#but i got the call back today about scheduling an in person interview | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rhaenella · 7 months ago

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LN4 | Challenge Accepted

pairing: lando norris x non-driver!reader

genre: one shot ✿

summary: it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

word count: 5.6k

masterlist

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The sound of feet tapping restlessly against the floor, alternated by the squeaking of a swivel chair spinning round, echoed through the large hall at McLaren HQ. With a sigh, you refreshed your social media—again—but there were no new posts of any kind to keep you occupied. You’d already gone through all of them.

Your boyfriend and F1 driver, Lando Norris, was somewhere in the massive building, filming interviews, challenges and whatnot for the McLaren social media platforms. He had asked if you'd come with him today, mostly because you already saw so little of each other due to his busy schedule. Not that you saw much of each other right now, but at least there wasn’t an ocean between you like there usually was.

Besides, he’d promised he would wrap up as quickly as he could, and take you out for dinner. So. The wait was worth it. Even though you were bored out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

After walking up and down the hall’s boulevard four times over, admiring all of the beautiful, historical cars on display, you had checked out the trophy wall, which was just as impressive. But since you weren’t allowed access anywhere else inside the building, at least not without a chaperone, there wasn’t much else for you to do or see. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, spinning around in a chair like an impatient five-year-old, the line of racing cars and the lake outside whooshing by.

“Y/N?”

The chair came to an abrupt stop. “Yea–yes?” you squinted at the blurry figure in front of you.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to spin around so many times that your vestibular system now made it feel like you were on a ship battling a terrible storm. Luckily, once your vision cleared, you recognised the person instantly. It was Lando’s performance engineer, Andrew Jarvis. You’d seen him around race tracks a few times—he was always very friendly and kind to you.

“Jarv! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. What about yourself?”

“Oh, good, good… Enjoying the scenery,” you sneered, waving a hand.

“Right,” he drawled, looking you up and down with an amused smile. “Bored?”

“Yes,” you groaned, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “So. Fucking. Bored.”

Jarv chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Lando is still tied up. I think he and Oscar are filming some kind of… song challenge? I don’t know,” he shrugged with another laugh. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

Your lips quirked up. “Imagine if it was. You could start hiding strategy calls in songs and sing them over the board radio.”

He wavered. “That would be…”

“Genius?”

“Eh, well,” he faltered, his mouth twitching all the same.

“Right. Maybe not,” you laughed.

Although, privately you thought it would be a hilarious idea. With a tinge of brilliance, perhaps. But the pinnacle of motorsport would probably be a little too serious to see it your way.

“I’m obviously not an engineer, or a strategist, or a driver. So, I guess I’ll just stay here,” you sighed, patting the armrests of your new friend, the swivel chair. “And try to excel in exercising patience instead.”

Jarv nodded, his brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t have to…”

You eyed him with a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

He checked his watch and glanced around before looking back to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

Jarv had already turned on his heel before you could object, expecting you to blindly follow him to wherever it was he intended to take you. Which you did… without too much thought. Let’s just say boredom got the best of you. Choosing between sitting another god knows how many hours in that chair, or doing something—anything—the choice wasn’t hard. So, you leaped from your seat, sprinting to catch up with him.

“Wait!”

He slowed down, and you fell into step beside him. “What’s your idea? Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

You neared the large double doors at the rear of the boulevard. Jarv pressed his right thumb on a small, glass box on the wall next to them, waiting for his fingerprint to be authorised. The system scanned his print, and the light tinged green. “Welcome, Mr. Jarvis,” a female voice said as the doors automatically opened in front of you.

“Nice.”

Jarv grinned, gesturing for you to precede him into the restricted wing of McLaren HQ. The part that the general public never got to see. You gazed around in amazement. You knew it was a large building, but it was more like a maze back here, and you quickly lost all sense of direction.

“I should probably text Lando, he’s gonna wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”

“Don’t worry, Lando is heading where we’re going, too.”

You relaxed a little at that, however your curiosity didn’t subside as you trailed after Jarv throughout the many long corridors. Where the hell were you going?

The behind the scenes looked arguably even more impressive than all the trophies and race-winning cars that were being flaunted in the entrance hall. You passed countless offices, labs, and workshops where employees were working on top-secret updates for the MCL38, or perhaps even next year’s car. And although Jarv kept up a good pace, you were still able to sneak a few glimpses here and there, thanks to all the glass walls. Most of the technology looked so futuristic, you felt like you had accidentally stepped onto the set of a sci-fi film.

Jarv made a sharp right turn down another hallway. This one only had one door at the end, and it wasn’t made out of glass like the rest of them, which prevented you from being able to see what was behind it.

You read the sign next to the door, which only added to the mystery.

Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only.

“This is it,” Jarv said, retrieving a key to unlock the door, opening it wide.

Well, there was your authorisation.

You stepped into the mysterious, dimly lit room, your eyes gradually widening with awe.

The room was roughly twelve by twelve metres, and in the centre stood two professionally altered Formula 1 cars, both with their own 180-degree widescreens set up in a semicircle around them. The back wall was lined with large computer screens, a row of chairs stationed in front of them, which gave you the feeling you were looking at a small-scale pitwall.

Holy… beep.

Speaking of futuristic tech, this was way up there.

“Welcome to the McLaren simulation room.”

You whirled around to face Jarv, beaming. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen a sim like this before.”

It was true. Sure, Lando had his own simulator at home in Monaco. But it was nothing compared to this piece of craftsmanship.

Jarv hummed, smiling as he walked to the faux-pitwall. “So. You ready to try it out?”

You blinked. “Ready to–wait a minute… what?”

You stared at Jarv as he turned on the computers, pressing buttons here and there that made the right car hum to life. Next, the widescreen around the car powered up as well, causing a wave of light to brighten the otherwise dark room.

“Jarv?”

He opened a cabinet, retrieving a steering wheel before he walked to the simulator. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it,” you trailed off.

“Good,” he said, turning around, looking at you expectantly. “So get in, then.”

“But… what about Lando? You said he was on his way over here. Don’t they need the room?”

“They will be here to film something in,” Jarv checked his watch again. “In a little over an hour. Until then, the room is empty, and we can use it. I presume you’ve driven a simulator before?”

“Yeah, I have… but don’t I need some kind of special clearance to use one of these?” One of these super expensive, highly accurate simulators that are solely used to train drivers and prepare the real cars and their setups for race weekends. Whatever could go wrong?

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. I’m Lando’s performance engineer. I’m one of the few that gets to decide who uses the sim.”

You shifted your weight, still unsure. “I’m not gonna be any good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have fun, or would you rather return to the waiting area?”

“No.”

Jarv’s smile widened, and he gestured to the sim, inviting you to take a seat.

You hesitantly walked up to the car, twisting your rings, a nervous habit of yours. You’d tried the simulator at Lando’s before, and like you’d already pointed out to Jarv, you weren’t any good at it. Lando had tried to talk you through it, telling you where to break and lift, but it was painfully clear you weren’t cut out to be a driver.

And now you had to drive in McLaren’s state of the art simulator, under the watchful eye of Lando’s performance engineer. The pressure was real. You didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.

After you’d managed to, somewhat awkwardly, settle yourself in the sim’s seat, Jarv locked the steering wheel into place. It was familiar to you as it looked exactly like the one on Lando’s car, just like everything else on this sim. Except that it didn’t have a front or back wing, or any tyres.

“Alright, before you start driving, it’s important to know the ins and outs of the track you’re racing at. Which in this case will be Shanghai, the location of next weekend’s race,” Jarv said, pressing a few buttons.

The layout of the track popped up on the screen in front of you, with a sea of information and data appearing on the sides.

“Don’t worry about the data. We’ll stick to the basics that are of importance to you as a driver. Ready?”

You nodded.

“Good. So, the Shanghai International Circuit has sixteen corners, two DRS-zones on the main straights; one in sector three, and the other on start-finish…”

***

“I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should pursue a musical career,” Lando joked as he and Oscar followed Marion, the head of McLaren’s PR team, down the building’s corridors.

They had just finished filming another challenge for YouTube. Or Instagram. Or both. Lando didn’t really care about the specifics. It was just another part of his job. Something he’d rather be done with soon, so he could go back to his girl.

Oscar snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be a Grammy-nominated artist in no time.”

Lando grinned, agreeing with a nod.

“Alright, lads. One more, and then you’re free to go,” Marion called over her shoulder.

It was absolute music to Lando’s ears.

“What is it that we have to do?” Oscar asked.

“You’ll be racing each other on the sim, just for a couple of laps, around the Shanghai circuit.”

“I thought we were gonna train on the sim in the morning,” Lando said.

Marion nodded. “You will. This is only a short challenge for a video ahead of the Chinese Grand Prix. Because we haven’t raced there in so long, we thought it’d be fun to film your initial reaction to the track driving the MCL38.”

He and Oscar shared a look. They were always down for a race. There was no question about it.

The click-clacking of Marion’s heels bounced around the hallway as the group made their way to the simulation room. When they arrived, Will, Lando’s race engineer, and a camera and sound crew were waiting for them by the door.

“Why are you all out here? You should be setting up the cameras,” Marion scolded, looking at the men expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

But the men ignored her, instead they all looked to Lando, grinning. He frowned, not at all understanding the meaning behind the knowing looks they were sending him. What was up with them?

“Someone beat us to the sim, I’m afraid,” Will explained, his eyes still on Lando.

Marion turned to Lando as well, equally confused. “What does that mean?”

Lando met her eye and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

As if on cue, a high pitched scream came from the simulation room, followed by a distinct, “That’s more like it!”

Will and the crew chuckled, but Marion wasn’t having it. “What on earth is going on,” she bristled, pushing past them to enter the room.

Lando followed her, but he couldn’t have been less prepared for the scene they stumbled upon next.

Occupying one of the simulators was his girlfriend, and right next to you stood Jarv, who was closely monitoring your driving, giving you short and precise instructions. You were going down the straight at full throttle, following Jarv’s pointers as you breaked and hit the curb perfectly for a smooth exit.

What the hell?

He’d thought you were still waiting for him in the entrance hall on the other side of the building. Never in a million years had he expected to find you here, racing on McLaren’s simulator, looking like you actually knew what you were doing no less.

So that’s why all the guys had been smirking at him…

“What do we have here?”

You jumped at Lando’s voice, immediately causing the car to spin and crash during your momentary lapse of concentration.

“Fuck! I was on a flying lap…”

“And a bloody good one at that,” Jarv added, proud.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You were what?” His eyes flicked from you to Jarv, to you, and then back to Jarv. “Mate?”

Before Jarv could utter a word, you turned to face your boyfriend with a wide smile. “Baby, guess what?! I’m not a complete loser at this!”

“I–I’m so proud of you… but,” Lando shook his head, still not understanding any of this. “Why are you two in here?”

You grabbed onto the halo and pulled yourself out of the car to face him. “Jarv came to see how I was doing, and since I had nothing better to do, he suggested I’d give this a try,” you explained, gesturing to the sim.

“Oh, I see,” Lando smiled.

Yet he struggled to swallow the bitter taste at seeing you spending time and having fun with Jarv. All the while he had been stuck ‘working’. Not that he blamed you for it. He was the one who left you all by yourself for so long. But still…

“Uhm, but now that you’re all here,” you said, a bit sheepish, your eyes scanning the gathering crowd. “I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Very well,” Marion called, but she was quickly interrupted.

“No, no, no, no. Wait a second. I need to know something first,” Will spoke, stepping forward. “Jarv, we need your professional assessment, man. How did she do?”

Marion sighed, tapping her phone to check the time, which only made her look more impatient. Lando ignored her, his eyes sliding from you to his performance engineer, curious as well.

“Y/N did great. She struggled a little at first, but the more laps she did, the better she got,” Jarv beamed. He turned to face Lando. “You know, I reckon she’d even have a good chance at beating you.”

Lando studied him. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m being serious, mate. I’d wager good money on it.”

Marion’s annoyance evaporated within an instant, her eyes lighting up. “Oh gosh, that is a perfect idea, Jarvis.”

“What is? Gambling?”

“No,” she huffed. “I mean, instead of Lando against Oscar, we can have these two lovebirds race each other on the sim instead!”

“What?” you and Lando cried in unison.

Everyone looked at you, and your cheeks tinged a soft pink. You weren’t used to all the attention, usually preferring to keep a lower profile. Well, as much as that was possible dating a Formula 1 driver.

“Guys, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I know you’re all here to do a job, and that job doesn’t include me…”

“That’s right,” Lando agreed. He shot you a brief smile before addressing Marion. “Besides, she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, and I don’t want her to embarrass herself in front of the eyes of millions.”

Something stirred inside you. “What does that mean? You don’t think I can beat you?”

“Well, sweetheart…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing.

Under other circumstances, you would have agreed with him. But this last hour and a half with Jarv had boosted your confidence. It had gone really well, exceeding both of your expectations on your sim racing capabilities by miles. And maybe, some part of you, just wanted to show him that.

Like Lando, you never shied away from competition. Not if you had a chance at winning. You weren’t a hundred percent sure if you did right now. But you couldn’t deny you weren’t more than a little curious to find out. And seeing as Lando had just called you out in front of everyone, the only logical thing to do was rise to the challenge.

“You know what? I’m in.”

With that, you climbed back into the snug seat, forcing the thought of having everyone’s eyes on you to the back of your mind.

Lando’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Wonderful,” Marion exclaimed. “Let’s roll, people.”

Lando watched as everybody around him immediately jumped into action, including the camera and sound guys who got ready to put it all on film. Jarv grinned and grabbed his tablet, giving a slight nod to Will, who nodded in return and went to start up the second simulator and retrieve a steering wheel for Lando.

“I’ll be assisting Y/N, and just like with a normal race, Will can be Lando’s engineer,” Jarv said.

“Yep,” Will said, holding up the steering wheel as he walked to the other sim. “We’re good to go.”

“We are too!” one of the crewmen announced.

Marion smiled, but it faded when she noticed Lando still standing by the door, not having moved an inch. “What are you waiting for? Get in the car,” she said.

She started pushing Lando in the direction of the other sim, but he stood his ground.

“Hold on. We can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Lando sighed. “You know why.”

Did they? Did he?

Lando loved to race, and he certainly loved you. So what was stopping him from combining the two?

He wasn’t scared of losing—he never has been, and never would. Not that there was any real chance that you, an inexperienced ‘driver’, could beat him today. There was simply no way.

He’d seen you try the sim at his house, and despite his best efforts, you were, for lack of a better term, absolute rubbish. But then again, Jarv had seemed so sure of himself. That man didn’t lie or exaggerate. He would give it to you straight if you underperformed or weren’t any good. Lando had always admired and respected that.

So, had Jarv been able to unearth some sort of racing talent that was buried deep inside of you? Something that Lando himself hadn’t managed to uncover…

Was that why he hesitated going up against you? His sense of pride?

Lando groaned internally. If anything, that should make him that much more adamant to race you.

He looked over to see you were already staring at him, ambition burning bright in your eyes. Ambition to beat him. At the thing he did best… It was alluring, and Lando felt his own competitiveness flare.

“No, we don’t. Honestly, what’s stopping you?”

“It’s only five laps. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Norris.”

“Unless that’s the problem,” Jarv joked. “Maybe he needs to warm up and familiarise himself with the track first…”

“I think all of you are forgetting that I’m the only one here who actually raced in Shanghai,” Lando shot back, unconsciously taking a step towards the sim.

“And how did that work out for you, mate?” Oscar chimed in.

Lando glared at him and Oscar struggled to contain his laughter.

“Even better,” you exclaimed, reclaiming your boyfriend’s attention. “You have on track experience and I’ve had a little time to prepare with Jarv. That’s fair enough, right?”

“Y/N… are you sure you want to…”

He was so close to giving in. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Besides, you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that would surely make his competitive side overshadow any lingering doubts, and get him to race you in that other sim.

“When have you ever walked away from a race? Hm? Unless you’re scared you’ll lose…”

That struck the intended chord.

Oh, she didn’t, Lando thought.

You gave him your most innocent looking smile, but he knew damn well what you were doing. He shook himself. Fine. If you wanted to race him so badly, he would give it to you. And no way in hell would he still consider going easy on you.

Lando promptly made his way to the other car and slid into the seat with practised ease. He signalled Will, who handed him the steering wheel. He clicked it into place before glancing to his right, smiling dangerously. “Alright, you’re on, darling. Challenge accepted.”

At that, Jarv entered a bunch of commands on his tablet, which was connected to the simulator’s system, to set the race parameters. Two cars appeared on the screens, each from their own driver’s point of view, already in position to start racing at Shanghai’s International Circuit.

“As you can see, Lando will start on the right and Y/N will start on the left,” Jarv informed.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Lando sputtered. “Why are you starting from pole and not me?”

“Because I clocked the fastest lap time.”

“You clocked the only lap time.”

You shrugged, smiling. “Take it up with race control, baby.”

“Don’t worry,” Will reassured, looking at his own tablet as he scrolled through the accumulated data from your runs. “Break late, and you can easily overtake her in the first corner.”

Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as the digital green flag was waved.

Jarv leaned in to whisper in your ear: “No, he won’t. Just remember what I taught you.”

“Aye, aye,” you said, focusing on the lights.

The cameras were all set and rolling, and Marion looked around, relishing the unexpected turn of events. This would be an enormous hit online, for sure. Her eyes landed on Oscar who stood to the back, watching the couple with an amused glint in his eye. If only she could involve him as well somehow… that would make it even better.

“Oscar, why don’t you take on the role of commentator?” Marion suggested, her tone indicating that he didn’t have much of a choice.

Oscar startled. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

He moved to stand in between the two simulators, clearing his throat. “Right. Uhm. Welcome to the Shanghai International Circuit for the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix… It’s Sunday, April 21st—well, not really but let’s go with it—uhm, and we’ll soon start racing–”

“You’re a lousy commentator, Piastri,” Lando interrupted.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “How about you worry about yourself, Norris.”

Lando snickered, but he quickly sobered when the first light gleamed red. Then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and…

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

You got away quick, but Lando was faster, years of experience siding with him.

“Lando dives into the first corner, ahead of Y/N. Can she cross back? No, no she cannot. Ah, bummer…” Oscar narrated. “She’s right behind him, though, going into turn 3. Lando nearly missing the apex there, but he recovers well. OH! Oh, never mind. Lando goes wide in turn 6! Yeah, he’s familiar with that one.”

“Shut up,” Lando snapped.

“I didn’t think so, mate,” Oscar grinned, settling into his new character nicely.

“Y/N is back on his heels as they go down sector two. DRS is not yet enabled, but she is only six tenths behind! Will Y/N be able to overtake Norris without DRS on the straight? She’s getting closer… they’re racing each other into turn 14, and… OH Y/N, massive lock-up! She manages to keep the car on track. Excellent save! But that’s gonna cost her some valuable time.”

You crossed start-finish, eyeing the time as you entered lap two.

Oscar’s voice boomed loud. “DRS enabled! But Y/N is too far–”

“Just 1.2 seconds behind, you can still do this,” Jarv encouraged. “Line-up on the left and take the first corner on the inside. Yeah, like that. Good.”

On the other side of the room, Will was giving Lando similar instructions. It had, after all, been a while since Lando had last raced this track. During his rookie year, no less. Therefore it was currently taking him quite a bit of effort to find the correct race line, especially with the many difficult corners and hairpins around the track.

“Steady on,” Will said. “Y/N is out of DRS. Let’s keep it that way.”

The couple sped down the track on their simulators, and even though most of your focus was spent on driving and listening to Jarv’s notes, you also marvelled at the accuracy and realism of the sim. From the sensations of the literal car you were seated in, down to the gravel Lando’s little off-track adventure had caused to spread in and around turn 6. Whatever the outcome of the race, this experience would certainly beat waiting around and lounging in that swivel chair.

“Great exit from Norris who is absolutely flying down the straight in sector three, followed by Y/N at 1.4 seconds. Still doing a phenomenal job so far!” Oscar continued, his eyes glued to the screen. “Approaching turn 14, can Y/N manage the hairpin this time? What?! Oh, no! It’s Lando that locks up this time… Oiiioii, mighty turn 14 proves to be too much for both of our star drivers.”

Jarv kept a close eye on the interval time, and thanks to Lando’s mistake, the gap had already shrunk to 1.1 seconds. “Okay, now use the extra power from the ERS to get closer,” he instructed.

You did as you were told, pressing the correct button on the steering wheel, which gave you an extra boost to get even closer to Lando.

“Y/N gaining on Norris! And she’s now back within DRS at 0.9 seconds. Whoa, what a truly remarkable performance by someone who has never driven a race car or a sim like this before! I’d vote for her as driver of the day…”

“No one asked your opinion,” Lando cut off, sounding a little strained.

“Whatever,” Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Lando Grumpy-Ass Norris struggles to maintain the gap between him and his girlfriend, hitting the curb a little enthusiastically right there. Oh, Y/N faces the same issues! It’s all about keeping the focus now, ladies and gents. Will Y/N be able to close the gap? Will she be able to attack Norris?”

Marion stood behind the cameras, watching gleefully how you and Lando raced each other around the virtual Shanghai circuit. Oh, you were even better than she could have ever anticipated. Better than anyone in the room could have ever anticipated, really. The whole crew was watching the race with baited breath.

You were almost equally matched. With you, a real diamond in the rough, having received some training beforehand, and Lando, an experienced driver, essentially going in blind—it was a golden match.

Were you going to be able to do the unthinkable?

“We’re going into the penultimate lap, and even with Lando strategically using his batteries, Y/N has managed to close the gap to 0.7 with DRS. And there she is also clocking the fastest lap. Wow!”

“You can win a little bit of extra time in sector two,” Will analysed. “Turns 9 and 12 are crucial. You need a good exit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Does he?” Oscar cut in. “We’ve got track limits for Norris in turn 9! He’s getting desperate now, with Y/N coming for him at 0.6 seconds. Is she going to—yes! She’s attempting to overtake Norris ahead of turn 11 but… fails… Oh, that was a bold move by Y/N! She lost a bit of time with that one, but she’s still within DRS range and knows she will be able to get close again for another attack.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel. You couldn’t make a mistake, not now. You were so close… On the other sim, Lando was in a similar state. Although he was clenching his jaw in concentration instead. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep you behind him.

“Final lap,” Oscar announced. “And Norris crosses the white lines again! Turn 3 this time. Yep, there it is. Second track limits for Norris. He is feeling the heat, and not the good kind.”

Jarv’s mouth twitched. “It’s been five years since Lando raced here, let’s use it to our advantage,” he spoke to you in a hushed tone.

You nodded, your eyes never wavering from the screen in front of you.

Jarv checked the data, both yours and Lando’s, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do: instead of following the race line at–”

Will was closely observing you and Jarv from the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what Jarv was saying over the sounds of the simulators’ engines and Oscar still commentating to his heart’s content. He looked down at his driver, who was fully focused on the task before him.

“And then use the charged batteries after exiting turn 13. I know Lando’s defending tactics, this should work. He won’t see it coming,” Jarv finished.

You simply nodded again, trusting your engineer’s judgement. You would give it your all to try and execute his strategy as best you could.

“As we’re nearing the chequered flag, all bets are off. Lando is fighting for his position with everything he has, but Y/N is not ready to call it quits just yet!”

Your heart rate was off the charts, but you managed to stay calm, hitting the apexes, the metres between you and Lando’s car in front dwindling with each passing second.

“0.5 seconds, 0.4 seconds…”

“Flat out, Y/N. Let’s go,” Jarv said, his own heart rate ticking up.

“She’s chasing him, with DRS… There she comes. There she comes… round the inside! Y/N overtakes Norris!” Oscar roared. “Diving into the infamous turn 14… and… and she makes it! Hell yeah! What a mega move from Y/N! Now into the final corner. Can she stay ahead of Norris? Can she…? Yes!! Yes, she can!”

You passed the chequered flag, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Y/N wins the Chinese Grand Prix!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Jarv's laugh pierced the room. “Get in! I told you!”

He managed to stop himself just in time before he started jumping up and down like an overly excited little boy. You shared his enthusiasm though, unable to control the slight tremor in your hands at seeing your name next to the word WINNER displayed boldly on the screen in front of you.

Holy fuck, you did it. You actually did it.

Lando sank low in his seat. “How the hell…”

Will patted him on the shoulder, consoling. “You did your best mate.”

“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” he grumbled.

Will glanced at their celebrating opponents, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mate, and look on the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“Your girlfriend just showed you the perfect overtake manoeuvre for Sunday.”

“Ha-ha, very funny…”

Although, you really did.

Lando turned to see Jarv help you out of the simulator, still grinning from ear to ear. You were reeling, the adrenaline of the fight and win coursing through your veins. Suddenly you understood what it must feel like to come out of a real F1 car, and to stand on the podium, basking in that feeling of winning a race.

As soon as you were out, Jarv high-fived you. “Solid race. That’s some potential, that is.”

Oscar came up next. “Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously. Great overtake at the end there. Perhaps you’ll be my future teammate,” he winked.

You giggled. “Thanks, guys!”

Even Will smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up as you walked over to Lando who was still seated in the other sim, sulking.

“Oh, come on,” you pouted, reaching out your hand, a peace offering. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Sure thing, it was,” he muttered, but he accepted your hand anyway before jumping out of the car.

When he stood in front of you, he took a moment to look you up and down, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. His ego may have taken quite the blow today, but there was no denying he was also extremely proud of you. Jarv had been right after all, and Lando was happy he hadn’t taken the engineer up on his bet.

He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Need to keep things fresh and exciting, don’t I? Otherwise you’ll tire of me in no time.”

“Never,” Lando scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving your lips a soft peck. “However, as much as I’m proud of you… this footage will never see the light of day.”

You laughed, your eyes locking with Marion.

She sent you a wink. “We’ll see about that.”

***

a/n: thank you for reading <3 feedback is adored.

by the way, should i make a taglist for future f1 fics? is that something you’d be interested in? or perhaps for specific drivers? let me know!

also posted on ao3

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a-little-unsteddie · 1 year ago

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stuck in your throat || a/b/o

hi so today is @lexirosewrites’s birthday today and like,, idk three or so weeks ago she followed me (hi lexi <3 happy birthday <3 hope today has been fun <3) and to celebrate both of those things i started writing an omegaverse fic, and i wanted it done by today but it is grew a mind of its’ own and now it’s much bigger than i thought it’d be so instead of the full fic, have a snippet <3

again, happy birthday lexi <3

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t <i>really</i> go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just <i>who</i> he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

#whdbehsh i literally screamed when you followed me lexi #and then showed it to everyone i’m friends with in steddie #and was like ‘well now i GOTTA write an omegaverse fic’#snd they were like ‘well you don’t gotta’#and i was like ‘no i do. and i will.’#and then i did 😌#steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #eventually eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #pre steddie #tw a/b/o #tw omegaverse #oh heck also #mentions robin buckley #stuck in your throat #unsteddie writing

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my-mind-is-incognito · 2 months ago

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Wanna Duet? (Hugh Jackman x Reader)

summary: you're an interviewer sitting down with 2 of the hottest celebrities, both fresh off their latest movie. during the interview, one of them feels the need to shake up the script a bit

warnings: None that I can think of, other than intense yearning for an unattainable man (tbh isn't that why we read and write these sort of things anyway?)

author's note: Um, hi. It's been a couple of years since I've contributed to this site and this particular blog, other than reblogging other people's much more notable work. But the new deadpool movie, as well as Hugh Jackman, has literally got me hostage by the ovaries and I just needed to put this random fantasy into words and put it out there into the world. Please be gentle. I haven't written anything in years and it is so weird to me now.

When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there

In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

I wanna take you there

The lyrics to that familiar song softly tumbled from your lips as you studied the notecards in your hand while your shoulders softly rocked to the beat. You wanted to make sure the questions were etched in your brain; as a journalist tasked with interviewing celebrities, you needed to maintain your A-game when it came to these video shoots with the Hollywood elite. You couldn’t afford to stumble over your words or, even worse, have an awkward silence creep into the conversation.

A knock at the door brought you out of your reverie, and Maggie, the producer, poked her head in. “They just arrived,” she informed you. “Ten minutes.”

You flashed her a thumbs up and got out of your seat to loosen your stiff muscles and fight the enormous grin spreading across your face. Today’s scheduled shoot was one you were particularly looking forward to: a simple sit down interview with two of the hottest stars, fresh off the premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of 2024. Somewhere on the premises, Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds were waiting to speak to you, and your Marvel-loving heart was hammering in your chest in anticipation. The butterflies were certainly in hyperactive manic mode today.

Maggie studied you with a laugh. “Excited, are we?”

“Aren’t you? We’re about to meet Deadpool and Wolverine!” You took a few deep breaths, channeling your professional side. But soon, the facade fell and you were grinning like a jittery idiot. ”How are they? Are they as ridiculously gorgeous in person?”

Maggie grinned. “Yes, plus super nice. Definitely making the top 10 nicest guests list. Hurry up and get out there.” She then left and shut the door behind her.

Biting back the urge to squeal, you took a few composing breaths and willed your heart to stop racing like a schoolgirl in love. Picking up your phone, you started scrolling your phone for a song. Singing was always a typical warm-up exercise for you; it helped you loosen up and provided an outlet for your nervous energy. Showtunes were usually your go-to songs, and you had a particular soundtrack stuck in your head for the past few weeks.

“Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for,” you sang softly, shimmying your hips to the beat of the song. “Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor.” Another hip wiggle on beat as you spun on your heel and held out a dramatic fist in the air. “And buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore, taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that was real is left behind…

Don’t fight it’s coming for you, runnin’ at ya

It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after

Your fever dream, can’t you see it gettin’ closer?

just surrender cuz you feel the feeling takin’ over

It’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open

It’s a preacher in the pulpit and your blind devotion

There’s something breaking at the brick of every wall it’s holding

All that you know

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Where it’s covered in all the colored lights

Where the runaways are running the night

Impossible comes tre, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!

We light it up, we won’t come down

And the sun can’t stop us now

Impossible comes true, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!”

You blew out one more calming breath and grinned with confidence before striding out the door. Time to get to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So I’m sitting there, my brain melting in my skull from all these fucking hot wings, and the first sentence out of my mouth is ‘I CHEAT AT WORDLE!’”

You and Hugh burst out into laughter as Ryan recounted his and Hugh’s recent experience on Hot Ones. As expected, the interview was going without a hitch. Both men were excellent subjects, genuinely enjoying the process and providing laughs amongst the crew in between the Q+A. Their bestie banter and overall chemistry was so contagious that it brought everyone at ease. And also as expected, both men gave you the urge to subtly fan yourself with your notecards. While both had the leading man looks, Ryan had a dry wit and a delivery that was deadpan and entirely on point, never failing to get a laugh from everyone in the room. Meanwhile, Hugh had a megawatt smile and an Aussie timber in his voice that had you shivering in your chair, and his laughter was as warm and pure as sunshine itself.

“So, Hugh, you’ve mentioned how you were still doing Music Man when you were cast to return as Wolverine. Did the mental and physical preparation for this role clash with your preparations for your Music Man performances?”

Hugh chuckled. “It’s funny you mentioned that, because I had actually lost a bit of weight while doing Music Man. I mean, it’s eight shows a week and each show is a cardio workout like nothing else! So I had to start increasing my calories and, you know, pumping iron in between shows and it got to the point where I actually split my pants onstage during a show!”

You gasped while Ryan just shook his head and laughed. “Yes, the legendary Jackman ass returned, as jacked as ever!” Ryan snarked, which had Hugh guffawing. “Oh, easy there, buddy. No need to break a hip on top of that.”

You futilely hid your laughs behind your notecards, genuinely enjoying this experience. “Well, guys, this has been an absolute pleasure. As a Marvel fan myself, this movie has been long awaited and completely worth it. Any parting words you’d like to leave the audience before we sign off?”

”Actually,” Ryan suddenly interjected, shooting an offhanded smirk at Hugh, “I had a question for you.”

Well, that was unexpected. “Wait, really? For me?” you asked, confused.

”Yeah, betcha didn’t see this coming, but yes, the tables have in fact been turned. The interviewee is now the interviewer.” Ryan crossed his legs and placed his hands on his lap, smiling mischievously. “See, I happened to be skittering around backstage, and whilst—“

”Whilst?”

”Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking, Hugh Bear. It’s very rude. Yes, whilst skittering back there, I happened to pick up on some backstage karaoke from a certain interviewer.”

Your eyes widened and you hid your gaping mouth behind your hand. “Oh God.”

“Do you deny it?”

“You heard that?!”

Ryan pointed an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t your DARE hide that angelic voice from us, ma’am!”

Hugh switched his focus between you and Ryan. “Wait, did I miss something? What’s happening?”

”Dude, get this. I heard her singing Greatest Showman in the back and she sounds amazing!” Ryan nudged Hugh before holding out a hand to you reassuringly while you continued to gape.

“Is that right?” Hugh inquired, interest piqued.

You laughed nervously, shielding your face in your hands. In the back of your mind, you wondered if your makeup was good enough to hide the flush spreading across your face. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

“Please don’t confuse my enthusiasm for mockery!” Ryan was quick to say, holding out a reassuring hand. “Honestly, I had chills hearing you. Your voice is gorgeous! And clearly you have excellent music tastes due to your song choices. Seriously, I loved it!” Ryan gushed. “My question is, where did you learn to sing? Like, I’m literally jealous because out of the three of us sitting here, I have no musical talent whatsoever, and my singing usually results in children crying. But yours just sounds so good!”

”I wanna hear her sing now,” Hugh remarked cheerfully. “High praise from Ryan is definitely a good voucher.”

“Oooh, that would be so great, Hugh. You could audition her, because her choreo needs a little bit of work. Kinda limited, but I’m sure your rusty hips still got enough wiggle in them to teach her something.”

Both men laughed and leaned forward, their attention on you, and you couldn’t help but cower behind your papers and burst into another fit of panicked giggles. “I have no idea what is happening right now,” you remarked shyly.

Ryan got out of his seat and stood beside you. “Audition jitters, I get them all the time. Here, I’ll coach you through it!” He cleared his throat and adopted a more professional tone, gesturing between you and Hugh. “Alright, so you are at your callback audition. The casting director—obviously, that’s me—liked your stuff and now I wanna do a little screen test with our leading man—that’ll be Hugh.”

At this, Hugh leaned forward and shook your hand warmly. “Hey there, I’m Hugh Jackman. I’ll be doing this scene with ya.”

You shot a quick glance at Maggie, who silently urged you to play along. So you chuckled and firmly shook Hugh’s hand. “Pleasure to be working with you, sir.” He replied with a warm smile that made your stomach somersault.

Ryan clapped his hands. “Alright! We are looking for some chemistry between our two leads. Let’s see, what’s a good duet song?” He eyed you expectedly. “I won’t ask Hugh, because the man is a neverending jukebox of showtunes. Now’s your chance to put a quarter in him and pick a song.”

You fidgeted in your seat, pausing to think before replying, “Okay, if we are going to do this, I just want to get this off my chest. Hugh, I am a HUGE fan, not just of your work as Wolverine, but your musical roles as well.” In response, he patted his heart and mouthed ‘thank you’ while Ryan rolled his eyes and made the yak-yak motion with his hand.

You continued. “So, if we could, and this is something I’ve always wanted to do…could we sing ‘A Million Dreams’ from Greatest Showman together?”

His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Yeah! I’d love that!”

You practically bounced in your seat, shaking out your hands in pure excitement while a huge grin spread across your face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening!”

Hugh got out of his chair and gestured for you to do the same, which you did quickly. “Gotta make it like a real audition,” he informed you with a wink that got you giggling.

Ryan scooted his own chair back and sat back in it, much like a director overseeing a scene. “Okay, are we all good? Pay no attention to the multiple cameras looking at you or the lights beaming down at you, mmkay? It’s most likely nothing new for you. And…action!”

Hugh made a big show of clearing his throat a few times. “Sorry, I’m not warmed up,” he said.

“No one cares, Hugh.”

“And there isn’t any music.”

“Still not caring, Hugh.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

With the rest of the crew laughing, Hugh finally took your hand in his and, gazing into your eyes, began to sing:

Every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

Oh, a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

You were mesmerized by his singing. Listening to him on recording did absolutely no justice for him. Never in a million years (no pun intended) did you think this could be happening to you, that Hugh Jackman could be singing one of your favorite songs directly to you. You forced yourself to focus on your breathing and remember your cue. And when it came, you were more than ready to belt out:

However big, however small

Let me be part of it all

Share your dreams with me

Ryan was flashing you a thumbs up while the rest of the crew were cheering you on. Hugh was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying himself.

You may be right, you may be wrong

But say that you’ll bring me along

To the world you see

Hugh nodded encouragingly, joining in:

To the world I close my eyes to see

I close my eyes to see

He got down on one knee, clutching his chest dramatically as he still held your hand.

‘Cause every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

You grinned in reply and posed cutely in response.

A million dreams are keeping me awake

A million dreams, a million dreams!

As he shot back up, he spun you around, and the two of you both dramatically sang back to back, harmonizing on the final verse.

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

As you held that last note, you felt Hugh wrap his arms around your shoulders. Knowing your role, you smiled and leaned against him.

For the world we’re gonna make

The end of the song was met with thunderous applause from everyone on set, with Ryan being particularly enthusiastic in his clapping. “You got the part!” he exclaimed.

You laughed breathlessly as you and Hugh separated. You clutched your face, grounding yourself from the incredible high you were flying on, all while that silly smile on your face still shone brightly.

Hugh clapped you on the shoulder. “Very well done!” he remarked. “I’ll be sure to keep you on call as my backup leading lady.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you beamed, still a bit breathless. “Karaoke is one thing, but I dunno about leading lady stuff.”

He smiled and gently kissed your hand. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he replied with a wink.

Maggie caught your eye from behind the camera, signaling you to wrap it up. Remembering your job, you quickly looked at the camera and said, “Uh, Deadpool and Wolverine is out in theaters now! Many thanks to Hugh and Ryan for joining us today!”

“Cut!” Maggie announced.

And thus ended probably THE most exhilarating interview of your entire career!

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagines #hugh jackman x you #deadpool 3 #deadpool vs wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadpool movie #logan wolverine #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman fangirl #reader insert #marvel #marvel movies #marvel cinematic universe

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pandorasprongs · 1 year ago

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JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office.

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job.

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become.

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City.

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building.

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you.

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible.

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training.

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him.

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?"

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode.

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams.

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system."

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach.

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type."

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway."

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?"

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanficition #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tart fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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sevenop · 4 months ago

Text

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: There's nothing you could do or say

A/n: I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart to see you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

Inspired by 'i love you,' Billie's point of view. The person this is meant for, I hope you especially like this text. Let me know, dude!

Caution: mention of illness. I apologize if this offends you in any way.

There are only three hours left before the night flight to Berlin, and I still haven't seen you all day: waking up in the same bed together doesn't really count, because I'm always so short of you, you know that. I overslept godlessly, jumped out of bed in one merged impulse, like a Hellhound, and you just smiled, reminding with your calmness the mistress of the underworld - Persephone. You helped me get ready as quickly as possible, reducing my small gap in the schedule to almost zero, even though you just got up.: with slightly swollen and reddened eyes, battered, so homely in my clothes, which I always throw under your palms on purpose. In my clothes, you look so ethereal, protected, so... mine.

For you, I am a hasty whirlwind of branded clothes with a fabulous price tag and my own defenseless nakedness, demolishing everything in my path except you. I hurriedly screw up an awkward, such an unequal to your care "thank you", while my head is quickly filled to the brim with lines-schedules with the time of events for today. The usual madness.

"'Merci', we're still in France," you correct jokingly, perched on the edge of the bed and smile, with the very corners of your lips. Your pale cheek is imprinted with the silhouette of a pillow after sleep, and that smile on your lips is pure fissure.

Your hands twitch a little as you daintily dig your aristocratically skinny fingers into the fabric and take turns holding out the clothes you'd prepared for me while I was in the bathroom. You chalk it up to your over-indulgence in coffee these days, and give me the traditional neat kiss goodbye while I'm so reluctant to let you out of the protection of my palms, which look so good on your waist. You smile again, and again your smile is an immaculate fracture, your eyes a deafening abyss for the first time, unreadable to me.

"How are you feeling, my heart?" - I run my hand over your cheek. You're still too pale even by my standards, and you're also unusually cold. My own heart falls down a little, like a balloon under a weight.

"It's okay, Eilish." - You croak softly in my ear, and it feels so good, it gives me goosebumps. I bite playfully on your lobe, unable to contain myself, and close my fingers around your waist a little tighter. - I'll pack our bags, run or you'll be really late."

Something is really wrong, and I don't have time to ask: the phone in the pocket of my shorts is literally bursting with the trill of a dozen calls, and I'm really far behind schedule. So this "something" is sluggishly drowned out in the noise of my mind as I listen to the manager's plans, drive with my mom and brother from place to place, sit through several consecutive interviews, answering semi-automatically, albeit diligently sincere. Thoughts about you are silenced, resembling furniture still untouched by the hungry tongues of flame, on which the burning roof of the house immediately collapses: it is only necessary to "dive" me back into the car, bypassing the noisy and curious crowd, to not meet the usually extremely warm, understanding and peaceful lakes in mom's eyes - this lingering "something" clicks loudly, again burdening not only the head, but also the whole heart. Blinding sparks of worry gleam in her gaze, like lake pebbles catching the light of the sun through the thickness of the waters. Are there secrets again?

"Mom, is something wrong?" - the sliding door slams shut with a bang as soon as several managers and Finn deftly run into the salon, who is almost dragging the setting sun behind him, like a gel ball on a string: his shaggy red hair playfully winking golden lights in the light. The stocky guard taps the side of the van several times with a massive fist, announcing readiness, and And mom is twitching, as if someone fired a cannon - "Mom?"

"I... I don't think I'm at liberty to tell you just yet, dear." - She self-effacing, wanting to look away, but she doesn't let herself, just catches Finneas's gaze for a second, turning back to me.

"What do you mean?" - I frown, leisurely glancing over her: a little hunched over in her unnaturally, stiff, confused. Not at all like her. His heart began to rattle, climbing up his ribs and all the way to his throat, to lodge there in a lump of excitement and foreboding. Finneas coughs awkwardly, drawing attention to himself, as ungainly as our mother, except that his eyes are cold icebergs of concentration and utter seriousness, and his hands are resting on his knees in a tight grip, as if he's on the scariest attraction of his life. The blood in my arteries boils from the pressurization, from mine own blunt ignorance. - "Tell me, I want to know."

"Y/n hasn't told you yet?" - his voice sounds disproportionately ingratiating in the noise of people's shouts of adoration and the soft rustle of wheels gradually gaining momentum. The van moves smoothly back toward the hotel and It's not long before we'll be leave, all that's left is to pick you up, the rest of the faithful crew and a couple of our suitcases. Except to cut that anger-inducing Gordian knot of misunderstandings that has been wagging since I woke up.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" - the words come out like bright, rustling confetti from a naughty firecracker. I still couldn't help myself.

They look at each other in silence, almost shouting a heartfelt epitaph in the harmony of their voices. Finneas touches my shoulder gently with his palm, and mother takes my hands in her warm palms, and I feel a slight tremor creep through her. I feel that now I find myself along with them on this unknown attraction, that twists nerves and veins on its mechanism, being driven by fear.

"About her leukemia, Bils."

And the world immediately collapses to the size of an atom, ceasing to exist and sound at all. Boom! A shot from a shotgun at point-blank range, what smearing my bloody remains, the remnants of my mind on the darkened glass and the entire cabin. From the floor to the roof.

"What?..." - Like the four pearls clicked quietly on the stone tiles of the floor, as my the letters bounced lightly off the silence of the salon, echoing them. Even the small bunch of managers shut up instantly, looking in our direction with a kind of pity, as soon as this harbinger of doom reaches their ears. Leukemia.

"We don't know if it's really true, because the first symptoms could be conjugated by their similarity to simple severe overexertion, and the resulting diagnosis is a likely paperwork error," - Mom closes her gently fingers on my palms tighter, but my blood is already cold and I can't feel anything, as if I've ducked under the thickest of ice, - "We all just hoping that the new test show it's really true, but..."

"But she asked to be ready." - Finn's voice trembles, but he heroically finishes. - "Just in case."

"What?..." - like a wind-up puppet I scatter these long-suffering four letters again, and I don't have enough for more. In an elusive mind, a puzzle flimsily develops, answering a question that has been stuck into my head since the morning, and I see that smile of yours before my eyes - a delicate pink stroke protecting me from the catastrophe of Vesuvius: "It's okay, Eilish...". And immediately so wants seeing the world blurred, drowning in stinging salt from tears.

And I remember jumping out of the van, remember flying into the elevator, hitting the floor button a hundred thousand times in a few seconds just to get to the top faster, remember how kicking the door to our hotelroom with my whole body, catching you off guard. All of this is completely unimportant, a merged sequence that is so treacherously imprinted on my brain while being completely insignificant. You're sitting near the entrance, perched upright on your large suitcase: your sharp shoulders are outlined by my ridiculously colored T-shirt, and your long legs in baggy jeans are stretched out while you tap your converses socks against each other. You jumping up with a startle, like the devil out of a snuffbox under the force of a steel spring, when the door meets the wall with a distinctive slam. The unreadable morning abysses in your eyes are fathomlessly sad now, while I am devoid of words, all the letters of the alphabet, every possible sound. And you understand just so, without any of those empty air vibrations stealing up the already precious now time. You understand what they told me.

"It's not true," - I kneel down, not even closing the door behind me, I don't care. Wrap both palms around your face, but you just stare at me with a look of worldwide sorrow, cuddling up to me like a beaten kitten. - "Tell me I've been lied to..."

"I'm sorry, Eilish," - your soft whisper that hits me exactly in the solar plexus, - "It's true."

It's true. It feels like my guts have been left somewhere in an elevator office, a bloody trail leading right here to you. I was completely blown away.

"Billie, I-"

"Okey, listen, I'll help! I'll pay whatever it takes, I'll give them everything!" - My ligaments were tearing with excitement, turning my own measured whisper into a pathetic whimper.

"There's nothing you could do or say." - You raking me up into your arms, and without a second thought, I burst into tears: the world in front of me was starting to blur and my eyes stinging. Why? Why you? All you do is stroke my head like a whiny little baby while I crumple the fabric of your t-shirt with my hands, choking on my own despair. - "All we have to do for now is wait. We'll find out in Berlin."

"W-why didn't you tell me this morning?"

"I knew you wouldn't go anywhere after that, I didn't want to cause trouble." - You chuckle softly, and I just press myself into you tighter, my wet nose against your neck, my arms wrapped around you. Suddenly, if I let go now, you're gone forever? - "I'm sorry, I know I should have told you sooner. I just..."

"Please don't leave!" - The tears and nerves are starting to make me shake. The feeling of coldness behind my back mixes with a small flame of hope as your hands stroke my shoulder blades. - "Please, please, please..."

"I won't leave, Eilish," - your hand touches my chin, lifting my head to touch my lips with yours, and I gasp, memorizing absolutely every crack on them as if for the last time. - "I won't leave."

I don't remember how much I was hysterical, but the life-giving warmth of your hands lingered in my memory, which spread down my back, giving me like demonic wings, behind which I so want to hide you from everyone and everything. I remember how I collected your tears with my lips, resembling transparent snakes, as two worried heads appeared in the doorway - a copper-red and a light sandy one, it's mom with Finn. We leave the hotel, and I don't let go of your hand for a second: not when you're carrying a heavy suitcase that I'm trying so hard to take away, not when you jump into the car with me, not when we're sitting in line for a flight. Mom tries to defuse the situation, from time to time timidly and tenderly asking about how you feels, Finneas and dad offer all kinds of help here and there, and you just laugh it off, hiding behind this cunning, and even now beautiful in its falsity fracture playing on your lips. You squeeze my hand tighter, stoically swallowing your own excitement, devouring from the inside.

After a while, we are already climbing the airplane ramp, surrounded by the dense darkness of the night, and you are smiling again, when I look at you anxiously again: the smile that you gave me, even when you felt like dying. An old line, personally composed and now my personal nightmare in an instant, become much stronger than before. What else can I do but wait endlessly? Up all night on another red-eye I stared at you just as endlessly, when fatigue took over and you dozed off, trustingly resting your head on my shoulder. I silently memorizing absolutely every feature of your face to plug the abyss in my head. It's all infinity multiplied by infinity.

The porthole is gradually being colored in light blue tones. We have arrived in Berlin.

×××

A ragged breath bounces off the tiled walls, mixing with a loud splash: I emerge from under the thickness of the already almost cooled water, just to hang limply in the wide bathtub. There is an absolute emptiness in my head, shackle me with it's coolness, like this water around my body. So perfectly. I hear a light knock on the bathroom door, so sonorous, as if you are touching the wood with your very knuckles: they are slightly reddish, beautiful. Yes, I think I was too loud. When you don't hear an answer, you press down on the door handle and walk softly through to carefully sit on the side of the bathad. Excitement spreads in your eyes, like rainbow spots of gasoline on the surface of a puddle.

"Billie, are you okay?"

No, are you? It's so ironic that it's being asked by the person who is now in pathological danger more than anyone else. I'm supposed to be strong for you, but somehow I've suddenly broken down on my own, staring so blankly at that spotless white-washed ceiling for half an hour. Worthlessness. The water splashes again, makeshift waves rising slightly over the tub's rims, leaking onto the tile floor as I assume a sitting position and stare at you after all, eye to eye. Naked and insignificant. I can't do nothing with everything I have, I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart if I see how you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

"Yes." - My own hoarse echo, covering weakness.

"Your water's cold, a klutz," - you touch your fingertips to the cold surface and shiver. - "and you're also lying."

We stare at each other in silence, and then I break again like a branch of a flowering tree: rustling and crunching. You and the bathroom start to shake, so I cover my eyes to hold back the hailstones of tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Crying isn't like you," your hot palms touch my cheeks with indescribable care, brushing away the droplets of tears and wiping away the clear paths of sadness. - "Never been the type to let someone see right through."

You speak in my own lines, either from the fact that your thoughts are so close to my soul lyrics, or just to cheer me up. You know how much I enjoy it, how much it amuses me. But right now it's not funny, it hurts. You catch my gaze and your lips quickly fold into a sincere "sorry" before kissing my water-damp forehead.

"What will I do without you if this turns out to be true?" - I grab your wrists, pulling you closer, and you smile for the thousandth time in these two days, while the irises of your beautiful eyes reflect my praying glaciers, which melt in despondency, creating new salty rivers that flow between your slender fingers. You never let go of my face. - "What should I do, Y/n?"

"First off, get out of the cold bath so you don't get sick." - you coo, hiding mutual shards of sharp pain in a gaze that's as variable in its spectrum of light as a gothic stained glass window. - "And we'll decide the rest in a warm bed, okay?"

I climb out of the tub, stepping barefoot onto the bare tile, and you deftly throw a huge, soft towel over me and hold out another, smaller one for my hair.

"I'll be waiting, Eilish." - You kiss my lips, and I don't want to pull away, just hang on to your neck with both arms. The soft towel immediately falls to the floor, once again exposing the pale curves of my body, which you look at fleetingly, shyly.

"Stay with me, don't go, please."

And you stay, leaning patiently on the sink built into the nightstand, waiting for me to run a soft towel over the alabaster skin, collecting all the moisture, waiting for me to put on clean clothes. Silently staring, so attentive, as if memorizing.

"You're so beautiful, O'Connell." - You catch me off guard with your words just as I bend over to open the stopper in the tub. The water immediately swirls into a small spiral vortex, dancing over the drain, and your words make it an order of magnitude harder to breathe. - "My insanity.

We go back to the bedroom: I pull you with me, accompanying you confidently between the coffee table and other furnishings in the dark, and you follow obediently, understanding without any words. We lie down on the bed, and I immediately cling to you in a hug like a baby koala and you cover us with a heavy blanket and I exhale for the first time in two days as if nothing had happened. It would be so nice if it were true.

"You need to rest, Bils." - you gently pull me closer to you, though it feels like it's getting no closer, as I lavish light kisses on your face, -"You're tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

You sigh heavily, as if your lungs are in a vise and your thoughts are trapped in a snare of fears and your own fear of choosing the wrong words. You look away, but I immediately stroke your face, bringing you back to me. I try to look warmly, even though I'm as scared as you are.

"Let's hope? And if it still don't, then... forget me, please."

I covered my eyes to collect my thoughts, but the same picture was in front of them: tourniquet, needles, thick syringe. I watch from the couch as your dark scarlet blood first spreads moderately along the transparent walls of the cylinder, and then quickly runs upwards, following the piston of the pressurized syringe. I fold my hands in front of me between my apart knees, and I can see them trembling with excitement. You told me not to go, and I just couldn't do it, I'm too worried about you. It's only when the thin needle catches a glimmer in the light, darting out of your vein, that I exhale, diligently watching the shiver. My head wants to twitch in a tic, but I don't let it. For your sake I coped then, I need to cope with the words now.

"Do you want to leave?" - The voice twitches so stupidly, echoing the heart that's throbbing behind my sternum. - "What about your promise?"

"I don't want to, but I love you," - and you don't smile anymore, just pull the corners of your lips down, exposing your own weariness. - "And I don't want you to get hurt even when just looking at me."

"Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryingna make me laugh." - I bump my nose against your collarbone, sending goosebumps through your body with my hot breath. - "It'll hurt me even more when I know you'll be alone, that I won't be able to be there for you when I can help in any way, Y/n."

"But now you feel weak and insignificant, I can see that, Eilish! And it's all my fault!" - You furies on, and I deftly catch your lips with mine for a soothing kiss. You exhale stunned, but immediately calm down, becoming so soft and supple in my arms. Only now do I realize how much you've broken yourself under the strain of waiting, realize I can't let go.

"I can't escape the way I love you..." - softly humming just one line, and the embers of hope are already kindling in your eyes.

"I can't escape the way I love you." - you whisper repeat confidently, quieting my restless seas in response.

And we touch each other's lips an infinite number of times, without any words or oppressive thoughts, because they are not necessary now. The excited exhalations, looks, and sensations mean so much more now. You drift off to sleep unnoticed by exhaustion, not breaking the safe warmth of the embrace, sniffle amusedly into my shoulder, and I finally smile with more than a serene smile before I drift off into the realm of Morpheus after you, gulping down a thousand hopes.

It's just over ten hours to the rubicon crossing.

×××

Finneas awkwardly grips the long fingerboard of the bass guitar, touching the thick strings with his fingers, not so much testing as seeking reassurance in the sound. He looks at me, and I shudder as I lean on the microphone stand. The stage lights flared up in one loud click, blinding me, making me frown.

"Are you ready?" - From afar, somewhere in the darkness, the cameraman's cheerful voice is heard.

"One second!" - Mom shrieks from backstage as I almost nod. Synchronously, my brother and I turn our heads in the direction of the shout, and this action also recurs by the rest of the studio staff. Mom is glowing brighter than any spotlight, Dad is almost dancing with a mixture of emotions, and you're standing backstage with them, clutching a folded sheet of paper in your hands. And you smile. At last, without a fracture, so sincerely.

Finn jumps up from his seat like a rocket, and I keep up: flying into your arms with the microphone in hand, making you stagger, but with light laugh.

"Negative." - you whisper gently in my ear, and I'm ready to burst into millions of brightest fireworks. - "The hospital really just mixed up the paperwork back then."

And when the rest of the family joins the hug with joyful hooting, and we all jump together like a football team that won a world match, the heart finally finds peace, getting into the precisely designed groove between the ribs.

You're all right.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader

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robinsegghead · 5 months ago

Text

Danny's Daycare Part 13

[Master List]

TW for implied/referenced sexual assault of a minor!!!

Things had been going well recently- well- well enough. Miguel had been in a foul mood since Jason’s tutoring session but refused to tell Danny what had caused it but other than that, things had been fine. Santi had been spending time at Danny’s to both give his brother some space and get some himself, Dani had scheduled her first (and hopefully only) GED test, and Sam and Tucker had started packing.

Tucker said his job interview went well but he hadn’t heard back yet. That didn’t matter because where Sam went, Tucker went, so they’d begun packing up their apartment and planned to find a day Danny could help them move. Wes had been texting more too, and they’d also planned to find a day when either of them could visit the other in their town and hang out one on one.

(“We have to meet up in Metropolis so I can prove to you that my coworker Clark Kent is Superman and that I’m not crazy! Not only that- but the other Supers? Superboy the first is definitely his clone- I mean they look practically identical! I’m betting on the last one being his son, but that could be wrong- either way you have to visit because-”)

That’s why it only made sense that the universe pay Danny back. After all, if he had a good ish few days, he deserved to have a really shitty one to compensate, right?

Danny went over to the boys to make breakfast like he did most days (whether they came out of their rooms to eat before he left for work or not was up to them, but there would be food there if they did), Santiago had dragged himself to the kitchen table and started eating while talking with Danny about his plans for the day.

He wasn’t sure what had caused it but only a moment after Miguel had walked into the kitchen to silently grab food and leave (like he did most mornings- he really wasn’t a morning person) he froze, grew angry, and started shouting at Danny. Even Santi seemed caught off guard by the things he yelled. “You’re not our dad!” and “We don’t need you!” and other hurtful things were flung at Danny until the man calmly (only outwardly) stood up, and removed himself from the situation.

Danny had never had anger issues per se, but he’d had a lot of anger in his lifetime and nowhere to put it. He’d learned a long time ago that when he was angry- like angry-hurt-angry -he needed to stop, get out of the situation upsetting him, and come back to it later. So he did.

When he got to work he was still hurt and upset but he tried to push the feeling away and get some work done. Ember messaged him to let him know she wouldn’t be coming today which… she could have let him know with a little more notice but it was fine! Everything was fine! It was a Wednesday which meant Duke would be in so it would be fine.

Two parents didn’t follow the rules about dropping off sick kids (he couldn’t exactly blame them but…) and he had to call their families to come pick them up only a couple of hours after drop-off. Along with that a bunch of the, typically, well behaved kids were acting out (was it a full moon or something?) and it ended up being an incredibly exhausting morning for everybody.

Around lunch he slipped into his office for ten minutes of peace and quiet before sending a clone back out to do his job and staying to work on an overwhelming amount of paperwork he’d been neglecting. Between both of his jobs it was never ending.

It was an hour until check out, though many parents got out of work before closing time and had already picked up their kids, and they still had twelve kids between himself and Duke. There was a loud crash and shriek from the main room that didn’t sound quite harmless and Danny immediately tapped into what his clone was experiencing.

“-kids are the best for my tests after all!”

Danny’s clone was standing in front of the kids defensively, face to face with three goons and the ugliest… person? He’d ever seen. They didn’t look like a person fully, more like a-

“Scarecrow.” Duke muttered from his right where he also stood protectively in front of a group of kids.

“Now, let’s see how this new strain works on kids.” He leered.

Fuck. Fuck that. Danny stopped looking through his clone’s eyes and stood up. He needed to do something, he needed to- He looked down. He needed to transform. After becoming the king of the Infinite Realms Danny had gotten a new transformation, sort of. It was essentially Phantom, but more regal, more royal. He hadn’t transformed into his typical Phantom form- his ghost fighting vigilante form, since the incident.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and transformed. He only took a moment to glance at himself and note that his outfit was different, without actually being able to see what all was different, before using invisibility and intangibility and flying out of the room to deal with the fucker who dared threaten his kids.

~~~

“Demon brat! No one cares about your blood status!” Jason cut in. Despite his words, there wasn’t any real bite to them and everyone knew it. It was rare for Jason to spend any time at the manor, sometimes he came to the cave for emergencies, but that was the cave. The manor? Practically unheard of unless Alfred had specifically told Jason to be there, usually for Sunday brunch. But it was neither Sunday, nor Alfred’ request that brought Jason to the manor.

The fact that he’d randomly dropped by for dinner that night had been a surprise to everyone, but not an unwelcome one. Even Damian seemed to be less irritable than usual. Jason couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to drop by. He’d woken up a couple of hours before, did some work, made some food for the Nightingales (you couldn’t convince Jason that those boys weren’t Danny’s kids), and then he’d just…. Driven to the manor. Like it was natural.

When Bruce had seen him chilling on a couch in the main living room, he’d gotten emotional, choking back his joy and trying not to make Jason uncomfortable by hovering. (He definitely hovered.) When Jason had mentioned he’d be joining them for dinner, the man’s eyes got misty and Jason ditched him to help Alfred in the kitchen.

Before the youngest could retort, they all got an alert on their phone. The ‘emergency’ alert that was programmed to come through even if their phones were on silent- hell, even if they were shut off, the emergency alert would come through.

Everyone scrambled for their phones, pushing away from the table and towards the study. They were all accounted for at the moment. Jason had come over for dinner, Dick was on a date, Tim and Damian had been home and eating dinner with Jason and Bruce, Steph and Cass were having a girls night with Babs, and Duke-

Duke.

He was supposed to be at work for a little while longer. Pulling up the feed on Duke’s phone and displaying it on the batcomputer, Bruce began to assess the situation while everyone began suiting up.

Jason came back in time to see what was happening and noted that not only was Scarecrow on the screen, but Danny was standing to the left and slightly in front of Duke. Of course he was- Duke worked at Danny’s daycare after all.

(When he’d learned Duke was working at Danny’s daycare he’d immediately grown suspicious and, after hacking into the bats computer, he found he was right to be. Tim had a whole folder on ‘Daniel Nightingale’ and everything he knew about the man which was- admittedly not a lot. Jason couldn’t really be angry (yes he could) about Tim’s hyper paranoia but it was kind of annoying.)

“Now, let’s see how well this new strain works on kids.” Scarecrow said, reaching into his pocket.

Danny shifted slightly, gesturing behind himself until the kids who’d clung to him scrambled back towards Duke. The camera angle shifted slightly as Duke pushed more kids behind himself and inched them towards where Jason assumed they’d be safer. “Yeah, I don’t think so buddy.” The twink of a man stepped forward and Jason was reminded that this was the same twink who’d killed the Joker. One shotted him, actually.

Still, he didn’t want to take any chances and rushed to his bike.

“B, have O send the footage to my helmet.” He ordered before taking off, followed closely by Red Robin, and only a moment later, Batman and Robin.

As he zipped through the streets, he listened to what was happening.

“Such courage! Not for long. What do you think you can do to fight fear?” Scarecrow mocked. “You’ll soon see your worst fear. You won’t be so brave then. No one can fight fear!”

“I already have. Not interested in a repeat.” Danny ground out before tackling the man to the ground. B growled over the comms as the vial of fear toxin was flung out of Scarecrow’s hands and careened to the ground.

There was no sound of impact and before Jason could glance at his screen to see what was happening, Duke’s broadcast cut out.

“Hood, ETA?” Batman growled snappily.

“Two minutes.” He responded irritably, green clouding the edges of his vision again, worse than usual. Now that he thought about it, it’d been a couple of days since he’d experienced any Pit Rage symptoms. Fuck, not the time.

In the two minutes it took to get to the Daycare, Jason couldn’t help but wonder; how the fuck did Danny always manage to get into these situations? And how would the man get himself out of it this time? (Hopefully not through murder ((even though it was kind of hot))).

~~~

“I already have. Not interested in a repeat.” Danny heard his clone say before tackling the rogue to the ground. A vial of toxic gas flew through the air and Phantom rushed to catch it. Once he’d grabbed it, he phased it into his body for safe keeping, and removed his invisibility. Clone Danny was still fighting Scarecrow but the rogue’s goons had burst through the doors only a moment later and surrounded them.

Phantom rushed the goons, landing on the ground and matching them blow for blow. “Get the kids out of here!” He shouted at his clone, not waiting for a response before giving the fight his full attention.

Three goons jumped at him. Phantom disarmed the first one, snapping the gun in half before tossing the broken pieces to the side. The second goons opened fire, not taking care of his fellow goons and actually hitting the third guy- were these goons for real? Any bullets that should have hit him, flew straight through him, until the man had used all of his bullets. Scarecrow pulled out another vial and three things happened at once.

Red Hood crashed through one of the windows (ugh, he’d have to get that replaced, it was hard to find good window installers in this city), Phantom inhaled something sweet and minty that made him feel strange, and, distracted by the new smell and sensation, a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Oddly enough, it didn’t hurt at all.

The goon who shot him was knocked to the side by Red Hood who seemed to be fighting with a vengeance and that was when Phantom realized eight more goons had crowded into the building. Taking a risk, Phantom tapped into his clone’s senses to make sure the kids were safe, and once he knew they were, he went all out.

Punching the nearest goon firmly in the chest, they crashed into another one who stumbled. Phantom spun around, round-house kicking the goon who’d rushed him after his buddy had been knocked out. It took only a couple of minutes before Red Hood and Phantom had knocked out all but the last goon- Scarecrow had long since run.

Grabbing the last guy by the shirt, he pulled him close. Hood gave him a strange look (yes Danny was fairly sure he could read the man’s expressions through the helmet) but he ignored it. He had a message to deliver.

“I hope you’re listening carefully, because I need you to tell all of your little friends, your employer, and everyone you run across something for me. Are you listening?” He asked as if he was speaking to a child. The goon nodded and a noise behind Phantom almost made him take his focus off of his message, but he pushed it away, still feeling strangely tingly from whatever the Scarecrow had dosed him with.

“Good. You tell your boss that this daycare- that Danny Nightingale- is protected. If I catch so much as a whiff of a plot against this place or that man, I’ll hunt you and your friends down and show you just how scary I can be, got it?” His fangs, pointed ears, and bluish skin had become more prominent throughout the years and while he was certainly humanoid, he was quite alien looking. It scared people.

The goon nodded, terrified, and Phantom dropped him. The moment he hit the ground he was running.

Phantom dusted his hands off and turned to Red Hood only to find Batman and Robin also standing behind him. “Oh, hi.” He smiled, waving awkwardly.

“Who are you?” Batman demanded.

Cocking his head to the side in consideration, Phantom tried to focus through the strange(ly good) feeling coursing through his body. “I’m Phantom. Who are you?”

It was clearly not what Batman expected him to say. Of course Phantom knew who Batman was, but he didn’t want to give the idea that he’d researched Gotham, that he was from Gotham. Hopefully this would be one of the only times he’d be needed as Phantom while living here and they could all forget this happened.

Red Hood chuckled. “Damn Old man, losing your touch.”

“Hood.” Batman deadpanned.

“Like the Red Hood?” Phantom asked innocently.

They all looked at him oddly. He recognized Red Hood but not Batman? Once Hood nodded, Phantom took the opportunity to finally thank the man for all he’d done for his people.

“Damn, you’re even hotter in person.” He smirked.

“Huh?” Hood blue screened.

Batman tried to cut in. “Phantom-”

Phantom began floating, leaning back casually and placing his hands behind his head. “I’ve already left you speechless, huh? Listen, Hood, I’ve gotta thank you, honestly.”

“What is happening?” Robin hissed under his breath. Batman seemed just as at a loss as Robin. Even Hood didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

“Let me re-introduce myself.” Phantom smiled at the group sweetly. “I’m Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, Defeater of Pariah Dark, and Bringer of Peace. And you, Red Hood, are known throughout the realms as the Avenger of the Dead.” He could practically hear Hood’s jaw dropping. “My people speak highly of you and I’ve always wanted an excuse to visit Gotham to thank you, formally, for all you’ve done for my people.” He’d stopped floating after citing his title and letting his kingly regalia appear but now he was bowing at the waist to the Red Hood.

“Uh- wha-”

“You’re thanking him for murder?” Robin asked, voice strained.

Straightening out, Phantom noted the discomfort in Batman’s stance. “I’m thanking him for avenging innocent people. My people.” Turning back to Hood, Phantom offered him a little card. “This is my personal summoning circle, call me if you ever want to get coffee, hot stuff.” He winked and faded into invisibility just as the police barged through the front doors, leaving behind a very confused crime lord (who he suspected was blushing) and two vigilantes.

Oh yeah, that was more fun than he’d imagined.

~~~

The rest of the night was long and testing and Danny just wanted to go home. The parents who’d come to pick up their kids were in a panic, everyone wanted to question Danny, and Red Hood had run off before they’d been able to talk. To be fair, the vigilante had tried to get Danny’s attention multiple times but he’d been busy making sure each parent got their kid, the police got their statement, and Duke knew he was to take the next week off to recover.

He’d spoken to Batman which was cool sort of, and after alerting the boys that he’d be home very late that night, cleaned up what he could before going on his way. Lady Fate was cruel for piling the frustrations on top of each other that day, but even she wasn’t cruel enough to keep him from his bed and a nice long night of (probably lying in bed being unable to) sleep. Right?

It’s like he was jinxing himself or something. Clockwork had to be watching and laughing right now, right?

Riding the elevator up to his apartment- yes he could fly, but he was honestly exhausted after the crash that came after whatever tingly high he’d gotten from the Scarecrow fear toxin- and he just wanted to drag himself to his apartment slowly and painstakingly before collapsing. He checked his messages on the ride up.

Miguel had texted to confirm Danny’s late arrival home tonight (literally just a thumbs up emoji, apparently he was still upset with Danny for whatever reason), Dani had texted to inform him she’d be spending the night at Jazz’s, Tucker had sent him a meme about the Gotham vigilantes, and Santiago had texted him-

His blood ran cold- well, colder than it usually was- as he read the boys message. It had come through only three minutes before.

Santi: Danny please come home

Santi: Miguel needs help

Santi: He won’t let me outta the closet

Saying fuck it, Danny turned intangible and flew through the remaining floors and landing on his floor. He was stopped in his tracks by a man leaning heavily against the boys apartment door and shouting through it.

“Get the fuck out ‘ere! You worthless good-for-nothin’ kids!” The man slurred. “Mick! Santi! Get yer sorry assess out ‘ere! You know ‘ow hard I ‘ad ta look for ya?”

Danny grabbed the man's shoulder with inhuman strength and wrenched him away from the boy's apartment, putting himself between them. “Who the fuck are you?” Danny asked, letting his anger seep out, the hallway growing colder.

The man gave Danny an unimpressed look. “This is whoya been kissin’ up to? Huh?” He shouted past Danny and towards the apartment. “How’re you payin’ ‘im, eh Mick?” His voice grew suggestive as he looked Danny up and down. “Payin’ ‘im like ya did the las’ one?”

It was growing obvious that the man was inebriated, though Danny wasn’t going to let that excuse his behavior. It also seemed, the man knew Miguel and Santi and Danny shuddered to think he might be their father. “Listen buddy.” Danny grit his teeth. “You’re trespassing. Leave, before I call the cops.”

“Ha- cops? YOU’RE holdin’ MY kids captive! I should call the cops myself!” The man stepped closer, towering over Danny and definitely believing himself to be intimidating. “‘M sure you can find some other street kids ta get you off.” He offered suggestively. “My boys’re mine. I’ll fergive ya this once fer borrowing them- I know ‘ow temptin’ they can be- ‘specially Mick. ‘e’s got a mouth on ‘im-”

That’s when Danny’s patience ran out. He didn’t realize it until his fist had met the other man's jaw, leaving him doing the towering. He didn’t remember it- not really. One moment he felt his fist connect with the man’s face and the next someone had wrapped their arms around his torso and began dragging him away from an unconscious body. Someone was crying- someone was shouting.

Someone was threatening my kid.

It was the only thought he’d remembered from during the altercation. Although, altercation implied it was two sided, by the look of the man’s completely smashed and bloody face, it had not been two sided.

“Calm down, Danny, you’re okay, the boys are okay- the boys are okay.” The voice repeated over and over again, trapping him close to their body and taking each elbow to the face or ribs while Danny tried to get away before coming back to himself.

His heart rate had been through the roof and after coming back to awareness, Danny felt exhaustion overtaking his body. His eyelids drooped as his body sank back into whoever was holding him. Someone was still crying.

Eyes flying open, Danny sat up, prying the man’s arms off of him, and moving towards the sound of the crying.

“Danny- don’t.”

That was when he recognized the voice and finally listened to it.

“You need to clean up before going in there.” Hood said, gently but firmly.

Why? Why did he- his eyes landed on the hand he’d placed on the doorknob. It was covered in blood- none if it was his. Lifting his other hand, Danny found it in a similar condition and understood. He’d just beaten Miguel and Santiago’s dad within an inch of his life while both boys were on the other side of a very thin door. Sniffling from the other side of the door alerted Danny that the person who’d been crying was Miguel.

Locking his jaw, Danny nodded sharply, twice, before turning and going to his apartment without so much as looking at Hood. The sooner he cleaned the blood off his hands and changed into clean clothes, the sooner he could see if the boys were okay.

Danny didn’t like what he saw in the mirror- and not in the teenage-angst-and-insecurity kind of way, but in the face-covered-in-my-kids’-dad’s-blood kind of way. His hair was crusty with it- how hard did he hit the guy? Thinking back, he was relieved to find he didn’t use any of his ghost strength and the man would (probably ((unfortunately))) recover.

It was the fastest shower Danny had ever taken. Tearing his hands through his hair to get the blood out, scrubbing down his hands and face, he couldn’t get done quick enough. Slipping on sweatpants and an oversized hoodie he didn’t remember owning, Danny made his way into the hall. He was surprised to find it empty, lacking both Hood and the body but shrugged it off and calmly opened the apartment.

“-thing’s gonna be okay. You did the right thing, kid.” He heard Hood saying. But it wasn’t the familiar modulated voice Danny had grown accustomed to- it was the voice that’d asked him ‘how old were you?’ the voice that asked ‘you died and came back wrong?’ a voice that was calm, collected, reassuring.

“He’s not gonna be angry at me?” Came Miguel’s sniffled response.

Before Hood could answer, Danny stepped into the living room. “Are you okay?” He asked, trying to hide how frantically he’d like to be looking over the boy. He kept his distance. He’d just beaten his kids’ dad- almost to death- with only a thin door separating them. He wouldn’t be surprised if Miguel never wanted to see him again.

Even if his dad was a shitbag.

Miguel nodded, hesitantly. “I’m sorry- I shoulda told you-” The boy was clearly trying not to cry again, his entire frame was shaking and he looked tiny standing beside Hood.

Sensing that Miguel wasn’t angry at him, but rather, thought it’d be the other way around, Danny shoved past the vigilante and pulled the boy into his arms. “Oh my Ancients- you have nothing to apologize for, Miguel. Are you okay?” He pulled back, sizing the boy up. He had a quickly forming black eye and a split lip, his clothes were ruffled, but otherwise he looked physically okay.

“‘M okay.” He confirmed shakily.

Danny felt another body press against his and found Santi pushing himself between them and burying his face in Danny’s stomach. He could feel Hood’s eyes tracking their movements, but for once, his mind barely registered the vigilante. “Are you okay, Santi?”

The boy nodded silently, wrapping his arms around Danny. “You got my texts.” He states, voice muffled by Danny’s sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been here sooner.” Danny said softly, holding Miguel close with one arm and Santi with the other.

“I shoulda told you- I knew- ‘e found somma my buddies,” Miguel sniffled, unable to meet Danny’s eyes. “‘E asked ‘em where I was an’ they warned me ‘bout it.”

Danny shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Miguel.”

“I shouldn’ta said all those things this mornin’!” He cried. “I din’t mean it! Please don’ be mad at me!” The teenager buried his face in Danny’s shoulder which grew wet quickly.

A voice cut through Danny’s thoughts. “I’m going to head out, I’ve taken care of everything, text me if you need me.” Hood said calmly from the window sill. Before Danny could mention you never gave me your phone number how on this Earth would he text the vigilante the man had slipped out the window and grappled away. What did he mean he’d taken care of everything?

Sniffling cut off that line of thinking and Danny steered the boys to the couch. “Come here.” He said, pulling both boys down after him and holding them closely, in a way he hoped was comforting. In the way Jazz always held him after a nightmare. “You’re okay, I’ve got you both. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” He soothed, running one hand through Miguel’s hair gently and the other across Santiago’s back.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel said between little gasps for air. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Danny mumbled, continuing his gentle ministrations. “I’ve got you both.” He felt them both growing stiller and stiller. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Prev. Next

#danny phantom #dp x dc #fanfiction #danny phantom/jason todd #danny's daycare #dead on main #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson

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pretty-blkgirl · 2 months ago

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Soul’s Desire [Ch. 11]

- Masterlist -

~~~|~~~

You paced around the rather small dance studio for a good 20 minutes, having to stop every once in a while because you were dizzy.

Your schedule ended earlier than expected, so you decided to head up to the dance studio to get yourself together before you met some more of your soulmates.

Your mood was still a little down today, mostly because of the phone call with your mother. She called because she wanted to tell you about her latest accomplishment: getting 2nd place at a local talent show.

You halfheartedly praised her achievements so she’d eventually let you off the phone, but after ten minutes, you knew you had to hang up and go practice.

She was not happy when you called her back later, and you listened with teary eyes while she tore you a new one.

As you thought about that call, you found yourself getting more and more upset and even contemplated canceling on the members again, until they walked through the door.

They were shocked to see you, as they were early as well, but the shock was replaced by happy expressions.

“Hi y/n” The freckled-faced Felix chirped. He was so much prettier in real life (which you didn’t even know was possible).

Lee Know followed closely behind him. He did resemble a cat, and that thought made you chuckle a little. Besides that, you really couldn’t understand how a person could look so perfect.

Hyunjin was last in line, looking stunning, his naturally seductive eyes staring at you.

You bow once they get close enough to you, and Hyunjin bursts out in a fit of laughter at your formalities.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” You say, “I’m Y/n”

“You don’t say” Minho teases, “Could have sworn you were pd-nim”

The shock is evident on your face as you playfully smack the man’s arm

“Pd-nim??? You could have said anyone else but HIM” You hounded, making all three men laugh.

Your feelings toward your mother subside as the four of you head over to the couches against the wall. There, Felix leads the conversation and you can’t help but giggle at how similar he and Chan are.

“How were your schedules?” Felix asked, pulling out a snack from his (Louis Vuitton) backpack.

“They were okay, we had back-to-back interviews, and then we shot for our YouTube channel.”

Hyunjin nods, “We just had to record today. Tomorrow we gotta rehearse for our concerts this weekend”

“Are you coming to the concerts y/nnie?” Minho questions with a look nothing short of mischievous. He was so silly.

“Unfortunately not, too busy preparing for debut”

“Booooooo” Hyunjin nags, “Not supporting your soulmates? Bad start”

“Hush” You chuckle, “I’ll be at plenty of Stray Kids concerts in the future”

“That’s right, we’ll even make sure you get a discount on tickets” Minho jokes, earning him another playful smack from you

“I better get free tickets AND backstage passes”

“We can probably make that happen” Felix smirks, “Do we get free tickets to see LUCKY in concert?”

“Of course, I’ll even throw in some merch”

“I guess we can give you a few shirts and hats too”

“Nuh uh, I want one of everything. I better get every variation of skzoo, shirts, pants, hats, bags, everything” You declared

“Hannie told us you’re a stay, you probably have a good amount of our merch anyways,” Hyunjin remarked

“I do, but now I won’t have to break my pockets!”

The guys laugh again, and you’re glad to know the meeting is going well.

Speaking of meetings, you guys got maybe 15 more minutes together before Lee Know got a call from one of their managers.

You knew they had to leave when he gave you a sympathetic look. He got off the phone and quickly confirmed your assumption, revealing they were being called in for a last-minute meeting.

Before he could even apologize, you waved your hand

“You guys have to go, I get it, don’t feel bad”

Hyunjin crossed his arms defiantly, “We’re supposed to be off, I don’t know why we suddenly have a fucking meeting to go to”

“Yeah I don’t understand it either” Felix sighs

You just shrug, standing and urging the boys to do the same.

“Y’all need to go before you get in trouble. Seriously, don’t feel bad. You know I’m an idol too, I understand”

The three are grateful for your words and decide to give you their (along with Vocalracha’s) numbers before rushing out the door.

You weren’t super upset you didn’t have much time with them, you knew you had the rest of your life with them, so you grabbed your bag and decided to head home.

~~~|~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

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armandisdaddy · 1 year ago

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Femmé Fatale-Modern Au!Chp 1.

[Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (Married Businessman) x Fem Reader ( Secretary)

[Content/Warnings:!!18 PLUS!!, Lust, Tension, Adultery, Toxic, Domestic Violence, car sex,p in v penetration, Biting, Hair pulling, oral masc receiving, ass eating, Choking, Violence, Obsessive, Stalking, Mentions of infertility and Swearing.]

Aemond’s morning was always the same but today something was different his wife Alys had decided to climb on top of him and wake him up with a bit of lazy morning sex which wasn’t how it use to be but he appreciated the long awaited intimacy. You see he loved his wife dearly but thing haven’t been the same since they lost their unborn child 3 years ago. Alys had become cold after the doctors told her they shouldn’t try again due to the fact that she almost lost her life as well. Aemond had given her the space she needed and tried to be that support system for her. Their relationship just wasn’t what it used to be anymore. Alys rutted on top of him halfway moaning in his ear. He knew she was only doing this for him so he tapped her shoulder and kissed the side of her head. “It’s alright we don’t have to do this.” He whispered sincerely. She stopped in her tracks and sighed rolling off of him and wrapping herself up in a robe to go to the kitchen and make him coffee. Huffing in frustration he got into the shower and finished himself off which didn’t take too long.

He quickly got dressed and passed through the kitchen to gulp down his coffee and grab his briefcase before he left for work. He came behind Alys wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss but she dodged his lips and in embarrassment he pulled away and left without saying a word. He hopped into his car and sighed letting it run while the scene played in his mind over and over again. He did love his wife he kept telling himself that he had to have they were together for quite sometime and grew so much together and he didn’t want to be the dick to leave his wife when she needed him most. He was becoming numb to it all..was this really how life with her was going to be now? He pulled off knowing that when he went to work at least that would keep his mind off his marriage that was falling apart right before his eyes.

Walking into work he was greeted by his staff and nodded and smiled speaking to each and every person that passed him by. This was the one place he felt like himself in. Approaching his receptionist’s desk an old lady wearing a floral cardigan was smiling up at him. “Aemond, how are you doing this morning, dearest?” He smiled back leaning into the desk. “I’m fine Grace how are you? You’re looking exceptionally beautiful today.” He made the old lady blush and just when she had almost forgot she passed him some papers. “Oh! This is the information on the new secretary you had Helaena interview. She’s waiting for you in your office, love.” He nodded looking through them and liking her résumé. “Hmm..thank you Grace.”

Walking through the threshold of his office doorway saw a small figure sitting in the chair just in front of his desk. “Good morning! Ms. Y/N! I’m Aemond Targaryen…but..” he was stopped in his tracks when he saw his new employee in all her glory. She was gorgeous. Clearing his throat he continued his speech looking down at the papers. “You may call me Mr. Targaryen. I hope you understand this is a very serious and important job and your job is to make sure nothing slips through the cracks and to make sure everything stays on schedule, yes?" Y/N nodded while she listened attentively and smiled charmingly at him. He was taken aback by everything about she was absolutely breathtaking but the thoughts of Alys hit him like a wrecking ball knocking him out of the trance this young woman had him in. "Mr.Targaryen, is everything alright?" She looked at him with a concerned look and Aemond just cleared his throat. "Sorry...I blanked out I had a rough night. But I've looked over your resume and your references have spoken wonderfully about you so I believe you will be a wonderful addition to "Targ Trade". Are there any questions you have for me?”

She thought for a while looking him over once more as she did whilst he spoke spying the wedding band on his finger. Interesting she thought as she notice how happy he was to see her within his pants regardless of how hard he tried to stay professional. “No sir. I know what you need from me and I will deliver. If there isn’t anything else I’ll go to my desk. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Targaryen.” He cleared his throat, “Yes of course..You’re welcome.” This was the first time he’d heard her voice and it was completely sinful, the thoughts of how’d she’d sound moaning in pleasure underneath him. Watching her leave he groaned under his breath watching her hips away. He shook the thoughts from his head thinking of Alys again trying to remind himself he was still very much in love and happy. Knowing he’d become miserable a few months ago waiting for Alys to even seem the least bit happy but that day never came.

The rest of the day he spent his time focusing on work being distracted briefly if Y/N came in to give him some paper work or when she paged into his office to let him know he had a call. She knew exactly what she was doing leaning ever so closely to him letting him smell her perfume and catch a small glimpse of her cleavage. She flipped her hair in just the right way and leaned against his desk almost pressing against him. He pulled away and she only smiled innocently seeing the red tint come upon his pale cheeks. “So a few of your colleagues and I were going to go to a bar tonight and have a few drinks. Do you want to come? You seem like you need to have a little fun.” He listened closely just loving the way her voice filled his ears. He thought for a moment. “Umm…I can’t I have a lot of..uhhh work to do.” She pouted and sighed. “Alright…your loss.” She spoke in a singsong tone before leaving his office.

They only had two hours left before business hours were up and he played that question in his head over and over up until he noticed everyone getting up to leave. He knew if he went he was going to do something he’d regret…but he’d regret it more if he never saw it through. He decided to call his wife and no surprise she didn’t pick up so he decided to leave a text letting her know he’d be out late tonight having a drink with friends. He could feel the guilt eating him up already, but he didn’t really care. He grabbed his briefcase and caught the group of his employees and Y/N before they headed out. He hadn’t looked her way, but he could feel her watching him within the crowd as they all decided to meet at the bar. Criston Cole was especially interested in Y/N and Aemond was a bit irritated as he watched them drinking and flirting whilst another one of his employees talked his head off. He was knocking back whiskeys and sulking while Y/N was loving the attention. A few people started to make their way home, but he stayed behind waiting for his chance.

She decided to approach him since he was too worried about what anyone else would say. She smiled so deviously and maybe he should been alittle more cautious, but he was to enthralled with her to even notice how dangerous this woman really was. “You’ve been staring at me all night, but don’t have the guts to say anything.” He chuckled and looked at his finger which binder him to another. “I think you know why, Ms.Y/N.” She took a sip of her martini and crossed her legs flashing her unclothed cunt for a moment. The sir immediately grew tense and he sighed kicking back another whiskey. “From the way you look at me you can’t be too happy…you look hungry…for something she reached to touch his hand and he quickly pulled it back as there were a few of his colleagues lingering about. She was right, but he had to put up some type of a fight..right? “You don’t need to worry about my personal life..all you need to know is that I’m married so that means I’m off limits..” He teased and smirked at her.

“Off limits? I don’t think I know what that means…You are putting on quite a show…you must really care for her…huh?” He hummed and didn’t respond. As disrespectful as this conversation was he had to admit he enjoyed it. The game they were playing. Cat and mouse. She toyed with him like he was her prey and he couldn’t help but enjoy it immensely. It was almost like a form of foreplay. Time had passed and they were finally alone…everyone from work had disappeared and they kept their conversations PG smiling and laughing while the fires of passions burned in their eyes. He sighed and stood to leave and she slowly followed. They both coincidentally had parked in the same parking deck which was now a ghost town..perfect. He had walked her to her car trying to be a gentleman and she had him right where she wanted him.

“Thank you for walking me to my car..” She let her hands slowly run over the boner that had been throbbing for her since their first introduction. He flinched away but pushed his throbbing cock into her hand. He groaned giving into the temptation and she smiled pulled him in for a kiss. His lips crashed into hers and he groaned tasting her for the first time. Her lips were intoxicating. Everything about her was enticing and he could no longer hold himself back. He grabbed onto her waist pulling her in while his other hand grabbed onto that soft ass he’d been waiting to feel in the palm of his hands. She could feel his cock begging to be freed and pulled away to unbutton his pants. He was thick and pretty long..she was a bit surprised. She looked into his eyes and easing down into a low squat. Her red lips wrapped around his head and he inhaled sharply. His knees buckled as she pulled him into her mouth further. He groaned and began to buck his hips and began fucking her throat. Her red lipstick smeared onto his cock and he had to admit she looked beautiful like this. He could feel himself ready to cum and he pulled back lifting her and turning her around to lean against her car. He squatted down and ripped a huge hole into her stocking admiring her exposed ass and opening her cheeks to look over her glistening pussy.

He buried his face into her ass and groaned at the taste of her. She whimpered and pushed back pushing his face into it further. He groaned lapping at her cunt hungrily kneading her ass cheeks together. He cooed tasting her sweet nectar devouring her ass and enjoying all of the sweet sounds she made. He stood up behind her and got her to grab her keys to unlock her car. He climbed in first and pulled her in sitting her in his lap. He slid his hands between her legs and she spread them open as he began to circle his fingers around her clit. She cooed ever so beautifully bucking her hips forward begging for him to fuck her. He grabbed his cock slapping it against her pussy before slowly pushing into her slick entrance. She gasped at the stretch and he groaned at the way she squeezed him just right. With her back against his chest he grabbed onto her hair putting an arch in her back. She hovered over him and cooed at the way he filled her up. Her hips began to buck back and forth and it caused him to shutter. “Fuck…” He groaned pulling her hair harder while he thrusted up into her meeting the rhythm of her hips. “So good.” She muttered panting like an animal.

Wrapping his hand around her throat he pulled her back flush against his chest biting into her neck before he pounded into her furiously. “Gods…I’m going to fuck you stupid….” She whimpered and moaned uncontrollably as he did just that. She played with her clit trying to get some relief she felt like she was going to explode. He knew she was close by the way her walls clenched and released him and he continued to pound his hips into her ass. The clapping sound filling the car as the windows fogged. “You gonna cum for me, Ms.Y/N?” She creamed around him as he continued until he was ready to spill his seed. Pulling away he came in a napkin he had in his pocket and smiled at the cum she left behind smeared on his cock. He pulled up his pants catching his breath and he looked over at her as she fixed her skirt. Immediately the feeling of guilt filled his stomach. It was sickening and heavy. He felt terrible, but he hadn’t felt this good in years and he was now hooked… Even after they had just finished he wanted more but he knew he had to restrain himself.

“I’m going to have to go…I stayed out longer than I intended.” She nodded and leaned over to kiss him one more time. He let her pull off first and he headed home. Once he was home he sat in the driveway for another hour. Thinking about what he just did. He was now officially a piece of shit. But he would be that if it meant feeling Y/Ns body on his again. He finally made his way into his home. Alys was asleep in bed and that gave him time to shower and throw his suit in the washer. She hadn’t stirred while he climbed in next to her there backs facing each other. He had gotten away with it for now…

To be continued…

#fic rec #hotd fanfic #read it #hotd series #10/10 reccomend #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x you #hotd imagine

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cuddlepilefics · 4 months ago

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Not your day - August of whump - Day 1

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Wooyoung

Caregivers: Ateez

Prompts: food/risk/overexertion

@augustofwhump

No one’s POV.:

Only very little was going Wooyoung’s way today. He was about ready to call it quits and it was only ten AM. How was he supposed to last till tonight? It had started with him accidentally sleeping in, which he shouldn’t whine about too much because the same was true for Hongjoong and Jongho. His dorm mates would’ve woken him otherwise. Somehow, they seemed to find their footing much faster than Wooyoung, who still felt his heart racing trying to get into the flow of the day. Though sympathetic, the group couldn’t really consider their friends struggle, their schedule too hectic to allow room for personal adjustments. Hell, the trio hadn’t even gotten an opportunity to eat breakfast before finding themselves in front of their phones to hold video calls.

Though one fan worriedly commented on it when she heard Wooyoung’s stomach growl over the phone, he did get the whole event over with well. When they were done, San slipped him a protein bar and smiled: “To hold you over till you get an opportunity to have a meal.” – “I-I thought we could eat now?!”, the younger frowned, sinking his teeth into the protein bar. Catching up to him, Hongjoong denied: “We’re headed to an interview, so if you have any snacks in your backpack, better take the opportunity right now. Already kinda late, so there won’t be any waiting time for us.” The leader ignored the horrified look his dongsaeng gave him and scarfed down the apple Seonghwa had given him.

Worried about their friends who hadn’t even gotten the chance to pack any food that morning, the members went through their bags and collected whatever snacks they were carrying to make sure Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Jongho would have something to fuel them for the next one or two hours. It wasn’t much but they’d make do. They had to. Wooyoung’s stomach ached a little as he settled in for the interview, Yeosang next to him, shooting him an encouraging smile. Forcing himself to return it, the younger refrained from slipping his hand under his shirt to palm at his sore middle.

Wooyoung used to get stress stomach aches when he was in middle school, so he blamed the discomfort on the chaos of the day. Knowing this, Yeosang stuck close to him and occasionally rubbed his back in a comforting gesture. Though Wooyoung hid it quite well, Seonghwa caught on that there was a problem because he saw Yeosang acting just a tiny bit more affectionate towards their dongsaeng and made sure to check on the boy too. “Upset tummy”, Wooyoung mumbled, when the eldest asked if anything was wrong with. They were just making their way back to the company for a dance practice session. Resting his hand on the other’s shoulder, Seonghwa worried: “Is it hunger pains?” – “Not sure. Stress probably but the hunger isn’t helping”, Wooyoung winced, finally allowing himself to rub his stomach to try and soothe it.

Usually, the group would be able to squeeze in a little break but today they’d be working with their choreographers, who were also on a tight schedule, so their next break would have to wait for another two hours. Despite the pain slowly morphing into cramps, Wooyoung did his best to learn the new choreography quickly. He was a main dancer after all. Seonghwa encouraged him to sip water whenever he got the chance to but the younger eventually refused, claiming the liquid wasn’t sitting well in his empty stomach anymore. “We’ll have a break soon, so you guys can have a proper meal”, Yunho smiled before showing Jongho the move again. The maknae had trouble focusing and it took him longer to memorize the choreography. He’d have to revise it with Yunho and Wooyoung some other day.

Hongjoong too struggled but being the leader, he fought to hide it, not wanting to leave a bad impression with the choreographers. That could only work so long and he eventually found himself in Seonghwa’s arms, his only hyung manhandling him to the floor. “Sorry- sorry, just- just need a moment”, Hongjoong panted, sitting with his head bowed between his knees. His ears were ringing and he barely heard Seonghwa talking to him. Wooyoung brought him his water bottle, heart aching to see the older looking so faint. At the same time, it was reassuring to know his friends weren’t coping too well with the incident either. He didn’t feel as much as a failure, knowing that even their leader was still affected by it.

When the practice was finally over, Wooyoung remained splayed on the floor, drenched in sweat and still panting heavily. Hongjoong didn’t get up either, slowly sipping from his water bottle as he tried to catch his breath. Jongho leant against the wall next to his bag and dried his face on his towel before shooting Seonghwa a pained smile. “We have a one hour break before we need to perform, so should we order takeout here? You guys don’t look like you got the energy to go out somewhere right now”, the eldest offered, checking their schedule on his phone. “I vote yes”, Hongjoong announced, “’m starving.” Jongho was quick to agree but Wooyoung remained quiet. His stomach hurt… badly.

It took some prodding from Seonghwa and Hongjoong but Wooyoung eventually let himself be talked into having some rice, despite his cramps. To his relief, the first few bites soothed his stomach and he finally realized just how starved he was. “Woo, slow down”, San warned, watching worriedly as the younger scarfed down his meal, “You’re going to make yourself sick.” Shooting the older a frustrated glare, Wooyoung whined: “I’m starving, leave me alone. This is my first proper meal today and it’s already late afternoon.” – “Woah, no need to get defensive. Just saying that it’s a risk having so much food in such a short time span and so soon before performing”, San appeased, defensively raising his hands. Though he understood his friend’s point, Wooyoung didn’t manage to slow himself down. He had gone hungry for too long.

The meal seemed to restore his energy and Wooyoung settled into his seat with a satisfied smile, buckling his seatbelt. They’d only have to shoot the performance before their schedule would conclude for the day. He hadn’t thought himself capable of dancing anymore after practice but now he was confident that he could. Sure, he had eaten a little more than he usually would in one sitting and he felt the waistband of his jeans dig into his tummy but he hoped his stage outfit would conceal that somehow. Despite San’s warning that he'd feel sick, quite the opposite was the case. Wooyoung felt better than he had for most of the day, his stomach finally content and the hunger pains eased.

He wasn’t all that lucky with his stage outfit though and couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with the way the tight pants made his full middle look squishy. That couldn’t be helped now though and Wooyoung remained standing while they waited to be called up. Sitting down was just too uncomfortable in these pants and they didn’t squeeze his stomach as much when he was standing. Only this performance, the dancer reminded himself. He’d be back off that stage and in a pair of comfy sweatpants soon. His bed was waiting for him at the dorm and this dreadfully chaotic day would soon be over. He could only hope to wake up on time the next morning.

So deep in thought, Wooyoung almost missed them being called up and startled when Yeosang’s hand appeared on his arm to guide him to the stage. Ugh, for some reason, Wooyoung didn’t feel like dancing anymore all of a sudden and dancing in such a tight outfit when his stomach was already so full also didn’t sound too appealing. It wasn’t like he had a choice though, so he stifled a burp against his fist before stepping out in front of the cameras. He got this!

Running on adrenaline, Wooyoung wasn’t bothered by his clothes at all. He didn’t even feel them till he struck the ending pose, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his stomach turning as if he was still dancing. With every breath, his waistband dug deep into his tummy. His stomach lurched and Wooyoung barely managed to fight off the urge to gag. Not even waiting for the director to signal that they were done, he turned and clamped his hands over his paling lips before rushing off stage. He had just made it to the steps when his throat contracted with a gag. Stumbling down the steps, Wooyoung made it out of sight and retched into his hands. Tears sprung to his eyes and it took a second for him to see the trashcan in front of him.

Wooyoung clutched the trashcan a staff member had thrust into his hands. He hadn’t even caught his breath before it was cut off by a wave of sick. A hand appeared on his back and someone steadied him when he doubled over again. Over the ringing in his ears, Wooyoung thought he might’ve heard the other members get of stage but he couldn’t be sure. He also didn’t get a break to look up and check, his stomach too busy trying to turn itself inside out. “Come on, sit”, someone instructed softly and Wooyoung shakily stumbled along before someone pushed on his shoulders to ease him down in a chair. That had come not a moment too late because his knees already felt like jelly and he didn’t know how long he would’ve remained on his feet without losing his balance.

When Wooyoung finally got a moment to breathe, he glanced up at San with watering eyes, shooting the older a pleading look. “Not gonna say it”, San sighed, pulling up a chair. He sat down next to Wooyoung and rubbed his back through the next round. By the time Wooyoung was done and spat into the trash, trying to get rid of a string of saliva, Seonghwa stood in front of him, holding a water bottle and tissues. He handed his dongsaeng a tissue to wipe his lips with and smiled sympathetically: “Today’s really not your day, is it?” Tiredly cleaning himself up, Wooyoung shook his head and accepted a tiny sip of water before handing the bottle back. He placed the trashcan onto the floor between his feet and rested his head in his hands.

The day had been awful but a small smile crept onto Wooyoung’s lips, despite the headache he had developed in the last five minutes after throwing up. No matter how awful the day had been, it was over now. He had his sweatpants in his bag and only needed to get changed before they could ho home. Home, where his bed was waiting for him and he could go to sleep confident that the next day would be better.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #ateez #emeto #tw emeto #rpf #woosan #augustofwhump #augustofwhump2024 #augustofwhump2024day1

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littleadaline · 8 months ago

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Broken Record [P.G6] [Part II]

Warning: previous mention of infidelity?

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I’m finding it a bit wordy and lengthy, so I’m sorry if it is lacking clarity in some parts.

Part I

——————————————————————————

A year had passed since your breakup. Things had changed, you had changed, but most importantly, you healed. Your internship turned into a full time job, at a place where you felt yourself grow professionally and creatively.

“Got a minute?” Andrea, your team manager knocked on your door.

“I was just heading out for lunch. What’s up?”

“Dani called out sick for the next few days, so he won’t be the one to cover today’s photoshoot. I was wondering if you would like to give it a shot. Your task shouldn’t be too different than what you do on paper.” Andrea handed you a file.

“Yes! I’d love to give it a try. What time is the shoot?” You took the file from her, skimming through the general details.

“From 14:00 to 16:00. There will be an interview part in the middle, so count this as your lunch break. The company will have a buffet on set, unless you wish to buy your own food, which shouldn’t be a problem. With that said, the shoot starts in 30 minutes, so I advise you to head down to the 3rd floor to make sure everything is going accordingly.” Andrea said to you, closing the door behind her.

Grabbing the file previously left in your hands, you left your office towards the 3rd floor. The subject of today’s shoot wasn’t mentioned on file, which only meant it was either going to be a group or a high profile person. The door of the elevator opened, and a scene of chaos welcomed you.

“What is going on?” You asked on the technicians, setting down your bag on the table.

“The backdrop won’t hold, it keeps falling down. Some of the makeup artist’s makeup has been damaged in transport. And Marta can’t complete the makeup without the product.”

“What kind of makeup?” You rummaged through your bag.

“Some face powder. She says Pablo Gavi will be too shiny without the powder.”

Your blood ran cold upon hearing his name. You clutched at your powder before walking over to the makeup station. There he was, sitting his back to you. His hair was longer, his arms bulkier and his shoulders broader. He had definitely changed in that year.

“Marta, here’s the powder you inquired about. Just slip it back in my bag once you’re done.” You handed her the container, avoiding eye contact with Gavi. “Javier, for the backdrop, just use the sandbags in storage to tie it down. We’ll have the players stand on a platform instead. Everything should be in storage. Have Omar help you out.”

You shot a text to Andrea, informing her of the issues you ran into and how you fixed them. You wished she had warned you that Gavi would be at the shoot.

“Y/N…” An all too familiar voice disrupted you.

“What can I help you with?” You tried to keep a professional attitude.

“How have you been? It’s been a year.” You didn’t want to face him.

“Really, Pablo? You want to do this now? At my workplace?” You said through gritted teeth. You finally turned back to face him. You had to contain your surprise when you saw his face. He looked different…better. More mature to be exact.

“We never really got the chance to talk things out. You just… left.”

“I left for a reason, Pablo. I left because you couldn’t be bothered to treat me as an equal in the relationship we had. I left because I was tired of being treated liked a maid in my own house. I left… because despite everything I did to save our relationship, you still went out and cheated. I left because your sister and your friends defended your behaviour instead of calling you out. This…us wasn’t working out.” You sighed. The last thing you wanted to do was explain your decision.

You left Pablo unable to answer and headed back to the table where you had left your bag. Soon, the rest of the scheduled team for today’s shoot rolled out. You recognized Pedri and Frenkie, shooting them a quick smile before focusing back on your computer screen. The first hour rolled by and you were packing up your things for lunch when a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry. That’s what I’ve trying to say,” You turned back, surprised at the words. “I promise you this isn’t an effort to get back together, but I felt like you deserved an apology… for my lack of involvement in our relationship, my dishonesty, and lack of faithfulness. After you left… I mean you must’ve seen the headlines-” You had read the headlines about Gavi’s behaviour. Slacking at work, always late, uninterested.

“I thought I would be able to deal with it on my own, but I was wrong. Pedri made me go see a therapist, he forced me.” You chuckled, sitting back down in your chair. “She taught me how my behaviour was causing distress to you, and why it led to us breaking up. I channeled the anger of my injury on our relationship. I am…sorry. You deserved a partner that showed up for you, listened to you, treated you with respect. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person.”

“Gavi, I… Thank you.” Was all you could come up with. You hated that it took you guys breaking up for him to wake up, but you were glad to have this closure after all this time. Your heart softened at the sight of him after his confession.

“I’ll…um leave you be.” Gavi awkwardly said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Unbeknownst to you, Pedri and Frenkie had caught the scene. After your lunch break, something inside the room had shifted.

“Is everything alright for the second part of the shoot?” You asked Javier. The man’s face soured at your question. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What?”

“One of the models fell sick during the players’ interview. We’re going to have to change the whole sequence of the pictures, which is going to take some time to figure out. And the boys can’t stay too late either.”

“One thing! I need one thing to go right today!”

“Why don’t we have Y/N do it?” A voice spoke up behind you. Pedri was standing there, water bottle in hand and a smug look on his face.

“What? No. No. I am not made for modelling.” You rejected his idea.

Marta, Javier, Oscar, Pedri, and Frenkie gave you a look that suggested otherwise. You were made for.

“I can have you done with hair and makeup in 15 minutes.” Marta suggested.

“What will I lose aside from my personal integrity?” You sarcastically answered. “Fine, but I want to be done with this as soon as possible.” Marta whisked you away as soon as you were done talking. She sat you down in her chair before pulling your hair out of its bun. She played around with the curler until she was satisfied, showing you the final result with a huge grin on her face.

“You look so hot with this.” You blushed at her compliment, getting ready to get out of her chair, when she pushed you back down. “Uh uh, we’re not done yet. We’re missing a few touches of makeup.” Marta had you done in under 15 minutes, as promised. Looking at your reflection, you couldn’t recognize yourself. Your eyes nearly shined, your cheekbones and eyebrows features beautifully highlighted by Marta’s skillful touch. Marta led you to the changing rooms, handing you the silk dress and heels for the shoot.

“Que linda…” Marta said as you emerged from the changing room. She walked you back to the shoot, the crews’ jaw dropping as you walked into the room. Pablo couldn’t help but stare at you.

“Alright Y/N, I just need you to step on the platform right here. Oscar help her out please.” Oscar held your hand as you walked to the platform. “It was Pablo’s turn, so please step forward on the platform.”

“Oh wait, no-” but Gavi had already walked up to the platform. He was standing in front of you, shoulders back, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry. If you’re not comfortable you can step out of this. No hard feelings.” He said apologetically.

“It’s fine, Gavi. I can be professional.”

Oscar helped you pose for the first pictures, manipulating you and Gavi’s bodies. As the minutes went by, you felt yourself relax, the thought of the shoot being almost over comforting you. That was… until the photographer asked you and Gavi to be more intimate. Given your history, you were conflicted. To your surprise, so was Gavi.

“I don’t know if Y/N is comfortable with this.”

“I… Can we keep it low-key? Like maybe just like posing together… really close?” You suggested.

“That works fine. Pablo, place your left hand on her waist. Your right hand on her jawline, below her ear.

Y/N, both your hands will go on his chest, your left one slightly higher please.” Posing along, you could feel Pablo’s abs underneath his shirt. You could cut the tension with a knife, your heart rate quickening by the second. Pablo’s grip tightened on you, a breathless moan leaving your lips. You couldn’t help but stare at his lips, the faint layer of gloss Marta had applied mesmerizing you. You missed the taste of his lips, how they moulded with yours, their warmth.

You were ready to throw your morals out the window if it meant kissing Gavi one more time. His eyes shifted to you, his gaze drawn to your painted lips. He wanted to smudge the lipstick; wishing to see your makeup ruined by tears as he tore into you.

“Gavi…” you sighed.

“Y/N…tell me I’m not alone.” He begged, his voice quivering.

“We can’t, Gavi. Not with our history.” You looked down. The faint smell of his perfume was messing with your mind, your thoughts racing like a free horse. “Fuck it.” You said before grabbing Gavi by the neck, crashing your lips into his. A wave of gasps could be heard across the room, along with Frenkie and Pedri’s chuckles. Pablo pulled you in closer, one hand settled in your hair. His other hand pushing you flush against his chest.

After your stunt, the photographer showed you the pictures, glazing over the one’s of you and Gavi’s kiss.

“We obviously will not print these ones, but if you want a personal copy, send me an email. I didn’t know you were dating Pablo Gavi. Congrats on keeping it as tightly secured as you did.” The photographer told the both of you.

“Oh we’re not-” Pablo started, but was quickly interrupted by your words.

“We’re giving each other a second shot.” You shot a playful glance at Gavi, who was starstruck.

#pablo gavi #barca #barcelona #fc barcelona #gavi #gavi imagine #gavi one shot #gavi x yn #gavi x reader

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theblue6ook · 9 months ago

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Shit Interview

Summary: Y/N bombs her interview at Wayne Enterprises and has no idea what she’s going to do now. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Well hello there. If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series. There will be more to come ;)

“Get the FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!” Y/N pushes past the rows of people cluttering the sidewalks, smooshed together much like the buildings surrounding them. Each person moving at their own time and own pace… as you can see that is just not quick enough.

Her legs burned as she power-walked down 5th Avenue, moving with as much power as she could muster in her borrowed heels and wrinkled pencil skirt. The checkered blazer she was previously wearing is now bunched up in her left arm as she dodges pedestrians, businessmen, and the occasional soccer mom. Her watch is peeking at her from underneath the bunched blazer and she swears at the time: 11:32 a.m. Of course, out of all the days my car could have died, it was today.

She sighed, this was not how her morning was supposed to go. Y/N had a schedule planned down to the last minute until her beat-up Volkswagen Bus decided to play dead. Everything was planned, she thought, everything was ready.

9 a.m.: wake up and scrounge for breakfast

10 a.m.: borrow some old work clothes from Carrie’s closet to look presentable

10:30 a.m.: leave the apartment in my trashcan on wheels

10:55 a.m.: arrive 25 minutes early and go over notes

11:20 a.m.: get this interview going and pray for a job

11:50 a.m.: grab some flowers and head to the hospital with (hopefully) good news

Everything was perfect. So where did it all go wrong? Well, she was ready to leave at 10:30 a.m. and when she got in her beat-up bus… click, click, click. Dead battery with no time to replace it and no one to jump it. Could this get any worse?

[Oh it definitely can!]

Y/N looks up from her watch and sees Wayne Enterprises coming into view. Once she gets close enough she throws herself up the concrete steps and swings through the revolving door, checking her watch. It’s only 11:35 a.m., she would still have 15 minutes left of her interview. Not great that I’m late, but not hopeless, she thinks. She approaches the front desk and silently hopes this receptionist will take pity on her.

Throwing her blazer on and pulling at her pencil skirt, she sheepishly says, “Hello. I have an interview with Mr.Collins, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The receptionist, a small woman about her age smiles and looks back at her computer, “M’kay. Let me see what I have here.” She types out Y/N’s name and scrolls through and stops when she clicks her tongue. “Oh honey, your appointment started twenty minutes ago.”

“Actually it was fifteen,” Y/N admits, “and I also called to let you know I was having issues with my car.”

“We ask each of our interviewees to arrive five minutes early… Mr.Collins will consider it twenty minutes late,” she gestured with her pen. “I’m sorry, but late attendees are not allowed to interview, it’s policy.”

“I called though-”

“Honestly, it does not matter-”

“I just walked all the way here from the west side,” Y/N began to grow frustrated.

The receptionist sighed and gave a sympathetic look, “There are other opportunities at Wayne Enterprises. I feel for you. I want to let you up, but I can’t. Why don’t you check out some of the other opportunities here on the website? There are thousands of jobs here, you’re bound to find something.”

She steps back from the desk, heels dragging with her. She wants to say something. She can feel it on the tip of her tongue, I have looked at the website. I have submitted applications. Why would I be here in the first place if I hadn’t? She refrains, feeling frustrated and embarrassed, pulling herself past the desk and out the door. Carrie is going to ask how the interview went, she groans, squeezing the back of her hands against her eyes. Clutching at her tote she decides to trudge towards Dorthie’s Flower Shop anyways.

There on the corner of Nottingham and Meadow sits Dorthie’s Flower Shop. Y/N sighs, here is my fortress of solitude. The same store she busted her ass in, more than a few times. The same store she put her blood, sweat, and tears into for four years. The same people she sobbed to when her dad kicked her out. Nothing changes here, except for the flowers.

She grows slower as she walks across Meadow Street. By the time she approaches the green barred door her feet feel heavy and drag. Could it be the blistering pain from commuting in cheap heels? No. It’s the fact that John… sweet, old John Garret sits inside alone and waiting. John Garret is one of the kindest… most intrusive person Y/N has ever met. The man and his late wife Dorthie practically raised her. She didn’t want to unload her day on him, not after everything he’s done for her. He would only worry, Y/N’s doing enough of that herself.

Stepping back from the doors, she decides to skip the flowers. It’s not like I really needed them anyway, she thinks. As she starts walking past, Y/N makes the mistake of glancing in the window… and there is John glancing up right at her. He grins brightly at her and shrugs his hand.

Come in, she sees him mouthing.

I really shouldn’t, she mouths back. Then he gives her that look. If she doesn’t go in he’s definitely coming outside, she bites her lip. Holding up one finger she mouths, maybe just for a minute. She nervously trips up the concrete step to get to the green doorway. That is not a good sign, she thinks. She pulls the door open with sweaty hands and hears a familiar ding!

“Well hi there, sweetie,” John messes with his phone for a moment before setting it on the counter, giving her his full attention. “Aren’t you all dressed up?”

She leans against the “Build Your Own Bouquet” table and picks at the old green paint chips that stuck to her hand, that door really needs to be repainted. “Job interview.”

“Doesn’t sound like it went too well?”

“Just stressful,” she forced a smile. “I came to get some flowers for Carrie.”

John raised his eyebrow but didn’t feel like playing chicken with Y/N. “How’s the poor girl’s treatment going?”

“Umm,” she muttered picking at her pencil skirt. Another topic I don’t have the energy to discuss. “It’s been hard, but she seems like she’s doing better,”

That was a big fib. Y/N almost felt bad for it, but it hasn’t been that long since John lost Dorthie and truthfully she doesn’t think he can take another hit. A year ago they all lost dear Dorthie Garrett. Five months ago they found out Carrie had colon cancer. Four months ago she started treatments. It has been an emotional bitch and all they can do is hope. In Y/N’s experience, hope just isn’t enough, but she’s trying… for Carrie.

John walked past the counter and put his hands on her shoulders, “Y/N, this is good news. Carrie is a tough girl. She will power through. She has to.” She sighed, stepping back from him and running her hands through her hair.

“Y/N, you can talk to me. I won’t break if something is going on. I just want to make sure you girls are okay.”

Turning away from him, she aimlessly wandered down a row of flowers. She toyed with the stray petals littering the shelving. “What kind of flowers says I just blew my latest job interview, but please, for the love of God, don’t die on me?”

“Y/N!”

“John, I am at my wits end!” She whipped around to look at him, “Carrie can’t work right now, not that I would let her if she tried, and I can’t find a job for shit.”

“Y/N. You know you always have a place here.” He stated it softly, but his eyes were firm.

Her eyes were starting to burn with frustration, “I would never put you in that position-”

“Oh my- you’ve been this stubborn since you were a little girl,” he rolled his eyes, “I know you’re reluctant to help, but I have never been reluctant to help you.”

“John-” her voice died in her throat as soon as she heard that familiar door chime. She almost took the opportunity to turn away and walk out but stopped when she noticed John had smiled. He smiled big.

“Y/N, meet the man singlehandedly keeping my business going,” He walked past her and shook the gentleman's hand. “Mr. Alfred Pennyworth.”

#batboys x reader #batmom #batman #batfam #bruce wayne x reader #slow burn #eventual romance

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selene-lunette · 4 months ago

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Fumito Ueda's interview from the 5th issue of PSM (July/August 2024)

Interview done by John Kaminari for PlayStation Magazine (Italy). I translated it to the best of my abilities.

He who transformed video games into art. "PSM" had the great opportunity to interview Fumito Ueda exclusively, after a silence that lasted many years.

There are giants (colossi) of the video gaming industry who mass-produce games merely to fill a schedule increasingly saturated with cookie-cutter products, and then there are small giants (colossi) like Fumito Ueda who, with only three games under his belt, developed for Sony Computer Entertainment, can undoubtedly be considered among the most talented and innovative game creators of all time. After leaving Japan Studio, Fumito Ueda founded the independent studio genDESIGN which, in the upcoming months, will present us with something that could rewrite the rules of video games yet again, and make our favorite hobby even more similar to a work of art of inestimable value. When we interviewed him he spoke to us about him as a gamer, as a game designer, as an artist and as a person. And he told us many anecdotes that make us understand the reason for some of his choices along his path, even painful ones. Because Fumito Ueda isn't a game designer... he is an artist who makes video games.

When did your "first contact" with video games happen? I think it occured with Block Kuzushi or Space Invaders. I remember playing both around the same time. Back then my parents ran a café and they had these two arcade video games there. However, I only remember playing them a few times.

What was your first experience in the video game industry? I was a computer graphics animator at Warp Co., Ltd.. Before that I had an experience in the creation of computer graphics at a movie company, but that was my first time working on a video game. My first experience with Warp Co., Ltd. involved the movement of the main character Laura in the CG sequence added in the 3DO version of D's Dining Table Director's Cut. However, it consisted of only a few cuts. I later became the main CG animator for Enemy Zero.

What prompted you to start working as a game designer? The reason I left Warp Co., Ltd. was due to the fact I wanted to create works that I had designed myself. I was lucky enough to be able to do this at Sony Computer Entertainment (Sce) and I was assigned the role of game designer and game director.

Did you know from the beginning that you wanted to become a game designer or did you want to take up another career? When I was in college I wanted to become a contemporary artist. The reason I got into the video game industry was primarily to a earn a living. Obviously I loved video games and I was what everyone today would call an "otaku", but back then I wouldn't have thought of making it my career.

Simply put, what kind of person is Fumito Ueda? I'm someone who can't help but feel anxious if I'm not constantly creating, even if it's something small.

How did you get involved with Japan Studio? After leaving Warp Co., Ltd., I had started developing Ico as an independent production, but I was worried because I didn't have enough money. In 1996, while I was looking for a job as a freelance CG artist, I turned to Sony Computer Entertainment. At first I approached Sce with the intention of simply helping out with the CG production for their games, but I was asked if I wanted to continue developing Ico with them, no longer as an independent production but as an internal Sce project. I jumped at this opportunity and a production team was formed. Ico was completed in 2001.

How did the idea of Ico come about? The idea was to create an heroic fantasy game similar in setting to Resident Evil, which had just been released in that period and which adopted a fixed camera system. Furthermore, at the time, I wondered if it would've been possible to feature NPCs' animations (non-playable characters) using an artificial intelligence, like in Ganbare Morikawa-kun No. 2, Hello Pac-Man and Wonder Project J', which I personally liked a lot. Eventually Ico was born.

I think Shadow of the Colossus is the most pioneering game ever made. Can you tell us an anecdote about your production process? While producing the game, I imagined that the henkei collision technique would become common in future action video games. And this was precisely my strongest motivation: to reach the goal faster than anyone else.

[There's a little section explaining the henkei collision technique] What is the "henkei collision"? In Shadow of the Colossus the playable character Wander is able to cling to the bodies of gigantic bosses, which made the interaction with the colossal enemy very "intense" and required a very different method of management and control compared to other video games. In English the term could be translated to "deforming collision".

I heard that the development of The Last Guardian was long and difficult. Without giving too much away, could you tell us what happened during that time? The game development engineers wanted to create something overly sophisticated. Using those various technologies was very difficult (like Ico's hand-holding or the deforming collision from Shadow of the Colossus). I think there hasn't been much investment in the foundations that support that advanced engineering; on the contrary, they were rather neglected and the company management did not fully understand the importance of issues of this caliber.

What impact did the 2011 Fukushima tragedy have on Fumito Ueda's sensitivity as an artist? Immediately after the earthquake I couldn't help but feel a decline in power in the entertainment world... and I'm not just talking about video games. However, I felt that my mission was to continue to fulfill my role and in fact I continued to create. Regardless of the type of "unpredictable" difficulties that one may encounter in life, such as the Coronavirus for example, people adapt to the changing environment and little by little this becomes everyday life again. It is something very precious for us living beings, but also a little scary I would say.

What are your sources of inspiration outside of the video game industry? Are there any artists you particularly admire? I think there has been strong video games influences, but I'm convinced that movies, especially anime, have also greatly influenced my works. Not only by legendary Japanese animators, such as Isao Takahata, Hayao Miyazaki and Yasuo Otsuka, but also by manga and anime artists, both national and international, such as Moebius, Katsuhiro Otomo, Paul Grimault and René Laloux.

Thinking back to the games you created, I can imagine that you have a great appreciation for European art and architecture. Do you also like Italy? I actually don't have much knowledge of European architecture, but I like Italy. I also really appreciate Italian food and have been riding a Vespa for about 35 years. I went to Rome once while I was a member of Warp in 1995 and I visited yet again in 2017.

What do you think is more important to be successful in the video game industry today: money or ideas? Ideas are a means to solve most problems, not just economic ones; I'm speaking in general, not just referring to the world of video games.

What games have you enjoyed in recent years? They are not exactly new releases, but some time ago I was very engaged in Humanity and PowerWash Simulator. The first game embodies the charm of programming, while the second is a game that extracts the principle of pleasure hidden in everyday life.

[Two of his top 3 were also added]

TOP 3: Fumito Ueda's favorite places in Tōkyō 1) Tōkyō Gate Bridge - Reiwa Island 2) Tōkyō's Museum of Contemporary Art 3) Daikanyama Tsutaya Books

TOP 3: best video games of all time according to Fumito Ueda 1) Prince of Persia (1989) 2) Virtua Fighter (1993) 3) Half-Life 2 (2004)

#fumito ueda #gendesign #team ico #ico #shadow of the colossus #sotc #the last guardian #tlg

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