supposed to be your legal guardian.

Plus you always had fun with his kids when they were around since they would throw you in the air and catch you, making you laugh like crazy since their throw was like making you fly for like 2 minutes before catching you.

Conner was more fun to be around because he understood what you were going through since he also had problems with Superman when the kryptonian refused to accept the clone as his son.

Plus he always made the best jokes and made you laugh whenever you would have a bad day after seeing your legal guardian and his kids having a fun outing together while you were at the Manor since they didn't even remember you existed.

Or when you had a bad dance practice and almost destroyed your pointe shoes with your strength because you thought you weren't good enough to be a ballet dancer which spiraled to thinking that because of you not being good at dancing then you weren't good enough to be recognised by your legal guardian and his family.

He was more like an older brother than Dick, Jason and Tim ever were for you. And you didn't even care, you loved him as a brother and loved hanging out with him.

Jon was nice but he was also friends with Damian and you didn't really spend that much time with him because of that. You were scared Damian would be with him and you didn't want to see the evil spawn.

But the times you did hang out with him were nice, he always brought cake that his grandparents made and shared it with you while you listened to him talk about whatever he wanted.

He was fun and very nice but you weren't used to hanging around a small teen who actually wanted to be with you and actively seeked you out for your attention.

You were more used to a small teen who would glare at you and attack you if you dared do anything, even just breathing in his direction, the scars on your arms and back proved that.

But you never said anything to Jon about what his best friend did to you, you didn't want Jon to feel like he had to choose between two sides.

And you knew he would choose Damian's side, no one ever chose your side. You knew no one would even dare to be by your side.

Well after a while of going to missions with Clark and him letting you do most of the work as training with his close by to make sure you wouldn't get hurt, you were finally going on a relatively simple mission with Conner and unfortunately with Jason.

You knew Conner didn't want him there but he probably got Batman to convince Clark and him, so you didn't say anything to him about Jason being there and just stayed by his side while you were in the small ship.

The whole ride was spent in silence, only stopped whenever Conner would check the coordinates or by the sound of you fixing the web shooters to make sure they wouldn't go haywire when you were fighting.

You finally landed in the spot where you were supposed to start your mission, near the villain's lair, if you could call it that since it was an unused bunker a group of cultists found and are now living there, which made you get down eagerly since you wanted to finally do a mission without Clark's supervision.

But your excitement immediately died when you saw Stephanie waiting for you there, making you let out a loud string of curses.

And yes, you did ignore the message on your phone from Clark that said 'language' and just walked past Stephanie and Jason, just wanting to get the mission done and go home with Conner.

Plus he did promise you his grandmother's best pie if you finished the mission and you could not pass up the opportunity of getting another slice of that delicious pie.

As you walked up to the lair with Conner, you patted him on the back before standing in front of the door as Stephanie tried to open it by picking the lock. You waited exactly 10 seconds for Stephanie to unlock the door before pushing her away, kicking the door down with your strength since she was taking too long for your liking.

You didn't even care if they were watching, you just glared at them all in silence for a few seconds before they were able to hear you say.

"Stay here and you two don't follow me, Conner don't try anything or I will tell Clark"

Then, right in front of them you became invisible before walking off, the only sound they could hear were of your sneakers walking down the metallic stairs.

(Switch Pov to Stephanie)

Stephanie knew she wasn't the best person. She knew of her father's evil doings and she knew she wasn't the best Robin or the best vigilante.

But when she saw Spider, she thought that they were perfect. They were always helping people and never too busy for everyone.

She, at first, didn't even know who Spider is because of how busy she was with her life and her vigilante job. But when she saw Tim researching them, she was amazed.

She knew there were other vigilantes in the city, it was a big city but she didn't know about a vigilante who didn't fight big villains like the others.

She saw Spider helping old ladies, stopping small gangs from forming by helping the teens and just being an image for the people to rely on.

She knew Bruce stopped high grade villains like Joker or others but Spider, Spider was different.

They didn't fight Joker, no they just fought the criminals who would bother people that couldn't do anything to stop them.

She admired the vigilante and wanted to be friends with them, maybe one day she could convince them to join her and her family at the Manor.

But what she didn't understand even though she craved to know was why they hated her. Why they hated her and the rest of her family.

She tried so much, she craved their validation so much that she trained so hard and tried so many times to interact with them.

But she would keep on getting ignored or she wouldn't be able to follow them by the speed of them swinging or when they walk on walls to avoid her.

She cried so many nights at the thought of her idol, the one person she wanted, no craved validation would hate her so much when she can't even remember or know why they hate her so much.

But when she heard of Jason joining Spider for their first mission, she was so jealous that she used the bat-computer to check where Spider's mission was supposed to be and followed them in another ship.

She wanted to show to her idol how brave she was, so maybe they will praise her and laugh like when they're with Conner, Clark and Jon.

Plus she wanted to wipe Jason's smirk off his face since he kept on bragging about going to a mission with Spider for days and how he was the favorite since compared to the rest of them, he was the one who Spider stayed the longest before leaving or throwing him off the roof.

But all her excitement and hope died the minute she heard Spider curse when they saw her, her head slowly lowering as she tried not to cry.

And when Spider told them to stay there, god she wanted to protest but strangely Jason held her back and just told her to hack in the security system to watch Spider with the cameras.

She didn't understand why she couldn't follow Spider to help them but did as Jason told her to, watching all the cameras with him and seeing henchmen getting knocked out or tased by Spider even though they weren't visible.

Plus she found it hilarious when a goon got knocked out by a flying metal tray and the others just stood there confused before also getting knocked out by a taser or a punch then getting tied up on a wall or floor.

As she watched the security feed, she noticed that Spider entered the boss's sanctuary, filled with small and useless artifacts that the Justice League used to trace the villain so they could capture him and stop him before he tried to grow his cult or summon some demon.

She kept watching and trying to find a camera inside the sanctuary, starting to get annoyed and also panicking a little because if she couldn't see anything in the sanctuary then she couldn't call for backup if something went wrong, especially by how far Spider was, and even if they were going to help them, it would take too long.

She kept on switching cameras and trying to hack into anything that was electronic, getting more frustrated as time passed since she could see the villain approaching the sanctuary with someone next to him, making her confused since he wasn't supposed to have partners that helped him.

She managed to switch a camera in time to see Joker next to the villain, the blood in her face draining as she stared at the clown on her screen in silence, her eyes wide like bugs and no sound could be heard from all three of the teens.

She went back to where Spider was and noticed a camera was on, to which Stephanie immediately tried to warn them by moving the camera a bit but it was too late and both villains entered the sanctuary and closed the door so Spider wouldn't be able to leave without getting noticed by the cultist and the clown.

She watched the feed without moving any part of her body in terror that if she even moved then the two villains would notice Spider and do something horrible to them.

She gasped when she saw Joker suddenly pulling out a gun and pointing it at where Spider was supposed to be, not managing to hear what he was saying since the cameras were old and didn't register any sounds, plus his psycho-smile made it difficult for her to read his lips so she couldn't even use that to her advantage.

As Stephanie kept watching, not noticing that she was holding her breath by how focused she was on Joker then cursed loudly when she saw the screen turn black, throwing the tablet in anger as she got up, making signs for Jason and Conner to follow as she ran into the lair.

She quickly jumped over any henchmen on the ground, needing to get to Spider immediately and save them.

She had to help. She had to stop that psychopath from hurting them. She needed to protect them.

As she ran, her vision was starting to get blurry by the tears threatening to fall as she ran. As she ran, she suddenly got blocked by the metal door that was blocking her from saving Spider.

She immediately called Conner, wanting to use his strength to open the door but unfortunately he couldn't even throw a decent punch that could leave a dent on it.

Even after a few tries Conner didn't do anything so she started to try to open it by using the panel next to the door, her frustration already growing by how useless he was.

So Stephanie sent Conner outside to call Superman and Batman while she and Jason tried to open the door as they waited for the two heroes to arrive.

As the three of them waited for Batman and Superman to come, Jason and Stephanie saw something coming out the door that made their blood cold.

Some form of gas kept on coming out the door and the only thing they were able to hear were some noises of something or someone getting hit and coughing.

Stephanie did smell the gas, trying to pinpoint what the gas was but she couldn't recognise it since the only thing she could detect was that it had a sweet smell, which was nothing like all the gasses she ever smelled before.

The only thing she knew is that the gas wasn't the usual gas Joker uses on his victims since she wasn't laughing or having a maniacal smile but she still couldn't pinpoint what the gas was.

Stephanie stayed silent, trying not to show how terrified she was while Jason was trying to kick down the door while yelling curses directed at Joker.

Conner was outside the lair to use the ship and communicate with Batman and Superman, knowing they were both on different missions and he couldn't fly to both of them to ask for help, especially since he found out that he couldn't even fly, making him even more desperate for them to come.

As they waited Stephanie tried to make Jason stop punching the door when she saw his knuckles bleed, not wanting another one of her siblings get hurt because of her incompetence before looking at the door.

The blood drained from her face, her knees giving up on her and making her fall to the ground as she heard a scream, the cold metal floor the only thing she could feel at the moment.

She knew the scream couldn't be of Joker. He heard him yell before and this scream wasn't his. She hoped for every god as she tried to hack the panel of the door, even though she already tried before, with a bit of difficulty, her vision starting to blur as tears started to fall and her hands trembling as she was trying to ignore the multiple screams she kept hearing.

She couldn't let Spider get hurt, she should've been there to help them. They didn't deserve the pain and hurt she and almost all of the Robins went through because of Joker.

She stopped when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder, the realization that she was just messing up the wires and making it even more difficult for the door to be opened when she looked at her hands tangled in between the wires.

She looked up at the man and visibly relaxed, completely giving out on the floor as Jason helped her by cutting the wires tangled in her hands while Batman examined what was happening as Conner explained what he knew, Superman next to him and waiting for Batman to give orders since he knew that if he acted irrationally then Spider would be in danger.

(Switch to Bruce's POV)

Bruce knew he wasn't a good person and a hero like Clark and Diana, that's why he called himself a vigilante since heroes save people and stop criminals but he couldn't save everyone.

Sometimes he was too late and he couldn't save someone innocent that unfortunately crossed ways with a villain or a gang.

Another thing Bruce knew was that he wasn't the best father because he let his kids get hurt by going on patrols with him as a vigilante, not thinking about what could happen to them if they fought someone too strong or if he suddenly decided to make them stop being a vigilante by saying that it was to protect them, which made everyone sneak out to be a vigilante.

He had to bury his children too early because of vigilantism and couldn't help his son when he was being trained by the League of Assassins.

But when he saw Spider for the first time, seeing a child that looked no older than 14, maybe 15, made him think that maybe, maybe he could help this one become the best version of themselves.

And if he was good enough, he could be a father again and get another child saved from the darkness and evil that surrounds Gotham.

Even if the only evil Spider saw was him and his family.

One thing he hated was that he couldn't understand why Spider absolutely loathed him and everyone of the vigilantes who live or have lived under his roof.

He couldn't understand why and even after checking every mission he ever did that included helping kids/teens in Gotham, nothing gave him a lead as to why Spider hated him.

And the worst thing was that Spider decided, out of all the heroes and vigilantes in the world, and especially in the Justice League, to trust and get close to Clark.

To Clark! His enemy! He was supposed to be the one teaching Spider to control their strength! He was supposed to be the one laughing with them while eating hot dogs and sharing funny stories of stupid people they say during patrol.

(He knows about it thanks to a small camera he put on Clark’s costume after he found out that he and Spider got close)

He didn't trust letting them go on a mission even if Clark told him that they could and that they were ready.

He thought it was too early and that they weren't trained to fight villains like he and the others fight everyday, especially with Conner since he wasn't perfectly trained so he managed to convince Clark, with much manipulation and guilt tripping, to let Jason come with them if there was trouble.

He didn't know Stephanie would also be there, especially since he didn't talk about it in the batcave about the mission but he already guessed that Jason bragged about going so she also went to also see her idol, knowing about her obsession with Spider to which he didn't say anything but encourage it with his own obsession towards the arachnid vigilante.

Not that he minded, two of his kids were better than none and Spider needed all the protection necessary even if the mission was one of the easiest possible. Especially since he chose it as a way to make sure Spider wouldn't be in actual danger.

But the moment he got a message from Conner explaining that Spider was in danger because of Joker, someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, made his world crumble as he ran to where his jet was, needing to get there as soon as possible.

He couldn't let another person, no he couldn't let Spider get hurt or worse, killed, by the clown bastard.

He needed to save them, he needed to stop that fucking clown and he couldn't let Clark beat him to it. He knew that if he was the first one to save them, to help them then they would trust him more.

He couldn't lose that huge advantage to Clark or it would be impossible to even be able to get Spider to trust him or any of his kids. Which was already difficult but he saw them being more comfortable with Duke and Jason.

He arrived almost 3 seconds before Clark did, even though the kryptonian made his presence known since he made a crater at his landing and looked extremely infuriated as he walked towards Conner.

Bruce was already next to the boy and listening to his explanation on what happened, his usual frown that always made him seem annoyed with everything since he didn't want to show that he was scared.

He listened to superboy as he explained what happened in detail as they walked in the lair, a small smile appearing on his face whenever he saw henchmen and cultists knocked out and all tied up in Spider's web.

As they walked he noticed Conner and Clark weren't flying even if the space was big enough for them to even float, so he approached the boy, knowing it couldn't be Clark since the kryptonian was flying just two seconds ago, to see if he had anything on him and saw a familiar glowing green stuck to the boy's shirt.

He quickly grabbed it and put it in a container to block its effect since he knew it was kryptonite, the result showing on both kryptonians because they now could fly again.

He showed the container containing the kryptonite when both Supers looked at him "it was on Superboy's shirt, not sure who put it on him" he explained, now confused but especially enraged to who dared to interfere with the mission and put Spider in danger.

When they arrived at the door he saw something that made him frown more but also worried. He saw Stephanie continuing to tangle her hands in the wires of the panel next to the door, probably trying to open it but he saw her shaking and sobbing, making him understand that the girl was too focused on trying to save the vigilante inside the room that she couldn't focus on the task she was doing.

He then turned to Jason and saw him kicking the door and punching it, small dents on it to show how much strength he was putting in it and his bloody knuckles showing for how long he was doing that.

Bruce quickly checked on Stephanie and Jason before telling Superman to get rid of the door, the silence around them being too suspicious and dangerous since almost 2 minutes before they arrived both Stephanie, Conner and Jason could hear screaming from inside the room.

Dividers were made by @cafekitsune so please check them out because they do amazing stuff.

TAG LIST

@24hrsoflanii @aclsrc @alias-sam @alishii @amber-content @andrasia @arkita-shadow @arlynared @ash1 @badussyussysstuff @bbibby

@bloobewy @bluemidnightmelodies @bp-the-chilly @cattioo @chimamire-no-sakura @c0lf10r @coquette-porcelain-doll

@crazy4chickennuggets @crispymoonperfection @deadmanscalling @deathbynarcisstick @definitely-not-sammi @degenerates-posts @demonicbunny01

@dreamsarenicer @duckybuiltwrong @gabriiiiiiii @eafv2323 @em8rin @evilcado @flyingpansaurus @gaozorous-rex-blog

@glitterybarbarianstudent @generosityheart @geminis93 @huhuhhuhh @heartstitch5 @heart-an0n @hangryweeb @imaginarydreams @iiiitsfoxie

@i-never-saw-snow @i-3at-kidz @keencoffeefox @imsirius01 @itsberrydreemurstuff @jj28blob @jjsmeowthie

@kiyomi-uchiha777 @lara20aral @kykyisunavailable @kitty-chan33 @luffys-dixkridder @lucadeeznutz @loserwithnofriends @lavender-moony @magdalenacarmila

2K notes · View notes

eggfriedricedwasian · 3 months ago

Text

Ive seen things where people have kids who are dark haired and eyed at birth and turn light haired and eyes when they get older or vice versa.

I headcanon Janet with blonde hair and green eyes and Jack with black hair blue eyes.

Im using this on Tim.

Tim was born with blonde hair green eyes and looked like Jack as a baby, but when he got older, around 4ish, he turned black haired and blue eyed and started looking like Janet.

His parents were both in a love hate relationship with this change. On one hand they want him to have their colors and look like them...

On the other hand they miss when he used to look like the other parent.

Just imagine:

Tim going through old pictures in his gazillion boxes of pictures, the family is helping him.

"Who's this baby? Steph's?"

Someone asks. They look over to see Duke holding a photo of a blonde baby, smiling a gummy smile with curly blonde hair and green emerald eyes looking brighter than a kryptonian in the sun.

"No.. That's.. who is that baby?"

Steph asked very slowly. Guess they forgot to tell Duke that Steph's daughter was a sensitive topic amongst them.

"Steph gave up her daughter at birth, Duke. And it was a traumatic experience for her so we don't talk about it."

Bruce informed.

"O-Oh! I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know"

She waved him off with a smile, but everyone still wondered who the baby was.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

Tim replied from inside his closet. He walked out upon no reply, setting down another box filled with camera equipment and saw all their confused faces.

"Who's baby is this?"

Duke turned the picture and Tim looked at it closer.

"Oh!"

Tim smiled, taking it and putting it next to his face.

"It's me!"

He smiled just as bright as the baby, which happened to be him, in the picture.

"WHAT!?"

The family, including Alfred, stared jaw dropped shocked at the guy.

The baby in the photo, smiling oh so brightly like the sun, green eyed, blonde curly hair, with the cutest little red polka dot dress on, was Tim, who had straight-ish black hair and blue eyes, didn't smile as brightly as the moon, who only gave smirks and grins, and was wearing a long sleeves under a Limp Bizkit t shirt with very baggy jeans.

"Yeah.. Genetics! Ya know..?"

"Explain."

Jason demanded.

"Well, up until I was 4-ish I had my dad's face but my mom's green eyes and blonde curly hair, but then it turned black and my eyes turned blue and straight-ish and I started looking more like my mom."

He rubbed his neck sheepishly.

That started the searching of Tim's baby photos. They'd organize the Bat photos and the hero photos later, right now they needed to find all of the blonde hair green eyed baby Tim photos.

It was no secret that Tim was trans, so when all the photos of a little girl in dresses and skirts showed up they weren't phased. It was hilarious to see all the pouty faced pictured of Tim in dresses.

The photos did get put up around the house with Tim's (begrudgingly(willingly)) permission.

Dick wanted him to bleach his hair but he refuses to damage his hair.

But also imagine this:

The older that Tim gets, the blonde comes back. He still looks like his mom, but his slowly starts turning blonde again, and his eyes start having a greener tint/hue to it.

The first to notice was Bart.

Bart was braiding Tim's rather ling hair when he points it out.

"Hey Tim, your hair's got some blonde in it!"

"What?"

Tim runs to the mirror and looks in it. Yep. Sure enough his hair was growing some blonde strands. And now that he looked, his eyes looked more green than it's normal blue.

"Oh my gosh.."

He calls Bruce.

Bruce who was in a JL meeting.

"I'm in a meeting."

"B! Im going blonde again! Ans my eyes! They're turning green!"

Tim says, somewhat panicked, somewhat excited.

Bruce blanks. Because.. what. What do you mean his baby boy, who he loved staring at the blonde and green eyed baby pictures of, was resorting back to that color.

"...really?"

He asks very hesitantly at first.

"Yeah!"

Tim turns his head down, showing his scalp. And there, right there, were several prominent, yet blended, strands of blonde growing in a curl pattern amongst the straight black locks.

Bruce just about cries right then and there.

Because then Tim does a close up of his eyes. And yep. His eyes have a but of green in them.

"That's great, sweetie. But I'm in a meeting right now."

"Oh! Sorry!"

He hangs up.

Bruce doesn't.

He's still stuck on the call smiling like a sappy parent whose kid just did something so small yet so touching. There were tears in his eyes and none of the JL knew what to do.

#dc #tim drake #batfam #batfam headcanons #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake headcanon #jason todd #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #bart allen #Tim Drake has curly hair #Tim Drake is blonde #Tim Drake has green eyes #i will die on this hill #trans tim drake

594 notes · View notes

terrestrialnoob · 2 months ago

Text

Not Martha Wayne stood in the foyer of Wayne Manor. She looked exactly like the painting in the den, same dress, hair, and makeup. Bruce had spent hours staring at it. She turned to look at him when he entered.

"Sorry for entering your home without permission." She said with a small bow of her head.

"Why do you look like that?" Bruce said, getting further into the room, but still giving her space.

"In all honesty, I was hoping it would make you more likely to say yes." She gave him a hopeful smile.

Bruce lifted en eyebrow, "I don't appreciate it."

"Then I apologize." She took a step towards him, dress flowing longer, hair growing dark, flesh and bone shifting under greying skin. Standing before him now was an easily ten foot tall skeleton-thin being. Long hair draping out of a wide hat with hanging veil shading a thin face with glowing red eyes. Her dress had turned Victorian in style, but was open from her neck to her waist. Her ribs were on display, but more importantly, a glowing, pulsing orb of red energy in her center. "Is this preferred?"

"Yes." Bruce didn't feel any more comfortable but it was preferred. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"You may call me... Amity, and I have a favor to ask you." She flared her dress and when it fell back, there were kids on the ground. One looked to be around five, carefully holding a baby to his torso, and one that looked around three, standing protectively in front of the other two. "I need a babysitter."

Bruce stared at the children. "A... babysitter? And you chose me?"

"You have a glowing track record." Amity said, a gentile smile spread across her face and Bruce can see the photo she'd been looking at when he'd gotten there. It was of most of his children, he'd taken it himself.

He sighed and looked at the children next to her, they hadn't moved, the older two still positioned to protect the baby. "Who's kids are they?"

"Mine."

"They look human." Bruce stated but it was a question.

"They have human - no, they had human parents, but they were born in me."

Bruce looked at them, the older two glaring at him, the third too small to know what's happening. "How long would they be in my care?"

"Not too long."

"What does that mean to a being like you?"

Amity actually looked surprised by the question. "I don't know. I supposed even hundred years is not too long for a being like me. But that is not what I intended from the statement. You will not have them for more than - a year. Maybe a bit longer, if things become... difficult."

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Is there anything specific I should know? Any dietary needs or special powers I should be made aware of?"

"They will be fully human and need only what a human needs until they come in contact with the Realms -my origin place- again."

Bruce nodded. "Okay. I will take care of them until you return for them."

She laughed a strange echoing laugh that sent a shiver through the entire house. "I know we can count on you, Martha said as much."

"Martha?"

"She is loyal to my sister, both recommended you. And we thank you, Dark Knight." Amity began to fade at her edges, her dress turned to rotting leaves, her bones crumbling to dust, until there was nothing but the three children left behind.

#dpxdc #bruce wayne #amity park #dan phantom #dani phantom #danny fenton #fanfic #fic prompt #my writing

444 notes · View notes

et7432 · 4 months ago

Text

Not Without Permission

(Klaus Mikaelson)

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Elena and Damon leave (Y/N) behind at the last untouched safehouse in Mystic Falls, the one place where the Originals can't just waltz in. It's a temporary peace, and they need her to stay put while they go after an ancient artifact that could change everything. Before they go, they make it crystal clear—no one gets inside, no matter what. The stakes are too high. But when a familiar, dangerous face shows up at the door—Klaus Mikaelson himself—(Y/N)’s calm is about to be tested. Charming, persuasive, and never without a few tricks up his sleeve, Klaus doesn’t take no for an answer. Will she keep the door locked, or will the deadly allure of the Original hybrid be enough to crack her resolve?

I pouted quietly, as I watched Damon and Elena leaving without me. It was my way of masking the yearning for adventure that I couldn't join in on.

"Listen carefully. Your house is the only place in town that the Originals cannot enter. No one can enter without an invitation, no exceptions - not even if someone is bleeding on your doorstep," Damon warns.

"I understand, Damon. Safe haven, magical barrier, invite-only."

Elena struggled with another duffel bag and hauled it to Damon's car trunk.

"It's true, (y/n). We can't risk it."

"Then let me come with you." I walked down the porch steps. "I've been researching those artifacts for weeks. I could be of assistance-"

"No." Elena slammed the trunk. "You need to stay here where it's safe. Plus, don't you have that history report about the 1920s due?"

"Seriously? You're using homework as an excuse while you're out hunting for ancient magical objects?"

"I'd rather do homework than hunt for ancient magical objects that could get you killed," Damon called out as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Elena gave me a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

I watched them get inside the car, frustration boiling within me. The engine roared to life, and Damon rolled down his window.

"Remember - don't open the door for anyone!" His voice carried across the lawn.

"Of course, dad!" I replied sarcastically, putting all my teenage angst into those three words.

The car disappeared down the street, leaving me alone on my supposedly safe front lawn, feeling like a useless researcher stuck in some supernatural time-out.

The desk lamp cast a harsh glow across my laptop screen. The cursor blinked against the white document - mocking me with its steady rhythm. Only my name and the date stared back: "(y/n) Matthews, October 15th."

The cicadas droned outside my window, their endless chirping a symphony of late-night procrastination. I drummed my fingers against the desk, scrolling through my research notes for the thousandth time. Prohibition. Speakeasies. The Jazz Age. My brain refused to string two coherent sentences together about any of it.

I glanced at my phone. 9:47 PM. No messages from Elena or Damon.

"The 1920s represented a period of..." I typed, then deleted it. Too generic.

"In the wake of World War I..." Backspace, backspace, backspace.

The cicadas grew louder, their sound bleeding through my closed window. I pushed back from my desk and paced the room, my sock-covered feet silent against the hardwood floor. My history textbook lay open on the bed, its pages filled with black and white photos of flappers and Model T's.

"This would be so much easier if I could just interview an actual person who lived through it," I muttered, throwing myself back into my desk chair. The leather creaked under my weight. "But no - stay home, (y/n). Do your homework, (y/n). Do the responsible thing, (y/n). Don't get killed by thousand-year-old vampires, (y/n)."

The flashing line on my screen taunted me. I couldn't help imagining what adventures Elena and Damon were having - undoubtedly more exciting than watching an empty screen mock my progress.

I slumped forward, letting my brow make contact with the smooth desktop surface. Overhead, my study light buzzed softly, a constant electrical hum that matched my brain's static.

The peaceful stillness of the night shattered as three sharp knocks echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my chest.

More knocks followed, each one deliberate and measured. I knew it wasn't Damon's impatient pounding or someone in need of help.

I descended the stairs cautiously, avoiding the creaky spots I had memorized long ago. The atrium light cast eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.

"Good evening," came a refined voice from beyond the door. "Forgive the late hour, but I'm searching for Elena Gilbert. I was told she might be here."

As soon as I heard his words, the hair on my neck stood on end and a shiver ran down my spine. I immediately recognized that voice.

“Well, she’s not here,” I said firmly, glad my voice didn’t waver. "And even if she was, she wouldn't want to talk to a vampire like you."

The man's chuckle turned into a low growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know who you are." I stepped back from the door, though the barrier spell made the distance unnecessary. "And I know you can't come in."

A low chuckle drifted through the wood. "Clever girl. Elena mentioned you. Haven't I seen you before a few times? - the studious one, always with her nose in a book. Tell me, what are you reading these days?"

"Nothing that would interest you." My fingers gripped the banister behind me, steadying my shaking legs.

"On the contrary, I find human persistence fascinating. The way you dig through dusty tomes and piece together fragments of the past..." His voice moved along the porch, closer to the window. "Speaking of the past, I hear you're writing about the 1920s. I could tell you stories that would make your paper absolutely..." A tap against the wooden door. "Riveting."

My throat went dry as I realized the truth - he had been alive during those times. He probably danced in speakeasies and roamed the gas-lit streets. But how did he know about my writing? Was he watching me earlier, lurking and listening to my conversation with Elena and Damon?

"I have no interest in your stories," I said, trying to keep him talking. I knew Elena would want to know that he was back in town, but my phone was upstairs on my desk, out of reach.

"No? Shame. I particularly enjoyed Chicago during Prohibition. The music, the fashion... the absolute lawlessness of it all. Your textbooks couldn't possibly capture the true spirit of the era."

Each word dripped with casual menace, reminding me of every story I'd heard about his victims. The countless lives he'd ended with that same conversational tone.

"Why are you really here?" I forced steel into my voice, channeling Elena's courage.

"Direct. I like that." Another tap, this time back at the door. "Very well. Since Elena's not answering her phone, perhaps you could pass along a message?"

My hand trembled over the doorknob. Every survival instinct screamed to run upstairs, but a deeper part of me knew - if Klaus wanted to deliver a message, he'd find a way. At least the barrier spell would protect me.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Klaus stood on my porch, hands clasped behind his back. The porch light caught the angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more a statue than man. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" He cocked his head. "Most humans who know what I am wouldn't dare."

I rested on the door frame. "The barrier spell works both ways. You can't get in, and I can't accidentally step out."

"Clever too." He took a single step closer, stopping just short of the invisible line. "Though I must say, opening doors to monsters - even with magical protection - shows questionable judgment."

"You said you had a message." I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed." His eyes locked onto mine, and I fought the urge to look away. "But now I'm far more intrigued by you. Standing here, trembling yet defiant. Tell me, what makes someone choose to face their fears instead of hiding from them?"

"Maybe I'm tired of hiding." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the one left behind to stay safe while my friends risk their lives."

Klaus's smile widened, showing teeth. "Now that's honesty I can appreciate."

I swallowed hard, regretting my outburst. Every story I'd heard about Klaus started with someone letting their guard down, sharing too much.

"The message." I squared my shoulders. "What do you want me to tell Elena?"

"Straight to business?" He traced a finger along the door frame, stopping at the barrier's edge. "And here I thought we were having such a lovely chat about your academic pursuits."

"It's late, and I have homework to finish."

"Ah yes, your paper." His hand dropped to his side. "Though I suspect your mind's no longer on dance halls and bootleggers."

"Klaus." I forced myself to sound more direct. "The message?"

His expression shifted, playfulness vanishing like smoke. "Tell her I found what we discussed in Chicago. The item she's searching for? It's not what she thinks. And if she continues down this path..." He leaned forward, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Well, let's just say some treasures are better left buried."

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"Consider it a courtesy warning. I do so hate to see wasted potential." He stepped back, adjusting his jacket cuffs. "Whether that potential belongs to Elena or yourself remains to be seen."

Goosebumps appeared on my skin from his words. "I'll tell her."

"My thanks for being such a reliable messenger bird." He gave a slight bow and turned his back to me walking away.

Klaus's silhouette started blending into the dimness of nightfall along the asphalt street, an impulsive need shot up my spine making my heart hammer against its cage; an acknowledgement of shared knowledge perhaps? Against all better judgement and advice whispering urgently for silence in my ear, I called out to him,

"Klaus!"

"Wait." As I called out his name, Klaus froze in place, his body still and tense as if carved from a block of cold, white marble. His face revealed a struggle, with furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he wrestled with conflicting emotions.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his determined steps leading him back to my home.

The sound of his shoes crunching against the gravel path echoed through the quiet evening air as he strode purposefully towards me. Klaus was back on my porch as close to me as he could get this time without touching the invisible barrier.

"Yes?" His tone was casual, but his expression remained unreadable as he took in my call. Curiosity laced his low baritone voice. Despite the tension in his posture, he exuded a sense of grace and anticipation with a slight turn of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering... if you could tell me about the 1920s?" I gesture helplessly. "But you'd have to stay on the porch, obviously."

His lips curved into an amused smile. "Curiosity wins over caution? How delightfully human."

"You can sit." I backed away from the door. "Let me just-"

I darted to the living room, dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs from our dining set. Its legs scraped across the floor as I pushed it through the doorway, over the threshold.

Klaus caught the chair with one hand, positioning it with casual grace. "Such hospitality."

"Can I get you something to drink?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Not... I mean, obviously not blood, but..."

"Scotch, if you have it." He settled into the chair. "Your father keeps a decent collection, as I can tell."

I froze. "How did you-"

"The cabinet right at the end of the hallway," He looked straight ahead. "I make it my business to know these things."

I found myself walking to our alcohol cabinet, hands shaking as I reached for the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I poured a generous measure into a glass.

When I returned, Klaus looked almost relaxed and at ease—something I had never seen in him before. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn’t take any chances with the unpredictable original. I quickly put the glass down on the ground and grabbed an umbrella from near the front door, using it to push the glass past the barrier.

“Really, love? A bit overly cautious?” he remarked, accepting the scotch as he leaned down to pick up the glass.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be too cautious around you, Klaus,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

I paused in disbelief as the reality sank in: an old vampire, let alone an original, was willing to help me with my school paper. "Hold on, I need to grab a few things," I mumbled under my breath before quickly climbing the stairs to retrieve my laptop and phone.

I also snatched a thick blanket, anticipating the cool air outside at this time of night.

Making my way back down the stairs, I bundled myself in the warm blanket and settled in the doorway, tucking my legs under for added coziness. With my laptop balanced on my lap, I turned to face him.

He sat across from me with a playful smile on his face, his words laced with flirtatiousness. "You are a most intriguing creature," he declared, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

My gaze traveled over his handsome features, admiring every detail - from the sharp angle of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Feeling a blush spread across my cheeks, I cleared my throat nervously. "Sh-should we get started?" I stammered.

"By all means," Klaus responded, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip of the scotch. "But where would you like to start? The Roaring Twenties were quite an eventful decade, after all."

I chewed at my bottom lip momentarily, scanning the information I had already collected on my screen. "Gangsters and speakeasies," I finally said. "Prohibition and the rise of organized crime."

His mouth quivered upwards slightly into a smile. "A fascinating period indeed." He leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the relaxed gentleman. Yet, there was an ominous stillness about him that contradicted his comfortable appearance.

He began to speak, describing the decadence and vibrancy of the 1920s with a vividness that only someone who lived through it could possess. His stories were filled with tales of moonshine and jazz, of raucous parties and hushed backroom deals.

As he spun his colorful narratives, I found myself increasingly drawn in by his storytelling, my homework temporarily forgotten. His voice wove a tapestry of the past so tangible that I felt as though I could almost touch it.

"There was this feeling in the air," he tried to explain with a far-off look in his eyes. "A desperation...a recklessness. It was as if everyone knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff - but they were too caught up in their own enjoyment to care."

Then he shifted gears and tales of extravagance turned grimmer as he began narrating about the violent underbelly of the age - amoral gangsters with Tommy guns ruling cityscapes through fear and intimidation, corruption permeating every layer of society.

His violent accounts of the past made my blood run cold reminding me exactly who – or rather 'what' – Klaus really was - an ancient supernatural creature capable of unspeakable horrors, who had lived through centuries of human history, who had seen - no, done - the very worst humanity had to offer.

Yet, for all that he was and all that I knew him to be, in that moment, as he sat back in that old wooden chair recounting a bygone era with an almost nostalgic air about him – Klaus seemed startlingly human.

Hours passed and the moon climbed higher in the sky. The cold crept into my bones, stiffening my fingers against the keyboard. But I had too many questions and Klaus seemed more than willing to answer them.

A sense of camaraderie began to settle between us, one that made me forget for a few minutes about the inconceivable dangers associated with his kind. The night felt less threatening with Klaus’ presence - his tales from the past bridging the divide as we sat together under the chilling autumn wind sharing stories – his so supernaturally old and mine so humanly young.

As the night began to fade, a tinge of sadness crept into my heart, knowing that this evening was coming to an end. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I faced Klaus. His striking eyes, glowing like liquid gold in the dim light, were fixated on me once again. His eyes held a vast depth of knowledge, and for a moment, I was entranced by their mysteries.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, finishing the last sip of his scotch.

My eyes still locked onto his and I shook my head slowly, a soft smile playing on my lips. More than anything, I wanted to indulge in this moment just a bit longer.

"No," I replied, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of my laptop. "That...that's enough for now."

He chuckled softly, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid from his glass and placing it softly on the porch floor. Rising up from the chair, he stretched subtly, the muscles rippling under his attire creating a muscular silhouette against the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Very well then," he said, stepping towards me. He extended his hand to help me up from the cold wooden floor. As I reached out to accept it, a spark seemed to dart between us, potent and electrifying. I recoiled my hand before grabbing his realizing that he could pull me out from the protective barrier. I saw him frown for a moment but he recovered quickly as if it didn’t bother him.

“I should leave now, little creature,” he says almost endearingly.

"Wait." I scrambled to get him to stay in some way a little longer. "What about the message for Elena?"

"Ah yes." He paused at the edge of the porch steps. "Don’t worry your pretty mind about Elena’s business.”

"You're not going to explain what you meant about the item she's searching for?"

"Some discoveries are best made firsthand." He turned back, shadows playing across his features. "Besides, I've given you plenty to work with - both for your paper and for Elena."

My fingers clutched the laptop tighter. "Why help me at all?"

"Perhaps I enjoy nurturing young minds." His voice carried back through the darkness. "Or perhaps I simply appreciate anyone willing to look beyond the surface of history's official narrative."

My lips parted, ready to speak, but before I could even form a word, Klaus had vanished into thin air without uttering a simple 'goodbye'. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh, despite everything that had just transpired. I chuckled softly under my breath as I stood alone staring out at the vacant street from my front door.

I remained motionless for a while, hearing the cicadas pick up their song again, questioning whether the strange meeting had been real.

His empty scotch glass remained on the porch, catching moonlight like a diamond in the rough. I stared at it, mind racing through every detail of our conversation. Klaus's words about speakeasies, the hidden rooms, the secrets, crimes - they painted a vivid picture of the 1920s . But something nagged at me.

I pulled my phone out and opened my messages to Elena.

"Klaus was here. Said he found 'the item' you were looking for claims it's not what you think. Warning you about buried treasures?" My thumb hit over the send button.

The response came seconds later: "WHAT? Are you okay? Stay inside!"

"I'm fine. He couldn't cross the threshold." I glanced at the empty chair. "Elena, what's this item he mentioned?"

"Don't worry about that. We're turning around and heading back home now."

"It's late, I'm safe. He's gone." I looked at my laptop proud of the notes I'd taken. I set it aside on a table by the front door.

Elena's response buzzed through. "Be safe. We'll talk in a little bit. Lock everything."

"I will. Don't worry so much." I picked up the blanket ready to close the door.

But the empty scotch glass still sat on the porch I couldn't resist the urge to clean up.

"I really should bring that inside," I thought to myself, stepping over the threshold to grab it.

My fingers had barely closed around the glass when the air shifted. A rush of movement slammed me back against the house wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. Klaus's hands pressed on either side of my head, caging me in.

"Careful, love." His breath ghosted across my cheek. "Crossing thresholds can be dangerous business."

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You were waiting."

"Watching." His eyes traced my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "To see if temptation would overpower your better judgment once more."

"I just wanted the glass-" My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Fascinating." His thumb traced along my jawline, the touch feather-light yet electric. "Your heart's racing, but you're not trying to run."

I pressed my palms flat against the wall behind me, desperate for something solid to ground me. "Maybe I know it wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh, it would make all the difference." Klaus's other hand slid down to rest at the curve of my neck, his fingers cool against my pulse point. "The chase always adds such... excitement."

"Is that what this is to you? A game?"

"Life's a game, love. The trick is knowing which pieces to move." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught. "And when to take risks."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp scent of autumn leaves. Klaus's body blocked most of the porch light now, casting us both in shadow.

He spoke softly, his accent flowing over the words like smooth silk.

"What fascinates you more - the monster or the man?"

"I-" The word stuck in my throat as his fingers traced patterns on my skin. "Both. Neither. I don't know."

"Now that's honesty." He shifted closer, until barely a breath separated us. "Most humans choose one or the other. They either crave the darkness or desperately seek the light." His nose skimmed along my cheek. "But you... you see both, don't you? The artist and the killer. The teacher and the terror."

One of my hands found their way to his chest, but I couldn't tell if I meant to push him away or pull him closer. The fabric of his jacket was soft under my fingertips, hiding the immortal strength beneath.

My head was spinning, my thoughts scattered as Klaus's proximity overwhelmed me. I wanted to push him away, to run inside and lock the door behind me. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that a part of me was drawn to him, intrigued by his words and his touch.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Klaus's lips curved into a predatory smile. "But I am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Because you intrigue me."

I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my skin. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "I want to show you what real passion is, love. To open your eyes to a world beyond your mundane existence."

I couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that flickered within me at his words. But I refused to give in so easily.

"I know what passion is," I said stubbornly.

"Do you? Has anyone ever made your heart race like this?" Klaus's hand trailed down my neck and over my chest before resting on my waist.

I swallowed hard as he leaned in again, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispered against my lips.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't let myself succumb to him just yet.

"Who says I want that?" I challenged, trying not to let his nearness cloud my judgment.

"You do." His voice was low and confident. "You crave excitement and danger just as much as you fear it."

I wanted to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right. There was a part of me that longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of work, eat, and sleep.

"I'm not like you," I insisted, searching his eyes for some grain of understanding. Yet all I saw were galaxies of blue teasing me with unparalleled enigma.

His laughter echoed through the night, as soft and alluring as forbidden velvet. "Oh darling, nobody said you had to be." The fingers at my waist tightened slightly, pulling me inescapably closer. "All you need to be is... open."

"Open to what?" I whispered, my voice quivering, my heart hammered wildly against my chest.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, with a passion that spoke of centuries of longing. The glass slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the wooden planks beneath us. My hands found his jacket lapels, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved against mine with desperate intensity, every touch igniting fire beneath my skin.

My heart thundered against my ribs, matching the fierce rhythm of his immortal strength pressing against me. I could feel centuries of loneliness and desire in the way he held me, his touch alternating between gentle reverence and possessive need. The wooden porch railing pressed into my back, grounding me in this moment that felt suspended between reality and dream.

His hand slid down my spine, leaving trails of fire in its wake, each touch a dangerous promise that made me shiver. I arched into him, gasping as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the gesture both tender and predatory. The rough wood siding pressed against my back, splinters catching at my sweater, a stark reminder of reality that did nothing to break the spell of his presence.

"Such sweet surrender," Klaus breathed against my mouth, his accent thicker with desire. His stubble scraped my skin as he traced kisses along my jaw, each one deliberate and claiming. "And here I thought you were the cautious one, love."

My fingers clutched his shoulders, seeking anchor in a storm of sensation, feeling the immortal strength beneath his expensive jacket. "I am cautious."

"Evidently not." His laugh vibrated against my throat, dark and rich like aged whiskey. "Though I must admit, your recklessness is... intoxicating."

The word snapped something in my brain, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Deadly. Every warning Elena had ever given me about Klaus crashed back like a tidal wave - stories of his cruelty, his manipulation, the trail of broken bodies he'd left across centuries.

"Wait." I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady beneath my hands. "Stop."

To my surprise, he did. Klaus pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with hunger that wasn't entirely vampiric, predatory desire written in every line of his immortal face. "Having second thoughts?"

"I'm having all the thoughts." My voice shook, betraying the chaos in my mind. "Every single one I should have had before I stepped outside this threshold. Every warning bell that should have rung hours ago."

"And yet here you are." His thumb traced circles on my hip, each movement sending shivers down my spine. "Making choices that would terrify your friends. Defying every careful warning they've whispered behind closed doors."

"They'd be right to be terrified." I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own recklessness. "You're..."

"A monster?" His smile held no warmth, just centuries of dark promises. "We've established that love. Multiple times tonight. Or have you forgotten our earlier conversations?"

"No, you're..." I struggled to form coherent thoughts with him still pressed against me, his presence overwhelming every sense. The scent of aged whiskey and leather clouded my mind, making it impossible to think straight.

"You're Klaus. You don't do this - whatever this is. You have schemes and plans and..." I drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt. "You don't get distracted like this. You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

"Perhaps this is part of a scheme." His fingers skimmed up my side, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The predatory gleam in his eyes made my heart stutter. "Or perhaps you've simply caught my interest. A thousand years on this earth, and still you manage to surprise me."

"That might be worse." My voice came out barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of what those words could mean. The thought of being truly interesting to Klaus Mikaelson was more terrifying than any calculated plot.

His laugh was genuine this time. "Smart girl." He stepped back, leaving me cold in the autumn air. "Though not quite smart enough to stay inside, it seems."

I wrapped my arms around myself, looking down at the shattered glass as I shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "You orchestrated this whole thing." The realization settled like lead in my stomach.

"The history lesson? Yes. The kiss?" His eyes glinted dangerously in the porch light pleased. "That was all you, love. Crossing thresholds, chasing after crystal glasses... Such impulsive decisions."

"You could have just taken the glass with you when you left." Even to my own ears, the argument sounded weak, defensive.

"And miss this delightful demonstration of poor judgment?" Klaus brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a moment too long against my cheek. "Where would be the fun in that?"

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket - probably Elena again, wondering why I wasn't responding. Klaus's eyes flickered down to the sound, a calculating expression crossing his features.

"You should answer that. Your friends are quite protective." He took another step back. "Though I doubt they'd approve of tonight's... extracurricular activities."

"Don't." Heat flooded my cheeks as my hand instinctively touched my still-tingling lips. "This was a mistake."

"Was it?" He crouched down, picking up a large shard of broken crystal, his movements deliberately slow and graceful. "Seems more like an education to me. History, chemistry..." The glass caught moonlight as he turned it between his fingers, creating dancing patterns on the porch walls. "A practical lesson in crossing lines."

My phone buzzed again, the vibration seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. Klaus straightened back up to his full height.

"Your friends are getting impatient." Klaus stepped closer, his boots crunching over broken glass. "Though I must say, their timing leaves much to be desired."

I backed up against the door, heart pounding. "I should go inside."

"Should you?" His fingers traced the invisible barrier at the threshold. "We both know that's not what you want."

"What I want isn't always what's best for me."

"Now that's where you're wrong, love." Klaus's eyes locked with mine, intense and magnetic. His gaze held centuries of dark promises, sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes the most dangerous choices yield the sweetest rewards. Why deny yourself?"

"Because I actually want to stay alive?" My wavering voice revealed my hesitation.

"No." His smile turned predatory, revealing just a hint of fang. "You're curious. Drawn to the darkness, even as you pretend to fear it." He gestured at the door behind me, his rings catching the porch light. "A couple of words, (y/n). That's all it would take. Invite me in."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I gripped the door knob. "So you can what? Add me to your list of conquests?"

"So we can explore this... chemistry between us." His accent wrapped around the words like silk, each syllable a caress. "Don't pretend you haven't felt it building all evening. The way your heart races when I'm near, how your breath catches at my touch." His words hit too close to home, making my pulse stutter traitorously.

"Klaus..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Say yes." His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Give in to what we both want."

My phone buzzed a third time, insistent and grounding. The familiar vibration cut through the spell he was weaving around me. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence. "I can't."

"Can't?" His voice carried an edge of danger. "Or won't?"

"Both." I gripped the door frame harder, using the rough wood to anchor myself. "My friends trust me. I won't betray that."

"Loyalty." Klaus spat the word like poison. "Such a human weakness." His fingers traced the invisible barrier again, testing its limits. "And yet, it's precisely that quality which makes you..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Fascinating."

"I'm not fascinating." The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm just trying to survive in a world that keeps getting more complicated by the day."

"You underestimate yourself." His hand dropped to his side. "Most humans would have slammed the door in my face hours ago. But you..." His eyes raked over me, intense and calculating. "You stayed. Listened. Learned."

"Maybe I just needed help with my history paper."

"We both know that's not true." Klaus stepped back, his boots crunching over broken glass. "You're drawn to power, to knowledge. To danger." He smiled, all predator. "To me."

My phone buzzed again, the sound almost angry now. Klaus's eyes flickered to my pocket.

"Answer it." He gestured dismissively. "Before they send a search party."

"They might anyway." I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. "Elena's not exactly the trusting type these days."

"Can you blame her?" Klaus's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "After everything that's happened in this town, trust becomes quite the precious commodity."

The screen lit up my face as I checked the messages. Four texts from Elena, each more worried than the last.

"Tell me something." I looked up from the phone. "Was any of this real? The history lessons, the stories?"

"Every word." Klaus picked up another shard of glass, turning it in the moonlight. "Though I admit, my motivations weren't entirely... academic."

"You could have just asked me out like a normal person."

His laugh echoed across the porch. "Normal? Love, I haven't been normal for a thousand years." He kicked the glass shards. "Besides, where's the intrigue in that?"

My phone buzzed again. Elena's name flashed across the screen, this time with a call.

"You should answer that." Klaus nodded toward the phone. "Your friend's persistence is admirable, if somewhat inconvenient."

I swiped to accept the call, keeping my eyes on Klaus. "Elena?"

"(y/n)! Thank god. Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Klaus's smirk widened at Elena's panicked tone. He mouthed 'tell her' with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." I turned away from his taunting expression. "Just got caught up in my history paper. Lost track of time."

"You're sure everything's alright?"

"Perfectly fine." The lie tasted bitter on my still-tingling lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Klaus's low chuckle carried across the porch as I ended the call. "Such a convincing liar. I'm almost impressed."

"Don't." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "This doesn't change anything."

"No?" He crossed the distance between us in two fluid steps. "Then why lie to your dear friend Elena? Why not tell her I'm still here?"

My back pressed against the door frame as he leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek. The scent of whiskey and leather overwhelmed my senses.

"Because she'd try to save me." The words came out before I could stop them.

"And you don't want to be saved." His fingers traced the curve of my jaw. "Say it, love. Invite me in."His words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

His touch left fire in its wake, each caress stoking the flames higher. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through my nervous system. The rough wood of the house wall dug into my back, the only anchor keeping me from drowning in sensation.

"Please..." The word escaped before I could stop it, breathy and desperate.

"Please what?" His tone is dangerous and seductive. His thumb traced my bottom lip, pressing lightly. "Be specific, love."

Each feather light touch from his hand felt like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down my spine and causing my muscles to tense in anticipation.

Each circle he traced made me arch closer, seeking more contact.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat as his lips found that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak. "God, Klaus..."

"Not quite the invitation I'm looking for." His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Try again."

The rational part of my brain screamed warnings, but it was drowning in a sea of want. His hands, his mouth, his voice - everything about him demanded surrender. And I wanted to give in, wanted it with an intensity that frightened me.

"Come..." My voice shook as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He chuckled deeply, his hot breath rolling down my neck. "Come what, love?" His voice was a soft purr, dangerously coercive. He was playing with me and we both knew it.

"Come...in." I finally managed, the words barely making their way past the lump in my throat. His lips drew into a triumphant smirk as he pulled back, meeting my gaze with an intense hunger in his eyes.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he swept me into his arms, effortlessly crossing the threshold of my front door. A thrilling rush surged through me, igniting my senses and replacing any trace of fear with a tantalizing excitement that I couldn't resist

“You are mine now,” he growled, slamming the door with a loud thud that reverberated through the house. The heavy weight of finality hung in the air, a declaration that left no room for argument or negotiation. Everything had changed with those words, and the once familiar surroundings now felt foreign and dangerous.

As his words settled in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over me. This was my new reality, and there was no going back to how things used to be.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x reader

560 notes · View notes

littlefreya · 1 year ago

Text

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet.

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god.

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer.

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read.

The other - “something to make you think of me.”

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin.

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs.

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath.

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?”

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip.

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games.

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body.

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand.

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out.

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside.

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release.

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to…

It was his fantasy, after all.

“FUCK!!!”

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck.

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo.

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!”

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded.

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment.

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed.

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.”

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.”

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking.

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud.

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle

1K notes · View notes

royalarchivist · 9 months ago

Text

YD: Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

YD talked about meeting up with Tubbo while he was in Korea and shares two videos of them eating food at a Korean BBQ place!

MASSIVE thank you to @Forgetmelotz on Twitter, who translated and subtitled this video and gave me permission to share it on Tumblr! Please make sure to give the original video a like.

[Full Video and Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

⚠️ This transcript is VERY LONG! ⚠️

—

YD: So I was planning to have a dinner with Kei [a Kpop Idol / Singer], but unexpectedly, there's a foreigner friend I met on QSMP named Tubbo, he's from the UK, and apparently he's visiting Korea. And he posted an Instagram story about it. I saw it and was like "Wait, are you coming to Korea?" and it [Tubbo's post] even says Korea blah blah within the date two days after my birthday. So I sent him a DM and he responded with "Haven't you seen my Twitter DM?"

YD: I recently distanced myself a little from Instagram and Twitter for a while, yeah I didn't check my phone that often, and it turns out he messaged me about 3 - 4 days ago saying "YD, I'm flying to Korea! Blah blah–" so I was like "Oh, oh... I'm sorry I didn't see that!" and I checked the DM the day before he arrived here... I told him that I am so sorry and asked if I can meet him in person.

* [Translation note: this can also mean the other way around, ie: he may have asked her if they could meet in person]

YD: So we ended up seeing [each other] on the 21st. I was supposed to have dinner with Kei, so I told her "but my friend from abroad... is in Korea now... what should I do..." and we rescheduled the dinner to inviting her to come over next week. So um, the, right– Tubbo, Tubbo's friend [Eryn], Seoneng [one of YD's crew members] and Kang-si [YD's husband] the 5 of us had dinner together.

YD: We went to a Korean BBQ place. I was searching through restaurants thinking ��Uh… which Korean restaurant should I take these foreigners to so that they would be super impressed?” [YD thanks a dono] Yeah, I was searching hard and so I asked Ryeori. You know the Kwak tori & Ryeori couple? Ryeori the hair designer, I asked him, “Reyori, I’m trying to buy a dinner for my foreigner friend, do you have any recommendations for where I should bring him?” and he started listing up like Michelin star-rated pork gukbap restaurants and stuff. Then he also tells me that it’s really difficult to find an actual Korean restaurant in Hongdae, like it’s difficult to find a decent place. There are mostly fusion Korean food [places]. But then he goes, “Oh, hey, this place looks fine” and recommends me this Korean BBQ restaurant. I decided to bring them there and fed them.

YD: The reason I liked that place was that they sell doenjang-jjigabe, galbi-tang, jeyuk bokkeum, and other dishes as well as their main menu, the beef KBBQ. The banchans [side dishes] were also served neatly, they even had japchae, they sold yukke. Obviously there are better Korean restaurants outside of Hongdae, but their hotel was located there. It wasn’t like he had a car here, so I was trying to meet them somewhere they can just walk to. So Hongdae it was. On top of that, YD 4-cuts is also located in Hongdae.** So I thought it would be the best to just eat out here. And while we were eating, I’ve recorded some videos.

** [Note: This is a photo booth event with custom YD frames, as show in the background of this video]

YD: [Scrolls through to find the videos and laughs] Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. [She thanks another dono] And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

[YD plays a video she took of Tubbo and Eryn at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Oh, ok. [?]: You should tell them how to eat it together. Tubbo: You’re overestimating my chopstick skill. [?]: Here. [Passes Tubbo some of the meat] Tubbo: Oh, thank you. [?]: And here, together. Tubbo: Ok. [Takes a bite] Waitress: With this vegetable. Tubbo: Mm, it’s really sweet! [?]: Foreigners quite like it. Eryn: [Reaches over and tries some food too, struggling a bit with his chopsticks] [?]: Unexpected, right? [?]: Oh, they like yukke? [?]: They just need to get used to it. Waitress: I will grill and hand it over to you, so please help yourselves. [?]: Ok, thank you. Eryn: [Tries more food and gives it a thumbs-up] [?]: Hm, good?! Tubbo and Eryn: Yeah! Tubbo: So far 10/10.

[The video ends]

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal. They were eating it up. They drank soju, they ate some noodles, and even doenjang-jjigae. I’ve heard foreigners don’t really like the taste of doenjang-jjigae, but they ate pretty much [all] of it. The restaurant also had pot rice, so I made them try that too. They ate that well too.

[YD plays the second video she recorded of them at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Go crazy ok, yeah! Alright.

YD: We ordered naengmyeon for a palate cleanser too. We ordered a lot.

Tubbo: [Struggles to cut the noodles with the scissors that were handed to him]

YD: He’s asking why we cut the noodles.

Tubbo: [Manages to cut the noodles] Kang-si [?]: Ok, and- and– [does chopstick motion] Tubbo: [Laughs] What am I gonna need? Eryn: Chopsticks? Kang-si [?]: Yeah. YD [?]: Chopsticks, mm. Eryn: [To Tubbo] You go first. Tubbo: [Inaudible] Why is it cold? YD [?]: Oh, because the noodle is cold.

YD: Yeah, he found it interesting that the noodle is cold.

Tubbo: [He struggles with his chopsticks] Oh no, oh no… [Everyone laughs] Kang-si [?]: Very difficult. Ok! Tubbo: [Manages to fish some noodles out and holds his hand under them so they don’t splash everywhere as he transports them to his bowl] Seoneng [?]: Oh, uh, oh! It might be difficult for them to eat that. YD [?]: Hm? Kang-si [?]: Do you want some, Seoneng? Gimme the chopsticks, I’ll share you some. Eryn: [To Tubbo] Slippery. How did you get it? Kang-si [?]: I’ll give you some, hand me the chopsticks. Seoneng [?]: Can I hand you mine? Just a small amount, please.

YD: They mimicked how Kangseok [Kang-si, YD’s husband] handles the noodles. Like, picking up the noodles like this and moving it to your dish.

Tubbo: That’s why you’re better than me (?).

YD: That’s Seoneng.

Kang-si [?]: Here’s your chopsticks, Seoneng. Eryn: I think this is enough. YD [?]: Oh, he’s taking some to his dish. Seoneng [?]: He learned. Tubbo: Do you like, spin 'em? Seoneng [?]: Scissors? Kang-si [?]: Like– [He holds up his chopsticks and shows them how to do it. Ok. OK! Eryn: [Picks up only a few noodles, which dangle] Seoneng [?]: Good! Tubbo: Maybe I did- I did a sht job of cutting, I'm sorry. Eryn: That's ok. Doing good.

YD: It had a nice atmosphere.

Eryn: Bravo. Tubbo: Oh, thank you. YD [?]: The noodles might be a bit slippery for them to...

YD: They really struggled to pick the noodles up. They asked why we cut the noodles then proceeds to eat like that 'cuz it's too long.

YD [?]: Shall we cut it? Kang-si [?]: Eryn? [He leans forward and cuts Eryn's noodles with scissors]

YD: –So we had to cut it for him like he's a baby.

[Everyone laughs] Eryn: It kept on moving!

[The video ends]

YD: [Laughs] Ah, so cute. It was fun. So we tried various dishes together. And uh, UK– UK– both of them are from the UK, but they didn't know there is a viral series of British students trying Korean food,*** so I told them "Seeing how you react to unfamiliar foods, like... How do I put this? You were very polite trying these out, not making any weird disgusted noises (so you can go viral too)." They didn't refuse anything. Well, they also said that this was the best Korean food they had so far. They might've been just being polite, but still, you know, they were... Hmm, very neat? Yeah. I get why he's so popular.

*** [Note: YT: Korean Englishman]

YD: Anyways, it was a lot of fun. After the meal, I asked them if they wanted to go take a YD 4-cut with us, explaining this is a trending form of birthday event amongst fans of younger generations in Korea where they rent and run a photobooth for their YouTuber / CCs / Influencers. I asked "It's close from here, you wanna go?" and he said yes. That's how we ended up taking a group photo. It wasn't planned beforehand.

YD: We arrived there– [Laughs] I tried, I knew it closes at 10pm, so I tried to visit there around then (to avoid people). So we got there around 9:30? And my fans were sitting there waiting for me. As soon as they spot me they go, "Wooooooo!!! It's so good to see you in person!!!" ...then they started crying, which made Tubbo and Eryn panic a bit. They were like "Wow YD, u a superstar! Whoa." [Laughs]

YD: No, 'cuz I told them that there might be a few fans because it's my birthday event, and they were OK with it. Well, he's also a Youtuber, so he wouldn't be too unfamiliar with this kinda situation I figure. But even though I warned [him] about it, they seemed a bit surprised as people started SOBBING, so Kangseok evacuated them all. He told them, "Let's get out and try some salted butter rolls while she..." The boys leave and get bread, and I go have a short conversation with my fans, take photos, give autographs... [Laughs]

YD: It was a LOT of fun. It was a memorable day.

The original VOD can be found here (please note that the video is only available to VIP members of YD's channel).

Timestamp for this conversation: ~12:30 - 23:00

#Yangding #QSMP #Tubbo #QSMP Meetups #YD #According to Forgetmelotz a lot of YD's viewers were calling Tubbo and Eryn ''babies'' how cute #August 23 2024 #That transcript took forever to write wheezes #Would've been even longer without those subtitles though #Translators are the backbone of our community fr #Eryn Cyberonix #Eryn

533 notes · View notes

copticcowgirl · 2 months ago

Text

Fanbinding: BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC

This bind took a hot minute to finish. I made it my goal to complete two copies of BSP during the month of February, for @renegadeguild's 2025 Binderary. One for myself, and one for the author, who gave me permission in late January.

BSP is my first official author copy, gifted to and recently received by WhatMurdah, whom I can't thank enough for both writing this stellar fic and for allowing me to bind them a copy. I read BSP in mid-2024 and have been thinking about it as a bind since.

Lots of firsts with this one. First-ever typeset. Have a long way to go on that front, as it's definitely not my favorite part of binding. I prefer getting into the nitty-gritty of the bind itself instead of staring at a laptop screen for hours and agonizing over fonts and scene break flourishes. I kept it simple and still learned a lot, so that's a win!

I also had the honor of receiving the "Found Typo(s) After Printing" badge.

However, my dedication page to WhatMurdah made the entire typeset worthwhile.

It was also my first time attempting Renaissance chevron endbands (another goal for binderary! aaand there's a reason you don't see them on the bind itself, ha). When those didn't turn out as I'd hoped, it was my first time doing "random chaos" endbands, a la @maleekamolscreates.

Thank you, Maleeka and Marissa, for holding my hands through that one. I like to know what's coming, so letting go of structure to embrace the chaos of go-with-your-gut-feeling-for-your-endband-pattern was...hard.

But gorgeous, no? Can I get a "good girl," Maleeka??

Another first was creating a full-fledged dust jacket that looks like it came from a professional. I owe that to @phoenixortheflame, who sat with me on a Zoom call for 2+ hours and guided me through her artistic process. We worked in tandem in Canva so that I could pepper her with questions like, "You can pull the rulers across the page like that?!" Thank you for showing me how to center align correctly and for gently critiquing my choice of keep-all-fonts-the-same.

The before/after must be shown because honestly, every time I look at it I want to cry happy tears.

And while I know she will say, "But you had the vision, I just gave you some structure!" I'll still heap praise all over her because JUST LOOK AT IT.

Art by the incredible @jjuuppiter, who posted this work well before BSP was published but somehow must have KNOWN it would be written into existence one day. Please go check out their page. I fell in love with their art for "The Politician's Wife" first, and eventually found "Bloody Witch and Her Worshipper."

And finally, details of the bind itself below and behind-the-scenes photos (my favorite to look back on!) below that.

Bind details:

bind style: full cloth bind, rounded and backed, sewn endpapers, ramie bands

endpapers: "french marble strawberry" from Hollanders, chosen in mid-2024 after reading BSP for the first time

cover material: "love dove" fabric, designed by Kathy Doughty. chosen solely for its bold colors.

book edge decoration: head & tail edges hand sanded to 1,000 grit, DIY'd maroon acrylic ink to match fabric, applied in layers, then burnished with Renaissance wax & agate stone. maroon acrylic ink applied directly to deckled fore-edge for author copy. we don't talk about the fore-edge for my own copy.

endbands: double faux core, 4mm leather core, Japanese silk thread

typeset: this was my first-ever typeset, which meant I spent hours meticulously ensuring I didn't mess anything up (full disclosure: I did, but those mistakes are all my own)

dust jacket: designed in Canva; title font, Villanelle; author font, ITC Blaze; body & flap fonts, IBM Plex Serif; art by jjuuppiter

Did you know? To make a deep maroon color, take 1 drop blue, 11 drops red, and 2 drops yellow. Voila! Deep maroon.

Now you know.

These copies were made for personal use only; no profit was made and all associated costs came from my own pocket. Please abide by the code of binding fanfiction, which amounts to: if you want it on your shelf, bind it yourself.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #fanfiction #dramione #BSP #bloody slutty and pathetic #whatmurdah #renegade bindery #endbands #binding fanfiction #keep fanfiction free

274 notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

Smile For The Camera, Baby 📸 (Geto x F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Photographer!Geto Suguru x Plus-Sized!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you decide to volunteer to model for your friend’s lingerie line photoshoot when the original model gets sick and meet the very sexy photographer who isn’t letting you leave until you realize how gorgeous you are.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Highkey Flirting; Inappropriate Touching; Sexual Tension; Alcohol Consumption; Pet Names: Mama, Baby; Sugar (for Geto); MDom!Geto x fsub!Reader; Strangers to Lovers; Tongue Kissing; Striptease; Mutual Oral; 69ing; Facesitting; Praise; Edge Play; Lewd Pictures; No PIV Sex; Facial; Exhibitionism; Aftercare Cuddles

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I wrote this about a year ago, but it ended up being flagged (ugggggggh!!!) lol so I wanted to revise & repost it for Geto's birthday!!! This is how I cope with my baby being d*ad & gone. I also know for a fact Geto loves women of all shapes n sizes! I hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

************

“I-I don’t know about this, Maki.”

About two weeks ago, you were initially okay with taking semi-naked and possible naked photos for your friend’s lingerie shoot since her model got ill. It wasn’t on short notice since the date for the shoot was during the weekend and you were getting paid for your time.

Plus, spending a hot afternoon trying on cute lingerie and sipping on Moscato seemed like a great afternoon, indeed.

But now that you’re standing here among the lights, luxurious furniture, and the rack of lingerie with your sundress draped across your plump body, all of that easiness is gone and not even a glass of Moscato can fix it.

Especially when you just found out a few minutes when you arrived here to the studio that Maki wouldn’t be taking the photos but her friend, who is a man you’ve never met before, would be.

“Why not?” Maki whines disapprovingly. She is standing by one of the lights, trying to get it right so it illuminates your skin and brings out the soft glow of your makeup. She gave you time to do your hair and makeup when you got here since the walk from your home to the studio was a hot one.

Even though your apartment is only five blocks away, the hot weather has a vengeance, and you showed up coated in sweat, glad you took a shower and applied extra layers of spray deodorant to your inner thighs earlier before leaving your crib.

Though you know look and smell good with your pink, gloss lips, glittery eyeshadow, and rose-scented perfume, neither does much to curb your anxiety. You fidget with the hem of your dress, unable to look Maki in the eye. “I’m just not comfortable with this guy takin’ photos of me,” you mutter.

“Y/N, I told you,” Maki sighs, “Geto is a professional photographer. He’s taken many shots for my business before! Did you look at his portfolio? I sent it to you two weeks ago.”

You timidly nod because you did. Though you have no clue what Geto looks like, you will admit that he has immense talent. While you sat at your laptop two weeks ago, you scrolled through his photos that ranged from nature for National Geographic Magazine to photos of the prettiest women for Maki’s lingerie line.

The way he managed to capture each thing, whether an animal or a human, and bring out the best in them was incredible.

But your anxiousness isn’t just the fact that he was a man who happened to be taking your photos today since the original photographer had to go out of town for her sick mother.

It’s the fact that each woman Geto photographed for Maki’s line don’t look like you. They’re much smaller with perfectly flat stomachs and hour-shaped figures; perky breasts and thighs that have not an inch of cellulite.

You’re unlike any of them. You have stomach; triple D titties that you have to pay an arm and a leg for when it comes to bras; an ass and thighs dimpled with cellulite; pudge that makes your arms bigger than you’d like them to be. Your size is the reason you tend to stay away from bikinis and crop tops in the summer; opting instead for sundresses that reach your ankles and even jackets that hide your shape. Your shape is why you don't date as much, too afraid of rejection despite your pretty face and cute smile.

You’re used to men ghosting you or standing you up after getting a look at you below your chin. It’s humiliating to be in your body and to be treated in such a way. What angers you most is that you take care of yourself–you eat your fruits and veggies; you drink water; you exercise–and yet you’re still criticized by society for the body you’re forced to live in.

That’s why when Maki asked you to model for her new summer lingerie line, you were more than happy to participate, thinking it’d be a great way to boost your confidence. Plus, you get to keep the lingerie you like. But now, all you want to do is hide away from the blinding lights above, feeling too hot and exposed beneath them.

Maki puts a hand on her slim hip, fixing you with a stare. “He’s not gonna hit on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighs. “Geto doesn’t really date since he’s always working. And we don’t have time for you to change your mind, girl! I need these photos in by next week!” She turns to her sister. “Mai, back me up here!”

Mai, lounging on the couch for the shoot with her legs crossed, looks up from her book with a bored expression. “I’m not in this,” she deadpans before looking back down and flipping a page. Maki growls in frustration at her sister’s refusal to help before turning back to you. “Are you sure this is just about the fact that a guy, who is a professional photographer, is taking your photos today?” She cocks her head to the side, still giving you that fixed stare.

You flush in your sundress. She knows exactly what’s going on and wants you to say it.

“The girls he shoots for don’t…look like me,” you carefully confess. “I’m much bigger and I’m afraid that–“

“Okay, stop.” Maki walks up to you and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “First of all, shut up. You’re fucking beautiful, no matter what shape you are, and I specifically picked you because you know how to work a camera and I want this new line to be inclusive to all sizes.” You flush at her compliment. “Second of all, Geto is going to take these pictures regardless of your size because it’s a fucking job, Y/N! He doesn’t care how you look!”

She pauses, reiterating, “Well, he does, but only in his photos. Your body is your body. Plus, he is fully aware that the model today is a plus-sized woman and he still said yes.”

“What’s the big deal?” Mai asks, shocking the both of you. She is looking up from her book and at you from under her black bang. “It’s not the end of the world that you’re fat, Y/N. You’re actin’ like fat women exist.”

“Mai, come on!” Maki scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You couldn’t have used a better word? Maybe plump or chunky?” Mai shrugs, flipping another page in her book. “Maki, they all mean the same thing,” you giggle. “Fat isn’t a slur.”

And it isn’t. Despite what you’ve been taught and shown by society, 'fat' isn’t negative, bad, or ugly; it is exactly what you are. You know you aren’t negative or bad and you sure as hell aren’t ugly just because of your extra pounds. And you know that this photoshoot can show you that.

“Mai is right…you both are.” You squeeze Maki’s hands still on your shoulders and nod at the little table where a chilled bucket of Moscato and glasses sit. “Maybe I just need a glass of Moscato.”

Maki squeals excitedly, wrapping her arms around you to give you a hug. “Comin’ right up, girly!” She races over to the bottle to pour you a glass, but as she does, she becomes distracted by the sound of pounding footsteps. “Oh, and look who’s here! Right on time too, but then again, he’s always punctual.” She grins happily, giving you a wink.

You look toward the open door where the studio’s staircase lies–the ones you had to walk up and nearly pull a muscle because the elevator is broken. There, you find a pair of big ass boots attached to an even bigger, taller man.

You realize that you’ve never seen Geto’s photo before, so it takes you a moment to register that you’re looking at him in the flesh. To say he is hot is an understatement. He has to be about 6’0 with a large build. His muscles push and flex under his black tee that is soaked in sweat and his jeans are tight on his thick, muscled legs and slim waist.

His long, black hair is pulled back into a high bun that accentuates the sharp lines of his face, especially his cheekbones and jaw. Dark ink cascades up and down his big biceps and arms, stopping at his hands where several rings adorn his fingers.

Geto comes into the room, appearing like a giant with how big he is. He stands much taller than you, Maki, and Mai combined. He could probably break you in half. “Please tell me you’ve got some water up here,” he huffs, lugging his backpack over his shoulders. His handsome, reddened face is glinting in sweat and are his thick neck and the collar to his tight tee.

Maki points to the table at the back where drinks and snacks are set up. “Right on the table over there. Just put your stuff down over there, too.”

Geto nods and walks farther into the room. As he does, his eyes meet yours from across the room, rendering you speechless and suddenly in need of air. His eyes remind you of two purple amethysts–beautiful yet almost hard to look at. His gaze is intense and fixed as if he sees every single part of you under your dress.

The smell is fortunately broken when Geto moves to the snack table and turns his back to you, allowing you to get a look at his ass in them jeans. “Close your mouth, Y/N,” Mai snickers, suddenly beside you. “You’ll catch flies.”

You flush in embarrassment, feeling like a perv. “Shut up,” you mumble. Mai just snickers, knowing damn well you’re whipped.

Once Geto finishes setting up his equipment from his backpack, including a camera, Maki brings him over to introduce you by his arm. “Geto, allow me to introduce the woman of the hour and my best friend, Y/N.” She motions over your body, making you feel even more exposed. “Y/N, this is Geto Suguru. We call him ‘sugar’ for short.”

Geto rolls his eyes, taking his arm out of Maki’s grasp. “You didn’t have to mention that.” His violet eyes meet yours, pinning you to your spot. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” And his voice! The deep timbre of it makes your pussy tremble.

He sticks his hand out for yours. Tentatively, you take it, ignoring how big, calloused, and warm his hand is. “Y-You too,” you stammer. You give him a smile in an attempt to not seem awkward. “Um, I like your photos. You really have a way with your camera.”

He doesn’t smile but you catch the corner of his lip twitching upward at your compliment. “So I’ve been told,” he replies, and you have to resist the urge to close your eyes at the sound of voice. You want to hear it all the time, in your ear.

Realizing your hand is still in his, you release your hold and place your hands behind your back, feeling like the horniest perv alive. You catch Maki subtly smirking at Mai. “Mai, let’s give them time to get acquainted,” she giggles. “Help me organize the rest of the lingerie, will ya? Y/N, feel free to pick which one you wanna do first!”

Before you can protest or beg for them to stay, they’re already walking away from the shooting area for another table covered in lingerie pieces. Though they’re a few feet away, you feel like now it’s only you and Geto in the room. You stand there awkwardly for a few seconds, not saying anything. The silence is thick with tension despite Maki and Mai whispering among themselves.

“U-Um!” you loudly stammer, catching Geto’s attention. You walk over to the rack of lingerie near you and pick out a bright fuchsia bra and panty set. “Is this set okay to start with? I figured I’d do one with color for the summertime.” Geto’s eyes flick to the set before setting back on your face. “That’s fine with me. We do want you want.”

“Cool!” you squeak, wincing at the volume of your voice and the way you’re acting. “I-I’m gonna go change now. I won’t be long.” Before Geto can say anything more, you take a glass of Moscato and hurry off to the bathroom to change with your set. Once you’re behind the four walls, you can finally breathe and settle yourself (and your body) down.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” you huff to yourself in the mirror. But you know exactly what’s wrong: that fine ass piece of man is the problem. He makes your body react in a way it never has before with any man. Your breathing is labored and your heart hammers like you just ran a marathon. Your head feels dizzy. Your pussy is throbbing and possibly soaked from the scent of Geto’s cologne wafting in the air.

You know realistically that you can't go back out like this if you don’t want to jump Geto’s bones. So after downing your glass and splashing some cool water on your neck, you change into your set along with some gold heels to make the color of the lingerie pop. After fixing your hair and applying a slick of gloss on your lips, you put on your silk robe and slowly walk back outside for the shoot.

Geto is setting up the camera on a stand while Maki and Mai stand around, sipping their glasses.

“I’m finished,” you timidly announce. “Is it okay?” All three heads turn to you and you feel hot with embarrassment under their gazes. “Is it okay?” Maki guffaws. “Girl, you look like you need to be wined, dined, and given six orgasms! Doesn’t she, sugar?”

You have no idea why she asks Geto, but you’re even more confused at the silent and intense stare the man gives you. His eyes roam over your body, drinking in the way the bra cups hold in your plump breasts, your thick legs shine with coconut oil, and your jiggly stomach is adorned in lace from the waistband of your thong.

You don’t know if he likes what he sees, but it makes you feel uncomfortable either way. The way he makes you feel makes you feel especially uncomfortable. You have to squeeze your thighs together in an effort to lessen the throbbing you feel between them.

Geto clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “I’m gonna go set up my laptop,” he mutters before storming off to his backpack. Maki turns to you with a knowing smirk. “He agrees.”

“Stop it,” you groan, closing your robe to shield your body. “You’re gonna embarrass him and me. It’s not easy for me to be in this weird-ass position.” Maki rolls her eyes behind her spectacles. “Oh, come on! He knows he likes what he sees. Did you notice the “fuck me” eyes he gave you when he saw you in that little sundress?”

You think back to Geto’s intense stare your way as he walked into the room and shiver. “I think you’re just tipsy, Maki.” Maki gapes at you, offended. “I am not!” she scoffs. “I only had two glasses!” Mai bumps her hip with her sister’s, giggling. “You know damn well you can’t handle your alcohol, sis.”

Before Maki can jump down her throat though, Geto comes back with his laptop and a jump drive. “I’m all set up now,” he announces. Maki squeals loudly, nearly taking your eardrum out. “Great!” she cheers. “I’ll set up the music and let you guys do your thing. We’ll be right over here making sure everything goes well.”

After a few minutes, the shoot is under way while the sisters stand off to the side, watching and giggling among themselves. Your playlist specifically made for this photoshoot is playing from her Alexa orb and you have another glass of Moscato in your hand. You can already feel the first glass affecting you, making you feel lighter. Geto stands behind the camera, fiddling with the buttons. “Let’s start with you standing with the backdrop.” He tilts his chin towards the blush pink backdrop.

You nod and slowly walk over in your heels, feeling like Geto might be watching your ass despite the silk robe covering it. You don’t turn around to look at him when you finally, though hesitantly, disrobe and reveal every part of yourself to him and the camera. When you turn around, he is already staring at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Why you look so tense?” he chuckles. “You nervous?” You huff with a shy laugh, your body feeling hot and shaky. “Does it show?”

“A little, yeah,” he replies, snapping a quick photo as a tester. “Just relax and feel free to drink your glass…actually, keep it in your hand with some of the photos. It adds to the aesthetic with the lingerie.” You nod and keep your glass in your hand as you strike your first pose, one hand on your hip and your eyes set dead at the camera.

The camera light flashes, nearly blinding you. Geto hums approvingly. “Perfect,” he says, his deep voice caressing you. “Stay right there…tilt your chin up a bit.” He bends down once more to snap a picture as you do as he orders, tilting your chin up slightly and mustering the sexiest expression you can possibly do.

It starts to become easier and less awkward the longer you stand there, posing from the front.

After a few pictures, Geto peers up at you from the camera. “Turn around for me,” he huskily orders. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your pussy excitingly clenches at him giving you orders. Slowly, you turn around, exposing your ass in the cheeky thong that makes it look extra plump and juicy.

“Look at me over your shoulder,” Geto orders. You do so, peering at him over your shoulder, and he snaps a picture. “Perfect,” he chuckles, a gorgeous, white-toothed smile adorning his pink lips. “You’re a natural at this. You sure this is your first time?”

“Thanks,” you giggle, flushing at the compliment, “and yes. I’m just a volunteer since Maki’s original model got sick.” You put your glass down and pose without it, putting your arms behind your head. Geto snaps a pic. “Is that all to why you decided to do this?” he curiously asks. "To help out your friend?”

You shake your head, smiling into the camera tense. “Guess it’d be fun. Plus, I thought it might boost up my confidence since–“

“Shit!” Maki shouts, groaning in frustration at the end. Geto immediately stops his work, alerted. “What is it?” he demands, already storming over to them.

You stand there, afraid to move in your heels and possibly break your ankle. Maki sighs, irritation all over her face. “I totally forgot we had a meeting scheduled with the Macy’s team today for a partnership. I have to go.”

“And I have to drive her since her car is still in the shop,” Mai says as Maki begins to rush to gather her things. Mai turns to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Y/N.” You look at the sisters, realization hitting you like a train. “So…you’re both leaving?” you anxiously ask. “Will you be back before the shoot ends?”

Maki checks her watch as she shoves her tote bag onto her shoulder. “We’ll see, but most of the time, those partnership meetings last forever. But don’t worry; we’ll call to make sure everything goes smoothly and you have plenty of drinks and snacks.” She walks over to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

She leaves a ring of gloss on your cheek and anxiety twirling in your gut at her departure. “But–“

“We’ve gotta run,” she quickly says before you can protest. “Love you, see you later, bye!” She hurries over to the door with Mai in tow, giving Geto a wink as she does. “Thanks again, Geto! Expect your deposit by next week.” And then, just like that, they’re gone. And only you and Geto are occupying the room.

“I guess it’s just us then,” he awkwardly announces, walking back over to his camera. You slowly nod, adverting your eyes from his to stare at the door. “Yeah…” You desperately want the sisters to come waltzing back in and announce that the meeting was cancelled, but you know that is but a fantasy. You’re forced to stand there in this damn silence with this hot ass man, semi-naked. Could things get any worse?

As if sensing your discomfort, Geto clears his throat, gaining your attention. He stands by the camera stand, his tatted arms crossed over his broad, hard chest. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can tell you’re uncomfortable and I would be too if I was in your position.”

He nods at your body, making your body flush with heat. “I get it: strange guy with a camera; you’re semi-naked. It’s like the plot to a horror movie.”

You crack a smile at his dark humor, giggling softly. “Well, when you say it like that…” You fiddle with the lace on your thong’s waistband. Geto continues to stare at you, making you feel like he has X-ray vision. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m scared,” you softly explain. "It’s just–“

“Don’t explain yourself to me,” he interacts, sounding firm. “Today is about you more than it is about me. I want these photos to please you too, so I want you feelin’ uncomfortable and at ease more than anything. If you say no, I’ll take care of Maki, maybe tell her somethin’ came up.”

You blink at him, taken aback by his words. “You’d…do that for me?” you ask in disbelief.

“‘Course. I’m not an asshole, and plus, you’re her friend. I’d rather her be pissed at me than you.” He shrugs as if it is no big deal, and maybe it’s not, but to you it gives you a sense of how sweet and considerate he is. If only there was someone out there like that for you.

You shake your head determinately, picking up your wine glass. “No, let’s do it. I’m here, you’re here, and we both want a check.” You take a long sip of your wine, letting the alcohol loosen you up further. “I’m ready,” you announce with a bright smile at the camera. “Let’s take some photos.”

Geto looks surprised at your cooperation at first, but then smiles. “I like the attitude,” he chuckles. “And the smile. Keep that there for a few pics.”

He bends down to snap a few as a light, feathery feeling overtakes your body and your confidence shoots to the roof. “Sure,” you giggle, already feeling the affects of the wine hit you…or maybe that’s just the smell and closeness of Geto.

An hour goes by of photos you take in different lingerie by the backdrop. The lingerie you pick is bright in color, making your skin complexion pop, and makes you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

Geto’s looks shot your way also help. His gaze is so bold and intense behind the camera, though you’re sure it’s because he’s a photographer and is analyzing how he can get you to pose or something. The rest of the photoshoot is a piece of make and less awkward than earlier. You dance a little to the music from your playlist and giggle, oblivious to the adoring gazes Geto shoots your way behind the camera lens.

When Beyoncé’s “Cuff It” begins to play, you are on your third glass of Moscato and Geto is on his first. After getting your photos taken in an aqua-blue lingerie set, he takes his camera off the stand. “We’re finished?” you ask curiously.

“Just the first half with the backdrop,” he replies, nudging his head over to his laptop. “Lemme show you what I’ve got so far.” You unstrap your heels and follow him barefoot over to his laptop. He sits down in the wheeled chair and gets to hooking his camera up. In an instant, dozens of your headshots and photos fill his screen, each one different than the last.

But neither one makes you feel any different than how you do staring at them: Sexy. Confident. Like the baddest bitch on the block. The lighting is perfect on your makeup and skin, and each color of your lingerie seems to pop. “Wow, Suguru!” you happily gasp. “These look amazing! You made me look so…so…beautiful.”

Geto chuckles as he scrolls through each photo. “Well, I didn’t make you look beautiful, but the camera enhancements definitely help. Maki will love these, I’m sure.”

“Of course, she will!” you giggle. “Photography is definitely you’re calling. Why’d you decide to make that your career anyway?”

He shrugs, still lazily scrolling through your photos. “Photography is art,” he explains, “and I’ve always loved art. To me, there’s more to taking a photo than just snapping a camera. There are so many aspects and techniques that go into making one picture perfect, such as capturing beauty. You need to learn how to preserve it…worship it…”

He pauses, his hand on the touch pad, and slowly turns his head to meet yours. “Care for it,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat suddenly, realizing how close he is. You’re overwhelmed with his cologne and the smell of his shampoo–something spicy, like cinnamon, and clean, like rain. His violet eyes trail down to your lips, just for a second, before moving back to capture yours in an intense, heated stare that makes you want to strip off your lingerie and let him touch every single part of you.

‘Girl, what the hell?’ you think, shocked at your naughty thoughts. It must be the wine. You clear your throat and take a step back away from Geto. “Um…we should get back to takin’ photos,” you softly mutter. “You know…so Maki won’t kill us. I’ll go change into the next set.”

You quickly head toward the rack of lingerie and choose a random one before hurrying to the bathroom, abruptly ending whatever was about to transpire.

‘Which was nothing,’ you firmly think. ‘Geto is your photographer. A professional. And even if something were to happen, it’d be a mess.’ You keep trying to reason with your horny side as you change into the next set.

When you come back out in a lime green teddy bodysuit with a push-up bra and thong, Geto is standing by the lion-claw couch with his camera. “Let’s take some with you on the couch, then we’ll do some on the bed and then on the balcony. Just sit down with your legs crossed for now.”

You nod and take a seat on the soft couch cushions with your thick legs crossed over each other. You plant your hands on your knee and make a lustful, sensual face at the camera. “Perfect,” he compliments as the camera shutter flashes for a couple pics. “Now lie on your side with your hand on your hip. Use your other hand to prop up your head.”

You slowly get into position, staring at the camera eye. “You want me to make love to the camera?” you giggle.

Geto chortles, the sound of his deep laugher making your clit jump. “You’ve been doin’ that since you got in front of the camera,” he replies, but you don't think he’s joking about that. He takes a few shots of you in his desired position before moving on. “Now take your hand and hook it over the couch.”

You do so, still staring at the camera and hoping you look just as good as you did in the first set. The song has changed to Beyoncé’s “Virgo’s Groove”–a song that somehow makes you believe that you’re the sexiest version of yourself right now.

As you pose, you become aware that the atmosphere has changed to something more tense. Geto must realize it too because he suddenly rises from behind his camera and stares you down. “You’re so damn fine,” he suddenly says.

You scowl at him, confused. “I…what?” you dumbly ask.

“I said you’re fuckin’ fine,” he repeats without a single beat. “Why you needed a lingerie shoot to make you feel more confident with a face and body like yours is beyond me. I’m just glad I get to see you like this.”

Your heart thumps wildly as you continue to pose, not sure if you should stop. Geto snaps a photo regardless, acting as if he didn’t just say something so bold and flirty five seconds before.

“You shouldn't say that,” you weakly say.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Why shouldn’t I?” he teasingly asks. “Can I not admire a very sexy woman like yourself?”

He snaps another photo, the flash of the camera catching you off guard. “You can't tell me you didn’t notice me checkin’ you out when I came in here. If you’d let me, I’ll take photos of you in that little sundress of yours too.” His gaze is way more heated than before, the flirty smirk on his face making you feel even more uncomfortable as you lounge on the couch.

But not uncomfortable in the way where you want to be away from him. On the contrary, in fact. You want to be closer than close to him, no clothes in between. The tension you’re feeling in the air and the clenching of your pussy are starting to get to you, driving you crazy.

Geto’s words are to blame for that. Though flirty, can tell he is deadass. He sounds so sure; so real. No jokes or nothing. He isn’t a profile on a dating app or a hookup who is only seeing you in the darkness. You’re in front of him–all of you–and he still is looking at you like he wants a piece.

He takes your silence for something different and stops snapping photos for a moment. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he worriedly asks. You sit up from your position, planting your ass on the couch. “No,” you softly answer with a slow head shake. “I’m just not used to getting compliments like that. Especially from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he parrots, raising an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, knowing he wants you to elaborate and embarrass yourself. “You know you’re fine,” you sigh, “and men as fine as you don’t really see me as anything but…well, fat. If they don’t look at me as a hookup, they barely look at me at all.”

Once the truth is out there, you feel stupid and small. Why did you tell him that? He could never understand or care. Maybe those three glasses were a bad idea. Geto only stares at you, silent and making you feel uneasy. Suddenly, he comes around the camera and strides up to you, making your heart pound with every step. When he suddenly sits beside you, the couch dips slightly from his weight.

“What are you doing?” you softly ask, barely above a whisper.

Slowly, he takes his hand and lays it on yours which is placed on your thigh. You shiver as if his hand is touching your naked skin. “I forgot to tell you the other reason why I decided to become a photographer,” he softly mutters, his voice like a rumbling earthquake to you. “To capture pretty little things like you.” His fingers on his other hand trail up and down your leg, as soft as a butterfly’s wings. “To make them feel beautiful with the work I do.”

Your breathing is labored, your chest rapidly heaving up and down. ��I-I’m not little,” you softly stutter. Geto chuckles, believing different. “You sure as hell are, even from where I’m sitting.” And he’s right–the man is still towers over you despite sitting down.

You barely crack a smile. “I mean, I’m not…little like the girls you’re used to photographing.” You squeeze at your thigh fat, frowning. "I have arm and thigh fat, and cellulite, and–“

“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Geto growls, holding your hand tighter. He scoots closer to you, completely in your grill…but you don’t move away. “And I’m not leavin’ here today until I make you see that. So can I kiss you?”

You gape at him, shocked at his brazened question and attitude. He stares at you, patiently waiting for an answer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips that look so soft and pink. You wonder what they feel like…or taste like…

You barely hear yourself whisper out “yes”, but Geto does. You barely have time to take a breath because he is leaning in and pressing your lips to his. It starts off innocent and careful, his soft lips slowly moving against yours. But once he finds that rhythm, the kiss becomes sensual; heated; panty-dropping.

Geto is a fantastic kisser. Probably the best you’ve had. His lips are pillowy soft and his tongue tastes of mint gum and Moscato as he swirls it with yours. You don’t remember moving closer to him or wrapping your arms around his neck, but there you are, on the couch, making out with your photographer. At some point, he grasps your hips with his big hands and coaxes you into his lap despite your squeak of protest. You’re worried you might hurt him but from the way his hands are gliding along your ass, you guess he doesn't give a fuck.

“We don’t have to go any farther than you want to,” he murmurs between heated kisses and moving lips. “I wanna make you feel good, but I don’t have to do that in any way you’re uncomfortable with.” Though you hear his words, you can feel the hardened bulge that has begun to grow in his jeans that you nudge against, rubbing against your clit.

You don’t know if it’s the wine, the music, or him, but something inside of you suddenly switches on, transforming you into the sexy version of yourself that are in Geto’s photos. You want to put the lingerie you’re wearing to good use and you know Geto is the perfect person to help you with that. “You could start by takin’ more photos of me,” you purr, peering down at him. “And I can take these off.” You take his hands and glide them down your sides, making him feel the sheer bodysuit.

Geto’s eyes are hooded and dark as he gazes up at you, ready to do whatever you want. Then a mischievous smirk curls onto his lips. “Actually, I have a much better idea.” He slowly takes you off of his lap and hurries over to the camera, pressing a few buttons. “I’m gonna set the camera up right here on auto. It’ll go off every thirty seconds, so every time you make a move to strip, it’ll take a pic.”

He slowly strides back over to you, making you tremble with every slow, teasing step he takes. “That means I’ve got my hands free to touch every part of you,” he hums, a slow smile stretching across his lips. As if backing him up, the camera shutter goes off, flicking a photo of you sitting there and gaping at him.

He cocks his head to the side. “Well?” he asks. “Get to strippin’.”

With trembling hands, you slowly begin to take down the straps to your bra, exposing your naked shoulders to him. Then you reach behind to unhook the bra but can’t reach no matter how much you wriggle around. Geto peers down at you, smiling humorously. “Need help, mama?” he chuckles. You nod sheepishly, flushing hot at the pet name curled around his deep voice.

He gets on his knees in front of you, coaxing your thighs apart, and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. Once it’s loose, your tits come falling out of the cups like dripping fruit, your brown nipples erect. Geto almost looks pained at the sight of them. “God, look at these tits,” he groans. “You’re just as perfect as I thought you’d be.”

He leans in and plants his face into your breasts, nuzzling his face in them. You squeak as he does so, frazzled by his action as he motorboats you. He must like titties. After getting his fill of your breasts in his face, he latches his lips onto one of your hard nipples and suckles on the sensitive peak. With his other hand, he toys with your other breast, gently folding and jiggling it, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

You whimper and moan at each of his ministrations, losing yourself in his touch. He is careful to not hurt you, but he isn’t being soft either. He is handsy and hungered like a starved man, switching between your breasts to give each nipple their own treatment until your tits are coated in his saliva. “Suguru,” you softly moan.

“Hm?” he hums, still swirling his tongue around one of your areolas. You arch your back into his mouth, your hips grinding against the couch cushion for some relief. “P-Please…touch me.”

He peers up at you from your tits. “Touch you where?” he teasingly asks. You whimper shyly, still squirming about. “Don’t be shy now, baby girl. Tell me what you want me to do.”

The heated look in his eyes and the need you feel encourage you to leave that shy shit on the shelf. “Touch me here,” you whisper heatedly. You move your hand between your legs, pressing your fingers against the tiny cotton panty line pressing against your throbbing cunt. “Touch my pussy. And please, get those clothes off.”

Geto smirks wolfishly at your dirty words. “I can definitely do that.”

He gives your lips a heated, chaste kiss before he stands before you. The song bumping from the Alexa has now switched to Kehlani’s “Can I”–a tune that is fitting for what’s taking place before you. Geto keeps his eyes set on you as he begins to strip, starting with his boots and socks then starting on his shirt, pants, and boxers. He peels each article of clothing off, flinging them across the floor, forgotten.

Once he is completely naked in front of you, you’re able to indulge in all of him. His body looks as if it was carved from stone itself–each muscle ripples along his body like hard granite stone, not too overwhelming but definitely making you feel like he could break you like a toothpick with how small you are. He truly is a big man, with big hands, big feet, and an even bigger dick. He has to be about eight inches–thick, long, veiny, and dripping with pre-cum all for you. You can’t take your eyes off of it despite the rest of his body being delicious.

“Like what you see, baby girl?” he hums, teasingly swinging his hips a bit. It causes his dick, thick and long, to swing like a pendulum between his thick, tree trunk-like thighs. You nod, moving to get your hands on him, but he takes your wrists firmly in his hands. “Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Not yet. You told me to touch you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without a warning, his hands move under your ass and hoists you up onto his waist. “Oh!” you giggle, surprised and extremely aroused at his strength. He plops you down onto the couch so you’re now lying on your back. He props himself up on his knees between your thighs, peering down at you. “As pretty as this lingerie, I need it off of you.”

Helping you sit up, he gets the rest of the lingerie off of you and pulls it down your ankles that are still strapped in your heels. Once it’s off, you’re completely nude, just in your jewelry and gold heels. The fact makes you shy and want to hide away but Geto’s lustful expression stops you. His big hands slide up your legs and slowly pry your thighs apart, revealing your aching, glistening, wet cunt to him.

“Fuck, you’re wet!” he chuckles, looking up at you between the V of your thighs. “All of this for me, baby? You barely know me.”

And that’s true. You only know as much as his website and Maki have told you. But you find yourself not giving a shit. “Maybe we can get to that later?” you breathlessly suggest. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you over dinner.”

Your suggestion registers across Geto’s face and his gaze darkens to something way more sensual than before that he knows that this isn’t a hookup. “I know a damn good pizza place near here, if you’re up for it. But lemme make you cum first.” Without another word, he tosses your legs aside and dives into your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and gently sucking on your lips.

Yes, Geto is a great kisser, but he’s even better at eating pussy, you realize. His mouth alternates between using his lips to suckle gently on your pussy lips and clit to using his tongue to slowly flick the inside of your tight pussy walls. He takes his time, his movements deliberate and methodical, taking each moment to draw a moan or a whimper out of you.

You’re losing it. You toss your head back against the pillow and grip the couch, your fingers digging into the couch cushions. “Fuck, sugar!” you shout to the ceiling, the nickname flying out of your mouth. How the fuck is he this good with his mouth?

Geto looks up at you, his eyes shining from between the V of your inner thighs. “Call me that again,” he growls before spitting a copious amount of spit onto your pussy and slurping it back up, the lewd, wet sounds driving you farther to insanity. You grip his shoulders as he keeps his hands firmly placed on your inner thighs, pinning them up so your heeled feet are perched high on his head.

“God, sugar!” you whine. “Please keep doing that! You’re so…so…”

All words and thoughts leave you, the pleasure leaving you dumb. You want to control yourself, but it’s especially hard when he swirls his tongue around your clit and dips into your little wet hole to pay attention to you there. He slurps up every ounce of you, not leaving a single drop to waste.

You hope he’ll be able to handle it when you cum because you can already feel it rising. That chord in your core is about to snap with how soft his lips are and the way his nose constantly keeps nudging against your sensitive little button. “Geto,” you moan in a warning. “I-I’m gonna–”

“I can feel it,” he groans into your pussy, still lapping away. “Cum on my face, mama. I wanna taste all of you.” He grips your thighs and moves his jaw faster, coaxing you further toward that edge, his tongue flicking mercilessly against your clit. “Cum for me,” he demands. “Don’t fuckin’ hold back.”

But you can’t. Not yet. “Wait!” you practically shot. He sits up, alarmed and his mouth coated in your juices. “I-I wanna cum with you,” you softly say. “I wanna feel you in my mouth…in my throat…”

You move to fondle his cock, earning a lustful groan from deep in his throat. “Please, Sugu,” you whimper. “I need you.”

Geto raises an eyebrow at you. “You wanna 69?” he asks, shocked. “You’d have to sit on my face for that. Is that okay with you? ‘Cause I’m close to cumming just by the thought of this ass in my face.” He reaches down to give your ass a smack, making you jump slightly.

Though you’ve never 69-ned with anyone before, you know that you want to feel Geto’s dick down your throat now and nothing can curb that hunger until you do. So you nod, determined to not let your insecurities about you weight get to you. Without another warning, Geto lies flat on his back and pats his lap for you to climb up into. With a soft giggle, you twist around so your ass is facing him and you’re looking down at his hard cock waving in your face.

You feel Geto’s arms instantly wrap around your waist, forcing you to plant your ass back onto his face. You squeak, instinctively tensing. “Shh, it’s okay,” he coos, gently stroking your backside. “I can take you easy if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you to feel good.”

His dick begins to bob up and down in front of you which you realize he’s doing on his own. Fuck, this man is dangerous. “Relax, mama,” he soothingly says. “I’ve got you. Just take what you need.”

And so you do. With a fire igniting inside of you at the sight of his veiny, thick cock in front of your very eyes, you wrap a hand around the base of his dick, biting your lip at the fact that you can barely fit it all in your hand. You start by spitting a copious amount of spit onto his cock and stroke it up and down his shaft, making him shine with your saliva. Geto groans softly at the feeling of your tiny, soft hand wrapped around him from underneath you and begins to gently play with your pussy, gliding his finger up and down your twitching lips and clit.

After lubing him up with your spit, you lean in and press small kisses along the head of his dick, throwing some kitten licks in the mix. He loves that. His toes curl and his hands clench at his sides as more porn-worthy sounds drift from between his lips.

After gaining enough courage, you finally open your mouth wide to accommodate to his size and take him into your mouth. “Fuck!” he grunts as soon as your lips and tongue make contact with his dick. You begin to bob your head up and down along his dick, sliding him in and out of your mouth. You stroke in time with what you can’t gobble down, making sure to keep a secure grip along his slick, wet cock.

He tastes good. He smells good. He feels good. He sounds good. All of your senses are completely taken over by him as you suck and gag on his dick, hollowing your cheeks and opening your throat to take him deeper. “Such a good girl,” he groans, one hand curling in your hair. “Takin’ that dick so deep in your pretty mouth like that. I bet a girl like you has been needin’ this, hm?”

His lewd words encourage you to take him deeper, so much that you start gagging because of how thick he is. He practically fills your throat, making you nearly choke on it. Your eyes begin to well with tears, possibly fucking up your mascara.

But you never give up or stop. You’ll be damned if the first blowjob you give him is the worst one he’s had. You take things slow, allowing yourself time to get used to his size as you slide your head up and down, up and down, along his dick. His moans get louder, his grip tighter on your waist as you gag on his dick like it’s no one’s business. Saliva drips from your mouth down his heavy balls, and you find yourself wanting to suck on those too.

“Fuck, baby!” Geto growls, his hand coming down to spank your ass. The sharp sound of his hand recoiling against your plump ass makes you moan around his dick. “You deserve the same treatment,” he huffs, his hot breath caressing your twitching pussy. You suddenly feel his tongue begin to swirl around your clit, alternating between that and softly sucking on the sensitive, little bud.

“Sugu,” you whimper, your words muffled around his cock. Drool pools from your mouth and down his shaft, dripping all the way down his balls and onto the couch below. You continue to bob your head up and down his shaft, adding your own sloppy, wet sounds to his as he plays with your pussy with his tongue like it’s his own personal playground.

His big hands grab and massage your ass, spanking it here and there. Every time his hand comes down to smack one of your ass cheeks, your pussy clenches in his mouth. It’s just too much!

Click!

Your eyes shift to the left, finding the camera still on auto and taking pictures. You realize that it’s been on auto this entire time. You almost forgot that Geto set it up that way before he helped you strip off your clothes. How many pictures of you are there? And how many of them are with Geto?

The idea of the camera taking such risqué pictures of you turns you on, especially if the photos are of you and him in this position–you sitting perfectly on his face with his long dick in your throat while your pussy is in his mouth, your thighs spread wide for him.

How would Maki react if she saw such photos by accident?

How would she and Mai look if they were to enter the studio right now and find you spread out like a dessert plate for your photographer?

The naughty ideas make you gush much to Geto’s enjoyment. He hums into your pussy, causing your clit to quiver with pleasure. “Feelin’ good, baby?” he coos into your pussy. “Think you can cum for me just like this?”

‘I…” You can’t even utter one coherent word as he widens his mouth and takes your whole pussy into it, his tongue swirling around your little hole.

You quiet your desperate moans by gobbling down his dick once more, stroking your hand in time with the bob of your head. You’re so glad the music is still blasting because neither one of you are quiet. Moans and sloppy sounds of your activity swim around you, filling the air.

Your jaw begins to ache and your eyes water the more you take Geto into your throat. However, when you begin to feel him swell in your mouth, stretching it out further, you know that you can't give up. Not until you make him cum. So you go faster, gluck-glucking all around his cock like your life depends on it. At the same time, you can feel your clit begin to swell and you start to grind your hips down into his face like he’s your personal surfboard.

Geto chuckles from underneath you, holding your hips down against his face. “You gonna cum for me, mama?” he mumbles into your pussy. One of his hands move to your ass to press against your entrance, barely entering but still giving you all the pleasure you need. “Mmm-hmm!” you squeal around his cock. “M’so…so close!”

You can feel that cord in your core about to snap again, the feeling rising every time Geto repeats his actions. You can tell he’s close to by how his hips begin to bump against your mouth, making you take his cock further down your throat. “Me too,” he grunts. “Keep goin’ and I’ll cum for you too, baby girl. Is that what you want?”

His thick finger suddenly slides easily into your slick, wet pussy, practically making you scream. You pop off of his dick, gasping at the feeling. “Yes!” You sob in ecstasy. “Please, sugar! Please give me your cum! I wanna cum with you too!”

That is all Geto needs to hear. Like a madman, he clamps you farther down onto his face so you can’t move, flicks his tongue along your sensitive clit, and strokes your walls a little faster, coaxing you to burst all over his face. “Cum for me, mama,” he growls into your cunt. “Cum all over my face, Y/N.”

And as you bob along his cock, you finally do. The strength in his hands pinning your thighs open and his wondrous mouth push you over the edge. You begin to grind your hips into his mouth, chasing that orgasm like a high.

Finally, with a mewl-like moan and your eyes screwed tight, you burst all over Geto’s mouth and the couch cushion beneath you. Your orgasm crashes into your body, making it shiver and shudder with aftershocks as Geto continues to softly lap at your pussy.

After a few moments of continuous work, Geto finally follows you down that hill into the sea of bliss. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he groans, and you suddenly feel him burst all in your mouth. His cum shoots out onto your tongue, immediate and creamy. It surprises you so much that you react your mouth a bit, causing his cum to spurt all over your lips and face, ruining your makeup.

Geto groans appreciatively at your mouth and taste, eating you up like an hungered animal. Your mind is hazy and your body feels as light as a feather as you begin to come down from your high as you begin to lap up his cum, cleaning his cock for him. It is by far the best orgasm you’ve had.

Finally, once he’s sure you’re cleaned up and way too sensitive for more, Geto removes himself from between your thighs. With his help, you slowly move off of him though your legs feel like jelly. “Easy now,” he coos, helping you sit down on the couch cushion. He sits up from his spot, his chin and mouth shiny with your cum and his saliva.

“Mmm,” he hums, licking his plump, pink lips free of your juices. “Definitely better than Moscato.”

You breathlessly giggle, licking his cum from your lips. “You too,” you purr, earning a chaste kiss against your lips. “I may need a towel though.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry, baby. You just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself. Stay right here.” He gets up from the couch and walks to the bathroom, his tight, firm ass a sight indeed.

After a few minutes of lounging on the couch, exhausted but satisfied, he finally comes back with a warm, wet towel and helps you dab off his cum, careful not to ruin your makeup. After you’re all clean, he wraps his muscular arms around you and slides you into his lap for closer access. “That was amazing,” you sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hums in agreement. “It definitely was.” He moves his hand to your forehead, wiping away a stray piece of hair from your sweaty forehead. “Now do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? I bet you would from those naughty lil’ photos now.” He presses his lips to your neck, making you whimper as he kisses the sensitive parts of your skin.

“We still have to finish the photoshoot,” you softly moan as his hands move to caress your breasts. “Maki will be mad if we don’t.” He groans in protest, but moves away from you anyway. “Maybe after some pizza?” he suggests, smirking at you. “I made a promise to you, didn’t I?”

Realizing he was serious from the start, you can do nothing but giggle and press a kiss to his lips, feeling giddy at this new, blossoming feeling of something real starting.

When Geto pulls away from the kiss, his eyes trail down to your body. “Damn; I really made a mess,” he chuckles. You look down, finding your tits and stomach to be coated in his cum too. You reach for the towel but he grabs it first and holds it out of reach. “Geto, I need to get clean!” you whine.

“Not just yet, mama.” He smacks your ass before coaxing you off of him and moves behind the camera. You sit there confused and exposed, his cum dripping down your body, makeup and hair a fucked-out mess, and your pussy glinting in your cum and his spit.

He grins at you, his teeth glistening white. “Stay like that,” he orders before bending down behind the camera.

“Smile for the camera, baby,” he chuckles. Before you can protest, the shutter flickers.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #plus sized reader #happy birthday geto #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x plus sized!reader #jjk smut #my works #my one shots #suguru aka sugar

232 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 4 months ago

Text

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Nine -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer

“What do you mean she is missing?” Your fiancé’s voice questioned as he was on the phone with his… assistant, for lack of a better term. From what he knew, you had just left his mother’s boutique and decided to walk home and you disappeared, you disappeared as if into thin air, you never returned to the penthouse and an hour or two difference would be fine, but it has been almost eight hours since you had left. Gabriel groaned, running a hand through his hair, he was standing outside of a luxury hotel, the hotel chain it belonged to his family has been board members of it for years, multiple decades, and since he was beginning to step up as his parents began to retire he was the one who attended this sort of thing, board meetings and such. “Look I don’t care what you have to do, find her or else I swear to god-“

“Mr. Christel, is something wrong?” Gabriel tensed up, being caught off guard by the unwelcome person calling after him. Gabriel sighed and hanged up the phone before taking a breath and turning around with smile to face none other than your father, Bruce Wayne, he was dressed up in one of his dark blue suits with a black tie, Gabriel had spotted him in the meeting since Wayne Enterprises ran the hotel chain’s computer networks with their guest list logs and such. “I expected to see your father at today’s meeting, especially given your recent… engagement to my youngest daughter.”

“Ah well we both have our own dealings to attend to today.” He forced a smile at his future, and unwillingly so, father in law. “Me more so since I am now dealing with filing a lawsuit against the security company that is employed at my mother’s boutique because your son somehow broke in without any of them noticing which is a failure on their end, Damian I believe it was.”

“Well I would happy to write a check for the lawyer fees then-“

“No need, your money is nothing to my family… and my fiancé.” He just added the last part in that sentence with a sadistic smirk pulling at his lips for an extra bit of salt to the wound, especially after last night’s affairs. “Such a shame we were not able to tell you before the party, she did accept only less than an hour beforehand, such an occasion should be celebrated with the bride’s family as well if you all were not so bitter about it… well your wife is not, which I find quite strange especially given your so called perfect relationship the press reports on, you would think with a marriage like your own you and your wife would be able to agree on anything, but clearly that does not seem to be the case.”

“I never gave you my permission to marry my daughter-“

“I did not need it, seeing as she is a grown woman who has not lived with you for four years along with being no contact with your entire family.” Gabriel shot a flare at Bruce, his eyes would have sent another man running but not your father, all the hate in the world burning into his soul. “It was her choice entirely to accept my proposal, though perhaps your blessing would be nice.”

“I would not have gotten that either, and from what I recall, you bullied my youngest son in high school, you and your friends defaced his locker, I believe I have the photos if you want to see them.” Bruce snapped back at the young man who was completely unafraid of him. “Does my daughter know about that, because I don’t think she would exactly approve of that behavior.”

“No one at that school could stand your son, everyone made fun of him, especially after he slammed my head into a brick wall in the stairwell after he found me and your daughter kissing, which by the way she initiated.” Gabriel scoffed while crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at your father. “Besides she knows I did that and I only stopped because she asked me to, but I certainly think your son should be put in his place because he is a psychopathic freak who gave me a head injury over having a crush on his his sister and broke into my mother’s store because his stepmother was helping her own daughter plan her wedding, he should be in Arkham Asylum for that sort of behavior.”

“Watch your mouth when you are talking about my son.”

“Don’t blow your top, I’m not going to tell the press any of that, I just want you to see reason and the reality of what is wrong with your own along with your children’s behavior, but clearly that is not possible.” Gabriel turned his head away as he noticed his driver pulling up with his car, he glanced back at your father as the driver got out to open the back door for his employer. “If you change your mind, my fiancé and I may reconsider inviting you to the wedding, but let your wife know that there will be a spot open for her.”

“I will not.”

“Shame… have a good evening, Mr. Wayne.” Gabriel gave his future father in law a back handed wave with one hand while the other tucked itself into the pocket of his suit jacket as he walked towards and stepped into the car. The windows were so tinted that when the doors closed there was no way that your father could possibly see into the backseat of the car.

Gabriel sighed and leaned back into his seat, his hand coming to support his chin as his arm rested against the car door, watching the city scenery roll by as the car began to pull away from the hotel.

“Home, sir?” The driver asked and Gabriel sighed and shook his head as he pulled his hands away from the door and instead reached for a center console in the back seat of the car which was hidden in the middle seat, the back panel of the seat having to be pulled down in order to reveal it. Gabriel pressed a button on the center console, opening up a drawer on the center console and, more importantly revealing what was inside of it.

Gabriel, ever so gently and delicately, picked up the perfectly white mask from the center console drawer, it was white black and slightly narrowed eyes along with the nose of the mask being sculpted into a slightly curved, pointed, small beak which make the mask hold an owl like resemblance.

“The Powers Club.”

“Yes, sir.”

______________________

You stared at the man that sat across from you, or what feels like a demon taking the form of the man with everything this man has done, things that no higher power could ever forgive.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No.” You snapped at the leader of the League of Assassins rather quickly after his question which with anyone else you would have said yes, but you would not trust a word this man said, even if it was a kind gesture, a common courtesy. You knew he would not poison it, you knew you were more useful to him alive than dead, otherwise if he wanted you dead you would have been dead years ago. “What do you want, why am I here? I don’t want to waste time.”

“Talia told me how much you have grown, you truly are your father’s daughter.” You would have snapped at him for comparing you to your father but you did not dare to do so, you know better than to raise a hand against the Demon’s Head. He leaned back in his chair before waving his hand and out of the corner or your eye you spotted one of his underlings step forward and reached out to you, handing you something, a small black bag made up of a sort of fabric and strings that tied it off at the end. “A wedding gift, I thought it best be left in your hands rather than ours because perhaps you could make use of it while it matters not to us.”

“…Why should I care about whatever this is?” You spoke while looking down at the bag, having next to no idea what was inside, it could be something like an actual wedding gift like jewelry or it could be something like someone’s dried out heart. You looked up at Ra’s Al Ghul, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why should I even open this? I could just burn it.”

“We all know that you won’t.” Talia finally spoke up, her hand trailing over to your check, bringing your head down to look at the small black bag you held on your lap. “I promise you that it may change your mind on more than one thing, for the better, my darling.”

“No offense, but I take everything you all say with multiple grains of salt, like a whole spoonful-“

“If you open it, I will provide protection for your little friends from the warning I originally gave you during our little reunion a few weeks ago.” Talia words rang in your ears, her interruption not irritating you like it normally would with her promise. You took in a deep breath before your fingers came to pull at the strings of the bag, beginning to open it. “That’s a good, little finch.”

Your fingers pulled the bag away, leaving the contents on your lap…

You felt like you were going to vomit at the sight of it.

“Mix valerian root and kava into the tea for the young mistress, natural sedatives are best for her at the moment due to her shock.” You heard Talia’s voice speak to you, not quite able to process the title she just gave you when speaking to the underling present in the root. “When you return her, if you so much leave a mark on her skin you will be dead within the hour, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

______________________

“No, sorry Gabriel, she hasn’t been on the comm lines since last night.” Clove responded to your fiancé who was on the other end of the phone. “Ya, sorry we could not be more help, if you find anything please call, she is our friend… alright bye.”

“What was that about?” Henbane questioned from where he sat on a nice leather couch as Clove hung up the phone. They had been moved into one of Mark Austen’s luxury apartments which were normally reserved for his employees on business trips, in all honesty it was a total upgrade from the warehouse they had been living in for years, had a staff and everything for them. “Something up with Nightshad- (Name)… god I will never get used to calling her that.”

“It is her real name, no reason to hide it anymore.” Nettle chimed in to his giant of a friend as he grabbed an apple from a glass bowl on the coffee table with a bunch of other fruits in it.

“Ya… b-but that’s beside the point.” Clive sighed and shook her head, setting her phone on the same coffee where Nettle grabbed the apple from the fruit bowl. She sighed, leaning her head on Henbane’s shoulder as he sat next to her and to which he reached a big hand up to scratch at her head and brush through her hair. “Gabriel called me, he just got out of some board meeting and was on his way home when he got word that she did not come home after some wedding planning thing this morning, like straight up disappeared, he was just wondering if we had any idea where she might be, but I don’t think anyone here has heard anything, right?”

“Nope.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Not a thing.”

Clove sighed and closed her eyes, her hand reaching out for Henbane’s other hand to hold, squeezing down to let out her stress as she did. “Where could she be?”

______________________

You woke up back in the alley you were taken in, the assassins who were watching over you, waiting for you to wake up, booked it the moment you opened your eyes, seemed like the League of Assassins were the guardian angels you never wanted. The little black bag Ra’s Al Ghul was tied onto your pants’ belt loop, the contents of your wedding gift back inside the bag.

You made yourself stand up from the alley ground, your legs all sorts of shaking. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone and called an Uber. One thing was for sure, you were not going to be going back to that penthouse anytime soon.

______________________

“Hey Bruce, have you seen the footage analysis Babs sent in on that break in last night?” Tim asked as he walked into the family room, speaking to his adoptive father who was sitting on one of the leather sofas in the room along with his wife, your own mother with an ice pack on her leg that she rested her hand and wrist on top of. “They think it might be some people on someone else’s payroll- Hey mom, are you alright?”

“Damian was a bit rough with her earlier, just bruised her wrist a bit, she’ll be alright, Tim.” Bruce responded as he enjoyed this moment of peace with his wife resting her head on his shoulder as she iced her wrist. She was not Tim’s real mother, nor was she the one who adopted him, but that did not matter, he always called her that no matter what, funny that she was the one who he referred to her more as a parental title, he did on occasion call Bruce dad, but she as always mom or sometimes bat mom when she went down to the cave while comm lines were up, she hated when they called her that. “I’ll need you to stop by Selina Kyle’s apartment tonight to talk to her about breaking into the manor.”

“She didn’t…”

“She did, I am afraid.”

“Hey Bruce!” Dick’s voice called out from the hallway, near the front entryway, but he was walking down the hallway as his slightly concerned voice spoke out to the older man. The first Robin, now Nightwing, peaked into the family room, lingering at the doorway. “We got a situation out front.”

“What kind of situation-“

“It’s her, she’s back home.” At those words, everyone’s eyes went wide, some with shock, but one with a mixture of shock and horror. “She is just sitting on the front steps, don’t know how she got past the front gate, but something is wrong, really wrong… she’s never been this… still.”

Bruce stood up from the couch, his fingers trailing off of his wife’s shoulder as he walked off, both him and Tim rushing out of the room and following after Dick. The doors to the manor were wide open, it seems like everyone else in the manor caught notice before Dick ran to tell Bruce and Tim. Damian, Jason, and Cassandra stood back by the open front door while both Stephanie and Duke sat next to you on the steps, Stephanie rubbing her hand in circles on your back and Duke giving your hand little squeezes, both gestures meant to bring some level of comfort to you, but you did not move, your eyes fixed ahead of you, unmoving due to the level of shock you were in.

Bruce walked down the stairs so he could come to kneel in front of you, your eyes just looked dead, even if he was right in front of you, you did not see him, just staring off at nothing, it reminded him of the look in his own eyes, that dead look, when he saw his parents, your grandparents, be killed in front of me. “Princess, talk to me, what happened-“

“Her right shoulder is tense, is there something on the right side of her body?” Cassandra spoke up in a quiet voice, the child who was fluent in body language, even if she did not have a perfect view of you from the back and what you had on your hip due to you sitting down. “Her legs are pressed together and her jaw is tense, something is wrong… she’s…”

“Heartbroken.” Stephanie spoke up, finishing Cassandra’s sentence as she uncurled your fist as she attempted to hold your hand, revealing your engagement ring that you had taken off, making it clear that the something that was wrong was relationship related. She pried the ring from your hand with little to no resistance from you and tossed it off back to Dick who was walking down the stairs. Her eyes then looked over to your right hip, spotting the bag and reached over to untie it from your waist right before Bruce sighed and picked you up from the stairs, carrying you like he would when you were little.

“It’s cold out, she doesn’t need to be sitting outside of her home.” He simply stated as he walked past the rest of his children, his arms squeezing around you, pressing your head under his chin and feeling your breath against your neck, a reminder that you were actually here.

“H-hey… Bruce, you gotta see this.”

“Not right now, Stephanie.”

“No, you really have to see this.” Duke added in which made Bruce look back around, they had opened in the bag and everyone was now gathering around to get a look at the photographs that were inside, the gift from Ra’s Al Ghul, but none of them knew that part and nor did they need to. Dick glanced back at Bruce and the look of worry and pure concern in Dick’s eyes that boarded fear made Bruce give in and hand you off to his eldest son.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Dick spoke to you, wrapping his arms around you as he carried you into the manor. “You’re probably so tired, let’s get you to bed, poor thing.”

After all the hostility due to your engagement from his children, Bruce was so surprised to hear words of pity so quickly after the whiplash of pain. He reached down as Stephanie handed him the photos and brought them up for him to see.

Blood.

A body.

A mask.

And a killer.

All caught on camera.

“Son of a bitch.” Jason growled as Bruce furrowed his brow at the revelation shown by the photos. “The Court of Owls is actually real… motherfucker.”

“And her ex was a member.” Stephanie added , her own eyes fixed on the ground before her in shock. When you were in high school they told you he was a member of the Court of Owls as a way to scare you away from him, they even tried it when you returned to the manor not to long ago with Clove and Henbane, but they never thought it actually existed.

The person you loved more than anything was a murderer, a cold blooded killer and psychopath, the only difference between him and the people in Blackgate prison and Arkham Asylum is that he had money, lots of it, and a smile that hid a thousand lies.

185 notes · View notes

haikyu-mp4 · 1 year ago

Text

Crooked bangs

word count; 1053 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were nothing short of nervous as you got ready to photograph the tall volleyball players. The volleyball team was one of Shiratorizawa’s many great prides, and you had taken it upon yourself to create something that would represent them and their talents. However, you didn’t expect that some of the players would be even more nervous than you. While working with the first years, Goshiki was proving difficult as he kept turning away from the camera. The coach gave you limited time with his players so you started getting anxious, begging him to tell you what made him so camera shy.

“My bangs are a little crooked and I look stupid,” he mumbled. You hadn’t noticed before, but your eyes darted up to the hair on his forehead and you noticed it wasn’t quite as straight as usual.

“I can’t even see it! Don’t worry, Goshiki,” you tried to assure him, ignoring the other first-years giggling at their future ace acting like that. He didn’t seem convinced by your encouragement and the rest of the members you had at hand were no help, so you browsed your brain for an idea and left for where the rest of the team were training. Muttering encouragement for yourself this time under your breath, you walked over to the coach and asked him to borrow a specific player. He considered for a moment, but your respectful demeanour convinced him.

“Tendo! You’re excused. Follow her and make it quick,” the coach yelled, and the redhead was surprised, to say the least. Still, he strolled over to you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“I thought you were starting with the first-years?” he asked and you put a hand on his upper arm before leaning closer so you didn’t have to speak too loudly. Tendo took the hint and leaned down.

“Goshiki is refusing to take his pictures because of his hair. I’ve seen how you encourage him between games, please help me,” you explained, hoping he could hear how desperate you felt. Tendo stood back up to his full height and looked at your eyes for a second. It felt good to hear someone notice his efforts and talk to him so casually. Like he wasn’t scary. He hadn’t even talked to you before, but you seemed to have a good impression of him. He liked this feeling.

“I’ll try my best, boss,” he said simply with a wink. The two of you went back to the first-years and Tendo did his best to boost Goshiki’s confidence. Telling him how people would be looking at the awesome flyer after seeing his amazing line shots to find information about him, the next ace. His eyes found yours and you nodded.

“I can even write that on your profile if you want! The future ace sounds pretty impressive.”

And so the two of you got Goshiki to pose more confidently, cheering him on until Tendo had to go back and you could start with the second years.

When it was finally the third-years’ turn, you smiled a little brighter at the tall redhead. “Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it,” you said. The two of you seemed to be looking at each other like the others weren’t even there.

“No worries, are you happy with all the pictures so far?” he asked, not noticing the way Reon and Semi glanced at each other.

“Very, it’s fun showing off such a great team.” Your cheeks almost matched his hair with the way you felt when his eyes were on you.

“That’s good, saved the best for last of course. How do you want us?” he said as he finally broke out of the trance, rubbing his hands together.

“Give me a look that says undefeated champions, even though it’ll probably say it on the paper as well,” you giggled, trying not to be shy about your excitement.

The third-years had you laughing nonstop, energy high as you went from static Ushijima who really just had two poses to dynamic Tendo who made some funny faces for you. You got Reon to give you a handsome smirk and Semi had more than enough confidence and it showed. Overall, you couldn’t be happier.

“You guys better get back to practice, thank you so much,” you said, starting to pack up your stuff. As they were about to leave, Tendo doing so a bit hesitantly, you stopped them. “Wait! Ushijima, did you find someone?”

When explaining the concept to him and asking for his approval, you informed him that you would love it if someone spent some of their own time to make sure you had all the right information. The captain seemed to understand what you meant after a moment of thought. He pointed to Tendo, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Satori will meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said before bowing and leaving. The others followed him, except for Tendo who gulped and stuck around. Is his best friend, the Ushiwaka, playing wingman?

“I’ll meet you by your classroom at lunch then,” you said cheerily. You could feel your little crush blossoming, charmed by how he made you laugh.

“TENDO SATORI!” the coach yelled, done with waiting for the lanky boy.

“I’ll see you then, Grandpa’s calling,” he joked and left you with a soft chuckle.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #shiratorizawa #tendou x you #tendou satori #tendo x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu tendou #tendo satori

486 notes · View notes

haxkattpress · 7 months ago

Text

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

"Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order."

This has to be one of the most creative and meticulously researched fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. If you haven't read it yet, don't walk— run! Citrusses is an absolute genius, and kindly gave me permission to bind her masterpiece.

The cover of this bind is made out four different shades of Allure bookcloth cut by my Cameo 4, and the centerpiece is printed and hand foiled. The banners were machine foiled in gold and black with hand foiled rose gold shading. The endbands were hand sewn with Gutermann silk thread.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

The amount of inspiration this fic gave me was overwhelming, and Citrusses' writing fully immersed me in the world of competitive rowing. While designing this bind, I was struck by the sheer wealth of Oxford rowing memorabilia available to me. I settled on this 1929 illustration from an official publication on the Oxford and Cambridge Centenary Boat Race for the cover.

"How hard could it possibly be?" I thought, foolishly. The answer was HARD, but I'll get into that later.

Due to the wealth of design options, I believe that this may be the best typeset I have created to date. Thanks to the help of my friend @tsurashi-bindery, I was able to learn the basics of InDesign (kicking and screaming all the way). There will be spoilers in the text of these photos, so try not to read them if you haven't finished the fic!

For the title page, I modified To See the Crews in Training by Charles Pears (1930). I believe that this was part of a series of advertisements for the race in the London Underground.

For the chapter headers, I redrew the crest from an Oxford Oars, Flags, and Arms postcard, presumably pre 1914. I also had some fun creating a mock email using La_Temperanza's How to Mimic Email Windows on Ao3. Cormac's email makes me laugh every time I read it, and Citrusses provided an appropriately pompous subject.

I also had lots of fun editing the oars from the official OUBC logo to serve as dividers and decorations for the page numbers.

Additionally, I got to edit a full newspaper page for the fic! I was very excited find an opportunity to slip Leyendecker's The Finish (1908) in.

The fic ended beautifully, so I wanted to include one last element at the end to capture the atmosphere. I settled on L'aviron (1932) by Milivoj Uzelac. It makes me feel as though Harry and Draco will continue rowing together long after I've closed the book.

I of course had lots of fun sewing the headbands, and got to do it with not one but TWO copies!

Things got tricky when I had to recreate the cover. I had a poor understanding of how vector images worked, and ended up having to redraw it three times. Once I finally cracked and taught myself how to use Illustrator, the program crashed...and I had to redraw it a fourth time!

I set the vector to cut on my Cameo 4, and I assembled the pieces together like a puzzle on my Silhouette mat. I used Allure's indigo, skylight, white, and black bookcloth in the process. I will be making a tutorial video on this method, so I will keep it brief here.

I also cut a piece of bookcloth to 8.5"x 11" and fed it through my inktank printer to print the center design. I then cut it out using the print and cut feature on my Cameo 4. Both of these methods were a first for me, and they were very scary!!

To be perfectly frank, the foiling was a nightmare and I don't want to get into it. I machine foiled the gold, and then foiled black lettering on top of it. I foiled the rose gold shading by hand, and then foiled a thin black outline along the edge of the banners to make them stand out more.

I hand foiled the spines (because I'm scared of measuring), painted the exposed board (to hide any gaps in the inlays), and used transfer tape to lift my design from the Silhouette mat and onto the cover.

One more fun detail— my copy and the author's copy are sisters! The dark blue and the light blue are inverted on the author's copy, making it distinguishable from mine. This is the first time I have made an author's copy for a fic, and I was admittedly incredibly nervous. I always worry about what authors will think of my work, but Citrusses gave me an incredible amount of encouragement and support throughout the process! Thank you for trusting me with your precious fic!

This story is a work of fanfiction and can be read on Ao3 for free. My bind and typeset are for personal use only and not for sale or profit. Keep fandom free!

#book binding #fic binding #fanbinding #fanfic binding #drarry #our objective remains unchanged #harry x draco #my binds

341 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 1 month ago

Text

me gusta tu camisa / patri guijarro

you surprise patri with a new shirt / wc: 2443

“Me gusta tu camisa, mi Vida”

“Gracias! I got it custom.”

Less than 24 hours ago, you were in an entirely different country than Patri. You were actually being a bridesmaid in an old friend’s wedding ceremony. Patri wanted to come but it overlapped with too many important games and she was fit to start all of them, so you went stag. And you did have a lot of fun, seeing all your oldest friends in one place. Catching up with everyone was always your favorite part. Everyone was spread out geographically so weddings were the only time you could physically sit down with all of them these days.

Of course they asked where Patri was. But not in a celebrity gossip way. In fact, all of them had already met her at other weddings in the past. A few of them loved to talk about football with her, huddling around a table during the reception, Patri sketching out various plays on a napkin with a marker she happened to find. The only thing that could successfully pull her away from the table was you asking her to dance. She’d immediately stand up and take your hand, half-heartedly apologizing to the group over her shoulder.

The football fans were particularly sad when you told them she had work. Then, after remembering what she did for work, your friend asked you where they could watch the games. You had promised to text the info to them later. Which you made sure to actually do before you left the wedding and drove to the airport later in the night.

You were supposed to stay longer and then fly out in two days but after getting permission from your now-married friends, you decided to surprise Patri after her game, if everything goes to plan, time-wise. You gave yourself some cushion for time because something always goes wrong while traveling. That thing happened to be a delayed plane for your layover flight. You sat, checking your watch and phone repeatedly, for almost two hours.

To entertain yourself during the time, you made sure to send Patri your normal good luck message at the correct time so she wouldn’t be suspicious when you don’t text again her during half time, like you usually do when you are out of town.

And it works! You make your way into the venue a few in-game minutes before the final whistle. Instead of heading to the friends and family section, you find your way to the home team tunnel. After flashing your ID pass, you lean against the wall and wait out the final minutes and whistle before following a few others onto the green to celebrate with the team. You successfully hide behind one of the physical therapists, the one Patri particularly loves, hoping that no one sees you and gives it away.

That’s until Ms. Ona Batlle spots you. The tiny but mighty girl runs right into you, her arms immediately tight around you like an octopus’s.

“She’s gonna be so surprised! How’d you do it?” Ona asks you, stepping back and letting you go.

You wink at her. “I have my ways. Hey, check out what I got from my friend,” you unbutton your coat to show Ona your shirt. It was one of those “I ❤️ My Girlfriend” but within the heart is a picture of Patri during a goal celebration, both hands raised in triumph.

“Oh My God! That’s ridiculous! I love it,” Ona snorts, claps her hands with glee.

You laugh with her. “I know. I mentioned to them that I thought they were so dumb but also how much I wanted one to wear to games as a goof. Then at the wedding, before I left, my friend, Sam, just gave it to me. It’s now my new favorite merch.”

“Ona, vamos ahora! It’s photo time!”

You recognize the voice and see Ona’s smile grow mischievous.

“Patri! Dios Mío. As you can see I’m busy,” Ona yells back. She gestures to you, and you take it to turn around to face the rest of the team.

Patri’s grin drops, her mouth open as she stares at you. She shakes herself out of her stupor and starts sprinting towards you. Once she’s close enough, you quickly wrap your arms around her.

“How is this possible? What did you do?” Patri yells in shock. She presses several kisses to your head.

“Hey Patri, c’mon, it’s photo time!” Ona teases. The older girl uses one of her hands to slap the side of Ona’s head, returning it to keep holding your body against hers when Ona runs away.

“Amor, how did you get here? I thought I still had two more days without you?” She slowly rocks you guys back and forth.

You kiss Patri’s shoulder, leaning back to see her face. You cup her face and kiss her lips.

“I just missed you.” You smile at her. “You should probably go take the team photo,” you point over her shoulder where Alexia is gesturing Patri over, yelling something you can’t hear.

“I’ll be right back! You stay here!” Patri orders.

“Where would I go?” You jokingly say back to her.

She runs to take a handful of photos for the team and media. After the girls are all dismissed, Patri finds you again. This time with Ona, Claudia, and Jana following her. You give congratulatory hugs and kisses to all the girls, much to Patri’s irritation at having to share you.

“OK, now you all have said hi, go change please!” Patri shoos them away.

When it’s just you and her, she finally gets a good look at your shirt. You watch her eyes scan over it and a smirk grows across her face.

“I like your shirt, mi Vida.”

“Thanks! I got it custom.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Hm? One of a kind?”

You scoff and roll your eyes at Patri, playing along with her teasing.

“Excuse me? Are you telling me you’d want to see a bunch of girls wearing this too?” You playfully shove her shoulder.

“No, mi Vida. Only you,” Patri coos. She pulls you into another kiss. “I must go,” she murmurs against you. “I need to shower.”

“Yeah I agree,” you smile against her lips. “You stink!”

Patri leans back to glare at you. “Rude! You’re being so mean to me. Need I remind you that I just got two goals in the game today? Two?” She holds up two fingers, shaking them dramatically in your face.

“I’m so so sorry, mi Sol,” you apologize, kissing her once more. “Okay, go! I’ll wait for you near the exit. Text me?”

“Sí. Be right back, mi Vida.”

Patri is back in less than 12 minutes, her new record. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and guides you to her car.

“How was the wedding? Did everything go smoothly?” Patri opens your door for you, as you start to answer her questions. She simultaneously opens the one behind you to throw her kit bag on the seat. Then she walks back up to your still opened door to stand between your legs. The height lining up perfectly so she can easily kiss you soundly on the mouth, cutting off your sentence.

“Sorry! Had to. What were you saying?” Patri lets out a yell when you swat her away. “Aye. Calm down, chiqui!”

“You’re so annoying,” you complain, shoving her away from you. She keeps ahold of your arm and reels herself back into your space. She kisses you on the cheek. “I’m sorry, mi Vida. Tell me everything.” She kisses your cheek multiple times.

You preen under her kisses. “Fine, I forgive you. But please get in the car. I want to go home.” You give her your best puppy eyes.

She nods. “Sí, sí. Vamos. I don’t know about you but I’m ready to eat my weight in pasta.”

She shuts your door and jogs over to get into the driver's side.

“Did you use the new recipe you found for the sauce?” You ask. You watch her put on her seatbelt and get comfy. She has to sit up a bit to get the keys out of her front pocket. She smirks at you when she catches your eyes going down her body.

She nods to your earlier question. “Sí! I added a bit more garlic than it said but it ended up being perfect.”

She starts the car and once she gets onto the road, she reaches for your hand, interlacing fingers and letting them rest, together, over the console.

“Okay, now tell me about the wedding?”

“It was lovely. Best wedding I’ve been to this year, for sure. Only thing missing was you.” You look over at her. She takes a quick glance at you, switching between the road and your face intermittently.

“I’m sorry, mi Vida.” Her voice saddens.

You squeeze your joined hands.

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s all the league’s fault, scheduling games after we make plans. Idiots…”

Patri laughs. “Yeah, exactly. And they pick so poorly regardless. I’m so so tired of the rain, amor.” She looks over at you with a pout. You agree with her. The rain and overcast was affecting your own seasonal depression and you were both waiting impatiently for short sleeve weather.

“My poor baby. Mi sol needs her sun.” you bring your joined hands to your lips to press a kiss to the back of Patri’s hand.

“I’m dyinggg.” She croaks out like she’s in pain.

You kiss her hand again, which includes you making a loud smooching noise, intending to make her laugh. The plan works and she warns you that it tickles but she doesn’t pull away from your hand nor lips.

Ten minutes later you’re at the apartment. You climb out and open the back door to grab Patri’s kit bag. She swoops in to try to take it from you, but that just causes you to start running away towards the entrance.

“Amor, why are you running?” Patri yells after you. You let out a laugh and speed up when you hear her footsteps behind you.

You wait for her at the apartment entrance, holding the door open. You readjust her bag on your shoulder. Patri looked at it once before continuing into the building.

“You’re sooo annoying,” she complains loudly in the foyer, her voice echoing.

“Sorry for being chivalrous, amor.” You shrug innocently. Which completely contradicts the growing smirk on your face.

Patri decides to be chivalrous back to you, unlocking the apartment’s front door but beckoning you to enter first. She makes sure to wink at you when you look at her from the corner of your eye you pass.

“After you, mi amor.”

You sit Patri’s bag on the bench next to the entry. She had a whole routine with her bag that you’ve simply accepted and left it alone.

Patri heads first for the kitchen to pull out the leftovers from her pasta dinner. Without asking her, she also makes you a plate, serving it hot from the microwave but still absolutely delicious. Thank god for tomato sauce.

“Sooo, what do you think?” She asks between bites. She’s always been eager for your opinion on her food. You've never lied to her.

“Absolutely delicious, Pats. The sauce is killer,” you joke with genuine honesty. When Patri doesn’t answer you back, you look over to see her smiling at you.

“What?”

“You got a little sauce on your face. Here, hold still.” Gently, Patri holds your head still with one hand. She uses the pad of her thumb to wipe the sauce off your cheek. You then watch her bring her thumb to her mouth and lick the sauce off. You freeze as you watch her, her eyes not once leaving yours.

“Está bien, chiqui?” She taunts you.

Finally finding your voice, you croak out, “Excuse me? Am I good? You — and then — eh?”

Patri starts to crack up in laughter at your stuttering.

“I’m sorry, mi Vida. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” she promises with a saccharine tone, a hand on one of yours.

She’s literally placating you after doing the most romantically cliché thing ever that immediately made you realize maybe you were just watching the straight ones —

You try to go back to your plate. “Yeah, whatever. Keep laughing at me and you’ll see what you get later. Or rather what you don’t get.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

Patri raises one back. “Touché, mi vida. My sincerest apology,” she puts one hand on her chest, over her heart.

You smile smugly at her, looking back into her big brown eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” you say, going back to your meal.

Patri let’s the teasing go in order to get all the updates from the wedding. She specifically loves the wedding party gossip. There’s nothing like a post-wedding debrief with your partner.

To your surprise, she waited until after dinner to ask her most important question. One you were waiting for since she saw the shirt at the game.

She walks out of the bathroom, brushing her hair down. She looks over at you, sitting on your side of the bed, with your journal and pen bag.

“So, mi Vida. Where the hell did you get the “I ❤️ My Girlfriend shirt”?

“Sam J.” You say simply, not looking up from your journal.

Without hesitating, Patri nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense for her.”

You laugh at her expression, shutting your book and putting it to the side. She puts the hairbrush down on her side table.

“She was so excited about it too. So you should text her about it.”

Patri rolls her eyes as she climbs into bed beside you. “Yeah, whatever.”

Tomorrow morning will find her texting your friend about it. But tonight she’s ready to cuddle up with you. She had asked you earlier to wear the new shirt to bed so sweetly that you didn’t even admit that you were already going to.

She lays her head on your chest, directly on top of her own tiny body printed on the shirt.

Sleep catches up to Patri quickly with help from you, playing with her hair and rubbing her back. Time apart from you messes up her sleep schedule more than she likes to admit. So she’s completely out when you try to say good night to her. You look down at her when you don't get a response and see her completely relaxed against you. You press a soft kiss to her head.

“Sleep well, mi Sol.”

a/n: fic two!!! i reread and rewrote this so many times but i really love how it turned out <3 dedicated to the sun finally coming out to play! ☀️ 🌞 💛

masterlist

#patri guijarro x reader #rpf x reader #woso x reader #woso by mads #mi sol <3 mi vida <3 #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #woso blurbs #woso fluff #patri guijarro imagine #🌞💘🌍#wlw fanfic #wlw fic

126 notes · View notes