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leaderwonim · 4 months ago

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𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — nine: bitter

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

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Heeseung graciously offered to buy you a dress for the gala, saying it was the least he could do since you agreed to accompany him in the first place.

He dropped it off at your house with flowers, a gesture you found yourself smiling too hard at that your cheeks practically hurt.

See you tonight, the small paper inside the flowers said, and you set it in a vase on your dinner table.

The dress he bought was a silky black dress, one that went all the way down to your feet. It was extravagant, and you almost dropped it when you looked at the price tag.

Six hundred fucking dollars.

The dress was shipped from New York in America, so you knew Heeseung wasn’t playing around when it came to Seojun’s gala.

By the time it hits 8pm, you could hear the familiar honk of Heeseung’s Mercedes. You finish your last touch up, pressing a sebum control powder on your face until your skin looked perfect in the mirror.

Then in a rush, you grab your heels, slipping into them and running out to Heeseung’s car.

He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to open the passenger side door.

“You look… pretty.” He says, eyes glancing up and down at your body.

“Thank you for the dress.” You say shyly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his stare.

“Seojun told me they already started but we’re really not missing out on anything.” He says reassuringly, adjusting his front rear mirror.

After he’s done, he reverses the car until he’s out your parking lot, speeding away into the night.

“Hee! Glad you made it man,” Seojun throws his arms around Heeseung’s shoulder, an annoying smirk plays on his face. “Aaaand Heeseung’s friend? You’re the one who did the physiology project with him right?”

You’re surprised he remembers you, so you only nod hesitantly.

“Well don’t be shy, tonight’s gonna be a blast.”

As soon as Seojun opens his gigantic doors, you’re greeted with all sorts of guests in expensive dresses and suits, some holding champagne glasses while others make themselves comfortable at the tiny tables Seojun has set all around his living room.

“Park Seojun, you never fail to impress me.” Heeseung says, patting the boy on the back. Seojun responds with a loud cackle, slapping Heeseung back jokingly.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Heeseung whispers in your ear. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”

You nod shyly, watching as Heeseung disappears into the kitchen which was on the other side of the house.

This was the perfect opportunity to sneak up Seojun’s stairs and go into his father’s study. Perhaps there—you could find proof of his manipulation.

You watch as everybody else in the gala is too engrossed in either the music or each other, quietly creeping up the stairs.

Seojun’s house had a long hallway, which felt cold and dark. Above each door was a name of which room belonged to who, and you could see the biggest room in the end of the hallway was Seojun’s father by the way it said PARK HYUNGWOOK’S STUDY.

It was big enough that two large tall wooden doors stood before it. You knew you had to open it quietly to not disrupt the rest of the guests—or even worse—Seojun himself.

You shuffle throughout the cabinets and drawers, trying to find whatever proof you could find yourself on. Your eyes widen when you see the receipts of the most recent transactions to Joseon Internationals, a company that often got into scandals for allegedly using their wealth to get top positions in politics.

Holy shit, Seojun’s dad donated half a million to Joseon Internationals in one week alone?

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear shuffling from outside the door. In a panic, you rush underneath the large desk, which was thankfully a dark brown color so it hid you perfectly in the dark.

“You showed up with her again?”

Wait a minute—you know that voice.

The doors to the study open, and you can briefly make out two shoes from a crack underneath the desk.

One of them was Heeseung’s shoes.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do here Hanni? You want me to wait around for you forever?”

The girl scoffs, arms crossed. “You’re real classy Heeseung. Does she know you bought the dress for me?”

You almost let out a gasp, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

The black silk dress Heeseung had supposedly bought for you.

“Why does it matter, Hanni? You make it clear every time that it’s not me you want, it’s Sunghoon. Then you get all mad when I’m with Y/N, and question why I’m bitter?”

Hanni scoffs again, foot tapping the floor impatiently. “Whatever, tell Seojun I am leaving.”

You could hear her quickly leave the room by the taps of her heels on the carpet floor of the study.

“Wait—at least let me drive you home.” Heeseung’s voice fades away as he follows her, and you swear your heart breaks all over once again.

You stand up, body still in shock of what you just heard in the room. You take a quick picture of the receipts in Seojun’s father’s study before leaving, tears already falling down your eyes.

“Whoa—Y/N?” The voice of Sunghoon only makes the tears come faster. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” You mutter out, coming to wipe them. “Get out of my way, I’m going home.”

“Good point,” he says. “But I also know that a girl crying like you shouldn’t go home by herself. I’ll drive you.”

“Like I want to be in a car with you.” You mumble, silently grateful when Sunghoon bats the other way.

“You didn’t drink, did you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You quickly say, sniffling.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Sunghoon helps you in the passenger seat of his car, and you could make out the figure of Danielle sleeping in the back.

“Don’t worry about Dani, I’m just driving her home too.” Sunghoon explains, grabbing a pillow from his trunk and putting Danielle’s head against it.

“I’ll drive you home first.” He says to you.

Although the light hum of the car in the quiet night should’ve comforted you, you only felt worse as the ride wore on.

Because no matter how much it seems like Heeseung actually wants you, his feeling for Hanni never ends, and it makes you end up feeling like shit over and over again.

Sunghoon pulls up to your parking lot, his eyes telling more than his mouth wants to say.

“Oh and Y/N,” he says quietly, clearing his throat.

You turn around, facing him completely.

“I know we may not be the best of friends,” he continues. “But if you need to talk about tonight, I’m here.”

You close the door, choosing not to say anything to Sunghoon.

You just needed to shower and get to bed. Maybe a good night sleep will make everything go away.

AUTHOR’s NOTE. it gets better soon.. i promise

taglist 1 (closed) @lilyuwon @soobeboobe @immelissaaa @coqhee @shuichi-sama @ssukiyakii @deobitifull @sunpov @anittamaxwynnn @minjaexvz @katarinamae @capri-cuntz @jooniesbears-blog @sakanelli-afc @lvlyjisung @cherlv @mnxnii @llvrhee @b0bbl3s @lwavander @txtlyn @heartheejake @realrintaro @wonyoungsvirus @hyuckies18 @thinkinboutbin @yoonjise @rikizm @cinnamon-won @samouryed @moon4moony @jakesfurry @yunjinhuhjennifer @viagumi @rikisly @rikisnotforsale @heart4hees @jjklvr9 @loviwon @rik1zzluv @skzenhalove @jaehoonii @j5yy @tnazips @taeyoonga @jakeyverse @urfavouriteanon @whos-viviann @luvrseung @haeeeeefer

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scary-grace · 4 months ago

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the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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heliads · 1 year ago

Text

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest.

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.”

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?”

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath: A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another: The van Almelos of the Belendt Region: Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing.

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @deadreaderssociety, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @eclliipsed, @mayfieldss, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #kaz #kaz imagines #kaz x reader #kaz oneshot

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vroomvroomcircuit · 7 months ago

Text

From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you

(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch

Pairing: Lando x fem!reader

Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this

Wordcount: 2.9k

🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________

(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.

Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.

And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.

Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.

The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.

The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.

The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.

Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.

While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.

“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.

(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.

(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.

“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.

The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.

(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.

Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”

Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.

If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.

“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.

He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.

Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.

A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.

“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.

He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.

“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”

While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.

“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”

An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.

She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.

“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.

Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”

Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.

“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.

“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.

As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.

He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.

It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.

“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”

The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.”

His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.

While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.

There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.

But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”

Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.

“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”

(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.

“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”

Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.

A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.

She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.

Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.

The clothes itself also get the best feedback.

A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.

But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.

Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.

It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.

‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.

Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff

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the-nettle-knight · 5 months ago

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My thoughts on the Just Stop Oil publicity stunt at Stonehenge, as someone who worked there, an archaeologist and a pagan: I'm massively annoyed.

Not at JSO actually. At the hypocrisy I'm seeing everywhere.

I'm angry at the politicians who haven't said a word about the A303 tunnel that is going to do irreparable damage to the site and the archaeology. (don't get me wrong, I know a lot of the archaeologists who will be on the project, I have every faith in them, but it is a commercial venture, limited by time, budget and frankly just the techniques available to us now). It's going to be really bad for the environment.

I'm also annoyed at the online pagan community. I've seen so many neo pagans/wiccans with the most surface level "they've made an enemy of their closest allies" take. Well, we can see that you don't actually care about the environment if that's all it takes to turn you away from this. Closing a road would have created environmental damage from all the cars hanging around for hours! Also, where have they been in the campaign against the A303?

Or the fact that Salisbury Plain is being eaten up by new build housing estates that don't support the needs of the residents and stresses local services. Because Stonehenge is just the most famous archaeological monument on the Plain but there are tens, if not hundreds of sites that are being lost. I have literally worked on one- a Bronze Age barrow cemetery with several ring ditches, a potential Neolithic god-pole like structure, Iron Age, Roman and Anglo-Saxon settlement evidence. All destroyed by a new build estate that cannot be supported by local infrastructure, literally in terms of the roads.

They're also the sort of people who complain about the cost of Stonehenge. There is a very good reason that it's so expensive- it basically funds a significant chunk of Historic England (which is far more than just the monuments and sites you can visit). Many of HE's sites are free and they still need to be maintained, which is incredibly expensive. And they're the sort of people to culturally appropriate from other cultures, rather than looking to the archaeology they're fake outraged by.

The paint was made out of cornflour, so not actually a huge conservation issue (I mean, it would definitely better to have not happened but honestly probably the least worst option). The damage done by smog and other air pollution is significantly worse.

People should be angry that this is what people are being forced to do to have their voices heard.

#they speak #archaeology #just stop oil #stonehenge #climate change #history #heritage sites #pagan #paganism #i even saw a video from a woman who called it a bronze time site :/#if you can't even get the most basic facts right dont talk on the topic istg #climate issues

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askagamedev · 3 months ago

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How expensive is voice acting (assuming professional actors with experience)? What amount of budget goes towards it? If there is a way to determine that, of course. I realize it probably depends a lot on the project. I'm looking at SWTOR which seems to be really struggling to afford VO these days, opting for unvoiced dialogue and even replacements of the main cast. Is it really taking that much of its budget (which is probably on the lower end these days) or is there some other factor at play?

Voice acting has a lot of associated costs. Specifically, getting the voice acting requires us to pay for:

The voice actor's time

The recording studio time

The voice director's time

The developer time

These can add up - we pay union voice actors about $2000 per day each according to the current [SAG-AFTRA interactive media contract rates], and we spend at least that much for studio time. We also need to factor in the time the developers are away from the development studio and are at the recording studio because they aren't doing their normal tasks while taking care of this. It isn't uncommon for voice recording to cost over $10,000 per day, all things considered.

In addition to this, voice actors are often quite busy. They often have many roles already scheduled that they have committed to. This means that they might have only one or two days they can commit to recording, then be unavailable for months after that. In such cases, it means that we can't make any modifications or changes to the script after the recording is done because the voice actor isn't available to do those lines anymore. For example, take a look at [Aleks Le's IMDB page]. He did a lot of voicework for games like Persona 3 Reload, Street Fighter 6, Octopath Traveler 2, etc. I count 18 separate projects he recorded for in 2023 alone. If he's one of my voices, I probably wouldn't be able to get him back in the recording studio for several months since his schedule is so packed.

SWTOR is especially difficult to record for because player voice lines need to be recorded once for each character class. That means aligning eight different actors schedules before a hard deadline, and that can be extraordinarily difficult. Anyone who's tried to schedule events knows this - things happen, people change, agreements fall through, things get pushed back. As such, it's a small miracle they're able to keep putting out fresh voiced content like they do.

[Join us on Discord] and/or [Support us on Patreon]

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#voice acting #the business of video games #how things work #production schedule

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comfortless · 7 months ago

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to the anon who was talking about konig and the rule following intention thing: i love you. he seems cheeky like that. BUT i will also climb that big man and start strangling him if he entertained or led on the recruit.

idk, maybe its my rabies, but i would start whacking him grgrgrgrg. wrangle him till he acts right!!!!! (whatever that means)

i also love that anon! 🤭

Being instructed to “act right” for König is more or less the same as following any order at work. “Shoot that target.” is the very same as “Don’t glare at a stranger.” The differences between the König at home and the König on the field are subtle things. No bloodshed and rewards in the form of tenderness and orgasms instead. He’s less rigid, less focused, but still a soldier, the strangest one at that.

Everything is taken as directly as possible, because he’s not going to question any hidden meaning behind words. That’s silly. He always says just what he means, so shouldn’t everyone else?

There’s a lot he just doesn’t get, and your jealousy happens to be one of those things.

He would kill for you, lets you graze your fingertips over his favorite weapons, allows you to hold his face and even pretends that your staring doesn’t make his fingers twitch and sweat bead at his temples. König is loyal and so trusting with you… how dare you accuse him of worshipping some other woman in the same way? How could you even believe that?

Say you, his beloved, put together the pieces, realize that surely this woman is messaging your König during his leave for a reason. There’s an argument to be had, one that’s less of a screaming fit and more of a break down from both sides. You tell him through gritted teeth and tears that you know your intuition isn’t wrong: he’s done something, you just aren’t certain what that something is. There’s no outright accusation spoken, but his face immediately grows red and his eyes narrow.

It’s not that he even cares to question why you would think that way. He just wants to know where he’s failed. What is it that you need that he’s not already providing? He takes an awful picture of his cock each time he’s hard and away from you, even follows it up with one of the aftermath of thinking of you. No other woman makes him feel so starved.

He knows he isn’t very romantic; you would probably prefer actual dates instead of watching him train or following along like a cute accessory at the gym. But he brings you flowers, licks your cunt without hesitation, buys you feminine products and chocolate any time that you’re in need of them. Sure, each picnic date ends with your chest pressed against a sturdy tree or your thighs spread atop the patterned blanket, but the confessions hissed into your hair are true. It’s never just been sex, not to him. It’s love, and that’s one word he never seems to shy away from saying. He’s greedy, wouldn’t want something so simple, not after every moment you’ve spent together.

König might not get why you’re so into some new trend or show, but he listens when you talk about them. Or tries, at least. Really, he had no idea why you would bother explaining to him why you prefer a dress with wiry straps over something cozier when he arrives home, but he’s happy to just listen to your voice and shush you with kisses when he doesn’t know how else to respond.

You’re allowed access to his phone any time you like, even shows you his bank account to prove he hasn’t taken some lady a world away off on some expensive shopping trip or spent a curious amount at a pharmacy. In fact…. He’s barely spent anything while away, all of the transactions are from the last time he was on leave or at that cute little shop he had told you about and brought you home some shiny new gift from. There’s nothing suspicious to be found… except for those messages from the woman he tells you is just a recruit.

So… what if you’re just projecting?

To him, his own jealousy is righteous.

König almost looks scary when he’s upset, not that he would ever lay a hand on you. Maybe the coffee table will be in disarray, cleared entirely when the thought of you leaving proves to be far too much. His shirt suffers a few massive tears when he grips at his chest to show you just where you’re hurting him.

You may not have outright accused him, but König can’t hold his tongue when he asks you about this imaginary other man. Is he handsome? Does he buy you nice things? Does he make you come hard? How did you meet and just where does he live? Do you love him…?

König would try his utmost to hold back tears. He feels weak when he cries, and the last thing he wants is for you to view him as fragile. He’s supposed to protect you.

But it’s all gone in a flash. His entire being seems to relax when you explain to him that there is no other man. The unshed tears are wiped away, a heavy sigh leaves him when he rubs at his face. He feels like the worst idiot just stood there blinking in surprise while you’re still pissed, but at least that scenario proves to be untrue.

You just want to understand why he’s entertaining some other woman’s flirtations. Is that what telling some recruit she’s got sharp aim and allowing her to grasp at his arm and admire his muscles is..? He will admit that maybe he’s allowed her too much closeness, even if he never has and never will return her affections.

It baffles him entirely for a moment, slows his tongue enough to have a grin curl at his lips. It’s the most flattering thing in the entire world to think that you desire him so much that the thought of sharing makes you like this. The realization that maybe you’re just as territorial as he is is impossibly cute, makes him twice as obnoxious and overbearing when you’re pulled into his arms.

His voice takes an amused lilt when he asks you just what you want him to do about it. Cut her off? He’ll avoid her entirely if it appeases you. He doesn’t want to hurt a woman that isn’t an actual enemy, so killing her is certainly out of the question, but he can be scary if you would like that. She wouldn’t like him as much if she saw his face. He would remind you that only a silly thing like yourself could ever be keen on it. Your orders are absolute, so long as he still gets a treat in the end.

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the-daydreaming-show · 1 year ago

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Midnight thoughts on Batmom and her children's clothes.

WARNING: My mother was like this, Not on the money side, though. And you ask:¿Ella, are you projecting?, and I will answer: No. ¿Were you got such nonsense idea?

This gif represents my mind right now. I should be sleeping.

Batmom keeps its kids SPOTLESS when it comes to dressing. She doesn't control what they wear, but her kids have only the best brands on them. And if she couldn't get whatever they want in the best brand, it's gonna will be tailored for them.

JUST THE BEST FOR HER BABIES.

And she does not repeat it, there is no such thing as the younger brother taking the clothes of the older one in this family. Each child has their own style, autonomy and clothes, and they rarely agree on those things so sharing is never an option for them when it comes to clothing. If her baby grows out of their clothes, Batmom donate it or keep it for future grandchildren.

I mean, I'm talking about #silentluxury for her children, from they feet to the tip of their heads.

The funniest thing about all this is that most of the time they do not even realize it. It's not until a Gotham news forum pulls out a detailed article about the Wayne's silent luxury fashion and how it dates from Dick's early days at the mansion to the present day with Damian that they notice the pattern.

Like, imagine newly-reunited-with-his-family-but-still-rebellious Jason wearing a sweatshirt of the brand The Row that clearly bought his mom and costs at least $ 800 that he can not pay because he is a rebel and does not need his dad's money but he acepts gifts from his mum, of course.

Or little Dick returning from a day of art classes (because Batmom decided to give him other extracurricular activities other than a vigilante dressed as a traffic light) excited with his Dior jeans of $ 1300 dollars stained in paint, but with a work of art in his hand that he did only for his mommy.

Or Tim, wearing a pair of $450 black Gucci sandals, walking half-asleep out of his college class after he didn't hear his alarm, so he left with the first thing he found from his apartment.

Or Damian, putting one of his cashmire sweaters on Titus at Christmas, wearing a maching of his own, equally expensive and soft.

Also, imagine Cassandra only wearing THE BEST in balett shoes and equipment, totally unconsciously of the amount of money that really costs, all that because neither Batmom nor Bruce ever told her because it's nothing really that expensive for this family.

And no matter how many clothes they ruin. Never. And I repeat: NEVER their mom will allow her children to have something less.

(They are more spoiled than they themselves even realize.)

Bruce got jealous at some point and started letting Batmom choose his wardrobe as well.

Allright, NOW I'm done.

Good night.

#ella talks #batfamily x reader #batmom #jason todd x batmom #tim drake x batmom #batmom!reader #batfam x reader #dick grayson x batmom #damian wayne x batmom #Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader #Our boys deserve all the good in this world #They are mommys children #Every single one of them #No eseptions #i have to go to bed #I spend allí o time looking for the prices of very expensive clothing for this #I fell poor

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vidding · 1 year ago

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The Best Vidding Safe Haven?

Forgive the "read bait" meme above but if you are reading these words right now that means it worked. If you are a vidding fan then it was worth it. Vidders.net was born July 19, 2010. It is a Vidder-friendly AO3 Embed Certified Vid hosting & streaming site with over 18K vids. Its growth benefited from You Tube's increased use of content ID and the closing of Imeem. It was mentioned in the "Vidding: A History" book by Francesca Coppa. Its members (most who host some great vids there) include:

Luminosity

Lim

Laura Shapiro

Lithiumdoll

Obsessive24

Clucking Bells

Charmax

Bradcpu

thedothatgirl

kiki miserychic

Milly

Hollywoodgrrl

bop radar

Loki (secretlytodream)

Condsdmlk

newkidfan

NCISMelanie

Shoopdancer

Absolute Destiny

SD Wolfpup

Arefadedaway

camelia1986

adfproductions

Astarte

Such Heights

Mithoborien

mresundance

Just to name a few. You may not recognize these names but if you do you know these vidders literally made a name for themselves with the quality of their work during that time. At least in my opinion. The site is a time capsule of awesome vids even if some of the vidders listed are no longer active. Additionally, it hosts vids no longer available on You Tube like "Boom Boom Ba" by Charmax (a classic Xena vid). And yet it can still host new content without the issues faced on some other vid hosting options.

How much does it cost to host and stream all those vids? Well, that is one of the reasons for this post. The assumption I'm making is that if there is a Vidding "community" it's more likely than not that members of it would see a post like this and/or share it with fellow members of the community. Is it worth it to keep a site like this around? It's mostly been a solo operation for these past 13 years but now I am starting to wonder after such a long time.

I'll spare you the obligation of filling out a poll or survey. I'll make it simple. We have a Patreon account at patreon.com/vidding. If you don't feel it's worth keeping up. Nothing to do. Thank you for reading this far. If you feel there is some value based on what was mentioned earlier, then a minimum level of support at the Patreon is $1 a month. You'll not only be supporting the Vidders.net but other projects like the recent purchase of the Vidding.com domain name and more. The OTW October fundraiser drive begins in October and is on track to raise about 250k. Rasing even 1 percent of that amount would be more than adequate. After all Vids on AO3 make up less than 1 percent of the content on there anyway. I've been told by a fellow fan that I should keep it running but if it's not even supported by a community, it's a personal expense at my expense I am on the hook for. Again, there is no survey or poll to take but if you have questions that may help you determine your willingness to support just contact me. If you find value in preserving the site just visit Patreon.com/vidding or get your questions answered. This form of funding is more sustainable than occasional stop and start donation efforts we've done in the past. If you prefer another form of funding let us know.

I will check in by the end of October to see where things are. I am not going to do anything drastic. It's just that it's been 13 years and I started to wonder especially with my current financial situation but didn't want to do anything without communicating the situation. The site costs about $720 a year to run. At about $60 a month to run so it should be doable.

Boom Boom Ba by Charmax

If you liked this post you might like this:

The YouTube Vid Purge of 2021

#fanvid #vidding #vidders

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

Note

Can we have an imagine where Klaus actually accidentally cums in his pants when reader does or says something

Maybe he’s eating her out and ends up making a mess

I wan to see the reader tease his before sucking his off go clean her up

(Don’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with xx)

It’s Not a Big Deal-Klaus M

As well as this request I also had one for Klaus where Y/n didn’t know she could squirt as she had never done it until he ate her out, I don’t have the request but I combined them and I hope this works for both requests.

Btw, just for anyone wondering in the future, I never write anything I’m uncomfortable with, it just so happens I don’t really have anything I’m uncomfortable with😂. I’ll give just about everything a try and once you’ve written a fic about Klaus and his Omega fucking in wolf form you can write anything so don’t worry about offending me or anything🩷

To say that Klaus was good with his tongue would be an understatement, he knew what he could do to a women, he’s had a thousand years of practice after all. A thousand years of figuring out what makes a women feel best, though never once has he deprived himself in any way for any length of time. Women had always just fallen into his bed without a problem, it was common when you have looks like the Hybrid does.

Y/n was different though.

Klaus had fallen for Y/n accidentally, of course he wasn’t looking to fall for one of The Scooby Gangs friends but at least she wasn’t actively trying to kill him. Y/n stayed out of their ‘drama’ and when she met Klaus she hadn’t already decided he was pure evil. That doesn’t mean however, that she made it easy on him.

It took him a month and a half of flirting, coincidentally showing up wherever she was to spend time with her, and texting her sweet messages daily to get her to even agree to a date and of course he went all out for it. And of course he fucked it up.

Y/n wasn’t like the women he had ‘woo’ed in the past, she didn’t like expensive, fancy restaurants and being gifted jewelry, she was simple…he could do simple.

He apologized for taking her somewhere that had clearly made her uncomfortable and thankfully she agreed to let him try again, honestly she seemed to find it amusing how dead set he was on making her happy and he seemed to get it right the second time. He took her to a small clearing behind his house in the woods and after several comments and sureties that he wasn’t going to axe murder her they came upon the pile of blankets and pillows and a sheet hung up to project a movie on.

‘Wow…this is amazing.’ She gushed and he felt his wolf preening at her appreciation and enjoyment. He’d made his girl truly happy and he would make sure she stays that way.

Since becoming a full Hybrid he’s found things are different when it comes to women, his wolf feels strongly about them and usually it’s a hard ‘No’ from him. Caroline? No. Hayley? Hell No! The fact that his inner wolf didn’t like the wolf girl made Klaus think he could never be sated but that can’t be farther from the truth. He loves Y/n and he won’t let her get away.

‘I’m glad you like it. Dinner will be here in a few moments. Come sit.’ Klaus could see the happy smile on her face and he knew he had gotten it perfectly right, watching as she slid her shoes off and climbed into the nest like structure.

‘This is fucking awesome, we may have to sleep here tonight.’ She teased but he could also see she wasn’t really joking and he quickly texted Elijah the change of plans.

‘If that makes you happy, I would love to.’ He spoke, crawling in beside her and leaning back against the pile of pillows seeing her roll her eyes.

‘We would freeze out here Klaus-‘

‘Would I ever let you get hurt? No. I’m a werewolf, I radiate heat, and I can have a comforter brought out too. What other man can you say took you to sleep under the stars?’ He moved to pull up a fluffy blanket that he had picked up from the store, covering her lower body with it and watching her smile widen.

‘Definitely none. There was one date when I was a teenager but we only slept under the stars cause we were running through the woods from the cops after a Falls party and got lost. The stars were beautiful…not quite “passing out in the forest and waking up with leaves and dirt in my hair” beautiful but beautiful none the less.’ He couldn’t keep in the laugh, though he did try and she knew it was funny, laughing along with him.

‘Well, you told me what your favorite movie as a child was and since you were so upset that I hadn’t seen it I thought we would watch the Titanic together.’ Her eyes widened as she looked at him in shock.

‘You remembered? And you’re willing to watch nearly 4 hours of a romantic tragedy? What kind of man are you Niklaus Mikaelson?’ She said it in a joking manner but she was completely serious.

‘One who wants to see you smile love.’ He played the movie and watched her eyes light up in excitement as it came on, Elijah bringing out their dinner after about 10 minutes.

An hour later they were snuggled up under the thick blankets and while he had removed his shirt and pants to leave him in his boxer briefs she was in her panties and a tank top, not that he could see under the blankets but he could feel her naked legs entwined with his as the movie played and he knew regardless of the stupidity of this movie it was going to be one of his favorites after tonight. Even if all he got to do was snuggle her just like this for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t 5 minutes later that he gained enough courage to kiss her, his wolf practically purring just under the surface as she molded her lips with his hungrily. He had only meant to kiss her but she didn’t pull back, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands finding her waist where he pushed her shirt up to feel the soft skin up her back before she yanked the top off and left herself exposed to him. He wrapped his lips around her soft breast and his cock was practically weeping he was so hard so fast, throbbing in his boxers and begging for release.

Y/n’s fingers ran through his hair and he moaned as she tugged on it roughly. ‘Fuck Klaus! Please? Don’t stop. So good!’ The purr that he felt inside from his wolf became a rumble from deep within his chest as he kissed down her soft flesh to her pantie line, looking up for permission which Y/n gave quickly. ‘Definitely not like other men.’ She teased and he loved it.

‘Other men don’t want to taste this sweet pussy? I find that hard to believe.’ He spoke as he tossed the fabric away and dragged his tongue straight up her slit, finally getting a real taste of her as he has wanted since he first laid eyes on her 2 months ago.

‘Oh God! No! Just you, you crazy Hybrid!’ She squealed at the end as he sucked her clit into his mouth. She came almost as soon as he pushed his 2 fingers into her, tongue happily working her through it before trying to push her into another instantly. ‘Klaus! Fuck! Plea-Please?! Nik!’ His girl was practically riding his face, needy and desperate for everything he has to give her.

What Klaus didn’t really notice however, was how hard he was humping the make-shift nest, grinding down on it as his wolf howled in his head so loud he could feel nothing else but his blinding orgasm while his Princess squirt all over his tongue. It was as if his mouth had a mind of its own and continued working her through her end with his mouth on autopilot because he was on cloud nine, resting his head on her thigh as they both calmed down.

It only took another moment for him to feel the sticky mess made in his boxers. ‘Shit!’

He sat up, covering her so that she wouldn’t be cold before trying to find his pants. ‘Klaus? Are you okay-‘

‘Fine! You just relax and keep watching the movie, I need to…shit-‘

‘Nik, it’s okay.’ Y/n moved to push him onto his back and shove his pants away from his grip. ‘Nothing to be embarrassed about…I mean you’re 1000 years old so the last thing I expected was you jizzing your underwear like a 13 year old boy-‘ she giggled but stopped him before he could get up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. I just squirt all over your face, we’re both embarrassed, okay?’ He scoffed, taking hold of the back of her neck and connecting their lips roughly.

‘That was incredibly hot, possibly the sexiest thing I’ve seen a women do. I just came all over myself like a desperate virgin, on our first date no less…I’m better than that.’ He was angry with himself and he knew Y/n could see it. It was like the wolf side of him was so needy for her that he couldn’t control his own body and fuck if that’s not humiliating!

‘All it means is that you’re attracted to me. You don’t normally do this? That means it’s an incredible compliment. And it’s definitely not a problem.’ She pushed him back down flat before moving down his body and pulling his boxer briefs off, tossing them out of the nest. ‘I’ll clean you up and we can go back to the movie…and maybe try again in a bit.’

She was teasing him, he knew it but for the first time he didn’t care. Any other girl he’s ever fucked would have laughed in his face for cumming like that, but besides a cute joke she didn’t even seem to care. It just made Klaus all the more determined to please her.

She licked her tongue up the underside of his cock which was painfully hard against his stomach. Her moan upon tasting him didn’t make it any better for him as he felt his cock twitch, causing her to giggle. ‘Oh Fuck!’ He gasped as she wrapped her lips around him, sucking every bit of his cum off of his flesh but she kept going even after being clearly finished. ‘Y/n! Such a sweet little tongue-Shit, keep going Kitten! You’re mouth is heaven!’ He didn’t know if this was the best blowjob he had ever had, or if he was perceiving it as such just because he was undeniably already in love with her, but either way he feels like he’s dying in the best possible way.

She pulled from him with a ‘pop’ and looked up at him, hand pumping him a few times. ‘No more embarrassment. Promise?’ He nodded desperately, needing that hot little tongue back on his heated flesh.

‘Yes! From either of us!’ Her lips wrapped around the sensitive tip of his cock and suckled hard, tongue pressed against his slit causing a desperate cry as his hips thrust up, her pulling back to look at him. ‘Shit Babygirl, I’m gonna fuck that pussy so hard my family will think I’m fucking killing you! I’m gonna make you scream Kitten!’ Y/n could see his eyes glow gold just for a moment and knew that his wolf was just below the surface. She’s seen it almost every time she’s in Klaus’ presence and she doesn’t mind it, though she’s not sure what it means for their current activities…

She tilted her head teasingly before smiling. ‘What are you waiting for then Alpha?’ She teased, his eyes darkening before she was suddenly pinned under him with her legs being spread as wide as they could be.

‘You just had to tease, didn’t you?’ That was all the warning she got before Klaus took hold of his cock and shoved himself balls deep into her cunt.

‘Ahh! Too Much-‘

‘Good. Let everyone hear you!’ He growled, giving her another second to get used to him before pulling back and driving his hips to hers again and again.

‘Nik-‘

‘I want the whole of Mystic Falls to hear you Kitten! My family! My Hybrids! And Every Single One of your friends!’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up as he sat back on his knees, driving up into her body roughly. ‘I want them all to know who owns this cunt by tomorrow! No one will dare even look at you again, they’ll all know who you belong to!’

Klaus could feel that he wasn’t in complete control-not that he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to-but his wolf was desperate for his girl and he was going to have her! To make her his and ensure she never wanted for anything but him again.

‘Klaus! Fuck-don’t stop baby! So close…please?’ She was begging for him and he felt his cock twitch, ready to spill into her warm cunt but he grit his teeth before digging them, hybrid visage and all, into her neck as gently as he could. As he did she cried out, her tight pussy clamping down onto his thick cock so hard he almost thought it hurt, apart from the blinding pleasure that shot up his spine overwhelming him as he buried himself as deep into her as he could and began filling her up. He didn’t remember ever cumming this much in his very long life, maybe it’s a result of fucking someone as a full Hybrid, Y/n had been the only one he’s been interested in since turning 4 months ago. Maybe it’s because 4 months is the longest he’s gone without sex since he turned into a vampire over 1000 years ago, but something told him that wasn’t it. Something told him that wolfy part of his brain and body was marking his mate as much as he could, filling her with so much cum that his cock was aching inside of her by the time it finally stopped twitching. Filling her to the point it leaked back out around him as if ensuring she would be carrying his baby tomorrow, and something about that thought had Klaus purring into her neck in contentment, the thought of his girl swollen with his child was an image he never knew could excite him but Fuck if it wasn’t a sexy picture. ‘So f-full…do-do all werewolves cum this much?’

‘No…it seems to be a hybrid thing…but we’ll need to test it a few more times to be sure.’ He kissed along her neck, licking over the bite wound to clean up the drops of blood before pulling back. ‘Drink.’ He instructed, biting his wrist and bringing it to her mouth. He felt his Hybrid visage take over again as she listened to him without question, making a part of his brain very happy and needy to fuck her again.

‘I’m sure you have enough research to answer the question by now.’ He could tell his Kitten was exhausted even before she yawned and he nuzzled into her hair, rolling her on top of him and wrapping the blankets around them.

‘I don’t actually.’ He tried not to feel embarrassed as he told her this, since he promised not to.

‘Really? But it’s been…you were with Stefan for 2 months and..?’

‘I was busy, and after they didn’t work I was angry, and when I came back…I found you. You’re mine Y/n. All mine.’ He could see how hard she tried to push back the tears that welled up and she did, sighing contently and laying onto his chest.

‘All yours Nik.’ He felt her press her lips over his heart before laying back down to sleep and he was truly content to drift off with his Kitten in his arms. He finally had her…God save anyone who tries to take her away.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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missmoonfrost · 2 months ago

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Medals for everyone - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

August 31 - gold Words: 487

With professor Lupin’s usual luck, he had got this temp just in time for the class to present their science projects. Grading a class you didn’t know was always hard, even more so when you hadn’t given the assignment yourself.

An after-hours exhibition for the parents were planned beforehand and the teacher he took over for had let him know they’d be expecting a winner to be announced. After seeing the projects at least choosing one wasn’t hard.

“First prize goes to Hermione Granger for her detailed moving model of the solar system. Please go have a look everyone, it is truly amazing.”

The girl in question blushed deeply and he gave her a pat on the shoulder. A man he assumed was her dad rushed forward and hugged her, then placed a big gold medal around her neck.

Professor Lupin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man must have sensed his disapproval anyway because he brushed aside his long black hair and shot him a dazzling smile.

“Don’t worry, there is medals for everyone.”

Oh, he was one of those.

“Here is one for you Luna, first prize in most glitter.”

“Here is one for you Draco, first prize in… eh… most expensive-looking design.”

“And here is one for you champ, for most fun idea.” He ruffled the hair of the boy named Harry, who answered with “Thanks dad.”

Huh, he wasn’t the even the girl’s father then. Goldstars for everything and everyone had never been Remus style. But this was actually adorable. He seemed to have a good relationship with all the kids and payed special attention to the one’s whose parents hadn’t showed up.

Professor Lupin was so caught up in admiring his ability to make the kids laugh that he missed that he was done and suddenly looked right at him. There was the dazzling smile again. Professor Lupin quickly looked away. It didn’t do to be caught staring at a parent, however charismatic.

He came right up to him and smiled.

“You don’t approve of my methods?”

Professor Lupin shrugged. It was not really his class anyway. “I was just wondering if you were the kid who won all the prizes or the one who got without.”

“Oh, I was the one who got beat up at home if I didn’t come home with all the prizes.”

His voice was so flippant that professor Lupin was about to ask him not to joke about such things. Then he took one look at his eyes and shut his moth again.

Oh. He was serious.

“Don’t worry though, I’m in therapy now. And now I’m rambling. Don’t know why I had to say that. You just seemed so nice. Sorry, I’m still rambling. I’ll leave now. Bye.”

He quickly made his way out of the classroom. Professor Lupin found himself gaping after him, suddenly hoping this school would get a long-term vacancy.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar microfic

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wheeloffortune-design · 1 month ago

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I think I'm mostly out of the depressed week after losing my job, and I did finish the Zelda game, and thanks to my new adhd meds I actually feel like doing stuff.

tentative to do list:

clean the work desk and area and place my personal computer and drawing tablets there. It's brighter and next to the birds.

call the governement to see if I have any ressources now that my boss has blatatly lied on my firing letter.

sell online the exercise machine that's still almost new because Good Intentions were had during the pandemic and before I realized I mentally needed to get out of the house to walk. Now it's a very expensive bird perch. It's taking space that could be used by another bookshelf.

Finish retouching my online portfolio to add my project management side.

Do at least one good job application per day.

Look for graphic design/illustration contracts.

Fix my commission pricing because no one else has money apparently.

Try to get some furry art done so I can offer commissions.

Try force myself to either walk and or go swimming regularly to get that body moving because it hurts.

my therapist told me the other day that in all the time we've known each other, it's the first time she'd seen me plan ahead.

plans in times of crisis, no plans in normal times. i guess that says a lot about the kind of life I've had so far :/ Oh well, this is not my first rodeo.

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upon-a-starry-night · 9 months ago

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Number Neighbors Pt. 21

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You weren’t freaking out. You weren’t. Except maybe you were because your friend decided to leave out one very crucial detail about the party you were accompanying her to.

“You didn’t tell me it was at Avengers Tower!?” You gape as you crane your neck to get a full view of the tower. You’d walked past it a few times before, heck you’d even been in the lobby for a few events they’d done but now you were about to go to an actual floor of the tower. The very tower the Avengers live in?? You were going to pass out…

“Well, it is hosted by Tony Stark” Your head whips towards your coworker and you can’t tell if the feeling that suddenly floods you is nerves or excitement but either way you feel like you’re going to explode. All over this very expensive tower.

“What?” You watch as she pulls a very fancy-looking invitation out of her purse and you’re so tempted to ask how she even got invited but the other part of you is still flabbergasted at the fact that you’re probably going to at one point talk to at least one Avenger.

God what if it’s-

“Did I forget to mention that?” Your friend tilts her head as if it’s a completely inconsequential fact and you immediately turn around to go home

“I can’t do this”

A hand on your wrist stops you as you're pulled back to your companion. Thankfully she pulled you back by your uninjured arm, otherwise, it would’ve hurt like a bitch. You were lucky enough to find some skin color bandages and concealer to hide it for the most part.

“C’mon Y/n, you never hang out with anyone from work! Plus you really need to get out and socialize, you spend too much time smiling at your phone. You can text your girlfriend later!”

She pulls you into the tower and your body follows her on auto-pilot. It’s the second time someone’s referred to Nat as your girlfriend and it makes you wonder just how whipped you must look texting her for other people to automatically assume she’s your partner.

When you focus back in on your surroundings before you can spiral you’re met with the imminent doom of two elevator doors closing in front of you. The two of you are the only ones in the elevator and your panicked face is met with a confused smile.

“What’s up with you?” Your coworker is being an absolute sweetheart considering how not normal your reaction is to this party so you take a few deep breaths and try to calm your racing mind

“I can’t go up there, Natasha Romanoff is up there”

She tilts her head once more and stares at you with an inquisitive look “Are you scared of her?”

Your head is rapidly shaking before you can even get the words out “What? No! Of course not!”

You can’t get your eyes to meet hers though as a blush creeps up to your cheeks. The elevator is silent as it slowly climbs floor by floor and you think she’s just going to drop it when her sudden exclamation makes you flinch

“Oh my God! You have a crush on her don’t you?”

You’re more than a little embarrassed to admit it, your mother was tired of how often you talked about her, and your old friends used to tease you endlessly about your one-sided love. “It’s not like that!”

But… lately, she wasn’t on your mind as often. She always seemed like someone you could project your romantic fantasies onto because you knew there was no way in the world she could ever like you back, but now that you had someone real… “She’s just... she’s just really cool, okay?”

You still admired her and wanted to thank her for saving your life that day but now someone else occupied your heart. It wasn’t going to stop you from blushing around her though, she was endlessly gorgeous.

Your friend's laugh echoes off of the sleek silver metal of the elevator and you scold yourself for always showing your emotions on your face.

“Alright well, I’m sure you can persuade her into an autograph or something, if she’s even here. I heard she doesn’t like to come to these kinds of parties.” Glancing at the floor number she begins fixing her dress “Honestly I would hate them too with how often Stark is having them.” She gives your shoulder a few comforting pats right as the elevator doors ding and you look up and square your shoulders as you mumble under your breath

“I doubt I’ll even meet her…”

The first thing you notice is how large the room is. The tower is huge from the outside but the size of the room is at least two of your apartment and you’re pretty sure there’s still a balcony outside.

It’s as glamorous as the media always says it is at least. Expensive lights hang from the ceiling and LEDs line the walls in various colors that change to the music. It feels like you’re at the most expensive club in New York. In a way, you are.

Halfway across the room is Tony Stark, you hear him before you see him, his loud boisterous laugh bouncing off the walls and attracting the attention of various guests. There’s a small crowd gathered around him and all of them look desperate to get to speak to him. If that were you you’d probably cower under all that attention but he seems to be thriving under it.

Sitting on the couch is the infamous Captain America and his rugged friend The (ex) Winter Soldier. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel and you mentally raise your glass to him for even showing up.

There’s a gaggle of women around the two and you’re scared to get too close in case they turn you to stone with just a glare.

You turn to your friend to see her surveying the room in the same way and you wonder again how she got the invite and who she was here for.

You know Stark sometimes holds these parties to appeal to the public and from the looks of it it was working.

Still, your anxiety about crowds immediately kicks in and you feel your palms grow sweaty. You were probably going to follow your friend around the whole night but what if she went up to Tony or the other two? The crowds around them were so large. So many bodies, so many sounds, so many flashing lights. The room was already beginning to feel dizzy.

Two hands wake you from your daze, concerned eyes finding yours as you focus in on them

“Y/n? Are you okay?” You’re grateful for your friend's firm grasp grounding you, you hadn't even realized how heavy you were breathing and if she hadn’t pulled you out of it there was a good chance you would have spiraled into a panic attack right there in front of everyone. You’d never leave your house again if something like that happened.

You realize you haven't answered her question and you slowly nod your head and even out your breathing. You were okay. You were safe. This was not a fight for your life the same way it was years ago. You work through the breathing techniques your therapist taught you until your nerves have calmed down and your coworker- kind and patient as ever, is still standing across from you, a comforting smile on her lips.

She could’ve easily left you to go socialize but instead, she stayed to make sure you were okay. You hadn’t told her how you were affected by everything that happened all those years ago but you wondered if she knew anyway. So many people have been in the same situation as you. You tried the support group thing but it just wasn’t for you.

Your companion gives you a reassuring squeeze on your uninjured shoulder and glances over your shoulder, a small smirk hiding in the corner of her mouth.

“I think we need to loosen you up a bit” She nods her head behind you and you spare a glance at the bar across the room. There are a few men sitting at the bar looking expectant and you hesitate but ultimately decide that a drink might make you feel more relaxed.

Your friend seems to realize your agreement as she beams at you and gives you a little thumbs up “It’s an open bar! I’ll be over there if you need me okay?” She gestures over to a group surrounding a man that you recognize as Bruce Banner and you realize just how little you know about the person across from you. Was he her type? Was she just really into science?

Those are the thoughts that float around in your head as you make your way to the bar, trying your best not to bump into anyone for the sake of your mental health and your injury.

When you find a seat at the bar you realize why the men had looked so expectant waiting here. There was no bartender. One of the men sizes you up, eyes traveling from your exposed leg all the way up to your tits and that’s where his gaze ends. When he sees you’ve caught him ogling you he just winks and you shiver. Uncomfortable and not willing to subject yourself to this treatment just for a drink, you make a move to get up right as a certain redhead makes her way behind the bar, and your heart stills.

Oh fuck.

You’re a little afraid that you’ve lost your pulse as she grabs various bottles from the large LED drink wall behind her and begins mixing them in the shaker. You worry you’re no better than the men as you ogle how smooth everything she does is.

Here Natasha Romanoff was, barely even ten feet away from you. The second time you’d seen her in person. You thought she was incredible before but she looked even better without blood splattered on her suit and dripping from her head. She was dressed to the nines in a sleek black dress that looked like it was made of velvet.

When she finally finishes making her drink she pours it into a chilled glass and takes a small sip, smirking as she watches over her glass at all the men staring at her. At first, it seems cocky but with a slight shake of her head, it seemed more like she was internally scoffing at them instead. You didn’t blame her.

You manage to drag your eyes away from her ( you don’t know how because she’s absolutely magnetic) and see all of the men trying to subtly groom themselves in her presence. The smell of so much testosterone makes you scrunch up your nose. Surely they didn’t think they had a chance? They reeked of desperation and cheap perfume. How many of the men inappropriately staring had wives at home? Kids? If anyone in this room had a chance it was-

You. She was staring at you.

Pt.22

A/n: Hate to say it but if you thought this was going to be the ending you would be wrong. Sorry not sorry! ~Starry

---Taglist--

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