#hehehe been working on this one for a while

[the-kr8tor]

Crazy stupid love with 📽 !! With Jason of course ♥️

Jason admits he has a girlfriend but the batfam believes she isn't real until one day, she shows up. (Your choice on if they were penpals, long distance, etc)

Hehehe i had so much fun with this one! I hope you like it pinky! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, established relationship, you and Jason are penpals turned lovers, CW food mentions, alcohol mention, a few suggestive jokes, fluff!

Katy's Summer Flick Screening 📽️

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Jason has been acting…strange lately. He's usually all frowny and moody during patrol. And it has his brother a little concerned. The vigilante has been like this for a few weeks now or maybe even more when it's only just now that Nightwing realises that he hasn't cursed out Bruce for months now. He just thought that he got a new shiny gun or something.

The man perched on the edge of a billboard with him does not look like the broody Red Hood, who prefers to work alone and amidst the dark. He's more… mellow.

As Nightwing stares at his brother, his gaze narrows at the way Jason's mouth curves upward in such a weird way that he thinks that he could be infected by the Joker toxin.

“What's wrong with you?” He blurts out, arms crossed over the symbol on his chest as Red hood barely looks up from his phone.

“Why, what's wrong with who?” Barbara unintentionally hears his question through the comms that Dick keeps forgetting to turn off during lulls in patrols.

“Jason, he didn't even look at me.” He says, offended when Jason keeps smiling at his phone that's too bright for him to take a peek at. Curse the permanent fog around Gotham and its almost eternal darkness.

“Because it's a rude question, Grayson.” Jason finally responds gruffly, his green eyes briefly glancing at his brother with annoyance.

“Well, I apologise for being concerned about your well being.”

“Wait, what did he say?” Tim replies from across the city through the cackling comms. His voice is strained as the unmistakable click of the device sounds in his ears that signals that everyone has joined in on the conversation.

“He said— Jason, open your comms.” Dick raises a brow, clicking his tongue, impatient while Jason keeps typing with nonchalance.

“No.” The red clad vigilante says flatly.

“Stop typing for a second and unmute.” Nudging Jason's boot with his own, Dick huffs when he continues to ignore him.

“Oh shit, he's typing?”

“That's very concerning indeed, Drake.” Damian replies monotonously with sarcasm as the wind rushes from his side.

“I'm ignoring that—!” Tim groans, followed by the sound of something falling down on the ground harshly. Heaving, he exhales loudly. “What I meant was that I've noticed that too.”

“Noticed what?” Nightwing tries to take a peek at the phone again, but Jason's too quick, shutting it off and placing it inside his pocket with a smug look.

With a click of a button, he unmutes his comms. “That I'm talking to someone.” Jason rises to his full height on the slim metal bannister, feet stable against it like he's just standing on solid ground.

“You're talking to someone?” Everyone asks in various tones of surprise.

“You have friends, Todd?” Damian asks, everyone could hear the smirk from his voice.

“I thought you were in some book forum arguing about Jane Eyre or some shit.” Tim sounds more winded but decides to tease his brother anyway.

“Good on you, Jason. You need friends outside of this.” Meanwhile Barbara sounds ecstatic as she types on the bat computer.

“Please tell me it's a therapist.” As for Nightwing, he presses his hands together and points at him with a glimmer in his eyes. “You do need it, Jay.”

“We all need it, Dick.” The Oracle sighs.

Jason has an intense urge to jump off the billboard and head home. “First of all, yes, I have friends, you demon spawn. Second, I am in a book forum just because people's opinions are shit. Third, stop looking up who I'm talking to, Barbara.”

“Oh shit! You got found, Barbs.”

“I can't believe you've got friends.”

“That's still a no on the therapist then?”

“I'm not—!” The Oracle fumbles out, sighing against the receiver but the typing doesn't cease. “How did you even—?”

“I can hear you typing it all out.” Sighing, Jason hops off the railing and lands on a more solid structure beside his blue clad brother. “Let me save you some time since you're all going to find out anyway because you can't mind your own fucking business.” With a deep inhale, second guessing his decision, he swallows thickly before uttering your name with fondness that his family doesn't miss from his tone. “You all happy now?”

There's silence on both ends.

Dick purses his lips together, either trying to suppress a chuckle or from saying something that'll get his teeth knocked out. For a moment, the quiet has Jason nervous. He acts like he doesn't care as he leans against the billboard, his back turned against an advertisement about Wayne enterprises.

“Well, that's… nice, right? That's a girl's name, I think?” Tim sucks in his teeth, groaning as he sits down on a random rooftop to nurse his wounds. “I mean, it's not like it's bad if it's not— I'm proud of you either way, Jay!”

“You're digging your own grave, Drake.”

“Stop calling me by my last name, Damian, we live in the same house!” Tim rolls his aching joints and clears his throat. “Anyway, I call bullshit on this! You have no time or the charisma to pull someone—”

“Found her!” Barbara victoriously claps, then changes tune with a clear of her throat. “I mean— thank you for telling us, Jason.”

“Yeah,” Dick approaches him with the same trepidation as a zoo keeper in a lion enclosure. “That must've been hard to tell us, Jason.” With a palm on Jason's broad shoulder, he smiles lopsidedly.

“My therapist tells me I need to open up more.” With those parting words, Jason leaps off the billboard expertly, shooting off his grappling hook and landing safely below before Dick could even register his brother's statement.

“You hear that, Bruce? I think our Jaybird has a girl.” Barbara smiles widely while the others are left speechless.

“I heard.” Batman's unmistakable deep voice sounds out through the comms. “Bring her to dinner at the manor.”

“Not a chance!” Jason exclaims above the roar of his motorcycle's engine. He yanks the earpiece out before his family could even speak their piece. Their muffled voices echo into the night as he decides to patrol around the city on his own. Preferably without his family's nosey selves.

—

“I told you, not a chance.” Jason plops down on his couch, the springs bouncing briefly under his weight as he unlaces his boots. “Babe, absolutely not.”

“Well, it's the perfect chance.” You bite the inside of your cheek, phone tucked in between your shoulder and cheek while you spread butter on toast. “I'm going to visit you in a week and I could finally meet your family then! Two birds with one stone.”

Dead on his feet, he forgoes yanking off his boots to rest his head against the back of the couch, staring at his popcorn ceiling. Maybe he should scrape that off for you, just in case you don't like the look of it.

“A week's time, huh?”

“Imagine that, a year of being together and we can finally see each other in person.” He could hear the excited grin from your tone.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot, Jaybird.” Your use of the word isn't lost on him, making him smile as he hears you take a bite of your breakfast.

He has never gotten used to the time difference. When it's the dead of night on his side, you're just about to wake up. There's pros and cons about it, usually cons since there's not enough time in the world to speak with you. But all the sleep he lost during all the conversations he had with you, either nonsense or full of affection, is all worth it just to hear your voice.

It all started from a pen pal service that his therapist recommended so he could talk to someone and hopefully make a friend. He still has his issues but having someone to talk to has made him better, feel less alone and feel less shit about everything. Whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, his heart no longer beats like a drum the moment he wakes. And the world doesn't seem so bleak, that it doesn't feel like it's beating him down just because it's him. And it wasn't all thanks to you, like you've always told him, the progress is all because of him and how he chooses to make everything around him. And just like what he always tells you, you've been a guiding light on that path.

Then it went uphill from there, a one page letter turned into two, then to three, then it's as if he's writing a college essay and sending it to you. If college essays are about the books he's hate reading and what he did that day. After a year of letters, the two of you finally took a leap forward and exchanged numbers. It was slow at first, but it was the greatest decision he ever made. The first time he heard your voice could be compared to finding bottled water in a desert. Then the first video call with you would be him seeing an oasis. A year of phone calls and late night talks has finally come to fruition with you visiting Gotham.

“What are you eating?”

You almost choke on the piece of toast, chuckling while coughing through the receiver. “And here I thought you were going to ask something more paramount.”

“Asking what you're having is paramount because you eat nothing but toast in the morning.”

“Toast is good enough, Jason.”

He sighs, starting to unload his weapons from his holster to the coffee table. “Not enough for my girl since you're anemic. Seriously, babe, you need something more filling and healthier than that.”

“Oatmeal makes my stomach ache, Jay.” You say whilst mid-chew.

“I know it does, and I'm not just talking about oatmeal.” His tone is laced with so much endearment that you almost left your toast to cook an omelette instead. “You could have eggs and bacon, pancakes, or hell, even an everything bagel.”

“That sounds like toast with extra steps.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head, chucking off his boots as it thumps on the floor. “When you get here I'm making you a breakfast spread.”

“Says the man who only eats cereal in the morning.” You say in a sing-song lilt as you finish your breakfast. Or according to Jason, a half-assed breakfast.

“You don't want me to cook for you?” Brows furrowing, phone tucked in between his shoulder and cheek, he yanks off his jacket, tossing it next to him.

“Of course I want that.” You say softly, almost a whine as your mind concocts a sweet scene where he brings you breakfast in bed. “You'll even make me waffles with cinnamon?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” A smile appears on his tired face, hand brushing along the silver bracelet you've sent him. “Make a list of all the food you want so when you get here I'll make it all.”

“Even if it's like… shepherd's pie or pizza?” Your heart feels full, even just the notion of him talking about wanting to cook for you fills you with glee.

“Sounds like a challenge. I'll fucking make it all from scratch.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even if you have to bring it to your dad's place?” Jason can practically hear how you bite your lip shyly from your question.

“Babe.”

“What?” You ask innocently as you enter the bathroom, voice bouncing off the tiles.

“I know what you're doing.” Standing up with a groan, he heads towards his bed, immediately flopping down on it from the fatigue clinging to his bones.

“What exactly am I doing?” You place the phone near the sink, propping it up with a facial wash bottle and putting the call on speaker. The whole thing is familiar to the both of you, something so mundane and yet so special.

“Get dressed, you'll be late.” His cheek is pressed on the pillow, one eye open as the screen illuminates his face.

“C’mon, Jay! Please? If I turn on my camera right now—”

“Don't tempt me.” That makes him sit up by his elbows though.

“Why, because you can't resist?” He knows you're wiggling your brows right now even if he can't see you.

“No, because you'll be late.” It takes for his iron clad restraint from saying yes to you.

“Please?” You open your camera and bat your lashes. “Oh nice temple, babe.” Teasing, you remind him of the time when he accidentally opened his camera for the first time and you only saw his temple during the whole call because you were too shy to tell him.

He pulls the phone back to see you, but before opening his camera he makes sure that the domino mask is off. “You really want to meet them?”

Seeing you in all of your glory under the white fluorescent lights of your bathroom has his muscles relaxing almost immediately. The thought of you wanting to see his family has his chest feeling warm. He finds that you have that effect on him.

“Only if you want me to. I won't push it anymore if you tell me otherwise.” Gazing at an obviously tired Jason makes you want to jump on a plane and cuddle him until he feels better. Or at least make him feel like the world isn't weighing him down.

“So you were just being a little shit?” Twisting around, Jason lays comfortably on his pillow, smiling whilst you put toothpaste on your toothbrush as if he's really there with you. Standing beside you and rubbing away the crusts in your eyes.

You blow raspberries, head tilting with a chuckle. “Always. I like to keep you on your toes.”

Sighing, a palm placed on his forehead, he looks into your eyes and wishes that you were beside him, hogging the blanket. “I'll…think about it.”

“Okay, that's good.” Your beaming smile lightens up his whole demeanor even further. “Should I pack a fancy dress—?”

Rolling his eyes, he can't ignore the call of sleepiness as he sinks further into the mattress. “You'll be late, I'll see you in a week.”

“Look for someone in red.” You wink.

—

At the airport, he looks for someone in red. Sure enough, you sport a red dress that hugs you in all the right places. But his crushing embrace feels much more comfortable as he greets you with the best hug you've ever felt. Greet is an understatement, Jason almost tackled you to the ground when he first saw you coming out of the gate looking like his dream come true. He even accidentally ripped his welcome banner that he refuses to admit took him hours to do. “It has glitters,” he proudly said with a puff of his chest as he held you against him.

All the awkward tension you thought you would have with him was gone the minute he wrapped his arms around you. The two of you fell perfectly together like puzzle pieces.

“Hi, Jaybird.” Leaning away, you cup his face affectionately, thumbs running along his freshly shaven jaw. “You're way hotter in person.”

His head lolls back in laughter, arms wrapped around you with a gentle squeeze. “I knew you'd say that.”

“And your ego's bigger too.” You poke his chest, and it feels like you're poking a brick wall.

“You’re not too bad yourself— my eyes are up here, babe.” With a hand on your chin, he takes your attention away from his well toned chest that you most certainly can see through his plain black shirt. Maybe he should've worn white just for this occasion.

“Hmm?” Your gaze lingers for a second too long before looking up at him.

“Hmm,” he hums teasingly. “I was saying that the screen doesn't do you any justice. You're gorgeous, fucking beautiful.”

You giggle as he peppers your face with quick kisses. “Any more adjectives?”

Leaning away, Jason cups your face in his warm hand, happiness radiating off him in waves. “Maybe more after we get home.”

Home, that makes your stomach do a cartwheel and your heart leaping in place. “Please don't tell me you scraped off the popcorn ceiling, it gives the place character.”

He sucks in his teeth, wincing as he carries your bag effortlessly for you with enough space to hold your hand. “Should've said that before, babe.”

“Aw, that's fine, your books are enough to make the place homey.” Nuzzling his bicep, you still can't believe that you finally get to hold him, even moreso, to stay with him and kiss him just like how you imagined.

“That and the pot roast I made for you.” Jason's gaze upon you is saccharine, probably sweeter than the apple pie he made that's waiting for you.

“You didn't!” Your giddy voice rings around the airport as he guides you outside and towards home.

—

When Jason first said his father is well off, you expected a mcmansion with six bedrooms with its own bathroom, and roman pillars where it shouldn't be, not a literal manor that's the size of your hometown's mall. After he told you that his adopted father is Bruce Wayne, you thought he was joking at first. Even before you stepped off that plane you still thought that he was fucking with you. Now that you're staring at the proof, you should've anticipated seeing all of these, but you know that nothing could've prepared you once you're right in front of it.

He notices the look on your face as he pulls the car around the roundabout where a gorgeous gothic fountain lies in the middle of it.

“You look worried,” parking, he clicks his seatbelt off to twist in his seat and hold your hand. “I did tell you about my family right?”

“Uh huh.” Nodding, dumbfounded by the sheer size of the façade, you feel like you've shrunk down and you're looking up at your childhood dollhouse. “It's fucking huge.” You say with a sigh, face practically smushed against the car window as you roam your eyes at every tiny detail of the manor.

“I’ve heard that before.” He chortles, chuckling even more when you pinch his side playfully. “What?”

“You better not say stuff like that once we're inside.” Despite your words, you beam at him.

“Or what, hm?” Leaning closer until his breath fans your cheeks, and his cologne wafts against your nose, a breath staggers in your throat. “What are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

When he expects for you to fluster, you take on the challenge to prove him wrong. Your hand meets his collar, pulling him to you, his lips meeting your own. For a moment, the car fills with the sounds of lips smacking together as his hands roam and grip your waist, effectively wrinkling your dress.

When you pull away, he hasn't had enough. Clicking off your seatbelt to free you and hold you closer, he chases your cherry coated lips and kisses you fervently and ignoring the way your lipstick transfers to him.

Jason feels like he can kiss you forever but alas, you needed air. Once he reluctantly pulls away for your benefit, you inhale deeply, irises blown out, lips a mess with gloss sticking to places where it shouldn't be.

Your guffaw sends his heart aflutter as much as the kiss did. “Oh that is not your color, Jaybird!”

“It's not? Well I'm hurt, babe, I thought I'd match with you.” He says in between bouts of laughter, thumb cleaning up the edges of your lips.

“Hold on, you'll stain your fingers, I have a handkerchief.” Giggles subsiding, you take it out from your purse then you gently dab it on his lips, wiping away the residue of the kiss. “There, you don't look like a clown anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.” Smiling, he takes the cloth from you and does the same around your lips. He wipes away with precision, concentration evident on his face, the tip of his tongue poking in between his slightly pinkish lips. You smile through it all. “There, now everyone won't know.”

“That we've sinned? Good thing I wore a dress with a high collar.”

He dramatically winces. “You better not say stuff like that once we're inside.” Intertwining his fingers around your own, bringing it up to his lips, eyes never leaving yours, he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Did that help with your nerves?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Sighing with a smile, you kiss the inside of his wrist. “Do I look okay? Maybe I should change, or maybe the wine we brought isn't enough—”

“You look more than okay, you look fucking amazing.” He says affectionately. “And the wine we got is enough, it's Alfred's favourite so you're already good in his book. You don't have to worry, especially with them liking you.”

Tilting your head, you rest your chin atop the intertwined hands. “Yeah, well I still want them to like me. It's Bruce fucking Wayne, just sitting in his driveway is nerve wracking enough. And your siblings… you made them sound like they're the best because they are and I just don't want them to hate the girl their brother is dating.”

“Bruce is just Bruce. The playboy rich guy isn't his thing when he's home. To us he's just some nerd who occasionally leaves his bedroom to show face at a board meeting.” He'll one day tell you about the detective and vigilante side of the oldest Wayne and the rest of his family while you're still reeling from the truth of his late night ‘job’. But for now, he just worries about you having a good time and not running away screaming before dinner starts. “And my siblings, they're like any other sibling, fucking insufferable.” He says the last word fondly. “You'll be okay, and they'll like you, if they don't, well they're not allowed at our place anymore.”

“Strip them off their access to your fridge? How cruel of you.”

“That's what they get. And you're not some girl I'm dating, you make it sound like you're the girl of the week I'm bringing to dinner just to annoy Bruce when you're in fact my girl.”

Your eyes sparkle as the sunset coats the horizon in warm orange and pink. “I better not be the girl of the week, Jason Todd.”

“With that dress on?” A low whistle echoes around the car. His eyes unabashedly roaming around your form, making you hide your giddy face behind the enclosed hands. “You’re the girl of the year, babe, and I predict that it'll be like that next year then the next and then the next—”

Your cheeks turn warm, and you couldn't help but cup his face tenderly in your hands. “Okay I get it, you romantic.” With a gentle press of your lips on his, eyes closed, smiling through it all before leaning away to see the lopsided smile on his handsome face. “I'm ready, let's go in.”

“Let's hope they're ready for you.” A kiss upon your forehead does the trick to make you feel braver.

—

Hand in hand, you and Jason walk up the steps towards the intricate door. Even the door is a work of art with its detailed art deco carvings. It even has one of those golden antique door knockers with a face on it.

Your hand is about to reach for it just as the door opens to your surprise. An older gentleman greets the two of you. He offers you a small smile, eyes sparkling when he meets Jason's emerald ones.

“Master Todd, this must be her.” He says in a posh British accent as you giggle nervously. “I've heard a lot about you, Miss.”

“You’re Alfred!” Recognition flickers on your face while Jason watches the interactions through smiling eyes. You grab his gloved hand, shaking it excitedly. “I've heard a lot about you too. All good things, don't worry.” You look at Jason affectionately, letting go of the smiling butler before you loop your arm around his own as he mirrors your soft expression. “Jason always has good things to say to his family.”

A slight shock appears on the older man's face. “Really?” Jason subtly shakes his head at him.

“Yeah, it's great to finally meet you—!” Something whizzes near your face, wind fluttering your lashes just before you could register Jason's hand in front of your flabbergasted face.

“Damian!” An unfamiliar voice echoes through the hallway, running footsteps getting closer to you. “Oh thank fuck you got it, Jason.”

“Master Tim, we have told you not to launch your drones inside the house.” Alfred says calmly, hands placed behind his back as he stands up straight. A direct contrast to how Jason looks with his silent fuming.

Jason is none too pleased when a small drone almost cuts your whole face with its whirring blades. The device squeaks out as Jason's grip tightens around it.

“You alright?” His expression softens when he turns to look at you.

“Yeah,” you exhale, chuckling shakily, palm patting his bicep. “I'm good, nice catch.”

“Shit, is that her?” The dark haired teenager raises his brow at you as a boyish grin spreads across his face. “Y’know, we thought you were imaginary for a second.”

“Nope, as real as I can be. You're Tim, right?” You say before winching when Jason crushes the drone in his grip as sparks fly out briefly. You're concerned about his hand for a second then you see his nonchalant face, he's seemingly unbothered about it, as if he crushes drones in his bare hands as a hobby. “Sorry about your toy.”

“I'm not.” Jason says gruffly as tiny plastic shards sprinkle down his hands then to the floor.

“Yeah…I'm Tim.” The poor kid watches the pieces fall near your feet. “And it's fine, it's not like it's a new prototype that I've been working on for weeks now.” Frowning, eyes narrowed at his brother, he looks like he wants to scoop it out from the carpet. One look at Jason and he folds, “sorry about almost hitting you. It was Damian's fault anyway.”

“Sure, blame the kid.” Another raven haired stranger walks in, this time, his arms are open, greeting you with a hug and a big grin which makes you embrace him back. You gotta hand it to him, he gives good hugs, probably a close second to Jason. “And here I thought you'd be some fifty year old dude living in his parent's basement that's catfishing my brother.”

You chuckle at his comment as he holds you at arm's length. He has one of those smiles that could make anyone trust him wholeheartedly, Jason has warned you about him. “You must be Richard! It's great to meet you.”

“That sounds too specific, Dick, did that happen to you?” Jason pinches the back of his brother's hand, prompting him to let you go with the roll of his blue eyes.

He scoffs, hands resting on his hips. “No. Actually, people use my pictures to catfish other people. The more you know.” Chuckling, scratching his jaw, he turns his attention back to you, smiling back. “So, wine!” Taking the bottle from your hand, he whistles lowly. “An ‘88? You know your way into my heart already.”

“How charming.” A dark haired boy suddenly appears from nowhere, and you almost jump from his abrupt appearance. There's an obvious remote control peeking from his trouser pocket, tucking it in further when you notice it. With a stretched hand, he gestures for you to shake it like some well mannered business man. “Damian Wayne.”

You take his hand, making sure that your grip is just right as if you're walking into an interview. “It's nice to meet you.”

“We thought you were a mere figment of Todd's imagination.” Damian grimaces when Tim throws his arm over the boy's shoulder, nudging him teasingly to add to his annoyance.

“Yeah, thank you for proving us wrong. We owe Alfred and Barbara some money.” Grinning, Tim pulls his little brother away just as Jason knits his brows together.

“You made a bet on—?!”

Dick clasps Jason's shoulder, shaking him in place as he looks over an irked Jason to address you. “Sorry about Barbara not being here, she has a thing—” Pulling Jason back, his expression says that he was about to lunge at his brothers. It has you grinning even more at their sibling interaction. “—at the station. And about my brothers, we got them on clearance.”

“It's alright.” Even with Richard's hold, it's your touch that has Jason calming down. His hand slides upon your back, rubbing circles and pushing you closer against him. “I'll get to meet her eventually.” Chuckling at his joke, you relax even more from Jason simply holding you, and feel less awkward by the first meeting as the minutes tick by.

“Will you be staying long in Gotham, Miss?” Alfred asks.

“Yes, or else Jason will huff and puff about it.” You say with affection, head laying against his bicep for a moment as he grips onto your waist with his warm palm.

“I don't huff and puff.”

“You do have the makings of the big bad wolf, Todd.” Even Tim snorts at Damian's joke. They look over to you and Jason whilst their blue eyes subtly crinkle at the corners from the sight.

Jason cracks a smile at the pair. “Yeah, sure. What's for dinner? We almost brought some lasagna today but we were too…” his green eyes sparkles mischievously as he glances briefly at you. “...busy.” Your eyes warn him.

“Dinner?” Dick blinks at the word as if it's in a different language before his brilliant blues widen at the realisation. “That's today?! I thought you two were just dressed like that to make us all feel bad!”

“You forgot?!” Jason winces, “I told you about it a week ago!”

“I was busy, okay!”

“There's supposed to be a dinner? Oh, I need to fire up the oven.” Alfred's face blanches, palm placed atop his forehead.

“Why didn't you tell us, Dick?!” Tim adds, smiling with mischief. You guess he doesn't truly care about the miscommunication, but he adds fuel to the fire just to watch it burn. “I would've called Barbs!”

“It's fine! We can just order something—” you try to placate Jason and Alfred at the same time. “It's really okay!”

“I could've made a roast.” Alfred blinks at his feet. “I am so sorry, miss. I will whip up something really quickly. Ordering out on this occasion is inadequate.”

“It's really alright, we can just have leftovers, right, Jason?” You turn towards the two arguing brothers.

“I told you to mark it on your calendar!”

“You should've reminded me!”

“I did!”

“Maybe you should've done it again!”

Meanwhile, Damian sits down on the foyer, watching it all unfold.

Calculated footsteps echo in the hallway, but you're too busy trying to tell everyone that it's alright for you to notice the new person in the room.

“Father.” Damian smiles as a large hand clasps his shoulder. “Richard forgot to tell everyone about dinner with Jason's lover.”

“Lover?” Jason makes a face at the word, pausing mid poke at Richard's chest. “You make it sound like we're having an affair, Dami.”

With one look from the man himself, you almost ducked behind Jason. Instead, you raise your head high, hand stretched to greet Bruce Wayne. No pressure at all.

“Mr. Wayne,” you inhale as he takes your hand. It's not his mere stature that's intimidating, it's his whole presence. It's as if your fight or flight response kicks in. You just chalk it up to nerves from meeting him. As you give him the most polite smile you could make, you exhale when he releases your hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir?” You fumble at the last second.

“Sounds like a question.” His brow raises, eyes flicking towards Jason, who sidles next to you.

You gulp down, stuttering with every word. “It's not a question— I'm sure, very sure, absolutely sure—”

“Stop playing, Bruce.” A familiar hand slides behind you as Jason stares back at him. “Y/N, Bruce, Bruce, Y/N.” Formally introducing the two of you, Jason's touch atop the small of your back helps with your stuttering self.

A smile etches on the older Wayne's face. “I was just teasing, Jason. It's great to meet you, and here I thought that he'd be a hopeless romantic forever. Just call me Bruce.”

His words calm your nerves down a smidge. “Bruce,” you test the name on your tongue, albeit unsure at first, but when he smiles even more, you genuinely beam back. “You look a lot taller than on TV.”

The man chuckles, your heart swells when you made the Bruce Wayne laugh. “We’ll help Alfred with dinner, Y/N, make yourself at home.”

“Oh thank you, that's nice but I want to help. Can't let you all have the fun.” You smile at Jason sweetly, a look that the whole family doesn't miss, especially when Jason gives you the same rare saccharine look.

“You'll make your signature toast?”

“Maybe in the form of garlic bread this time.”

Whilst the family leads you towards the kitchen, your hand never left Jason's, holding onto him with excitement and anticipation for the dinner ahead. If this is how they reacted to you, you wonder how they would be when you both tell them that you're moving in with him.

[illustratemuse]

Lilia Vanrouge - Playful Attire SSR ver. DETAILS EXPLAINATION

Hehehe glad everyone liked my Lilia piece! Since this is my blog and I can do what I want, I thought it'd be fun to share my ideas/notes on this one! I usually do notes for myself while illustrating my more detailed works, and considering all the little bits in this one I might as well share! Putting it under the cut cause this is LONG.

Composition

Now for the main composition I heavily based it off the official SSR cards. For the three base SSR cards of Playful Land-Ace, Ortho, and Kalim, they all appear to be backstage in very kinda cluttered spaces. Broken clocks, broken glass, broken pianos-that sort of deal, things that match the boys. Kalim's got a broken piano (music/parties), Ace broken clocks (wonderland), and Ortho a fish-bowl and birdcage (being in STYX's bubble/initially caged into the shell of the original Ortho).

Thus I gave Lilia's clutter a nursery theme since being a parent and raising children is a HUGE part of his character. Plushies, books, a rocking chair, blocks-things from a young kids' room

The SSR cards and most of the base cards in general also all play into a very puppet-like theme. The boys have very doll/puppet-like poses with sleepy unfocused eyes and their ribbons flying in the wind like strings under control, with their Groovy cards in turn having them being more awake and lively instead.

Now I could’ve done either theming, but I’d actually been doing a pose study when I got the idea to try my hand at making a take on an SSR card, and since the more broken-puppet pose was the position I was already doing I thought it was fitting. Plus I honestly like the non-groovy art’s theming a little more-like I LOVE the boys’ groovies as well don't get me wrong-they're all adorable, but the haunting puppet look is reallyyyy cool. It also especially felt fitting for Lilia since his backstory has him kinda tossed aside a LOT just like a broken doll.

He was the third wheel to Meleanor and Raverne's relationship, the 'filthy bat fae' whom was blamed for the princess' death/for 'tainting' Malleus despite him literally just following orders to keep the un-hatched prince safe/be the one to hatch him. He was the one who was cast aside the SECOND the Senate had a good enough excuse and exiled away from the capital outside of rare visits. He was the one who multiple times so readily and easily accepted that mistreatment (like he didn't even try to fight the Senate either time on their decisions) and in multiple events has displayed clear surprise at the idea that others would worry about him (Spectral Soiree) or doesn’t even consider the idea him vanishing could worry them (Stitch’s Tropical Turbulence) that it honestly seems like Lilia genuinely doesn't care all that much about himself. Like he's not outwardly depressed or sulking, however his casual acceptance of being just...not important? That Silver and the others shouldn't/wouldn't want to see or care for him as his magic fades, that it's better to go far away and die alone? For all his talk of being 'cute' and 'charming' and playing up his self-confidence, when you read between the lines it feels like he's just way too at ease with this idea of being disposable. He's spent so long being the one tossed aside that he's just accepted it as fact and doesn't get 'worked up' over it, since why get upset over things just being the way they are?

It's why I also have him on the ground-the others are actively performing for the most part in their cards, so he in contrast is the puppet no longer 'useful'. Show's over, string's cut, toss him aside.

Anyway enough of my Lilia tangent-I LOVE characters with those sort of hints at low self-worth they're fun to explorer, onto the background details!!!

Details

First off are the bluebird, crocodile, and dragon plushies being Silver, Sebek, and Malleus respectively! Their button eyes are the boys’ eye colors as well, and animal choice wise, Sebek and Malleus being the crocodile/dragon are obvious since those are their fae-species, while for Silver since he's human I just picked a bluebird since it’s the bird we most often see him with.

For the children's blocks both their positioning and the initials are what's important! I stacked them by rank-Meleanor is at the top as crown princess, Raverne as her prince consort is below her, and at the base and lowest are Lilia, you can’t see his block but a bit of green peaks out the back for Baul (but shading makes it look kinda gray rip), and Crowley! This is also where I added that fan-headcanon of Crowley being Raverne. Due to their association with corvids, Crowley’s whole mask thing hiding his face/his only observable features are very similar to Malleus', and with how Chapter 7 has the ‘well we assume he’s dead’ in regards to what happened to Raverne when he disappeared as opposed to fully confirming 'yeah he's dead', I find the headcanon really interesting. Thus if we go with 'Crowley is Raverne', then he’s lowered himself to the rank of a commoner with his disguise, placing his rank beside Lilia and Baul. Second image is an un-blurred closeup, but the bird's eyes are also different. Raverne's are open-Crowley's are closed. Raverne kept his eyes on his family and loved ones, Crowley if he's Raverne closed his eyes-even when they're before him once again.

The two star lanterns are a reference to the wishing stars event! Also with how fae are said to ‘return to the stars’ and being nocturnal fae I assume they’re also just important culturally, so I thought it was fitting. And as for the luggage it is both due to Lilia’s hobby being traveling and him planning on leaving during Chapter 7.

The books on the floor and the suitcase are a nod to both Lilia’s knowledge/literally being in some of the school's textbooks and also just to tie into the nursery-theme. Like the Valley of Thorns has basically no tech, so I'd assume Lilia read to his boys a lot when they were little.

The hourglass here was a motif I grabbed from memento mori- aka ’Remember Death’, a painting theme where artists depict death through symbolic elements as opposed to directly outright. I kinda really like exploring death as a concept in storytelling and hourglasses are a common motif in those sorts of paintings, and since Lilia’s time is literally running out it was the perfect match.

Now the birdcage is actually Malleus’-he was basically raised IN a cage since he was stuck in the palace isolated, however due to being in NRC he’s currently outside it. Yet he’s not free of it either. NRC is a temporary reprieve, a small blip in his long lifespan where for a single breath he’s with his father figure and brother figures. He’s free and he’s not-he’s outside the cage but can’t really leave it behind and join Lilia and the others on the other side of the piece-he’s going back in the moment the school year ends. Malleus’ little broken heart patch also ties into the same idea-his heart keeps getting broken again and again as he’s isolated and forced to sit and watch everyone else leave him behind. Lilia could only visit, never stay. Yuu the player is only at NRC until Crowley finds their way home. Both his parents left him behind in a sense despite neither wanting to/being at fault with a war going on, his grandmother never really was around, all his friends WILL die long before him. Malleus has a big heart that will always break when the next person leaves.

As for Sebek and Silver they are on the rocking chair for two reasons. One because Lilia basically raised them both-Sebek as the neighbor kid who was like always at his house and Silver obviously being his son, thus the kids go on the rocking chair where papa can see them, and two because the boys always follow Lilia’s lead. I’m pretty sure in most cases of us seeing them from the game to the manga Silver and Sebek flank Lilia’s sides with him at the helm-they follow him and thus placing them on the chair puts them relatively in a similar position. 

And finally which I honestly should’ve looked up the actual notes for ‘Once Upon a Dream’ since Meleanor’s lullaby follows the same tune, but the music sheets are both a nod to her lullaby which Lilia sung to both Malleus/Silver and lullabies in general. Also Lilia being in Pop Music Club.

Annyyyyway, TLDR I love overthinking EVERY detail in my backgrounds and hope you've enjoyed this little essay of mine! If you've gotten to the end thank you! I might do these more often for my own enjoyment since I love SYMBOLISM hehehe

Also.... @onegianthotmess @hanafubukki @fiendishfan thank you three especially for your lore responses hehehe-seeing those as they appeared made my days literally don't think anyone's ever actually really picked up/dug for my symbolism like that before so thank youssss :D

[zombryz]

🏁 Understeer ⋆˚࿔ - an F1 series

Chapter 3 | Before the Fuel Runs Out ⏳.ᐟ

🚤⭑.ᐟ The morning after a whirlwind night out in Monaco, the reader wakes up to find herself the center of it all. Edits and gossip surrounding the McLaren sandwich with Lando and Oscar have gone viral. Among the chaos, a clip of Max seemingly watching with jealousy catches her off guard...

After a playful F1-themed photoshoot, the day shifts to an exclusive yacht party. Despite Max’s aloof behavior, the reader grows closer to both Lando and Oscar, flirting, jet-skiing, and exchanging intimate conversations. Lando opens up about Max’s emotional distance, while Oscar assures her of her place in their circle. The day ends with a passionate kiss, hinting at a new romantic spark.

Word count: 3k ...or read me on ao3 |chapter 1|chapter 2|chapter 4

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Reader Lando Norris x Reader Reader x Rockstar OC (ex) *loosely based on Andy Biersack -> future Oscar Piastri x Reader Tags/Warnings: Fem!Influencer!reader Slight!Oc but not really, just story building for Y/N {2024-present season based} *Not always lore accurate #Smau - Social Media Alternate Universe Toxic/semi-abusive relationship with established rockstar boyfriend, alcohol use, drunken behavior, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, public argument, heated kissing, paparazzi & social media mentions, angst, depression, themes of escape, reinvention & heartbreak, very light smut references (fade to black) -> the future chapters will include smut, enemies-to-??? extreme slow burn in the making, love triangle, love square, let's just say the reader has a reverse harem

Disclaimer: This is a fictional fan work. I do not own or claim to represent any real individuals (including Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, or any public figures mentioned). All characterizations and events are fictional. Please don’t confuse this with real life. This is for entertainment only.

🔞 NSFW Disclaimer: This is a fictional and mature fan story featuring adult themes, emotional intensity, and potentially explicit content.

Want to listen to what I listened to while writing this?

📝 Author’s Note: This chapter made me blush and cover my face while writing. I wanted to lean into the messy blur of being thrust into the F1 spotlight while emotionally detangling from a toxic past. The yacht party was my favorite to write! Equal parts escapism and tension. Lando is so soft here, and Oscar has his sweet, almost understated charm. And Max? The slow-burn setup is brewing. Hehehe 👀 Thank you for reading!! 💕 Chapter warnings: Mild language/slut-shaming via social media comments, References to emotional manipulation/controlling behavior in a past relationship (with Cyrus), Paparazzi/internet scrutiny, Flirtation and suggestive content, Alcohol consumption, A romantic/sexual moment (heated kissing)

The sun warmed your cheeks through the massive glass window of your hotel room. You’d forgotten to close the curtains after stumbling in late last night. With a groggy sigh, you rolled over and reached for your phone.

No texts from Vanessa yet. That was rare—but welcome. You let yourself sink into the mattress for a few extra minutes, floating in that quiet stillness you rarely got to enjoy. Life had been so hectic lately, this felt like a soft pause. Like floating.

Your mind wandered back to last night—to the club, to that surreal moment when you found yourself sandwiched between Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. The infamous McLaren boys, as you'd recently learned. Their fanbase was intense. Massive. Obsessive. Your face heated just thinking about it.

But then your thoughts twisted—Cyrus. The mere possibility of running into him while you were here made your stomach tighten.

You grabbed your phone again, needing a distraction, and opened Instagram.

It hit instantly.

Tags. DMs. Story mentions. A swarm of notifications.

And right there, front and center, was a fan edit—actually, a pretty decent one—of the exact moment you’d just been thinking about. You. Lando. Oscar. Dancing at the club, arms around each other. The F1 sandwich.

You bolted upright in bed. Someone filmed that?

You tapped into the comments.

“HELLOOO???” “I don’t even know who to ship her with more, this is insane.” “I feel like she’s a little… whorish, no? Three F1 drivers right after Cyrus?” Then a reply underneath that: “Let her have fun. Cyrus had her locked in a dungeon.”

You grinned—and liked it.

Within seconds: “OMG?? She LIKED!!”

It spiraled from there.

Your feed was flooded. Edit after edit—same video, different angles, remixed to trendy songs. Some clips even included paparazzi shots of you and Lewis.

And then you saw it.

A different edit. Captioned: “jealous verstappen? 👀”

You tapped it.

It started off the same—dancing with Lando and Oscar—but then cut to Max.

Max Verstappen, in the background, jaw tight, drink in hand. Watching.

You could see the moment he turned away, eyes dark, retreating to the bar like he couldn’t stand to look any longer.

The comments were a mess.

“You’re delusional, Max HATES girls like her.” “Okay wait, I see it 👀” “Waitttt not me shipping them—YNstappen???”

Then came the comparison edits—Cyrus vs. Lando. A carousel of mannerisms, outfits, headlines. You weren’t immune to the intrigue. Honestly, your fans weren’t wrong. Lando seemed like a good guy. Probably better for you in every way.

But still… you felt bad. For him.

He didn’t ask for any of this. Not the rumors. Not the ship names. Not the constant scrutiny.

Your thoughts were cut short by your hotel room door swinging open.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, already fully dressed and looking like she ran a Fortune 500 company before breakfast.

“Good morning,” she chimed, too bright. “Here's the breakdown for today.”

She mentioned the edits immediately—couldn’t resist the drama. You groaned.

“Photoshoot this morning, then the yacht party with the F1 guys,” she added, scrolling through her tablet. “Try not to cause another internet meltdown.”

You rolled your eyes, but in the back of your mind, you wondered… were they already tired of you? Max definitely was. But you reminded yourself—you were invited here. By them. Their sponsors. Their teams. You were doing your job. If Max had a problem with that, too bad.

♡

Later that morning: The photoshoot went surprisingly well—especially considering you had no idea what it was for until you got there.

Of course it was F1-related.

They styled you in two different themes: one grid girl look—tight red leather pants and a cropped white racing tee—and another set with actual racing gear.

Three outfits. One for Mercedes. One for McLaren. One for Red Bull. It was actually quite fun wearing a driver’s helmet.

The shoot was for an upcoming campaign centered around responsible driving: “No matter who you drive for, make sure you arrive alive.”

You liked the message. How dangerous drinking and driving is and how you shouldn’t do it, no matter what.

Helmet props, tire stacks, dramatic lighting. It was easily the most fun you’d had on a shoot in months. Playful, high-energy. No pressure to be perfect—just cool, fast, bold. Like you belonged.

And maybe… you kind of did. Were you becoming an F1 girl? It was kind of crazy to you. This was all before even seeing a single race.

♡

It was yacht time.

You had never been on a yacht before. Rockstars didn’t really do that sort of thing—well, at least not Velvet Collapse. You thought back to that joke someone made about Cyrus keeping you locked in a dungeon. Honestly? They weren’t far off. That’s exactly what it felt like.

You left your hair natural—just a bit of CC cream, sunscreen, and a swipe of lipstick in case you ended up swimming. You slipped into a black bikini—something cheeky, but not too revealing—simple overall. Sunglasses pushed up on your head, a white linen mini dress thrown over the top, and a pair of Gucci sandals to finish the look.

Thank god Vanessa had scheduled you a mani-pedi before Monaco. Your nails and toes were perfectly matched—black, of course. Some things never changed. Some things were you, not Cyrus, no matter what people thought.

When you arrived at the private dock, the first thing you saw was Lando—wearing black and white swim trunks and a crisp white tee. Of course he looked good. And strangely enough, you matched. Completely unplanned. He had on sunglasses and that signature grin of his that made your heart beat a little quicker.

All the guys from last night were here—including Max. He was facing away from you, phone to his ear. You tried not to let it bother you, but his aloofness was wearing you down. There were two new faces, though—guys you hadn’t met yet.

Carlos Sainz and Alex Albon. They introduced themselves warmly.

Everyone began boarding the yacht, one by one. When it was your turn, Lando offered his hand to help, but ended up pulling you in by the waist instead, lifting you up easily. Your cheeks flushed instantly. Every time he touched you, it felt like you were ten again, a schoolgirl crush.

“Th-thanks,” you said, smiling up at him. “Of course, love.”

You almost melted.

Lewis had brought a girl this time. Charles was here with his girlfriend, Alexandra—your favorite of the F1 girlfriends, honestly. George had Carmen with him. Still, it was eight guys to four girls. And you couldn’t help but wonder—did Max always come to these things? He never seemed to enjoy himself. But then a more painful thought crept in—what if he used to have fun… before you showed up?

You and Lando tucked yourselves into a shaded corner as the yacht pulled away from the dock. From across the deck, you saw Max in the kitchen, chatting with Charles and Alexandra.

“Can I ask you a question?” you leaned in, lowering your voice just for Lando to hear.

“Of course.”

“Is Max… always like that?”

Lando chuckled softly. You weren’t sure what part was funny, but you smiled anyway.

“He got burned a few years back. A girl kind of used him—wanted the F1 lifestyle, not him. His dad came down hard on him for it, and ever since, he’s kind of shut down emotionally—except when he’s behind the wheel.” He paused, then added, “Also, he’s Dutch.”

That last part made him laugh more. You went quiet, lost in thought. You couldn’t help but wonder who the girl was—the one who left scars on a three-time world champion. Part of you understood what it meant to love someone who turned out to be… different.

Lando noticed your silence and rubbed your leg gently. “He’s not being mean to you, is he?”

He started to rise, like he might go say something to Max, but you stopped him with a light touch.

“No, no, it’s okay. He’s made his feelings known, but I can handle it.”

“Well,” Lando said, meeting your gaze, “if he ever says something you can’t handle… you come to me. Deal?”

God, he was too perfect sometimes.

Before you could answer, Oscar appeared and sat down beside you. You were officially in a McLaren sandwich again.

Oscar handed each of you a drink, and you smiled. “Thanks, Oscar.”

His eyes flicked to your lips for a split second. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

He didn’t say much, but he was sweet—and cute. You caught yourself staring a little longer than you meant to while sipping your cocktail.

Carlos turned up the music and the party officially kicked off. The yacht cruised into a secluded cove, no other boats in sight. The water sparkled. Everyone was laughing, drinking, enjoying themselves. Lando and Oscar argued over who got to take you on the jet ski. You told them you’d go with both. They flipped a coin.

Oscar won the first round.

He got on the jet ski and reached out to lift you on. His hands gripped your waist, sending a little jolt through your body.

“Sorry—” he said sweetly.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just nervous. I’ve never done this before,” you admitted with a soft laugh.

You wrapped your arms around his toned torso as you climbed on, and he adjusted your leg, steadying you. Butterflies hitting your stomach.

“I’m as good on the ocean as I am on the track,” he said with a grin. “You’re safe with me.”

You leaned into his back, resting your cheek against his shoulder, and waved at the group. Lando waved back. Just beyond him, Max was chatting with Lewis’s girl—smiling.

Smiling?

Your stomach dropped. She had just met everyone today. Why was she already getting smiles from him?

Your own faded.

“Ready?” Oscar asked.

“Yeah.”

He revved the engine, and you took off, your laughter carried by the wind. The sun blazed overhead, the ocean glimmering. You held onto him tighter the faster he went, burying your face against his back, and he laughed.

He slowed eventually, letting the jet ski drift.

Your eyes were still closed when he spoke.

“You’re really cool, Y/N.” His voice was soft, and he rubbed a small circle on your knee. “I hope you stick around. I know you’re here for work, but… I think all the guys really like you.”

You blushed. That was the most Oscar had ever said to you in one go.

“Yeah. Everyone but Max.”

“Ah, don’t let that get to you. He’ll come around.”

“I don’t know… he thinks I’m just here for clout.”

Oscar’s brow furrowed as he looked back at you.

“In Miami, he said stuff about how girls like me have ulterior motives.”

His jaw tightened.

“It’s okay, though. I stood up for myself.”

Oscar’s eyes softened. “Well, I know the rest of us like you. So… stick around. For us.”

You smiled against his back as he turned the jet ski around.

Back at the yacht, Lando was waiting. “You guys get lost or something?” he asked, a flicker of irritation in his voice.

“Nah, mate. Just talking,” Oscar replied casually, patting his shoulder. Lando gave a small smile in return, and you didn’t think he was truly upset.

Oscar hopped off, and Lando climbed on. This time, you knew how to sit. You waited until he was settled, then wrapped your arms around his bare torso. His skin was warm and golden, and when your nails brushed his back, goosebumps rose instantly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s okay. Your nails feel good,” he chuckled.

“That’s why I keep them long—perfect for head scratches,” you teased, running your hands through his hair before you could stop yourself.

Lando groaned softly.

Oh.

That was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yeah, okay, I get it now,” he said, breathless. “I need you around after race weekends. That’s better than an ice bath.”

You giggled, clinging to him as he took off into the ocean. You kept your eyes open this time. You felt safe with Lando. Your pulse steadying.

But then he slowed, steering toward another cove.

“Uh… I think we’re out of fuel.”

“What?!”

You panicked.

“Yeah, I don’t know how that slipped past the alert system. We might need to wave someone down.”

“Well… what do we do until then?”

Lando turned his body around to face you, your faces suddenly inches apart.

“I guess we talk?”

You giggled, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Sure.”

“Did you see the fans are starting to ship us?” he asked.

Your face went crimson.

“Yeah. I saw. How do you feel about that?”

“There are worse things than being shipped with a beautiful girl,” he said with a smug look and a shrug.

Your stomach fluttered violently.

You talked for what felt like forever. Lando told you about karting, junior series, Formula 2. You told him about your influencer life, about Cyrus, and why it all fell apart.

“I’ve never wanted to kick someone’s ass so badly,” Lando muttered when you got to the night in Miami—finding Cyrus with his tongue down someones throat.

“Yeah, he’s a jerk. I’m just glad I got out. Rockstar life wasn’t for me.”

“Is the F1 life for you, then?” Lando asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Maybe,” you said softly.

He grew quiet. “Y/N… I know you just got out of something, and I’d never want to take away your chance to figure out what you want.”

He paused, eyes flicking to your lips.

“But I really, really want to kiss you right now.” He was practically begging.

You nodded furiously, not thinking about the consequences, leaping into his lap. Your lips collided in a whirlwind of heat and need. His hands gripped your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. He bit your lip gently. You were breathless.

Then… waves. Voices.

A boat.

You both pulled away quickly, fixing yourselves.

“It’s the guys,” Lando muttered. “They probably noticed we were gone too long.”

The yacht slowly made its way over to you.

Oscar and Lewis were at the lower dock. Max, now shirtless, stood nearby.

When Lando tried to help you up, he didn’t quite reach. Max stepped in without a word, effortlessly wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught. He smelled like leather and bergamot. Strong and warm.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Yep,” he replied.

That was all. No glance. No smile.

But it lingered anyway.

The group said you’d been gone for an hour. You hadn’t even noticed. Your fingers grazed your lips, remembering that kiss.

The sun was beginning to set as the yacht turned back toward shore. The party winding down.

Lando gave you space, and you slipped away to the top balcony for a quiet moment. Sometimes you just needed the silence.

But someone was already up there.

Shit.

Max.

You almost got away without being noticed—until he spoke.

"You two were gone a long time." No accusation. Just a cold, clipped observation that lands like a stone in your chest.

You don’t turn to face him.

"Max, I just came up here for some air. Can we not?"

Your voice is low, tight. You don’t owe him an explanation, but you offer one anyway.

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t push. He just stays—quiet and still, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll unravel on your own. The silence stretches between you, thick with everything you’re both too proud to say.

And then— "I saw you laughing with Lewis’ girlfriend."

The words tumble out before you can stop them. You grit your teeth.

"She met everyone today and you were… smiling. Friendly. You don’t get like this with her."

Now it’s done. You’ve cracked it open.

Max straightens from where he’d been leaning against the railing and stalks toward you with a slow, deliberate calm. Something in the air shifts—tightens. He stops just close enough to make your breath hitch, his jaw rigid, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"What?" One word. Flat. Dangerous. Like no one’s ever dared speak to him like this before.

You regret it instantly—but it’s too late.

"Nothing," you mutter.

You exhale hard, suddenly exhausted. "Just… forget it."

But he doesn’t. He steps closer, tension radiating off him like heat.

"You don’t like me. I don’t like you. What’s there to question?"

He spits the words with such practiced distance it almost sounds rehearsed.

"But why?" you ask, voice quieter now. Raw. "Why don’t we like each other, Max?"

You watch the falter in his eyes—subtle, but it’s there. The mask slips, just for a breath.

There’s no crowd around. No cameras. Nothing to justify his hostility. And that’s the problem.

He doesn’t answer. He just leaves.

Turns sharply and disappears down to the lower deck, his retreat echoing louder than any argument.

You’re left staring after him, your heart racing, your skin still tingling from how close he stood—how angry he looked. But underneath that anger, you could feel it. A tension that didn’t make sense. Not unless it meant something. And god, you just wanted to know why it was you.

[allastoredeer]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I’ve been tagged to do WIP Wednesday before, but I’m only just now getting to it 😅

So! Here’s the first 2 pages to a 5-page comic. Points to anyone who guesses what’s going on.

[qwakque]

Say Goodbye To Yesterday my Friend

[jojo-schmo]

A possible scenario during Kirby Star Allies that has Magolor investigating whatever he can about the mysterious Jamba Hearts that just landed on the planet.

Bandee is still wary of him from their past adventures however, and accompanies Magolor to make sure he isn’t up to anything…

Audio is from Star Trek Deep Space Nine: “Rocks and Shoals”

[eyndr-stories]

Being very normal [lie] about @kibbits's Break A Leg boys!!! They are running around in my brain causing drama all day long <3

These doodles I would say are roughly around the time where Y/N has known them for a bit, so they're not tooooo dangerous anymore, and they're just starting to figure out the whole (waves vaguely) identity thing lol

To explain the little mini comic just in case its not clear: Y/N is lamenting to Moon about some car troubles (whether they drive themself or couldn't get a ride someplace or what have you), and the next day, Sun asks how the car situation is going. Y/N is a little confused because they remember talking to Moon about that, not Sun. Sun is confused because he's not sure what the difference is. He's not even sure who's out right now (Both? One? Which one? What's the difference???)

[sysig]

Enecomimi Banzaiiii (Patreon)

[icyfox17]

el pastor

He's about to ask where Buck is when he spots it. The spattering of red around the eye. It's unmistakable, even if it's smaller than he's used to. Bobby makes eye contact with Eddie and Eddie's expression only confirms his theory. It takes the rest of the team an extra moment to understand what is happening, but then there's a slight gasp from Hen. "Is that—" Eddie nods, readjusting his grip on him and the kid—Buck—curls even further into him. "Oh, kid." Bobby thinks quietly to himself. There's never a dull moment with him on shift, is there?

or, Buck gets de-aged into a kid by a disgruntled villain just trying to make his escape from a destroyed building.

or, or smol!Buck but make it a hero au bc yes.

Chapter 1/? | 4,282 Words | Read on Ao3

gifted to the lovely @divine-victory thank you for being so patient and i hope you enjoy !!! ily sosososoo much!!!!!!! <3

[good-beanswrites]

Ahh ive been reading some of your writings and they're just so warm and fluffy to read (if that makes sense??) Though i cant really express it in the tags ;; also if its alright, may i please request blanket with mikoto or tears with fuuta? - @erimnar

Omg thank you -- I've been so grateful for your tags! :)) And thanks for the requests, I had a lot of fun with these woo! I went with a real fun one for Mikoto/Blanket (once again, picture T1 minigram vibes) and I'll post a slightly angstier one for Fuuta/Tears soon 👍

“Mikotoooo, just share with Muu,” the girl pouted. “I mean it!”

He scooted out of her reach. “What are you gonna do, stab me about it?”

Muu’s jaw dropped, but there was no real horror behind it. “Maybe!” She lunged for him again. 

After a strange rattling from the walls had woken some in the middle of the night, all the heat in the prison had seeped away. Es had left to fix it immediately, and no one had seen them for hours. In Mikoto’s opinion, they seemed better versed in law than plumbing and mechanical fixes. He had no idea how long they’d all be shivering like this in the winter chill.

The prisoners walked around all morning in a mismatch of spare layers. Mahiru giggled inside one of Shidou’s extra doctor coats, far too big on her. Mikoto hadn’t stopped laughing that Shidou owned extra doctor coats in the first place. Yuno’s stylish hats could be spotted on several of the prisoners, Mikoto included. (He’d given his own beanie to Kazui, earlier.) Fuuta had handed out a concerning amount of sweatshirts, and Muu had some fashionable scarves that gave enough warmth to be useful.

In addition to the ridiculous getups, they each carried their bed sheets around their shoulders. Mikoto was surprised to find himself the envy of the group.

A while back he’d requested a weighted blanket; he remembered finding one helpful when work got too overwhelming. Milgram had provided a fairly large one, though he felt it hadn’t worked as well here. He didn't expect it to cause a stir until Shidou pointed out that its weight would make it even warmer than his own. Following that, it didn’t take long to attract the small army of murderous children that were after him. 

As he stepped away from Muu, Yuno leapt at his other side, ready to snatch the blanket off of him. Although Haruka and Amane were too nervous to make a grab at him, they stood anxiously nearby rooting for his loss. Mahiru had jumped in as well. Her quick movements forced Mikoto to spin around and draw it even closer around his shoulders. Caring less about the blanket, but always ready to tackle someone, Fuuta joined the scuffle.

It wasn't like Mikoto cared about the blanket, either. He had no issue sharing it with the others. He knew the attitude in the prison had been dropping recently. Despite the brief camaraderie from sharing articles of clothing, everyone’s mood had been especially bitter today. As physical discomfort added to their mental strain, things could go south quickly. The place needed to liven up a bit.

He stepped back from the blanket thieves, flicking the corner of it from Fuuta’s hands. 

“Not so fast!”

Fuuta fumed. “You asshole…”

Yuno, meanwhile, seemed up for the challenge. “You’re quick!”

“I’ve had a bit of experience…” He flashed a wicked grin. Mikoto didn’t talk about his family much, but a few of the others knew he grew up on fairly good terms with a younger sister. His big brother instincts had developed just fine.

He darted this way and that. He faked and sidestepped and spun. As his opponents grew bolder, he ended up sweeping the blanket off his back. He swung it around the room with less effort than expected. He was stronger than he looked, and easily kept the girls at bay while wrestling Fuuta for the blanket. He let out a laugh as he fought back against all the grabbing hands. Taking advantage of the height difference, he lifted it directly over his head.

The position wasn’t the most secure, though. His taunts were quickly replaced by feigned cries as the others dragged him to the ground. As they pinned him down, a cheer erupted from Haruka before he covered his mouth. The others joined in the celebration as they claimed their prize.

Mikoto lamented, “you’re so cruel… you’re all so cruel…” It was good, he thought, hearing them all laugh.

The loss of his blanket wasn’t his only punishment. Heaving an exhausted breath, Yuno flopped down directly on top of him. She tucked herself and Muu into the blanket. Then Mahiru wiggled in, beckoning to Amane and Haruka. By the time they all nestled in, there was just barely enough room for Fuuta to squeeze in with everyone. 

Mikoto wheezed from under the pile of prisoners.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “You win. Fuck -- let me breathe...”

Mahiru just made herself more comfortable. “But you’re so warm!” The others muttered their agreement. Not one showed any sign of moving. The prison was far too cold to give up heat like this, after all.

“That’s because you all made me work so hard!” He huffed. “Come on.”

“What are you gonna do?” Muu giggled, doing a poor impression of his voice, “murd--”

“-- Aw, shaddup…”

[millenniumringg]

I’m gonna be selling earrings :3 will post my Etsy shop link in a few days!

[bizarrescribblez]

HI GUYS sorry for not being so active/only talking about commission stuff lately IM KINDA FEELING :(( but it’s all good + I’ve been working on an unnecessarily thought out MTL Halloween drawing/doodles so that’s why I’ve been so quiet huhuhu

[naenaex0xx]

‎‎‎‎‎

[sunshineangel0]

press play to ruin me ! (maknae line)

i present: stray kids and their own, private porn collection!

genre: pure smut, nsfw, sub!reader, dom!skz, recording kink, minors do not interact please word count: about 3k again warnings: unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, recording during sex, degradation, praise, light bondage, creampie, overstimulation, cum play, possessive behavior a/n: part two of happy 1k ! here is our maknaes getting off on filming while pounding into you hehehe🫠 please enjoy xoxo

-> hyungs

(한) HAN JISUNG

The first time Jisung hits record, it’s an accident. Well, kind of.

You’re in his studio. You’re bent over his mixing desk, knees trembling, your skirt bunched up around your hips, his cock splitting you open so deep you swear you’re going to sob.

He’s been teasing you for hours. Told you just one more take, just one more adjustment, until you were so worked up you climbed in his lap and ground yourself on him until he finally snapped.

Now he’s buried balls-deep, one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping his phone like he’s texting. But he’s not. He’s filming. He’s been filming for five minutes, your pretty moans echoing through his studio speakers like the filthiest track he’s ever produced.

“Look at you,” he pants, voice cracked, desperate. “Bending over my desk like a slut. You know how fucking hot you sound through these speakers?”

You try to answer but it comes out as a gasp, your thighs quivering under the force of his thrusts. The desk shakes with every slap of his hips, pens rolling off the edge, a mug knocked to the floor. Neither of you care.

“Say hi,” Jisung groans. He lifts your chin with the hand that’s holding the phone, makes you stare into the lens. “Hi, baby. Say hi to my camera. Gonna save this forever.”

“Hi, oh fuck, Jisung-"

He grins. Wide, filthy, boyish, his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat dripping onto your back.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Gonna make you watch this later. Gonna jerk off to it when you’re not around, fuck, bet you’d like that, huh? Me stroking my cock to the sound of you crying for it?”

He flips the camera to show where you’re connected, your pussy stretched tight, cream pooling around the base of his cock. He spits on your back, rubs it in with his palm, grabs a handful of your ass just to make you squeal.

“Look at that mess. Gosh, look at that mess.”

He drops the phone on the desk, angles it perfectly to catch everything, your red cheeks, your parted lips, the way you push back on him even when you’re moaning no more, no more like a liar. “You’re so fucking greedy,” Jisung pants. “So fucking greedy for my dick. This tight little pussy just can’t get enough, huh?” You choke out a yes and he laughs — breathless, manic. His hand slides around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision go sparkly.

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good girl while daddy records it?”

“Please, please, Ji, need it-”

“Yeah? You need it?” His thrusts get messy, erratic, desperate, his cock twitching inside you. He presses down on your neck until your cheek is flush against the desk, your eyes locked on the phone screen.

“Look at yourself, baby. Look at this sloppy little slut. Look how pretty you are when you break for me.” And when you do break, thighs clamped together, back arching so hard you nearly knock the phone over, Jisung loses it.

He buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing, hot cum spilling deep inside you until it drips down your thighs, pooling on the studio floor. He keeps the camera on it the whole time, low angle, filthy angle, your cunt twitching around him, milking every last drop.

When you’re shaking, boneless, face sticky with sweat and drool, he finally turns the phone off. Or so you think.

Because two hours later, he’s got you in his lap on the studio couch, legs spread, your pretty hole still leaking with his cum. He’s got the video playing on loop in one hand, his other hand between your thighs, two fingers buried inside you.

“You hear that?” he whispers in your ear, voice cracked from overuse. “That’s you, baby. That’s what you sound like when you’re all fucked out for me.” He hits record again, a fresh file, a fresh moan, your voice wrecked and raw, and he saves it to a folder labeled ‘New Album Demos 🐰.’

You’ll find it next time you borrow his phone. Right next to a dozen voice memos of you moaning his name like a prayer.

(필릭스) LEE FELIX

Felix is soft. That’s what you always tell yourself. He’s soft. Sweet. Gentle.

And then his phone comes out , and all that sweetness turns into something darker, stickier, a need to claim every second of you coming undone on video so he can watch it later with his pretty hand around his cock.

“Stay just like that for me, baby.”

You’re on his bed, knees up, panties shoved aside, skirt bunched around your waist like a desperate little doll. Felix has his phone propped up against his pillow, lens angled perfectly to catch the sloppy mess between your thighs.

He’s on his knees in front of you, one hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock, the other teasing two fingers over your soaked folds, spreading you open, pressing against your clit until you squirm.

“Look how pretty you are,” he murmurs, voice deep and warm, dipping into that low, husky growl that makes your cunt flutter. “All spread out for me. So wet — fuck — you’re dripping for the camera, baby.”

You whimper, trying to close your legs. He tsks, grabs your thighs and pushes them wider. “Don’t hide. Let me see. Let the camera see how greedy this pussy is for me.”

When he pushes i, thick cock splitting you open inch by inch, the stretch hits so deep your breath stutters out in a choked moan. Felix groans right back, dropping his forehead to yours, sweat already dripping from his fringe.

“You feel that?” he whispers, hips rolling slow and mean, deep enough to make your eyes roll back. “This is all for you. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna watch it later and see how fucking sweet you look taking it.”

He lifts his head, glances at the phone screen. Smirks. “Smile for the camera, angel. You look so fucking gorgeous when you’re stuffed full.”

Felix fucks you like he’s recording his life’s work. Slow, deep, filthy. He drags it out, pulls almost all the way out just to slam back in and catch the way your tits bounce on video. He mutters praises in your ear, “good girl,” “such a perfect little hole,” “mine, mine, mine”, punctuating every word with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

When you start to cry, he melts. His big hands cradle your jaw, thumbs brushing your tears away, even while he’s splitting you open and stuffing you full.

“Aww, baby, don’t cry,” he coos. “You’re taking it so well. You’re so good for me. So pretty when you cry for my cock.”

When you’re close, when your hips start to stutter and your hands claw at his shoulders, Felix grabs the phone, flips it to face you both in the mirror above his bed. He tilts your chin so you have no choice but to watch.

“Look at that, princess,” he pants, voice cracked. “Look how fucked out you are. Look how you squeeze me so tight, fuck, you’re gonna milk me dry, huh? Gonna make me cum inside this sweet little cunt for the camera?” You nod, babbling his name over and over like a prayer. He just groans, buries his face in your neck, thrusts so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

When Felix cums, he stays inside you. Deep, full, warm. He makes sure the camera catches every twitch, every soft cry from your lips as he floods you until it drips down his thighs.

He pulls back just enough to film the mess, your swollen pussy, his cum leaking out, his fingers pushing it back in with a soft coo of “Stay full for me, angel. Just like that.”

Later, when you’re half-asleep on his chest, you hear him replay it. Soft audio echoing from his phone. Your moans, his filthy praises, the slick sound of him splitting you open.

He kisses your forehead, voice low and wrecked. “Next time, we’re filming it in the shower too. Gotta keep the collection going, baby.”

(승민) KIM SEUNGMIN

It starts because you begged for it.

“Please, Min,” you whine, cheeks flushed, panties already ruined under your skirt. “Please can you record it? Just once?”

He laughs in your face. “You’re disgusting,” he says, voice cold but eyes glittering. “You really want me to film you while I fuck you dumb? So you can watch it back later when I’m not here? Touch yourself to it like a filthy little slut?”

You nod. He hums, amused, tilts your chin up and taps your cheek twice with his palm, not hard but enough to make your cunt clench.

“Fine. But don’t you dare try to act shy when the camera’s on. I want it all.”

So here you are, back pressed to his headboard, knees pulled up to your chest, wrists tied to your own ankles with his belt so you can’t close your legs even if you want to.

He’s sitting between your spread thighs, phone in one hand, his cock in the other, lazily stroking himself as he stares at the mess he’s made between your legs.

“You see that?” he murmurs, angling the camera so it catches your soaked, twitching pussy in perfect detail. “Look how wet you get for me. Fucking embarrassing.”

You try to squirm away, but you can’t move an inch. He laughs, presses the tip of his cock against your clit, just enough to make your hips buck.

“Stay still. I said, stay still. Or I’ll start over.”

When he finally pushes in, he does it slow. Inch by inch, watching your lips part, your head tilt back, watching the tears prick the corners of your eyes when the stretch burns too good.

He catches it all on camera, zooms in on the way your cunt stretches around him, the slick, obscene sound of him bottoming out with a grunt.

“Look at you,” Seungmin huffs, hips grinding deep. “All stuffed full. Acting like this isn’t exactly what you begged for.”

You try to hide your face in your shoulder. He slaps your cheek, sharp enough to sting. “Eyes on the camera.”

He sets a brutal pace, not fast, but deep, deliberate. Each thrust hits so perfect it makes your thighs shake, your breath stutter out in choked little gasps. Seungmin loves those sounds. He tilts the phone to catch your face, your tear-smeared mascara, your drool-slick lips, the way you moan his name like a prayer.

“You hear that, baby? That’s the sound you make when you’re ruined. You sound so fucking pathetic.”

You whimper please, over and over, but he just smirks, fucks into you harder, deeper, pushing your knees back until your thighs press to your chest.

“Please what?” he mocks, voice dripping with condescension. “Please more? Please harder? Please let me cum? You think you’ve earned that?”

He drags his thumb across your spit-slick lips, pushes it past your teeth until you gag. “God, you look so pretty like this. You were made to be filmed. Made to be used.”

When you finally break, thighs trembling, cunt fluttering around him so hard you nearly pass out, Seungmin groans like he’s cumming too, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He pulls out, strokes himself with one hand, keeps the phone steady with the other, aims it right at your ruined pussy, your hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled again.

“You want my cum?” he huffs, voice all mock affection. “Beg for it. Beg for the camera.” You do, voice raw, throat sore, spit and tears smeared down your chin.

When he cums, he paints your cunt with it, thick ropes across your folds, your thighs, your swollen clit, then pushes two fingers inside, shoving it all back in while you writhe under him.

“Keep it in,” Seungmin growls, camera capturing every twitch of your overstimmed hole. “Wanna see how much leaks out later when you can’t hold it anymore.”

When it’s done, when you’re shaking and used and half-conscious, he tosses the phone beside you, cups your jaw, kisses you sweet and slow.

Then he smirks, voice soft but wicked in your ear. “You better not touch yourself when you watch this. If you do, I’ll know.”

(아이엔) YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin plays dumb. That’s his whole act. He blushes when you flirt. Laughs nervously when you pout at him. Stammers when you beg him to fuck you like he means it.

But then he does. And he never forgets to grab his phone first.

“Don’t look so surprised, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and sticky sweet. He’s got you bent over the kitchen counter, panties around one ankle, skirt pushed up so high it might as well be gone. “You wanted to show me how desperate you are? Guess you don’t mind showing my camera too.”

He taps his phone against your lower back, the soft vibration of it buzzing when he flips to record. Your eyes go wide in the reflection of the microwave door, hair a mess, lipstick smeared, thighs shaking.

“You look so fucking cute like this,” Jeongin purrs, pressing his cockhead against your dripping pussy, not giving you an inch yet. “All pretty and dumb and ready to be ruined in HD.”

You try to complain, Jeongin, someone could walk in, but he just laughs, low and cruel.

“Aww. Scared you’ll get caught? You should be more worried about what this camera’s catching. Open wider. Wanna see that greedy hole swallow me.”

When he pushes in, it’s fast. No warning, no teasing, just one sharp thrust that makes your hips slam the counter edge and your voice break on a sob.

“Oh my god, fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, phone aimed right at the mess where you’re stretched around him. “You hear that? Listen to yourself, baby. Listen to how wet you get for me.”

He drags out every sound, slick, sticky, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in your tiny kitchen like a filthy cooking show gone so, so wrong.

“You gonna cum already?” Jeongin teases, voice soft but mean, one hand gripping your throat to tilt your head back for the camera. “God, you’re so easy. Bet you’ll watch this later with your hand between your legs, huh? Rewind your own whines like a fucking porn star.”

You choke out a yes, yes, please, want it, and he moans, the sound wrecked and desperate as he snaps his hips faster. “Yeah? Then say hi for me. Say hi to future you.” “Hi, fuck, hi-” “That’s my good girl.”

When you cum, he doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t. He pulls out just enough to let you feel empty, then shoves back in hard, grinding so deep you swear you feel him in your belly.

“Such a mess,” Jeongin pants, phone still rolling as he bites your shoulder, his other hand sliding under to rub your clit raw. “Can’t even stay quiet, fuck, baby, ’m gonna fill you up so pretty for the camera. Gonna watch it later and jerk off to my own cum leaking out of this pussy.”

When he finishes, it’s sloppy, mean, he pulls out slow just to film the way his cum spills down your thighs, smearing across the countertop. He laughs, soft but breathless, as you tremble under him.

“You should thank me,” Jeongin murmurs, kissing your shoulder sweet and sharp. “Most girls don’t get to star in their own private porn.”

When you catch him watching it later, headphones in, eyes half-lidded, fist wrapped around his cock while your own voice moans from his phone, he just smirks at you through his lashes.

“Better than any video I could find online, baby. Now come here and help me make another one.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub @slut4junho @bobaluvzz @channiesbaby1433 @wonniesjungdimple @yxna-bliss @m-325 @rockstarkkami @felixleftchickennugget @oceanz7 @seungminsbest @fackeraccount @takuoshuji @xoxomanicpanic @catsforlife6864 @lezleeferguson-120 @angellcvkes @lezleeferguson-120 @doliveiraa @breakmeoff @soona-huh @cleverperfectionchild

[dragon-wolf68]

Dc x Dp prompt

so we all know the trope of Danny going to Gotham getting sprayed by joker venom or fear gas and instead it works like laughing gas, truth serum, or doesn’t affect him at all because ghost metabolism. Well riddle me this, what if fear gas and joker venom were ghost alcohol.

So we know that in the Dp universe some ghosts feed on emotion, and fear gas and joker venom trigger certain emotions. So what if in the ghost zone fear gas and joker venom are rare sought after alcohol, that is only sold in the top ghost zone bars.

Just Imagine on day Danny decides to visit Gotham wether it be a ghost attack or him trying to take a vacation, anyway Fenton luck hits and the city gets doused in fear toxin because scarecrow is testing out his latest batch of fear toxin on the people of Gotham. Danny seeing everyone scared jumps into action and defeats scarecrow. While getting shot in the face with fear toxin witch is like tossing back 5 vodka shots.

when the Batfam arrives they see a twig of a boy tying up scarecrow and his goons. So naturally Batman asks what happened.

Batfam: what happend did you do this

Danny drained of adrenaline: Nnnooooo???

Batman: who are you

Danny drunk of his feet: I am the night, I am vengeance, I am bat babe

batfam: *snort* been a while since we heated that one

Danny: wanna see a magic trick *hick*

Danny stumbling into a wall: tada I walked right through. Hehehe

Batfam watching in disbelief: is he drunk

Everyone looking towards Black Bat:…

Black Bat: 😡😤😒 *looks towards Danny* you okay??

Danny blushing brighter then a tomato: *hick* your so pretty, will you marry me?

batfam: WHAT!?!?!

[lace-tf]

daily koss #29: if we only have one shot… better make it count, right?

Since I started on the 18th of February, today marks the one month anniversary of me drawing these wretched old men every day!!! I wanted to make something special for it, so I tried my hand at a comic (even though I am NOT good at comics—dear god, paneling is so unintuitive for me that I ended up wrangling this into a webtoon format just to avoid it).

Despite the increasing level of render and polish on my dailies over the past two weeks, this is the first time I’ve really, actually tried to flex my art muscles and apply my braincells to a piece 😂 Here’s to hoping my work paid off! I have now, officially, moved from low-effort shitposts to real-effort seriousposts 😔

(Also, if you’ve never read a webtoon before, hopefully the long-scroll format wasn’t too jarring! >_<)

A meta aspect I love about KOSS is that Transformers is a multi-timeline franchise: Knock Out and Starscream exist across multiple different continuities, sometimes alongside each other, sometimes not. But they only really ‘work’ in TFP, despite them both having other characters as constants (Breakdown, Megatron). If this were any other world, and they were any other versions of themselves, they might not even have been coworkers—just ships passing in the night.

And yet, the perfect storm of random events led to them being in one thing together, with a compelling dynamic at that (even an entire episode that puts it on blast!!!). Sometimes I think about how, according to the TFP artbook, Knock Out was originally conceived as something of a counterpart to Bumblebee—another fast, pretty car, except a villain this time—but the writers ended up fleshing out his relationship with Starscream the most. I wonder what the thought process behind that was—did the devs find their dynamic fun to play with as well?—and whether the two would get more moments together if Prime wasn’t cancelled…

But I digress! The fact I discovered TFP in the first place is the cherry on top of the serendipity-cake; I never imagined I’d ever get into Transformers, but one impulsive ‘hey, what if we watched the new Transformers movie’ from Lacuna at 3AM in the dead of January changed the trajectory of my life.

I’ve always been really bad at committing to projects for over a month at a time—I often find myself burnt out and restless after only a few days, even. So to still have so much drive and inspiration to create fanworks—for KOSS, of course, but an assortment of other pairings and properties too—is such a novel and exciting experience. My tune may change at a moment’s notice (I can be very fickle), but for now I’m eager to keep scribbling on 🥰I already have something planned for the next week of Daily KOSS hehehe~

Anyway, things referenced in the comic!

G1 cartoon s01e13 “Fire in the Sky”

2019 IDW continuity Tread & Circuits issues 2, 3, and 4

Armada episode 48

TFA s02e03 “Mission Accomplished” and s03e13 “Endgame II”

2005 IDW continuity “Choose Me,” Spotlight: Megatron, and Annual 2017 “Chosen One”

And it’s probably obvious from the art, but I love the juxtaposition of Starscream being tortured by god in every other universe while Knock Out is either happily married or doesn’t exist.