#why isn’t this in a museum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astonmartinii · 1 year

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you and me got a whole lotta history | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x historian!reader

y/n is a historian and it’s not her fault her bf’s job takes him all around the world…

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 102,561 others

location: melbourne 📍

yourusername: so it’s the australian grand prix and i’ve spent the start of the week exploring this old city. one of my stops was the historic old melbourne gaol. this now museum was once a prison that housed some of the most feared criminals in australian history. constructed in 1839, the old melbourne gaol saw 133 hanged for their crimes between 1845 and 1924. it was briefly used during world war two but ceased operation as a prison in 1924 and was renovated to be part of the RMIT university and the museum it is today. a definite must if you’re visiting melbourne !!

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user1: my fave part of the race week is y/n’s museum recommendations tbf

user2: i can vision charles being dragged around this place hating his life

charles_leclerc: the things we do for love

yourusername: you said you enjoyed it :(

charles_leclerc: I DID

user2: oops

yourusername: i’ll leave you at the hotel next time

charles_leclerc: it was scary but i enjoyed it because i was with you

yourusername: okay that’s better

danielricciardo: so my farm isn’t good enough for you

yourusername: noooooo danny i thought we were going after the race?

danielricciardo: oof my bad

user3: petition for there to be a teds notebook but it’s y/n giving us a historical guide to the city the race is in

f1: we’re listening @skysportsf1

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderica ferrari and 788,341 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: tough race in melbourne but a beautiful city regardless

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user4: HE served, we don’t talk about the race

yourusername: i don’t mean to say i told you so but i did say our day trip would be the best part

user5: girl you’re gonna get banned from the ferrari garage

yourusername: they deserve far worse than what i’m saying let’s be real

user5: true

user6: i love how charles didn’t reply ferrari has his ass ON LOCK

carlossainz55: we'll come back stronger

danielricciardo: we can all commiserate at my farm bro

charles_leclerc: your farm better be as good as you're saying now

danielricciardo: nervously awaiting the y/n review

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 104,561 others

location: miami 📍

yourusername: though miami may be known for it's partying (it's all about the U), charles and i took our monday to take a stroll around st bernard de clairvaux church, one of miami's hidden gems. the church was originally built in spain all the way back in 1141 to the style of cistercian romanesque architecture for alfonso vii. the monastry's cloister was illegally purchased by american william randolph hearst in 1926 and in order for the church to be transported it was dismantled to 11,000 pieces and sent to the us where it was rebuilt and still stands to this day.

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user7: i'm never gonna be able to afford to go to miami so why did i read this whole thing like i'll visit some day?

yourusername: history is important and interesting, always good to read even if you never visit !!

user8: she's like the older sister i never had

user9: did charles enjoy this one more?

yourusername: "at least i'll get a tan here"

charles_leclerc: i feel like anyone who reads about me in your comments will think i'm an asshole, i have fun every time i just don't understand most of it

yourusername: i know you have fun baby (and i love you for driving us to all of these places)

user10: have you considered our super historic frat house this saturday night?

user11: imagine thinking you have a chance when her literal boyf is CHARLES LECLERC

user10: every goal has a goalkeeper doesn't mean you can't score

charles_leclerc: i will run you over

user12: omg ferrari's pr is quaking

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lancestroll and 112,677 others

yourusername: it is my biggest honour to announce my position as a history lecturer here at oxford!! i always dreamed of studying here and to get to pass on my knowledge to those looking to follow in my footsteps is a huge pleasure and responsibility.

p.s. no worries, it is not full time so race week explorations will continue.

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user13: so it was true :(((((( wait i just read the whole post my bad

user14: so i guess i now need to turn my Cs into As if i wanna attend a y/n lecture

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you my love - don't miss me too much

yourusername: you sure i can't persuade you to move to england with me :(

charles_leclerc: i'll be there as much as i can be but monaco is still our home

yourusername: always

landonorris: proud of you smarty pants

yourusername: thank you landito

landonorris: so you'll now root for the brits?

charles_leclerc: over my dead body

yourusername: what charlie said

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc: super happy for another win for the season but we keep pushing for the real prize at the end of the season - thank you for your continued support tifosi and my love y/n who stayed up all the way in oxford ❤️

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user20: i don't wanna jinx it but like the season is going well

user21: too well....

yourusername: winning looks good on you

charles_leclerc: you look better on me

pierregasly: oh god you've been apart for a triple header and now you're being horny on main

yourusername: says mr. doggy emoji

pierregasly: touche

user22: so charles can mathematically win in either austin or brazil FUCK THEM KIDS I NEED Y/N AT THESE RACES

user23: if she's not there for charles wdc i am personally going to have a sleepover on the train tracks

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

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tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: the autodromo jose carlos pace is the crown jewel of the interlagos neighbourhood. the circuit opened 83 years ago and has hosted the f1 since 1972. the circuit was originally meant to be a housing area but due to the 1929 stock market crash the owners decided to construct a racing track instead. interlagos is often a season decider with fernando alonso winning both his 2005 and 2006 titles here, kimi raikkonen winning the 2007 championship here, lewis hamilton won the 2008 championship here, jenson button clinched the 2009 title here and CHARLES LECLERC WON HIS FIRST TITLE HERE IN INTERLAGOS FOR THE 2023 SEASON

on a real note i am so proud of you charles, i have seen the sacrifices you have made and the unbelievable amount of effort you pour into every facet of your racing NO ONE deserves this more than you. i am so grateful to have shared this moment with you, here's to many more xxx

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user26: i am unwell this is so fucking cute

user27: bro this is so fucking crazy

charles_leclerc: couldn't have done it without you, so glad you could be there for me xx

yourusername: always charlie xx

yourstudent: miss y/n you can cancel all of our lectures if charles wins the championship again FORZA FERRARI

charles_leclerc: the people have spoken

user28: insane butterfly effect of the wall street crash to charles leclerc 2023 wdc

user29: they make me believe in love

note: this was super random but popped into my head while at work and i knew i had to write it !! hope you enjoyed xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x you

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coffee-and-geto · 2 months

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— suguru geto headcanons.

bf!suguru geto who falls in love again and again every time he spies on you when you don’t look at him.

bf!suguru geto who is the least clingy boyfriend you’ve ever experienced but those occasional physical contacts — although it’s just a mere brushing hand — can give you butterflies anyone else can ever give you.

bf!suguru geto whose love language is quality time — go to the cinema, have a picnic, go to the museum, an aquarium, or chill out with you on his/your bed and cuddle with quiet sweet words.

bf!suguru geto who never ever raises his voice at you in an argument, even if you were wrong — he will listen to you till you finish to draw what you harbor resentment. he LISTENS.

bf!suguru geto who gives you princess treatment just because. he doesn’t have to justify himself.

bf!suguru geto who is always soft-spoken with you and when you let him understand that you don’t hear what he’s saying, he lowers himself to your height and repeats what he said in your ear to see a blush spread from your cheeks to your whole face.

bf!suguru geto who will watch your favorite series/movie, read your favorite book to talk for hours and hours about it, and relish your fangirlism.

bf!suguru geto who can’t sleep at all if at least one of you two don’t spoon one’s middle. it’s a need.

bf!suguru geto who isn’t a morning person but gives you anyway a tired smile before yawning, his cup of coffee in one hand and an arm wrapped around your waist.

bf!suguru geto who respects your ideas and belief and tries to understand why with so much respect and without ever putting you down or making fun of you.

bf!suguru geto who worships your body like a worshipper does it with his God, praising every inch of your beautiful body and removing your complexes about what you call your body’s “flaws”.

bf!suguru geto who can also have a second love language as act of service — tying the laces on your sneakers, carrying your shopping bags, opening the door for you, brushing your hair (and revealing his hair secrets to you)

bf!suguru geto who can’t breathe if he doesn’t know where you are, always asking your location if you didn’t have the time to tell him where you go.

bf!suguru geto who gladly accepts your offer to match your wallpapers.

bf!suguru geto who can be jealous but not in a toxic way — poor pookie is just sometimes insecure that you may find someone better than him :( — even if you swear on your entire bloodline you will never see anyone but him and you’d rather die than look anywhere but at him.

bf!suguru geto who is the happiest boyfriend in the world only because he has you, he chooses you and you choose him back :)

bf!suguru geto who has a soft spot for your pretty ass — always a little squeeze on one cheek as he passes you by, and if you dare to bend down to pick up something that has fallen to the floor when he is close by, you will get a firm smack on your ass.

bf!suguru geto who can live with his head between your legs, whether for eating you out and getting orgasms out of you one by one until you beg him while sobbing you can’t give him another anymore, his tongue swirling, lapping at your wet folds and puffy clit.

bf!suguru geto who loves resting his head on your plushy thighs and you swear he can fall asleep in a few minutes.

bf!suguru geto who whines, his face buried between your boobs, on his occasional clingy, needy hours that he will marry you as quickly as possible when you both will graduate.

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gallierhouse · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking about why Armand tells Louis about his past. Right before the “Amadeo” scene, Louis calls Armand’s apology (the Romeo and Juliet scene, the flowers, the walk through the Louvre) “vintage Lioncourt,” as in, sweetness and apology and intimacy deployed at an opportune moment to generate sympathy after a show of power (knocking out the coven at the dinner table, dressing Claudia up in the “baby doll” dress as punishment). Armand tells Louis he’s not Lestat, Louis asks Armand who he is. Then Armand shows Louis the painting, The Adoration of the Shepherds With a Donor. Right before he tells Louis about his past, his voice starts to waver, he pauses, looks unsure, presses on. He didn’t have to tell Louis all that. If it was merely an apology, merely a play for sympathy and a calculated move to bond them as a couple, there wouldn’t have been a real need to tell Louis everything. He could’ve merely told Louis about how the coven came to Rome and burned Marius, could’ve merely told him about how he occasionally “donated,” could’ve told him the tiniest fragment and it would’ve been enough to garner whatever sympathy or forgiveness Louis thinks he wants. Instead Armand tells him everything. The ship captain, the brothel, how the abuse was so bad he can’t even remember his name, how Marius saved him, how he worshipped Marius, how Marius still trafficked him, how the coven burned Marius and kidnapped him and sent him to Paris. It elicits obvious sympathy and compassion in Louis; the ploy has worked. But it’s not really a ploy, it’s Armand asking Louis to paint him. He’s asking for recognition. He’s saying I don’t know who I am, but this is why I don’t know who I am, and I need you to tell me who to be. (“Who am I, Louis? Am I my history I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? No one has painted me in over 400 years.”) The last time someone painted him he was a donation. Currency, an object, a belonging. Then he was a leader, trapped in a job he didn’t want, then Lestat liberated and destroyed him, and gave him a new job. No one has painted him in over 400 years. Who is he now? Is he Lestat’s replacement? Is he Lestat’s antithesis? Is he the subject or the distraction? Would Louis have him? It’s clear that both of them decide on something when Louis calls Armand “Arun,” and Armand calls Louis “maitre” in return, and it’s in that moment both of them have painted each other into roles they’ll grow to resent. But I really do think that the little museum tour they went on, while clearly an apology, but also a move towards commitment, was also Armand asking Louis to paint him, point blank. Tell him who to be. Decide and he’ll be that person. He’ll be whatever Louis paints. He’ll be whatever Louis photographs. He’ll be what Louis decides. In some ways it’s the grandest of all romantic gestures. In many others it’s disturbing enough that it probably prompted the beginnings of psychiatric science as we know it today. But still romantic. Romance, wrapped up with power and control and the most domineering submission you’ve ever seen. But the photo Louis actually takes of Armand — the closest he gets to making literal the painting — isn’t actually of Armand. It’s of the dream of Lestat. Yet it’s this photo that finally allows Louis to dismiss the dream, so that he and Armand can paint each other properly, and make demands of each other they’ll both grow to resent. Painting each other and trapping each other in the same strokes. Funny they collect art.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #armand #louis de pointe du lac

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greeniegaes · 3 months

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JiuYuan au

Basically when SY goes into pidw SJ switches bodies with him! Cool fine whatever right? Not long into it they both discover they can see each other in their dream realms, which have collided into one.

At first it’s SJ being like “damn bro, you live like this?” And SY being like “damn bro, isn’t the sect so much nicer when you’re not being a cunt?”

Basically bickering until they realize the other isn’t that bad. SJ reads the webnovel and is like “this is fucking awful.” And SY just bonds over shitting on it.

As they talk and bond over a few years they start to actually kinda like each other like “wow maybe this guy isn’t awful *all* the time” and they get into a truce telling each other about their original worlds and stuff.

One day SJ is looking at old swords and finds Xin Mo, which shouldn’t be possible? Oh well, it is! And being the Rich Boy TM he is he just buys it from whatever museum or collector has it.

After a bit of discussion SY is like “what if you brought my body here and we swapped back to our originals?” And SJ is so game, he misses cultivation no matter how cool the modern world is.

So during the Jin Lan city arc they figure out how to swap bodies, SY immediately going into his but SJ accidentally getting stuck and being in a coma. Eventually when he wakes up he’s like “shit, why am I here…. Why am I naked?” And he escapes from Huan Hua palace only to get caught up in the fighting between CQS and Binghe’s people.

And Shen Yuan ex machina(+Xin Mo) come to take him away!

Obviously SQH is confused (that looks like the mushroom body but it’s not and he doesn’t know why it looks like that elusive third son of the shens) and LBH is even more confused because “hey now! That’s my sword! Why are there two?” And in the confusion SY fuses both the Xin Mos, purifies LBH, and gets the fuck out of there with SJ on his waist.

YQY: Shidi?! What’s going on, where are you going

LQG: If that man can control the demon sword he can’t be good, what are you doing!?!

SJ; this is my husband now

SY: we did not discuss that but sure (may as well because our consciousnesses are linked)

SQH never figured out what’s going on, JiuYuan go off and have a happy life on a tea farm and hunting monsters.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #greeniegaes #shen yuan #svsss au #shen jiu #shencest #JiuYuan #text post

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rad-batson · 1 year

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The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

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dira333 · 6 months

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Don't tease - Tsukishima x reader

A/N: 1k, fluff, requested by @missalienqueen

Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

“You really wanna do it that way?”

You tense immediately, hoping he’ll leave you alone just once. But to no avail.

“I didn’t think I’ve ever seen a filing system this… creative,” Tsukishima drawls. He’s looming over you, a tall shadow of incessant teasing. Ever since you’ve started working at the museum, he seems to have it out for you. He shows up during your tours, butts in when you get a few hours to yourself to work on your recent thesis and just never leaves you alone.

If he could keep his mouth shut doing so, it would only be half as harrowing, because he’s actually kinda cute - as long as he’s not narrowing his eyes at you like this.

Tsukishima often reminds you of your old principal. That man too had been a pole of judgment, always present at the wrong time. You had hated that man and Tsukishima was beginning to… okay, you weren’t kidding anyone, you could probably never hate Tsukishima. If he isn’t tormenting you, he’s polite and sincere in his work and you can tell by the way he treats the rest of the staff that he can be kind when he wants to.

So why does he treat only you like this?

“Let me do it,” he insists at that moment. “Wouldn’t want you to break a nail from all the hard work.”

Your mouth opens before you even register it. “If you want to work as an Educator instead of a Curator you could have just applied for that position when it was free instead of trying to bully me out of it.”

Tsukishima stiffens. He’s never resembled a pole more than at this moment, all his limbs locked tight to his body as he stares into space. You can’t really tell if his face is turning pale too because your own body is locking up, heat flushing your face as you press a hand to your mouth. You’ve never been this bold before.

“I’m sorry!” You rush out when you can speak again, “I didn’t mean-”

“But you did.” He insists, voice low and… dejected? No, you have to be mistaken.

“I… well… yeah.” You stutter. “I mean… You have it out for me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that treatment, but if you want my job so bad, you should have just applied for it. The position was vacant for months.”

“I don’t want your job,” Tsukishima presses through his teeth. His eyes are looking everywhere but at you. His cheeks are flushed now and you can almost see steam coming from his ears when he adds: “I want you.”

You blink.

You blink again.

Tsukishima pushes himself away from the filing cabinet, his movements stiff and awkward.

“I’m sorry I made you think I was bullying you.” His voice sounds almost unfamiliar.

When he bows you notice how red his neck has gotten.

He really is ashamed.

“You have a weird way of showing that.” Your hands itch to hold onto something. To make sure that this is real.

“I… well…” Tsukishima rubs his neck with one hand, eyes darting across the room. “I’ve been told before that teasing someone instead of clearly communicating could go wrong but I didn’t really believe it. After all, it worked for my… friend.”

“Your friend was probably nicer about it.” You point out, your tongue heavy in your mouth. What are you supposed to do now? Knowing he likes you?

“I… probably.” He swallows thickly, offers you his hand. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You shake it. The warmth of his skin against yours and the strength of his grip sends a shiver up your back.

He turns, cheeks still pink.

“Well, I’ll… I’ll let you do your work then. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Tsukishima is almost at the door when you untangle the knot in your tongue, brace against the nervous stutter of your heart.

“You could have just asked me out.”

He swirls around so fast you fear it’s going to give him whiplash. The look on his face is something you want to burn into your brain. It’s the delight of a child mixed with the anxiety of someone who’s been let down before. His eyes narrow immediately like he has to make sure you’re not playing him.

You nod, no longer able to form words.

“So…” He clears his throat. “Are you… free? Tonight?”

You nod again.

A smile lights up his face, boyish and bright. Your heart stops for a second before it hammers at twice its usual speed. Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

“You really wanna do it that way?”

You nod, typing away. Behind you, the cushions of your shared couch rustle as he maneuvers around. He leans onto you, heavy and warm, face pressed into your neck.

“But I want to cuddle.” Tsukishima drawls.

“And I want to finish this thesis. You told me I would have more than enough time today.”

“And you will. You just have to cuddle first.”

You try to send him a glare, but his face is hidden away in your hair.

“Tsukishima!”

“Kei,” he corrects you immediately.

“Tsukki,” you compromise and he groans.

“If someone would let me focus, I’d be finished in half an hour and then we could cuddle.”

He huffs. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re not either.”

“Fine.” He gets up. His tone is all snappy, but he winks at you to let you know he doesn’t mean it. He still might be infuriating and annoying, but he’s gotten way better at communicating when he’s actually mad and when he’s just playing for cuddles.

“What are you doing?” You ask when he stalks toward the bedroom.

“I’m going to put on my cutest outfit. We’ll see if that convinces you.”

“Take your time!” You call after him as you pick up your typing. “And send a picture to Yamaguchi when you’re done. I’m sure he’ll appreciate seeing you in the Dino-Onesie he bought you.”

He sends you one last glare.

You return to your document, surprised to realize that all you’ve left to do is write the last paragraph. If you keep at it, you’ll be finished before the Onesie is zipped up.

With a confident grin you pick up speed.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Tsukishima x reader #Tsukishima Kei #Tsukishima fluff #Tsukishima drabble #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!

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writing-mlm · 4 months

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Hiii, can we please have more college!damian x male reader? Like a scenario where damian loves to draw reader but reader doesn't know this? Maybe friends to lovers? Idk your pick. The artist and his muse type of thing. Also, i LIVE for soft damian on this blog ong.

Forever my Muse

Summary: Damian has his finals coming up and he wants you to join-- at least that's his excuse to get you into the art venue. An artist needs their muse and for some reason, most of Damian's drawings include you in, naturally, he could fill museums with drawings of you. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.8k

Dust-covered fingers were always something you had associated with Damian. Graphite, charcoal, pastels— anything he used to draw or even paint would inevitably stain his hands. It wasn’t intentional, and neither were the fingerprints he left on your stuff, or the paint you could never remove from your favorite sweater, but that didn’t stop him from apologizing. From buying you cleaning products and a new sweater; never mind it has never been worn in the year you’ve had it, Damian felt terribly sorry whenever he felt he’d stained something of yours.

But never sorry enough to show you his drawings.

You’d ask, you’d beg, but he would never give in. He’d show you when he was done, sure. You’d see the finished still-life drawings of whatever object had been in the line of sight, the paintings he’d done of his pets whenever he missed them, and the random sketches he did to loosen his wrist. But, damn, sometimes you wanted to see an unfinished drawing that wasn’t a warm-up.

Even now, as the two of you are on the campus bus heading towards the music hall, he’s drawing. Sitting across from you on the bus, Damian easily adjusts himself to the movements of the bus as it jerks to a stop. He’s nice like that, you’ve never caught him off guard, he’s never fallen or stumbled in the time you’ve known him.

Studying him, you wonder if he’s naturally so agile. You’ve seen him in your dorm's gym, during all-nighters you can sometimes see him running around campus, and once you had caught him doing one of those athletic challenges for some guy's video. He won. Of course.

The bus comes to a complete stop and you look away, double-checking that it wasn’t your stop. It wasn’t. You knew that. But still. The need to check was far too great and you slipped back into a conversation with Damian. Only this time, you’re looking down at your phone to double-check the event and his eyes switch from staring at his sketch to staring at you.

His eyes flicker between you and his drawing, erasing and adding lines where needed. He catches your eyes traveling up and he looks back down, working from memory as you start up a new conversation.

Eventually, the bus reaches your stop and he carefully closes his book; he always worries he’d smudge his art, while he follows you out of the bus.

It’s the end of the semester, ergo, it’s finals week. And for one of your music finals, everyone was to prepare a song and perform it. Truthfully, Damian doesn’t understand why you’d picked him to accompany you. He knows he’s not the best comfort, his demeanor often being the reason people don’t stick around too long.

But, you reassured him. Telling him that his presence was more than enough for you. Knowing that he was somewhere in the crowd calms you down more than you ever cared to admit.

The walk to the music hall isn’t short, but you can see the large building in the distance. The size is daunting on you as you see the crowd forming at the entrance. People aren’t allowed inside yet, but performers and their guests can head inside before anyone else.

“I’m nervous,” You admit, wiping your hands on your shirt. “What if I fail?” You mutter, your eyes desperately searching to find solace in his green eyes.

“You’ll do as you’ve always done,” He nods, looking ahead as you approach the building. “Exceptionally.” His sketchbook bumps against your folder of sheet music and you sigh through your nose, trying to calm down.

“I’m so gonna choke,” Seeing your reflection in the glass, you feel as if you’d forgotten everything you learned. Every lesson, every mistake you fixed and learned from, the late-night practice performances with your friends. The song you’d composed nearly slips from your mind as you see yourself, walking in that suit and tie you’d worn several years ago. All of it left your mind and you felt like a beginner again. What even was a solfège?

“I'm trained in CPR.” He opens the door for you and gently encourages you inside, his fingers grazing your back. “You weren’t nearly as nervous for your accounting finals.” He notes, falling back into step with you.

That’s another thing. Maybe that’s why you were so stressed. Double majoring was hellish. Twice the finals, quadruple the headaches.

“Those were tests,” You scowl, showing the security your campus ID. “I’m going to be performing a live concert in front of nearly a thousand people. I cannot fuck this up, Damian. This is going to be posted for everyone to watch, too,” You ramble on.

“Which you’ve done before, no?” He presses the elevator button and your heart hammers. You swear you’re going to pass out. He notices, of course, he does, and digs in his bag to find the fidget cube he keeps in there.

“I have— thank you,” Taking the cube, he nods. “It’s just… I don’t know. Tests suck.” Rolling your thumb along the metal ball on one side of the cube, you stare at the numbers as they slowly tick down to the first floor.

“That’s true,” He steps inside the elevator and you follow suit. “But you’ve made it thus far, you can go further.” He squeezes your shoulder as the doors close. There’s a silence in the elevator as it goes up to the second floor where you see your teacher waiting at the door to the waiting room, talking to a pair of students.

“I can,” You affirm, dipping your head down as you smile.

“You will.”

—

You’re fifth in line to perform, watching a singer, dancer, another other pianist, and an opera singer go on before you go on did absolutely jack shit to help you. As you’re announced, you step onto the stage and try your best not to accept that there were thousands of eyes on you. Instead, you smile and wave as you walk across that large stage. Desperately looking for Damian in the sea of people.

He’s in the front, right in front of where you could see when you glance up from the piano, you find out as you’re standing next to the piano seat.

Damian’s eyes don’t leave yours, making eye contact with you as you fiddle with the buttons of your coat. He motions for you to stop and then does a breathe in breathe out motion with the same hand. Nodding, you blink away from him and hold your hands behind your back. Focusing on your breathing, you listen to the teacher as you’re done being introduced.

The applause settles as you bow in, take a seat, and flip the page where your music sheet is. Slowly, you start. As a general music major, you weren’t restricted to just playing the piano. As emphasized by the microphone taped to your cheek.

You aren’t the strongest singer by any means, you’re good for singing in the shower or on drives but you doubt you’d actually make a career off of your voice. What you hope will carry you is the piano, as you press each key your eyes flicker to Damian. He’s attentive, a smile on his face as you perform.

Testing the waters, you glance at the people around him and they seem… pleased. Happy. Moved, even. You grin and return to staring at the sheet music. All of the notes flood back to you as you reach the last bit of the song, your eyes closing as your voice reaches a peak, holding a note. Then it’s just the piano, your voice echoing in everyone’s mind as the notes get slower and slower until you end it.

Applause fills the hall and you stand up, taking a bow. Standing there, even if only for a moment, you can’t imagine why you’d been so nervous.

Collecting your sheet music, you exit the stage and hand the mic to the stage tech before leaving.

When you’re nearing the exit, you spot Damian holding a bouquet of flowers.

“When did you have the time to get these?” You laugh as he hands them to you. His eyes merely twinkle, refusing to give up one of his many secrets. “Thank you, they’re dope.”

“You did it,” Damian reminds you as the two of you exit the building.

“I did! Ugh!” Grabbing his shoulder with your free hand, you give him a little shake. “Thank you so much, you’re honestly the best. Was it good?” Falling into step with him, Damian doesn’t bother to fix his shirt. It’s hardly even moved, but you know he was detail-oriented in stuff like that. Hell, he hates it when he messes with his clothes.

“It was mesmerizing.” He promises. “I do believe the woman behind me was crying.” Grinning, you stand at the bus stop, suddenly buzzing with excitement. Wanting to do it again, you start to imagine creating your own side business. Wedding musician, you can see it now.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” He avoids looking at you as he’s speaking. A rare occurrence on his part. But he does his best to look at you after building the courage. “I have an art showing next week. I understand the notice is short and you’re—“

“Send me the details.” You grin. His shoulders drop and he nods, clearly more relaxed. “I hope the attire is fancy. I got this fancy turtleneck I’ve been wanting to wear and slacks from my high school graduation just waiting to be worn!”

—

With all of your finals out of the way, you finally had time to start removing the items from your dorm. One by one you removed posters and trinkets scattered across your end of the room. Pack your clothes into boxes, and save for enough outfits to get you through your two weeks left on campus.

Damian was held up from finishing his art showing, unable to see you in person but he was more than happy with a Facetime call. With both your laptops placed in a space away from disturbing you, the two of you worked on your tasks.

“I do need to be at the showing two hours early,” He tells you as you’re dragging the anti-suicide chairs to the closet, trying to see the top shelf. “But I’ll have arrangements to bring you to the venue.”

“And my outfit is okay?” You ask, the chair wobbling as you stand on it. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But hey, you’re not the one who installed a closet tall enough that only Shaq could see the top. “Because I can always swap out the turtle neck for a green button down— the silk one that Maddison made,” Always gave a fashion designer friend. She had used you as a model for of her projects a couple of months ago and with your measurements being unique to you, let you have it after she’d gotten her grade.

“The button-down would be better suited,” He nods, leaning close to his painting before adding a tiny stroke. “The turtleneck is a little… on the nose.” Leaning back, he checks his reference picture before frowning. It goes away quickly as he picks up a bit of white and dabs it onto a dry brush.

“I was afraid it was,” You laugh, grabbing a first aid kit from the shelf. Listening to him lightly brush the paint over the canvas, you toss the kit onto the bed and grab what little items are scattered up there. “Holy shit! Do you remember when that frat dude lost his frat ring?”

“Unfortunately,” Damian glances at his screen, watching as you haphazardly get down from the chair. Nearly tripping, he wonders how you've made it this far in life without breaking a bone.

“I think I did take it! Look!” Showing the screen, Damian looks almost impressed as you hold up a fraternity ring. It’s a shiny gold, likely fake but engraved with the initials of the Frat house. The two of you remember the guy had been going around to every single campus building with a missing ring poster.

“What a thief,” He chides, setting his brush down and taking a physical step back from the painting. Harsh glares scan over brush strokes, ripping apart his painting bit by bit before he nods to himself. His glare morphs into a soft sort of gaze and he signs the back of it.

“Is that your final painting for the semester?” You ask, the ring forgotten about as it’s tossed in a box of trinkets and you’ve moved on to ordering food. Probably Panda Express. Or maybe Chipotle…. really it’s whatever is closer and cheaper.

“Hopefully,” He sighs through his nose, his paint box clicking shut. “I’ve been drawing and painting these past couple of days. My canvases take up an entire section of the art studio. I’m sure my professor cannot wait for them to dry and get glossed. Which I should probably start doing.”

“How does that taste?” Setting your phone down, Damian’s face goes sour as he looks at you. “Personally, I think the gloss would taste tarty.” You add. “Or maybe like the frosting for Toaster Strudel.” Picking your phone back up, you continue your order.

“Neither is correct.” He blinks. “It’s a toxin and filled with chemicals, it most likely tastes as good as acetone does, Hab—“ He pauses, and you look at him wondering what the issue is. “Habits of tasting chemicals shouldn’t be one you pick up.” He finishes his sentence with a bit of force.

“I just love chemicals. Violin resin is my favorite.” Making a chomping noise Damian huffs. As you’re finishing up your order, you look at him. He’s halfway across campus and judging by the rack of canvases he wheeled over, he won’t be back until well into the night. Eh, it doesn’t hurt to ask. “I’m ordering some food, do you want something?”

“No, thank you, though.” He shakes his head. “I have food from the court in case I get hungry.” He quickly adds. Humming, you place the order and scan over your room. The only things that need to get packed are things you’re still using. Now it’s just a matter of organizing the boxes and bins so you can still move around your room.

“After the glossing, what’re you doing?”

“I have to write short summaries for each painting. No less than one hundred words,” He explains as he’s putting on a pair of latex gloves.

“So, a breeze?” He laughs and nods.

“I’m afraid I’ll go over the word limit,” He admits, sparing you a glance as you’re lugging a box to a corner of your room. “My paintings harbor a lot of my emotions and they’re far from short.”

“Real as fuck.”

—

On the day of his art exhibition, you spend extra time in the bathroom. Making sure your hair is neat, and presentable, fixing your outfit, making sure you don’t stink. Anything and everything you could check over, you did.

This nervous feeling was different from your pre-show nerves. Especially since you don’t even know why you’re nervous. Probably because you’d never actually gotten to see his paintings, at least the ones he was showing. He’d been ultra allusive about those, citing the exhibition would be the best place to view them. But even he was nervous and that’s a lot considering he’s Damian fucking Wayne.

He texted you two minutes ago saying that the car was going to arrive within the next ten minutes and you rushed out to the front of the dorms. No need to lock the door behind you, since your roommate was busy sleeping and would stay in there until you came back. Plucking at your shirt, you watch a sleek black car pull up in front of you, and Damian texts you that the car is there.

The ride is long, far too long for your liking anyway. But considering it’s in the middle of the city, it’s not unwarranted.

The art… museum? What should you call it? The space where the exhibition was being held was a well-known art gallery— that’s the word! The gallery was well respected, talked about within art circles, and incredibly high-brow. Thank fuck you didn’t go with that turtleneck.

There’s a woman in front of the gallery, greeting everyone who enters. She sees you and there’s a flash of recognition across her face.

“It’s great to finally meet Damian’s muse,” She smiles as she shakes your hand.

“His what?” You ask but Damian pulls you inside.

“How was the ride?” He asks, his eyes darting between his professor and you.

“Good but what did she mean?” You ask, looking around to see the other people around. Like your performance, it was open to the public and with Bruce Wayne’s son being in attendance, many people had showed up. Including his family. “Bruce Wayne is here?” Your head whips to Damian as you spot him in the crowd.

“He is my father…” He trails. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Fuck no!” You gasp. “The knowledge of his wealth is burying me as we speak— but this is about you,” Turning to him, you smile. “Where’s your paintings? Those don’t look like your style,” Eyes flicker across the paintings and you can’t see Damian’s strokes, his colors or his lighting in any of them. A sort of pride swells within him, knowing that you’ve looked— studied his art enough to know that the ones around you weren’t his.

“It has its own section,” He tells you, guiding you through groups of people and halls. “It’s going to be revealed in around half an hour. My professor insisted,” He stops at a section of the gallery covered by a curtain and two security guards. You never knew it was that serious, but damn.

“Mr Fancy. Why don’t you catch up with your family? I’ll look around?” In truth, you were going to the nearest bathroom and making sure you didn't look stupid.

“I’m more than certain they’d be more pleased if you accompanied me.” He shakes his head as you raise your eyebrows. “If that’s something you’d be comfortable with, of course.”

“Sure,” Once more, he guides you past people until he spots his father and brother talking in a corner.

“Father, Richard.” He calls as the two of you approach. “This is (Y/n).” Richard’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile, the smile only furthered curbed by his brother's glare.

“Hello,” Waving at the two men, they reach to shake your hand instead. Bruce has a firm grip, probably tighter than it really needed to be but Richard is more than welcoming. He’s more than excited to meet you, although you can’t imagine why.

“My other siblings are still in Gotham,” Damian explains, physically taking Dick’s hand from yours with a pointed look. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t bring Cassandra, father.”

“She’s here,” He shakes his head, glancing around for the mop of black hair. “In the bathroom, probably.”

“Is that her?” You ask, looking at the woman in the corner. She’s standing there, downing a glass of champagne before returning to a conversation with a man. She looks like how Damian had described her, although he downplayed how intimidating she seemed.

“Oh boy,” Dick huffs. “Let me go help her,” Excusing himself, you’re left with Damian and his father. The two of them talking with their eyes.

“So, Damian’s told me you’re a double major,” Bruce breaks the silence and their weird eye conversation. He talks about you? Glancing at Damian, he’s making a point to look anywhere but you. That’s sorta cute— totally not in a romantic way, totally.

“I am,” You nod, wishing a man with drinks would walk past you. “Accounting and a performing arts major.” He hums and there’s another beat of awkward silence.

“From what he tells me, you’re excelling at both. That’s incredibly hard. Do you have any job prospects lined up for when you graduate?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Not yet,” You admit, picking at your hands. “Since I'm not sure where I’d like to settle after I graduate it’s difficult finding places.” Bruce nods, quickly making sure Dick and Cassandra are okay.

“Well, if your grades continue to stay or improve, Wayne Enterprises is always looking for accountants, especially one so esteemed.” He smiles at you, that sort of small smile that makes you feel more relaxed in his presence. A fatherly smile.

“Yeah, praise from Damian is a lot.” Dick grins, leaning his weight on his younger brother. Cassandra agrees, leaning against the wall Bruce was standing in front of. “And he talks about you a ton!”

“That’s enough.” Damian huffs, pushing himself away from Dick who frowns. “Let’s look at some of the artwork,”

“You talk to your family about me?” You grin as he’s hauling you away from his family. He looks at you, clearly licking the inside of his mouth before he blinks and gives one strong nod.

“Of course I do, it would be a shame to hide someone so talented.” He explains and then looks forward, his eyes swimming across the faces around him. “I do believe in your talents and my father is someone who can help them flourish; it would seem awfully cruel if I didn’t at least try.” You go to speak; to thank him but his attention is pulled away by the director of the show.

“It’s time!” She gleams, ushering the two of you after her.

There are already people gathered in front of his top secret exhibit, cameras and people wearing PRESS lanyards like the front and sides. Much like a moth drawn to a flame, they find Damian walking and try to hound him, only to be stopped by his family. They’re far more intimidating now but Damian pulls your attention from them and towards him.

The two of you are in front of the whole crowd, the two guards holding one piece of the curtain and waiting for a cue to open them.

“We welcome everyone to Damian Wayne’s very first art show,” The director says, her hand ghosting over his shoulder. He takes that as a sign to step forward, barely leaving your side as he explains his art.

“Through My Eyes is a collection of various pieces I’ve created over the course of two years,” He explains. “The music that accompanies the art are pieces composed by my muse.” His eyes find yours as the curtains are pulled aside and for the first time, you notice the way he looks at you. The way his eyes never seem to want to leave yours, how he takes you in the same way he takes in the art around him.

Then you hear it. More specifically you hear yourself.

You hear the piece you’d played during your final, hearing your voice fill the spaces where people aren’t talking. Each key, and each note floods your ears as you turn to see his art.

It’s you.

All of it. Each painting, each frame has something of you in it.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, moving to the closest one. It’s a painting of you, wearing clothes you’d only seen in shows like Merlin, holding onto a statue of an angel. It’s almost impossible to not know where the inspiration had come from. After convincing Damian to go exploring with you and some friends, you’d come across a newly abandoned church with a large angel statue. On a dare, you pretended to dance with it.

Sure, you’d seen the picture before but it was nothing compared to the painting. It looked amazing, you had never looked better. Your features were captured in the best way possible, you’d been posed in a way that made it seem as if you were guiding the angel in a dance.

The description catches your eye next.

One Last Dance wasn’t the first drawing of Muse, but it was the first drawing of him that I truly loved. He’d resparked a passion for painting for me. The painting had been on my mind for two weeks before I finally started to work on it, having it become my only focus for the two days that I worked on it became the norm for the next two years of my life.

Muse doesn’t personally care for the Renaissance era, but it seemed fitting for such a painting. The feeling of dressing Muse in modern clothes didn’t ruin the drawing but it didn’t make sense, in my head their dance is accompanied by the sounds of the wings and their feet gliding across the floor. Just outside is probably a mob, unbelievable of a true angel. Muse would probably say that he was dancing to the sounds of Sleep Token and outside was a bunch of ‘angel fuckers’, but who knows.

D.W

The next painting was smaller than the first, but it’s a close-up of your face. Your eyes are wide and you’re desperately pulling at your eyelids as a light twinkles inside of it.

Blinding Gaze came about when Muse had gone to the eye doctor, fearing he was going blind. Turns out he was just extremely stressed to the point of temporary blindness. When we spoke about it, he joked that he was developing powers from that time he drank a sports drink mixed with a crushed-up Tylenol and he could shoot lasers from his eyes. While Blinding Gaze doesn’t follow his original plan of lasers, I imagine developing eye lights could be frightening.

Blinding Gaze isn’t body horror, although I had intended it to be but I couldn’t bring myself to put Muse into that position. Even if it was completely fake. I did eventually remake the painting how I truly envisioned it, but I still prefer my Muse to the remake.

Drifting to the next painting, you see yourself, dressed in your favorite smudged hoodie, dancing amongst the crowd. The people are drowned out in the colors of the background, nearly blending in meanwhile you’re ever so present. The light shone down on you in a way that made you seem like the main character in some movie, all eyes meant to be on you.

A Night To Remember was undoubtedly one of the best moments of college thus far. Muse had been invited to a friend's party and insisted I come instead of remaining in the art room, drowning myself in oils and pastels. Although I’ve put his words in a more friendly manner. I hadn’t wanted to go, the noises and being pressed against unfamiliar faces was hardly something I ever enjoyed. But for Muse, I’d do anything he’d asked of me.

Glued to him for the night, I found myself unreasonably drawn to him. I do not remember the song, in truth, I don’t remember much from that night aside from him. The way he danced, how he looked at me. How he looked in the room. I resented not bringing my sketchbook, but I would’ve been more out of place than I originally had been.

Smoothening your shirt, you take a nervous glance around you. You’re unsure about how you feel, it’s a lot. You’ve never truly thought about Damian in such a light before, at least not to your knowledge. Sure, you’ve written compositions about him and sure, if you read between the lines in some songs they’re definitely about him. You and Him.

Perhaps, without realizing it, you had made him your muse just as he had made you his.

“I want you to see this one,” Damian says as he walks up behind you, finally free of people asking him questions. The music loops as he does and you count that there’s five songs on the set playlist. Each and every song was one you had created. Your song from the previous week plays again as you stare at him, smiling.

“I’m your muse?” You softly ask, unable to remove yourself from the spot until you have gotten your words out. Damian dips his head down for a moment and wipes his nose. “You’re nervous,” The small tease makes his eyes roll and he clears his throat, the red settling from his tanned ears.

“I want you to see this one,” He repeats and grabs your hand, gently guiding you past the people surrounding the room. They look at the two of you, watching as you walk up to a large painting in the center of the room. Clearly a last-minute addition but it seemed to be the focus.

“Woah,” Is all you can say when you see the painting of you during your final. It’s painted in the same style as your favorite art era. The romantic era where colors were soft, even if they were dark. The painting itself had you in the center, a sea of people at the bottom and there are several ghostly figures of yourself, dancing across the stage leaving streaks of yourself at the top. The floor of the stage was covered in candles.

“How long did this take you?” You ask, eyes darting between details and finding new ones each time you look.

“Two days,” He shrugs. Slowly, you look at him and he looks back at you, confused. “I couldn’t sleep until I finished the painting. The way you looked during your final.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s truly beautiful— you’re truly beautiful,” He adds, looking at you.

“When you paint me like that I definitely am,” You laugh, looking back at the painting.

“I only painted you through my lens. Perhaps your eyes aren’t as good as you think they are because the paintings truly do not live up to their references. You’re captivating and the way you’ve consumed my thoughts is honestly intoxicating.” His eyes twinkle as you look at each other. You don’t know what to say, honestly. You can stroke your ego a little, you could crack a joke, or you could bear yourself completely to him. But definitely not in a room filled with people.

“Ah,” Dick breaks the silence. “You know he used to be a junior poet?” Grumbling, Damian looks over at Richard as he’s staring at the painting, sipping sparkling champagne from a flute glass while holding a cracker with cheese and jelly. Gross. Probably, you’ve never had it before.

“I do believe I asked for a moment alone,” Damian gives a half-snarky grin and Dick shrugs.

“A whole lotta people here, doubt you’d be alone.” With a sweeping motion, he gestures to the crowd around you. It’s not elbow-to-elbow crowded but you can hear at least seven conversations happening around you.

“I suppose you’re correct,” He nods, following his brother's line of thinking. “Fresh air?” He asks you and you nod.

There’s a park in front of the exhibit and it’s mostly empty, save for two kids and their parents but they’re clearly about to leave. Damian heads towards the benches but you pull him to the swings. There are three but one of them is tossed over the bar and you don’t feel like fixing it.

Sitting with your back to the exhibit, you look over the trees and the playground. The sandpit with someone’s lost doll sitting down, a bucket behind it.

“What did you think?” He spoke up after a minute had passed. The entire time he watched as you gently rocked back and forth on the swings, tempting yourself to actually swing.

“You’re amazingly talented,” You hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Although, I already knew that. You’re like Michelangelo with everything you pick up.” Glancing at him, you smile when you see his hands. “You still haven’t cleaned the charcoal from your nails.”

“No,” He blinks, his eyes staying closed for a beat longer than a blink. “Not of my skill level, (Y/n). Of the drawings. That you’re Muse.” He looks down at his fingertips and starts to pick at the bits of charcoal. “That you’re my muse.”

Softly you sigh before looking back to the trees.

“What is there to think about? You’re my muse, I'm yours.”

“You’ve written songs about me?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, refusing to look at him. “Which? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Birds of a feather, I wanna be yours, and Golden hour. There’s more but they’re too embarrassing to admit,” Hearing him take a deep breath, you pick at your fingernails and slowly stop swinging.

“What now?” You ask, finally looking at him. He shrugs and starts to slowly swing. He thinks for a moment before he checks his phone.

“When are you free? I can make reservations to—“

“Applebees or Red Lobster,” You cut him off and he looks at you, confused. “Applebees is once every so often, birthdays or celebrations. But Red Lobster? That’s graduation or date.”

“You could’ve gone for a five-star restaurant, you know that, right?” He laughs and you shrug.

“I heard they’re pretty shit. And I want to fuck up a seafood boil. Oh wait,” Blinking, you try to remember the Red Lobster menu. “Never mind, I don’t think they have vegetarian options. We could do Olive Garden or whatever vegetarian places you like. I’m not picky,”

“And I am?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “Friday, at five. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Olive Garden. And then to the movies to watch that new horror movie you’ve been wanting to watch.”

“That sounds perfect,” You nod and nudge your swing into his.

“Can I admit something?” He slowly asks. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward but…” Watching as he licks his lip, you stop swinging. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You nod. Trying not to seem too eager, the both of you stand up and you watch as he raises his hands to cup your face. His fingers are warm, gliding across your skin as you hook one arm around his waist while the other holds his shoulder. “Do you want to lead?” You whisper as he looks at you, unmoving. His eyes dart down to your lips and he nods before closing the distance.

His hands drag a little down your face, his pinky curving under your jaw before moving up into your hair. Slowly the kiss breaks and he dips back down for one quick kiss.

“He’s been waiting months to do that,” Dick announces and Damian groans. You snicker and look behind Damian. Dick isn’t even looking, looking off into the distance before he’s sure that you’re done kissing before looking at the two of you.

“Must he ruin everything?” He whispers to you before facing his brother. “I understand you have no concept of privacy, but this warrants that.” Dick frowns at the rudeness before he shrugs and points his thumb towards the venue.

“They’re asking for you, thought I should come and get you before they spot you.” He explains through a sigh. “Would hate for our little demon’s kiss to end up on the front page. But, yeah,” He sighs and looks over at you. He stares at your face for a moment before he chuckles.

“Take him to the bathroom, you got dust on his face.”

“It’s charcoal.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian al ghul x male reader #damian al ghul x reader

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marlenesluv · 7 months

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Valentine’s Day Special!

Note: Hi, hi!! Happy (late) Valentines Day <3 Here’s some headcannons on Valetines Day with some of my favorite F1 Men! I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Its fluff, but then merges into nsfw, 18+, mdni pls!!

Drivers Included: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen.

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Lando Norris:

♡ Lando is a goofball, and might honestly forget it’s Valentine’s Day until the day before.

♡ But with that time he has, it’ll be so sweet.

♡ From waking up to breakfast, to going shopping, cuddling on the couch, and a nice dinner.

♡ No, he hasn’t had many girlfriends, but with the amount of rom-come you guys watch, he knows how to treat you.

♡ You’ll probably end up watching ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and both of you quoting it.

♡ Naturally, Lando is going to want to show you how much he loves you.

♡ The way you go to all the races you can, you support him, and love him infinitely.

♡ Lando also can’t stand your dress you wore to dinner. The slit on the side drives him crazy. And don’t even get him started on your neck. The way your hair was up made your neck easily accessible.

♡ But through and through, in my opinion, Lando is a tits guy. So, obviously, he’s going to all but rip your dress off.

♡ Hickies everywhere. They litter your neck, chest, stomach, and hips. And you can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.

♡ Lando can, and will if you let him, eat you out for hours. His jaw might go sore and his tongue may grow tired, but don’t think that means he’ll be stopping.

♡ He’s relentless. He wont stop till you’ve came about five times on his tongue.

♡ Don’t even think about “repaying” him for it. He’ll roll his eyes, “Tonight is about you, babe.”

♡ Lando isn’t rough, not tonight at least. He’s passionate and slow, letting you know how much you mean to him.

♡ It’s praise city, babe.

♡ “There you go, good job, baby.”

♡ “That’s my girl.”

♡ “Feel’s s’good, babe.”

♡ He makes sure you finish first, and the aftercare is top tier. It always is, but tonight he’s doing even more for you.

♡ The normal: water, snack, clean up, and cuddles.

♡ But tonight is extra plus all that: movie, bubble bath, massage, kisses, and candles.

♡ And when you show up to the track…let’s just say Oscar is scarred and a little concerned that his teammate is a vampire…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Oscar Piastri:

♡ An absolute sweetheart 24/7.

♡ Spoiled you with gifts, 100%.

♡ And the detail for the gifts is incredible.

♡ Those shoes you mentioned two months ago? He bought them. The museum you wanted to go to? Already planned that vacation. Wanted to go to a concert? The front row tickets are there.

♡ He just loves you so much, one of his love languages is gift giving, I just know it.

♡ Even if Oscar was originally busy that day, he’s sorted his schedule because he just wants to spend time with you.

♡ Oscar is such loving person, he’s smothering you with cuddles all day.

♡ Seems like the type to reserve the whole side of your favorite area in your favorite restaurant.

♡ Even if you guys have to fly to France for your favorite food, he will.

♡ Maybe book a nice hotel room, he prefers it we’re soundproof though.

♡ And of course one of those gifts was a red lace lingerie set. It has little hearts, pretty trim, and seeing you in it after dinner is all he needs to die happy.

♡ He’s on you in seconds, hovering over you while you lay in the bed.

♡ Oscar treats you like a porcelain doll. He’s so careful with the set and your body. Not only does he not want to hurt you, but he wants to take his time.

♡ There’s no rush. Neither of you have anywhere to be, so why not enjoy it?

♡ Also praise city.

♡ “So pretty, love.”

♡ “Look at you, you’re dripping.”

♡ But he’s such a gentleman. He’s going to finish you off before he even thinks about himself.

♡ Oscar is way too sweet for his own good, he doesn’t even cum until you get down on your knees for him.

♡ Even then, he’s still worried about your pleasure.

♡ But afterwards, he’s helping you to the jacuzzi in the hotel. Bubbles and candles with the lights down low.

♡ Also some red wine he ordered and chocolates.

♡ He’s a romantic, obviously.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Charles Leclerc:

♡ Charles is so down bad for you.

♡ He wakes you up with coffee and breakfast…sure Joris had to come over to help, but it’s the thought that counts!

♡ To me, Charles is a mega quality time kind of guy.

♡ He will go to The Louvre with you, literally the whole day, and not complain once.

♡ He’s carrying your purse and water as you talk his ear off about the paintings.

♡ Charles honestly wouldn’t have Valentine’s Day any other way. He loves hearing you talk so passionately about the things you love.

♡ Plus, it’s the least he can do. You support him in every way possible!

♡ Then he’s taking you to lunch and shopping.

♡ Everything you see goes in the cart. He doesn’t care what you say.

♡ He will probably take you biking on sunset. A nice ride in Monaco while you guys talk and enjoy the nature.

♡ After you guys go biking, you’ll go back home. And while you were out, he asked Joris to pickup a few things from the store.

♡ He made a list of all of your favorite snacks and drinks.

♡ So when you get back, snacks are on the island, and a movie is set up on the tv.

♡ Yeah, Charles had to bribe Joris, but the look on your face was worth it.

♡ During the movie, you can’t help but try to get even closer to Charles.

♡ “Charles, it’s cold in here.”

♡ Insert cheesy sex by the fireplace.

♡ He’s also, like the other guys, very concerned with your pleasure.

♡ Also very praising, like seriously.

♡ “There you go, ma chéri. Taking me so well aren’t you?”

♡ And this man’s stamina is unmatched.

♡ Sleep? Yeah, forget it. He’ll be making you cum till the sun comes up.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Daniel Ricciardo:

♡ Daniel is obviously taking you on some extensive vacation for the span of Valentines week.

♡ Oh, yeah, not just Valentine’s day, no no, week.

♡ You guys go to France, because “it’s the most romantic place in the world, babe!”

♡ And he’s just so happy with himself.

♡ He planned the whole week out. From museums and shops, to tours and dinners and a thousand activities.

♡ Your feet might be sore, but Daniel will probably pay for new, comfortable shoes. Like Hooka’s. Because you only brought dress shoes. How were you supposed to know?!

♡ Daniel makes Valentine’s day even better than the week itself.

♡ Obviously, he’s made coffee for you two, and takes you out on the hotel balcony…..

♡ And Daniel comes up with idea…”Let’s just fuck right here.”

♡ And you agree “Ok.”

♡ Then you end up back against the railings and Daniel eating you out, “Be as loud as you want, honey. No one will hear you.” Which is a lie, but you don’t care.

♡ And his beard scruff rubbing on your thighs? Okay but it’s hot?

♡ Then he pretends like that didn’t happen when you’re in the elevator going down to see the city.

♡ Of course Daniel prepared and reserved a whole boat for dinner…what did you expect?

♡ He keeps telling you how much he loves you, how lucky he is to have you and how you support him.

♡ He’s a certified gusher, for sure.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Carlos Sainz:

♡ Carlos is just…he’s Carlos, so expect the most.

♡ Rose’s on the bed when you come home from work on the night before Valentine’s Day.

♡ When you wake up the next morning, the whole house is cleaned and he made a feast for breakfast. Of course he made his fluffy pancakes!

♡ His idea of a perfect day though? Relaxing at home.

♡ It’s something that you guys don’t do much due to your jobs.

♡ So the whole day is spent in pajamas, watching Game of Thrones while cuddling.

♡ Throughout the day, Carlos randomly ate you out on the couch, to which you gave him head in the kitchen, which led to sex in the bedroom and the poolside, which then led to shower sex…yeah, a lot of sex.

♡ But you guys never do this! Its always in the driver room, or a hotel, or his car, yes his car.

♡ And it’s nice to finally be able to spend time alone in your house.

♡ Carlos then makes a large dinner, too much food but he just wants to make all your favorites.

♡ He also bought you jewelry, even though you guys agreed no gifts this year..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Max Verstappen:

♡ At first glance, one might not think that Max would really be into Valentines, but they are certainly wrong.

♡ Max loves Valentine’s Day. He loves showing you how much he loves you and buying you gifts.

♡ You wake up to a box where Max usually sleeps. When you open it, you find a soft robe that has a tage that says “wear me to the kitchen” so you do.

♡ “goodmorning, schat. i made eggs and toast!” and he’s so happy when he pours you a cup of coffee and gives you your food.

♡ He’s kissing you all damn day. On the cheek, forehead, lips, hand, anywhere he can that is socially appropriate.

♡ Max takes you shopping and pays for everything, even though you try to literally rip the card from his fingers to stop him, “unless you’re taking it to buy more things somewhere else, hands off.”

♡ He pays for your coffee, lunch, books, massage, and even dinner.

♡ “stop buying me things, max! i feel bad.”

♡ “for what? i just want to spoil my girl.”

♡ You eventually stop complaining. you really are grateful though. and you prove it for sure.

♡ He didn’t expect you to all but tear his jeans off to give him head as soon as you got home.

♡ “Ah, shit, liefde- oh my god.”

♡ “There you go, shit, taking all of me, hm?”

♡ Let’s be real, we all know you won’t be walking the next morning.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated!^-^)

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