𝐍𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞´𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

In the 1950s, the Wayne family arrives at their new home on the outskirts of Gotham City. As the family settles in, the children—Dick and Jason—seek adventure and cause trouble while their mother tries to keep the house standing for the visit of special guests, all while also trying to hide her magical abilities.

Can they get through the first day of their new life while the father of the family is away on business?

chapters: 1 (you are there) - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - epilogue.

English is not my first language, please be patient. Update 1/25/2025: I did a review and correction of this chapter because I was starting to feel embarrassed, and it seems that you like this story because today I receive notifications of the publications. So I'm going to do a review of all the parts so that if you reread it, it will hurt your eyes less. Thank you very much for the love and I hope to improve with these corrections!!!

WORDS: 7243

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

You looked at your youngest son, Jason, smiling at you from under one of the trees on the new property your family had just moved into. You smiled back at him, genuinely happy, and held out your arms to him. The little five-year-old ran to you immediately.

That tree—you had to get him away from that tree.

“Mom, this new house is huge,” the boy said happily as you rested him on your hip, without worrying about ruining the neat ironing of your beautiful dress.

“It is,” you began. “Your father and I learned our lesson about you and your brother's incompatibility with small yards after the Halloween fire incident,” you explained, and the audience laughed at the past antics of the Wayne children. Jason smiled innocently as he thought about the incident, even if he didn't remember it. He had been very young at the time—surely that was why. “So, your father made sure there was plenty of room for both of you to run around in this new house.” You turned on the spot, starting to walk toward the house.

The scene changed, and you both appeared walking in through the kitchen door immediately. You walked over to the island and sat Jason there. He immediately reached over to grab the glass cookie jar in the center of the surface, eager to eat one of Alfred's famous cookies.

“Don’t eat too many of those, young Master,” the butler said as he appeared from an unidentified door. You smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason. “Tonight, we have guests, and I’m preparing some of the family’s favorite dishes,” the man commented while confiscating the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his appearance for him to eat.

You frowned in confusion.

“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.

“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne. Do you remember, ma’am?” the butler questioned before leaving through the door that led to the living room, without waiting for an answer.

You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face as if deep in thought. Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your expression, prompting laughter and tender sighs from the audience. Seeing him, you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.

“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nope,” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, eliciting even more tenderness from the audience. You couldn’t help but feel a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek, and your son just laughed happily at your actions.

Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you. The scene momentarily blinded the audience before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler and causing him to smile.

“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then,” you said, resting your hands on your hips and sighing dramatically. “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.

“Don’t eat too many of those, young Master,” the butler said as he appeared from an unidentified door. You smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason. “Tonight, we have guests, and I’m preparing some of the family’s favorite dishes,” the man commented while confiscating the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his arrival for him to eat.

You frowned in confusion.

“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.

“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne. Do you remember, ma’am?” the butler questioned before leaving through the door that led to the living room, without waiting for an answer.

You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face as if deep in thought. Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your expression, prompting laughter and tender sighs from the audience. Seeing him, you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.

“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nope,” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, eliciting even more tenderness from the audience. You couldn’t help but feel a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek, and your son just laughed happily at your actions.

Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you. The scene momentarily blinded the audience before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler and causing him to smile.

“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then,” you said, resting your hands on your hips and sighing dramatically. “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Wayne,” the butler commented, walking over to you and standing behind you to begin pushing you towards the door where Jason had disappeared with his cookie. “I’ll take care of everything, and nothing will go wrong tonight. You just relax and spend some time with young master Jason.” When he reached the door, Alfred stopped pushing, expecting you to make it the rest of the way out of the kitchen alone, but you turned around and insisted.

“You don’t want any magical help; it will be easier this way. Besides, I already have my apron on,” you said, smiling and pointing at your outfit while making a gesture to emphasize your powers at the same time.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred said as he pushed you through the kitchen door.

You walked out with a push, but as you crossed the threshold, you didn’t stumble; instead, you walked calmly into an unmarked hallway and entered the living room. You looked back, confused by the strange change, but all doubt was erased from your mind when you saw your little one sitting in front of the television in one of the armchairs. You sighed loudly.

“That man has always been very territorial about his kitchen,” you commented, and the audience laughed. As you walked toward the armchair, Jason looked at you when he heard you approaching. “Jason Peter Wayne,” you exclaimed without any aggression, more amused by the chocolatey mess on your son's face than angry. He looked at you with puppy eyes in response. “My little boy and his precious chocolate cookies,” you said accusingly. With a dramatic gesture of both hands, Jason's face was clean again, the crumbs on his lap and the armchair disappeared, all accompanied by a sound of bells to represent magic.

“My mother and her magical magic,” the child said mischievously, prompting the audience to laugh again as you shook your head at his behavior, not stopping to look at him lovingly. You had missed him, which was strange because you didn't remember being separated from him much since he had come to you.

“Jason, honey,” you began, realizing that something was missing from the scene. “Do you have any idea where your brother went?” you asked, suddenly worried about the fate of your eldest son.

“I saw him looking for his comics in his new room a while ago,” Jason answered, and at that instant, a knock was heard, followed by a childish cry. Alfred appeared down the hall, attracted by the noise, while you quickly marched towards the threshold on the other side of the room, leaving Jason with the butler behind.

You entered a sort of entrance hall, featuring the main door of the house, some decorative furniture, and a coat rack with four coats perfectly hung—one for each member of the family, the largest being Bruce’s. Bruce was on a business trip. On the other side of the threshold were stairs leading to the second floor, where you found your eldest son, his comic book abandoned at the foot of the last step, and him curled up with a bleeding knee a little higher up.

“Dikie, my dear,” you quickly approached him, crouching down in front of him while you examined his wound. “What happened?” you asked while sitting next to him to hug him against your side. Seeing that his crying did not stop with your presence, he did not answer immediately and kept sobbing. “Alfred!” you called, not too loudly because it was not necessary, and it worked. Immediately, Alfred crossed the threshold through which you had just come. “Bring the first aid kit,” you told him, and he nodded before disappearing again.

While all this was happening, Dick's mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. He didn’t understand the world around him, its size, and its lack of colors. Why had he been running up the stairs in the first place? He couldn't remember, and that scared him. Contradictory ideas of what had happened crossed his mind until he finally saw the comic lying at the foot of the stairs, and it occurred to him.

“I-I found my—my comic and…” he began to say between sobs, but he was unable to finish piecing together the events of the day. Realizing this, you decided to finish the sentence for him while you caressed his hair affectionately.

“And so much excitement in one day made you decide to run down the stairs?” you asked, and the boy pulled away from you to nod as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his extremely expensive wool sweater.

“My knee hurts,” he commented with a soft voice, looking where his hand was, which was where he assumed there must be a wound. As if summoned by his words, Alfred appeared with a small medicine briefcase.

“Here you are, Mrs. Wayne,” he said as he handed you the object, which you were sure was red but wasn't.

"Let's see what we have here," you said, and as you opened it, you found just what you needed: a bandage with drawings of birds. "Perfect," you said, smiling as you left the now-empty suitcase to proceed to put the bandage on the wound. Dick didn’t see any blood or a wound at all; his mother wouldn’t let him get hurt. Still, he went along with the story and looked at his mother.

You were beautiful. He had always thought you were the prettiest mother in the world, along with… another person. His father couldn’t agree more, and if he saw you now, he would probably drool, which he and Jason made fun of him for. Jason, his little brother.

What had happened to Jason?

As if Dick's thought were an alarm, the little boy with curly hair and a cheerful smile entered through the same doorway Alfred had come through, looking at his brother with a worried expression. A sudden wave of relief washed over Dick because Jason was there, safe and sound, walking quickly toward him when he saw that his older brother was distraught. But it was strange to see him like that, so young, that for a moment he wondered if it was really Jason. But looking into his eyes, it was unmistakable that this five-year-old boy was his younger brother. There was no doubt.

"Are you feeling better, Dikie?" you asked affectionately when you noticed how your older son’s body relaxed when his younger brother appeared in the room. You mentally chastised yourself for not having brought him earlier; surely Dick had been worried that his brother was okay. You caressed his back as you looked at him carefully.

"I..." Dick was silent for a moment. He looked at you and then at his little brother, and then he realized something. "I'm fine. Everything is fine, Mom," he finally said, looking at you, feeling completely comfortable being there and happier than he had been in a long time.

You smiled at your son when you realized that the three of you were finally together, with Alfred watching from the doorway with a mixture of emotions that he didn’t let you see.

Dinner was underway; Alfred, as always, was on time for the arrival of the guests, while you were in Jason's room, helping him finish putting on his elegant sweater for the occasion. Dick came through the door already fully dressed. The eight-year-old boy didn’t need your help getting dressed, but no doubt you had helped him choose his clothes—that’s how you always did.

“Mom,” Dick called while in his brother's room, somewhat confused by the situation but not letting that feeling of relief and heady calm go. He liked that feeling.

“Yes, honey?” you turned around, causing the new dress you had put on for the occasion to flourish in the air with elegance. As soon as you laid eyes on your eldest son, you had to contain a small “aww” at how cute your little man looked. “Look at you, my little bird.” You approached him, bending down to adjust his jacket so he could hide the suspenders, leaving only a little of the shirt visible. “One day you are going to be a heartbreaker,” you commented, wrinkling your nose with tenderness.

“Mom,” Dick grumbled sheepishly, looking down as his cheeks turned pink, though no one could see the color yet.

“Is Dick going to be a jar breaker?” Jason asked from where he was sitting on the bed, causing the audience to laugh.

"No, Jaybird," Dick began, turning away from his mother and walking over to his brother's bed to sit next to him. "Heartbreaker, as in hearts," he explained patiently as Jason watched him intently, hanging on every word his older brother said. It reminded Dick of when he used to look at him while they both... they used to...

"That means," you sat across from Jason, watching as your son left his place inside his mind to return to the moment, "that your brother will have a lot of girlfriends and boyfriends one day," you explained to him while you tucked a rebellious strand that had fallen on the forehead of your youngest son back in its place.

"Is that good?" he asked, confused. "Because Alfred always gets mad when we break his jars." The innocent tone caused the audience, you, and Dick to laugh. As they did, Dick remembered why he had gone to find his mom in the first place.

“Mother?” he asked. You stopped laughing and gave him that look you always give when you want to say: Tell me anything. You can tell me anything and ask any question without fear. “What's so important today?” he asked curiously.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as you put your hands on your lap, thinking about what to say because the truth is you weren't very sure what tonight's dinner was about. “Well, it's a very important dinner for your father,” you commented with confidence.

“Why is this dinner important to Dad?” Jason asked, now concentrating on the reason for the conversation because he wanted to know too. He puzzled you with the question as well, because you weren't too sure either.

“Well, your father invited some very important people to dinner,” you stated as confidently as you could. If you showed that you didn't know what was going on, your children would panic, and you wanted them to feel safe. They were safe as long as they were there with you.

“Who are the guests?” Jason asked, immediately followed by his older brother.

“And why are they so important?” Dick spoke. Jason nodded at his brother's question, showing his approval.

“Well…” you weren't sure what to say.

“Is it for a birthday?” Jay asked.

“No, it's not anyone's birthday,” you clarified, more to yourself than to the children, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle before explaining to your children the importance of the occasion.

“Is it an anniversary?” Dick asked now.

“No, it's not that either,” you said, putting your hand to your chin while you thought. The audience laughed.

“A holiday?” the elder asked again.

“Is it because of the ‘adult business’?” Jason asked, disappointed. He hated the adult business meetings they had when Bruce was home, and immediately a light went on in his head.

“Yes,” you said, happily soothing, looking back at the children. “It's certainly a business meeting, so you must behave yourselves.” You bent down and finished arranging your youngest son's hair. “Okay?” You looked at them seriously; your children had a habit of getting into trouble when these meetings happened, mainly because they were bored.

“Yes, Mom,” they both said in chorus, which brought a smile to your face. 

“Okay,” you finished the conversation about dinner. “Dick, can you help your brother put on his shoes while I go prepare the table for our guests?” you asked, and the boy silently nodded in response. “Perfect, I'll see you when you're ready,” you said as you left the room.

Dick and Jason stood there in silence for a moment. Dick wasn't sure what to do, first because he didn't know where you kept Jason's shoes, and second because he felt lost without you there; you were the main story of the show, so he wasn't sure what was next. Jason was the one who would be in charge of guiding him quickly.

“Dick,” called the younger brother.

“Yes, Jason?” asked Dick, somewhat confused by the mischievous gleam in his little brother's eyes.

“I saw Alfred go with the cookie jar back to the kitchen to hide it,” he began, as a smile spread across his face. Dick smiled back as he nodded at the silent implication of that phrase. He now knew what they must do.

In the dining room, a room with a large window facing the patio and a table with eight chairs, you used your magic to make the plates fly to the table, followed by the utensils and the wine glasses. You were preparing only five places at the table because Alfred had insisted on not being part of the dinner tonight so that he could attend to the important guests in the best possible way, and you were not one to argue against the butler's wishes.

You had barely convinced him to let you set the table for dinner. He was very adamant that you should spend time with your kids for some reason; he probably just wanted to rest from the stressful move. Yes, it was probably just that.

DING DONG.

“The guests are here,” you said to yourself, making sure to place the last flowers in the vase on the head table. They were white roses, and then you smoothed down the front of your dress before walking into the room.

You were nervous because you still didn't know who these guests were and what they wanted, but you were confident that if Bruce had sent them, it would be fine. So, you smiled as you entered the entrance hall to receive the couple. It was a plump, white-haired couple in their fifties, but they seemed to be in good shape, and particularly the woman looked like she had a lot of energy; her print dress complemented her image. The man seemed serious, like all businessmen; he didn't even smile when you greeted him and invited them to sit in the living room while dinner finished preparing.

“It's a pleasure to have you here, Mr. and Mrs…” you paused in your sentence when you realized that you didn't know the names of your guests.

“Mr. Hart and I are very happy to be the first guests invited to your new home, Mrs. Wayne,” Mrs. Hart replied as everyone sat on the couch.

“Where is Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Hart asked seriously. “You can't have a business dinner if the businessman isn't in the house,” he complained, waving his arms around to show the room. You laughed nervously at his insistence; he wasn't the first person that day to ask where Bruce was and make you uncomfortable for some reason.

“Well, my beloved husband had a last-minute business trip,” you started explaining. “But he left me and our children in charge to receive you for dinner,” you said, smiling and trying not to show your lack of certainty about the totality of the situation.

“Oh, the Wayne kids!” Mrs. Hart exclaimed dreamily. “I'm so excited to meet you!” She took your hands and squeezed them comfortingly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Alfred had gone to the dining room to set up the table with the appetizers, leaving the place unattended where two small pairs of feet entered without making much noise with a precise aim: to cause trouble.

“I adore children, even though Mr. Hart and I never had our own,” the woman explained wistfully, looking at her husband, who instead of sharing his story was looking around with a frown. But she paid no attention to him and continued talking to you.

In the kitchen, Dick was helping his younger brother up onto the counter next to the stove, where a pot of hot soup was ready to be served. Once Jason was firmly on his feet, he quickly took it upon himself to climb up as well to stand next to him, and they began opening the cabinets for cookies.

“Tell me: What are their names? And how old are they?” Mrs. Hart asked, excited about the topic of conversation.

“My oldest son is Richard, but everyone calls him Dick,” you started to explain.

“Children can be cruel,” Mr. Hart commented candidly, and the audience laughed. The joke took you by surprise, but you decided to ignore it and continue.

“He's eight years old; he'll be nine in December,” you continued. “And Jason, he'll be six in August,” you finished with a smile, thinking about how your youngest son would be another year older.

Dick opened one of the cabinets on the stove, stood on tiptoe as he maneuvered the cabinet door open, and peered inside for the cookie jar, but he began to lose his balance just as Alfred set the appetizers down on the table and started on his way to the living room to announce that dinner was ready.

“They sound adorable; I can't wait to meet them!” Mrs. Hart enthused.

"They are adorable, and they are very good kids too," you said with a bright smile.

BAAM.

Dick ended up losing his balance while trying to close the cupboard door again, and the pot of soup crashed to the floor, staining the entire kitchen with its creamy texture, including your two children, who were now covered in food, ruining their clothes and staining their faces.

“Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred called, successfully hiding his concern, which you couldn't do very well because, at the sound, your eyes widened at the multiple scenarios running through your head about what could have caused the noise.

“Yes, Alfred?” you answered with a small voice.

“What was that?” Mr. Hart asked irritably.

“I think it's time to guide our guests to the table and go find the young masters,” he commented calmly, to which you quickly jumped out of your chair.

“YES!” you yelled. “Great idea, Alfred.” You turned to the guest couple, who looked more than confused. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, follow Alfred into the dining room and enjoy the appetizers while I go find the kids, who I'm sure are somewhere in the house being on their best behavior,” you said, and the audience laughed.

“Everything is alright?” Mrs. Hart asked as you left the room.

“Yes, yes, everything is in order; nothing to worry about,” you answered a little too quickly before running out of the room.

Jason and Dick looked at each other, knowing that nothing good could come of this. But when they tried to get down, the younger one slipped on the soup that had stained the counter under his feet. Dick rushed to try to catch him, but he also slipped on the ground. As both children fell, all their weight rested on the refrigerator, which, in turn, tipped sideways to hit a piece of furniture that fell forward and pushed another piece of furniture full of fine china that fell sideways, causing the door to lock and letting all the plates and glasses crash to the floor, creating even more noise.

CRASH.

You leaned your whole body against the door as you reached it, only to find that it wouldn't open in the slightest; something was blocking it.

“Boys?” you called through the door. “Boys, are you there?” you asked.

“Here we are, Mom, and we're fine,” said Dick from his place still on the counter. They couldn't get down now; the floor was not only slippery but also covered in sharp glass. He wouldn't risk Jason getting hurt.

“We tried Alfred's soup,” Jason said. “It's delicious.” The audience laughed, but you were anything but amused by the situation.

“Oh dear,” you sighed, visualizing your children covered in soup at a less-than-opportune moment. “Why can't I open the door?” You tried to push, but whatever was blocking your way was too heavy for you.

“A large piece of furniture fell in front of the door, and the floor is full of glass. We can't get close,” Dick explained regretfully. They didn't want to cause such a mess; they just wanted the cookies, and they hadn't even found them.

“What happened?” Alfred asked, coming to your side.

“A piece of furniture is blocking the door, the soup is on the floor, and the crockery has now turned into very expensive confetti,” you quickly explained, turning to look at him.

“Okay, Mrs. Wayne, it's time to use your magic and solve this problem,” he said.

“But you don't like magic being used in your kitchen,” you replied, confused.

“Considering that the crockery has been smashed, the soup is used as a rug, and the young masters are still trapped in there, if we don't open the door right now, there probably won't be any kitchen to take care of tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne,” he explained quickly, and that made perfect sense to you.

“Good point,” you said. The audience laughed as you got into position to use your magic, but when you moved your hands, nothing happened. You tried again, and still nothing happened. “It doesn't work,” you repeated the movement in a desperate attempt, but again nothing happened. “What's going on!?” you asked desperately.

“I told you to rest today, Mrs. Wayne; it's probably the stress,” Alfred said quickly, consoling you.

“Oh, this is not good,” you said.

“Ms. Wayne?” Mrs. Hart yelled from the dining room.

“Just a second,” you replied with a fake cheerful tone before looking back at the butler. “What are we going to do?” you asked.

“Don't worry; I'll look for the keys to the door that leads to the patio while you distract the guests,” Alfred said and walked in the opposite direction. You went to follow him, but you realized that you had to go the other way, so you turned to walk to the dining room. The audience laughed.

In the living room, you sat at the table with the guests, starting to eat the appetizers. They tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Mr. Hart was suspicious, and it was clear by the way he looked at you. His wife was more than happy to ignore it. 

“And the children?” Mrs. Hart asked as she bit into one of her meatloaf pies.

“Oh, they're finishing up their toys before they eat,” you explained as you finished pouring some wine into your glass.

“But you should eat first,” said Mrs. Hart sweetly.

“Nonsense, my dear,” interrupted Mr. Hart. “Two children with a father not present for business; these two need a steady hand, or they will become good for nothing. It's fair: if they don't pick up their toys, they don't eat.” He stuffed a whole canapé into his mouth roughly.

“I wouldn't say they don't eat,” you defended. “But if you have to order before eating because they definitely won't do it later, they always get sleepy.” You finished explaining and drank from your glass of wine. “Also, most of the time, they are very well-behaved children,” you added.

“Most of the time?” questioned Mr. Hart suddenly.

Alfred entered the room quietly. He passed behind you, giving you a meaningful look: you had to keep distracting the Harts because he still hadn't found the key.

“Well, they are children; you know how they are,” you commented, laughing, but the serious face of Mr. Hart told you that the man did not enjoy jokes much, so you continued, “All children have their moments of curiosity.” Alfred walked out of the room back into the hallway. “And that curiosity can get to—” BAM! CRASH! The butler had to use force to pry open a particularly jammed drawer. “Accidents; something always ends up breaking.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called as he stood in the doorway.

“Yes, Alfred?” you yelled, unable to stop looking at Mr. Hart, who was watching you suspiciously.

“The young masters want you to confirm that their toys are tidy and that they are free to sit down to dinner,” he said neutrally, but you knew right away what he meant.

“Of course, you have to see those toys,” you joked as you got up from the table.

“Make sure it's neatly arranged in alphabetical order,” demanded Mr. Hart, and you couldn't help but give him a look for that.

“Don't talk nonsense,” his wife told him. “Go find them,” he told you happily. “I can't wait to meet those little angels,” he encouraged you.

“I'll do that,” you answered with the same enthusiasm and walked down the hall with Alfred until you reached the kitchen door.

“The keys to the patio door are nowhere to be found,” he began to explain, “and I'm afraid the cabinet is too stuck in front of the door to try to push it.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” you started to babble.

“Mrs. Wayne, you need to calm down,” Alfred requested.

“The children are locked in the kitchen, along with the food, and our guests are waiting in the dining room,” you pointed out. “I think it's a good time for a little panic, Alfred.”

“Panic is not going to get us out of this situation,” Alfred pointed out, which caught your attention, and you looked at him, but the man ignored you. “Getting the children out requires us to be focused,” he clarified, and you decided to ignore his mistake; it wasn't that serious.

“Maybe one of the windows,” you suggested hopefully.

“No, they were all closed,” he said.

“Mrs. Wayne!!” you heard Mrs. Hart as she got up from her chair and walked toward you in a suitably slow manner.

“Oh no,” you groaned in anguish. “We need an entrance, an entrance, an entrance to the kitchen.” As if they were connected, you and Alfred looked at each other as the solution came to your mind.

“The unidentified door!!” you both yelled and started running.

As you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, you suddenly found yourselves walking through the unmarked door into the kitchen, which Alfred had appeared through that morning, just like that. You still didn't know what the point of the door was, but you were thankful for it because Mrs. Hart was coming to the door.

“Ms. Wayne,” called the woman, dangerously close to the door. You ran to the opposite side of the covered door and approached your children. “Where are they?” She was almost in front of the door, so you made a quick movement with your hands: the soup disappeared from the floor and returned to its place in the pot, the children's clothes were cleaned, as were their faces, and both furniture and glass returned to their places in the expensive crockery that Bruce had inherited from his parents. Mrs. Hart came through the door at that moment to find you carrying your youngest son on your hip, Dick sitting innocently on the island, and Alfred stirring the soup. “Here you are,” she exclaimed.

“Here we are,” you said, smiling. You lowered Jason from your hip and grabbed his hand. “Alfred,” the man looked at you, “it's time to serve the main course to our guests.” 

“Right away, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred answered calmly and you shared a knowing look before he answered.

At the dining room table, the end of the table was left empty because it was Bruce's place, while you, Dick, and Jason sat on one side, in that order, with the invited couple seated across from you, Mr. Hart directly opposite you.

“Well,” Mrs. Hart said as she put her napkin on her lap, while Alfred poured juice for the children. “Where do you come from? How long have you and Mr. Wayne been married? And do you plan to have more children?” she asked, beginning to taste the soup, hitting you with her questions closely one after the other.

“Oh,” you laughed, “Bruce and I have been together for so long it feels like we've always been this way.” You paused, “And we come from…” you were at a loss. “We come from…” you didn't know.

“We come from another city,” said Dick. “From…” he was cut off, bewildered, but he quickly looked at you for help, surely you knew. “What was the name of the city, Mom?” he asked you, curious.

“The city, of course,” you said, trying to start your sentence again. “We come from…” Again, you had nothing; that made no sense.

“AND?” asked Mr. Hart, frustrated. You looked at him and tried to smile to appear normal, but you quickly lost it, and he noticed.

“Let them think, dear. They are putting together their story,” Mrs. Hart defended, smiling sweetly as Alfred poured him more wine. At that moment, you looked at him, but he didn't look at you; he was suddenly serious, with a lost look as he poured his glass, and he seemed tense.

“Our story, yes, of course,” you continued, again trying to get back on track. “We come from, from a city, from…” You failed again.

“Where from?” asked Mr. Hart, flustered.

“Arthur, leave the poor woman alone,” Mrs. Hart scolded him, eating quickly, her tone sweet, but in her posture, there was something else; she was not calm or happy as she wanted to seem.

“Why?” her husband defended himself. “It's a perfectly normal and simple question: Where do they come from?” The table fell silent; for a few seconds, no one moved or made a sound. “Damn it. Where does it come from?” He slammed the table roughly, making the plates jump. Dick looked at him; he could hear the anger in his voice and even fear, but he didn't understand why. “What do you want? What do you want—” His words were cut off, as was his breath. You watched him intently as he brought his hands to his throat; he was choking.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it,” his wife said naturally, her tone not losing the cheerful and casual air it had until now, but Arthur Hart kept choking, and nobody made a move, not even you. Only Jason kept eating his soup. Your eldest son looked at the guest, confused. Dick felt that he should do something, but he also felt he shouldn't at the same time. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart repeated. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” She stopped looking at her husband when he fell to the ground, very close to the feet of Alfred, who looked at the situation without leaving his place, with the wine jug in hand. You looked at him, and he looked at you this time; he seemed worried, even anguished and fearful. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart looked at you this time; she was talking to you. “Stop it,” she repeated.

“Mom,” Dick called worriedly when he saw that the guest's pleas were directed at you now. He grabbed your hand on the table to try to get your attention, but he kept looking between Mrs. Hart and the drowning man on the floor.

“Mrs. Wayne,” this time it was Alfred who called you. “Mrs. Wayne” was a silent request.

“Please, stop it,” Mrs. Hart continued. A buzzing invaded your ears; suddenly, two unknown voices filled your ears. What they were talking about was inescapable, but they were close because their minds were connected.

“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called you with more urgency.

“Mama,” Dick called, shaking your hand at the same time, but the voices had your full attention. You wanted to know who they were and what they were up to.

“Mommy.” Suddenly, the voices were forgotten. Dick and Mrs. Hart fell silent. You looked at your youngest son, who was looking at you, confused by the situation, and you immediately reacted.

“Alfred, help him,” you said seriously, the butler quickly putting down the wine pitcher and proceeding to help the man on the ground, quickly getting him to spit out the piece of meat that had been stuck in his airway. Mr. Hart gasped for air as he started to try to get up quickly. In a hurry, Alfred helped him to his feet.

“Careful, Mr.” he said as they both finished standing in their places.

Mr. Hart finished standing up and ran his hands over his jacket, lost for a second and not knowing what he was doing, but quickly found the watch on his wrist and looked at it.

“Look at the time,” he said matter-of-factly. “We'd better head home.” He pointed and smiled, suddenly becoming more likable than he had been throughout dinner.

“You're right, dear,” Mrs. Hart agreed in her well-pitched, sing-song tone. “It was a pleasure meeting you all,” she commented as you and your children stood up from your seats. She approached you friendly, and you took a few steps to meet her halfway. “Your children are adorable, Mrs. Wayne, and your house is charming,” she stated before giving you an impromptu hug, which you returned.

“Tell Mr. Wayne I can't wait to do business with him,” Mr. Hart said, smiling as you separated from his wife and walked over to shake his hand. “And you two behave, young men,” he motioned to your sons as they both stood beside you. You ran your hand through your youngest son's hair to make sure he was there, and Dick leaned against your side with his head resting on your hip. “Your mother is a unique woman, and there is nothing she wouldn't do for you. Appreciate her,” he told them honestly, which brought a smile to your face. You looked down to meet Dick's unsure eyes and patted his back quickly to reassure him.

“Yes, Mr. Hart,” Jason said as his older brother decided to speak.

“We'll take care of her, always,” Dick added.

“I'll walk you out,” Alfred said, smiling, happy that everything had turned out well.

You and your children went to the living room, ready to watch some television before going to sleep.

“Well, that was an adventure, without a doubt,” you commented while sitting in the middle of the couch.

“It was to be expected when your family is like ours,” Dick jokes, smiling at you conspiratorially as he sat next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Next time, Alfred should serve ice cream for dinner,” Jason pointed out. “Everyone loves ice cream,” he explained when you looked at him, prompting you and your oldest son to laugh along with the audience. Jason settled with his head in your lap, and you put your hand in his hair to caress it, as he liked so much, while Dick wrapped his arms around your waist. You put your arm around his shoulders to hug him closer to you.

“After that disaster, I need a drink,” Alfred commented, entering the room and sitting in one of the individual armchairs. “Although it could be compensated with a raise,” he joked, and they all laughed together again.

“What can I say?” You looked at Jason, seeing how his eyes were slowly closing in sleep. “We're a bit of a peculiar family,” you stated.

“Just a bit?” Dick teased again. You kissed his head as the lights dimmed, and the credits began to roll, the show ending with the image of your beautiful family sitting in the living room.

Seeing that image, Bruce couldn't help but notice that it was the happiest he had seen you in months…

hell is no place for a human | yandere!stolas

ship/pairing: yandere!stolas x human!g/n!reader

request: anon: Can I request a yandere stolas with a human reader trying to escape?

warnings: kidnapping, unwanted touching (nonsexual), crying, handcuffs

fandom: Helluva Boss

word count: 1143

A/N: Stolas is canonically gay so fem reader's DNI. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

You had come up with the perfect plan. Just follow the plan and you'd finally be free of the sharp talons Stolas constantly had digging into your shoulder. Unfortunately, the plan required you to be away from Stolas. Which you'd found to be nearly impossible. The demon prince was incredibly clingy, and seemed to always need to be with you. It was no use getting help either, as Stolas had ordered every guard to immediately return you to him if you ever tried to escape. He treated the imps decently, so you doubted they'd jump at the opportunity to defy him. So maybe your plan wasn't so perfect after all. But after that realisation, you added some extra steps to the plan in order to get Stolas away from you.

You were sat in Stolas’s lap as he cuddled you on his couch, trying not to shake in anticipation.

He was talking about something you weren’t paying attention to, until you cleared your throat, “Stolas, I need to go to the bathroom.”

He paused his rant for a moment, quickly sitting up, picking you and changing your position so you were sat in his lap facing him.

”Is everything ok darling?” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He would act like the world was ending if you had a stomach ache. “Yes, I’m fine, I just need the bathroom.”

He nodded, seemingly relieved you weren’t sick, and he called out to one of the imps standing guard, “Escort them.” He ordered, setting you off his lap and onto the floor. He cupped your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, an action you had to hide your disgusted expression over.

You were promptly escorted to the bathroom - something you weren’t happy about - and locked the door behind you, immediately searching through the drawers. Eventually, you found a sharp enough object you could use, gripping it tight in your hand before you opened the bathroom door.

The imp guard stared at you with an unreadable expression, seemingly unfazed by you holding a weapon to him. You took a step back, “Don’t say a word to Stolas. Please.” you breathed out, before sprinting off through the halls of Stolas’s palace.

You knew your words would have no effect on the imp, who was probably already off to inform Stolas about you running away. All you could do was run.

Your legs burned as you sped through the palace halls, anxiety plaguing your mind with every second you were out of the palace. You had no idea what you’d do once you were free. Hell definitely wasn’t safe for a human, Stolas never failed to let you know that day after day. You didn’t want to think about what might happen to you if you got out, but you also couldn’t bear to think of what would happen if Stolas caught you. He put up a sweet, loving front, but you knew he’d have to get angry at something as bad as this. You just didn’t know how angry…

While running, you heard a loud, demonic screech, followed by loud crashing noises. Your pace instantly sped up, fear fueling you. You were so close, the pounding footsteps behind you making you sprint even faster. You turned a corner, almost able to see the palace doors, when a large claw gripped your shoulder tightly, roughly throwing you to the ground. You craned your neck to look behind you, eyes widened in fear as you met Stolas’s multiple burning red eyes. Despite his bigger and darker appearance, you knew it was Stolas. Breathless, you coughed, trying to lift yourself up with shaky hands, only for you to fall back down. You shook in fear as you heard footsteps nearing you. A soft, firm hand touched your shoulder, a big contrast from the previous violent scene.

”My love, are you hurt?” You flinched at Stolas’s voice, unnerved by how calm his voice was. He held your hand gently, helping you sit up, and you saw Stolas back to normal.

You stayed silent, attempting to read his concerned face to find any anger that might let you know if you were in danger. If he was angry to the point he might hurt you, he was hiding it extremely well.

He sighed, effortlessly picking you up and beginning to carry you. He stayed silent for the entire walk back to your shared room, which had you extremely on edge.

You didn’t even know how scared you were until you realised you were physically shaking in his grip, before he placed you on the bed.

”Y/N,” it was silent for so long, that the sound made you flinch, “why did you try to leave?”

You were silent. Any truthful answer you gave would just upset him more, which was the last thing you wanted to do.

He sighed, gently but firmly grabbing your jaw and lifting your head so you were looking at him, “Answer me when I ask you something. Why did you try to leave?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, tears poured from your eyes and you shook under his cold gaze, “I-I’m sorry Stolas, I’m sorry, I-I-I-“

”Y/N,” his voice was so sweet, like honey, “look at me.” his hand moved from your jaw to cup your cheek, using his thumb to wipe your tears, “Breathe, just breathe.”

You found yourself doing as he said, taking deep breaths and eventually calming yourself down enough to have a conversation with Stolas.

”Y/N, I shouldn’t need to tell you why you can’t be running away and going outside, you hear it from me everyday.” He said, grabbing handcuffs from his desk drawer and walking back toward you, making you shrink back in fear.

”Stolas, I-“

”But apparently, I do. Perhaps I overestimated your species. Perhaps I overestimated you. If you can’t listen to a simple instruction, it’s clear you’re in need of proper guidance. My guidance.” He took your arms, one at a time and handcuffed them to the bed frame. “My dear, you’re simply far too precious to be left unsupervised.” You swallowed nervously. If he thought constantly clinging to you and showering you with affection was leaving you unsupervised, you couldn’t imagine what he thought was the opposite. “And it appears I’ll have to be taking extra measures to keep you safe.”

You shook with fear, making the handcuffs rattle against the bed frame, "No- Stolas, what are you-"

"My dear, until I believe you've learnt your lesson, you will not be leaving this room."

"What?! Stolas you-"

"Y/N if you ever want to leave this room within the span of a month, I suggest you stay quiet."

You swallowed your words, immediately shrinking back. You'd never seen Stolas angry at you, and it wasn't something you wanted to keep seeing.

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ BLOMSTERTID MASTERLIST !

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ Centuries-old mage, Y/N L/N, possesses magical abilities unheard of. A few citizens monopolize the remnants of magic they find, of which they now title “Hextech”. Hearsay of this power bleeds through all of Runeterra, until Piltover and Zaun find themselves in an anarchic war to obtain said power. Before Y/N can even blink, however, the humans neglect their plans when they realize they’d rather have Y/N instead.

⸺   chapter one.

⸺   chapter two.

⸺   chapter three.

⸺   chapter four.

⸺   chapter five.

⸺   chapter six.

⸺   chapter seven.

⸺   chapter eight.

⸺   chapter nine, ending one.

⸺   chapter ten, ending two.

(gif creds)

we can't be friends l fc43

summary: after a drunk hookup with your best friend, franco, you find out he has a girlfriend, leaving you alone and pregnant

song inspo: ₊‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊‧₊

masterlist 1k celebration

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, yourbff and 12,424 others

yourusername summers almost gone :(

tagged yourbff, francolapinto

view all comments

user franco being on this three times🤨

user prettiest girl

francolapinto THE LAST PHOTO??

yourusername your mom just showed it to me last night and we laughed for like 5 mins

francolapinto te odio😐

yourusername 😘

user i am once again asking for you two to admit youre in love with each other

user chat why is nobody freaking out? this feels like a soft launch

user noooo they've been best friends since they were kids, they always post like this

user man i wish this was a soft launch, they need to get together already

user drop the photo franco was taking omg

user childhood bffs to lovers trope about to go crazyy

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yourusername posted stories

seen by francolapinto and 34,249 others

user winning the idgaf war ily

user wheres franco?

user i can finally call u my favorite wag!!

user we know ur dating franco just hard launch already😩

user we better see you at the australia gp!!!

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f1gossip

45,352 likes

f1gossip Looks like we were wrong about Franco dating his best friend, Y/n Y/l/n. He was spotted leaving the Australian GP holding hands with another woman and according to sources closer to him, he's been seeing this woman for a few weeks now.

view all commments

user please say sike rn

user NOOOOOOOOOO

user franco you had ONE JOB

user he really made f1twt freak out over nothing

user wait a damn minute- if they've been dating for weeks, does that mean he cheated on her with y/n????

user honestly i support that.

user or maybe y/n and franco really are just friends🤷‍♀️ they never confirmed anything

user y/n deserves better bye

user whys this making me mad, i need to touch grass i fear

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yourusername posted a story

seen by francolapinto and 14,204 others

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f1gossip

10,329 likes

f1gossip Following rumors about a love triangle with best friend, Franco Colapinto, Y/n has removed followers and gone private on all social medias.

Franco and his family were removed as followers as well.

view all comments

user so this basically confirms the rumors, franco is a two timer.

user she also blocked franco😭 shes no longer tagged on any of his posts

user how did we go from thinking they were dating to this...

user removing his family is crazyyyy considering she grew up with them but you do you girl

user i was one of the followers removed💔

user girl we were all removed, im gonna miss her💔

user imagine dropping your lifelong best friend for some random 30 year old woman i-

user poor girl, seems like she just wants to be left alone

f1gossip yup. this is probably our last post about her! the franco and y/n lore was fun while it lasted

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🔒yourusername

liked by yourbff and 419 others

yourusername one last night in argentina🩵

view all comments

yourbff posting yourself drinking out of a wine glass then the next slide being a baby announcement is hilarious

yourusername OMG IT WAS JUST SPARKLING WATER I SWEAR!!

user STOP IM GONNA MISS U SO BAD

user wdym my favorite blonde and brunette duo are leaving me🥲

yourmom ya te extraño♥️ i already miss you

yourusername mamiii te visitare todo el tiempo🥹 ill visit you all the time

user this baby is gonna have the coolest mom ever <3

user motherhood already looks good on u baby

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notes: i hit my image limit so ill end it here ig. also i just realized it sounds like im giving the reader a lesbian arc towards the end omg didnt mean to do that. anddd as always this is not proofread lol

Bad day | Slash

Description: You are having a bad day at work and you got back home to find Slash making you a little surprise to relax.

Warning: I wrote this on my phone so there will maybe be some mistakes, fluff at beggining and end, smut in the middle, unprotected sex (Always use protection!), fingering.

Request: No.

Enjoy

Opening door of flat that I shared with my boyfrend I feelt even more tired than I was before, work was living hell today and my boss gave me double work today than usual and all I wanted is to relax.

I took off my coat and heels, I started walking towards livingroom to find Slash but he wasn't there, furowing my brows I turned around and I was about to start walking towards our bedroom when I saw him, lazy smile appered on my face "Hey, are you okey" he asked with concern all over his face "Yeah I am just tired, I had lots of work today" he opened his arms "Come here" and in seconds I was in his arms "This is what I needed" I smiled "I made you a warm bath" I moved my head so I could look at his chocolate eyes "You didn't have to" he placed one quick kiss on my lips "But I wanted to" he let go of me and he took my hand in his large one and started leading me to bathroom.

He opened the door for me and I stepped in "Call me if you need anything" I turned to look at him "What you are not joining me?" I asked "I throught that you want to relax" he said while steppinf in "Well I want to relax with you" I turned around and took my dress of, I turned to look at him accros my shoulder while unclipsing my bra, he was taking his shirt off and than his pants, I took my panties off and stepped in the bath.

After couple seconds I feelt him behind me, he started massaging my back and I moaned in pleasure "You have so soft hands" I said while leaning in his touch, I feelt his soft lips on my neck he kissed down my neck to my shoulder, I felt his heands leaving my back and one cupping my breast while other was drawing circles on my legs and stomach "Saul please" I begged "I love when you use my name love" and with that his hand found my clit and he started rubbing it slowly, I moaned while trowing my head back on his shoulder giving him enough space to start kissing my neck, the sensation was so high, his lips and tongue on my nech, hand on my breast and other on my clit and I feelt my orgasm building "I'm getting close" I told him while gripping his hand that was in my breast, "oh my god don't stop I'm about to cum" I closed my eyes so hard that I started seeing white "Let it go love, cum" and with that my whole body feelt electicity and I came on his hand.

He kissed my cheek "I hope that this worked and that you relaxed a bit" I nooded my head still not trusting my voice "come on let's go to bed" he was about to stand up when my heand stopped him "What about you?" I asked while my hand reached to grab his dick he inhaled sharp "It doesn't metter you need rest" he said while closing his eyes "Well your body is saying different" I said before kissing his jewline and down his neck, soft moan left his lips and I feelt myself getting wet again "Would you mind me rideing you this time?" He shook his head, I slowly moved to sit on his lap, I placed the tip of his dick at my enterence and I started slowly going down, we both moaned from pleasure, when he was all in my I stayed still for couple seconds before I started moving, he trowed his head back giving me space so I could kiss and suck on his skin, he moaned a little louder this time and hearing him moan like that sent wave through me "You feel so - ah - so good"  he placed his heands on my hips and he started moving me faster, I moaned against his neck and I feelt that sweet thing between my legs building again, I moved my head to look at him "I'm close again" I moaned "I know, I can feel it" he said before kissing my lips passionatlely.

After couple more trusts I came again, moaning in his mouth, he didn't stop moving, he broke kiss and his lips made a perfect "O" shape "Are you close?" I asked while going up and down meeting his hips "Yes" was all he said before putting his head on my shoulder hugging me, it took him couple more trust before he came moaning into my shoulder.

I moved my heand to his hair, I kissed his head before he moved it to look at me, he placed both of his hands on each side of my face before kissing me, "I love you" he said against my lips when the kiss ended, now come on let's go to bed, he said before moving me and getting out of bath he placed towel around his waist and he walked towards me putring other towel around my shoulders, he took my heand leading me towards our bedroom.

He gave me clean shirt and panties to put on, I got dressed and made myself warm in bed, after couple minutes he joined me, I turned towards him, I was looking at his eyes, lips and his perfect face, I moved my heand and placed it on his cheek "You are so beautiful" he smiled at me "Not as beautiful as the think infront of me" he took my heand and kissed it I moved closer so I could kiss his lips lightly, I broke kiss after couple seconds, I moved even closer so I could hug him and cuddle up against him.

"Good night sweetheart" he said while kissing my head "Good night love"

Masterlist

Updated finally!

High School AU Guns N’Roses x Reader

Slash-Most Likely To

Duff-Deadline

Past Deadline

Izzy-Fire series

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Reptiles & Rogues Izzy Stradlin x reader series

Loaded Like a Freight Train (Part 1)

The Accidental Florist (Part 2)

Lizards and Longing (Part 3)

Thistles, Roses, and Thorns (part 4)

Cold-blooded Cuddles and the Bastard of Inconvenient Timing (Part 5)

Shameless Susan and the Troubadour Straddlin’ Situation (Part 6)

Thinking About You (Part 7)

The Unspoken Word (Part 8)

Floor A Izzy Stradlin x reader series

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

The Top Hat Cafe Izzy Stradlin x reader/Guns N’ Roses coffeehouse AU series

“Coping Mechanisms” (Part 1)

Stroking Out (Part 2)

Epiphanies in the Land of Broken Dreams (Part 3)

The Important Questions (Part 4)

Over the Edge (Part 5)

Revelations, Inspired Rain, and A Hard-core Troubadour (Part 6)

I’m On Fire (Part 7)

Hey Jealousy (Part 8)

It’s a Nice Day to……Start Again (Part 9)

Bathing Beauties Izzy Stradlin fic

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Uncle Izzy Companion fic to It’s So Easy

Uncle Izzy

Uncle Izzy: You Could Be Mine

The Truth About Books and Dogs Izzy Stradlin x librarian reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Green Izzy Stradlin x neighbor reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

two

THREE

Something ominous looms on the horizon. For days, you have been meticulously avoiding both Acacius and Hanno—a strategy that, while effective thus far, has been anything but easy. The rumors reaching you suggest that Hanno has been pestering Ravi incessantly, demanding your presence once more. Ravi, clearly exasperated, has taken to openly complaining about being forced to mediate between your "amorous entanglements," as he puts it, since your self-imposed distance began.

You had thought your withdrawal would carry no real consequences, yet this morning proved otherwise. A messenger from the emperors arrived at your doorstep, summoning you to attend the games at the Colosseum. Apparently, Emperor Geta himself wishes to extend his gratitude for your exemplary work in tending to the gladiators—his and his brother's greatest source of entertainment.

"If you wish, I could say you are unwell," Ravi murmurs as the two of you make your way toward the Colosseum.

"I cannot risk displeasing the emperors while my standing with Acacius remains fragile," you reply, touched by Ravi's unwavering support.

"You should consider mending things with one of the men in your life, for your own sake," Ravi suggests, his tone serious, ever the wise counselor.

"Hanno remains tethered to the memory of his late wife, while General Acacius refuses to release me from our former arrangement. It seems there is no simple resolution," you respond, your voice carrying the weight of your predicament, as the imposing silhouette of the Colosseum looms ever closer.

"It would be far simpler if you weren’t so stubborn. General Acacius may no longer be the ideal choice, but you and Hanno share more in common than you’re willing to admit," Ravi says with an irritating air of wisdom.

"It would be far simpler if you ceased your obstinance. General Acacius may no longer seem ideal, yet you and Hanno share far more in common than you are willing to acknowledge," Ravi remarked, his tone laden with that infuriating wisdom he so often wielded. However, the truth stands—your union with your late husband was forged more upon the bonds of friendship than the fires of passion. Before his commitment to you, he was entangled in an affair with Emperor Caracalla. That, above all, is the most profound distinction between yourself and Hanno. You grieve the loss of a cherished companion who became your husband by circumstance, whereas Hanno mourns his wife, who was, perhaps, the great love of his life.

"I shall take your counsel into consideration, my old friend, yet I beg of you to help me survive at least this day," you say, casting an apprehensive glance toward Ravi. He halts before you, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

"Years ago, I vowed to your husband that I would care for you, and I shall not falter now. May the Gods watch over us," Ravi murmurs solemnly, his voice a quiet prayer as the two of you resume your path toward the arena, where the gladiators are already assembling for the commencement of the games.

Your gaze instinctively searches for Hanno, betraying a desire you would rather not acknowledge. His eyes, almost alight amidst the throng of gladiators, lock onto yours, his expression that of a man consumed by fury. You and Ravi did not take the same path as the gladiators, so it would not be prudent for you to approach him. Yet, from afar, you watch him with a quiet intensity. The courage you lack to bridge the distance is overshadowed by the boldness he possesses to close it himself.

"I shall give you a moment," Ravi murmurs, stepping aside as if sensing the gravity of the encounter. "Do not forget—Hanno may not leave the arena alive today. Be mindful to show kindness, for this could be your last exchange with him." Before you can fully process Ravi's warning, Hanno reaches you with surprising swiftness, all but sweeping you away with his commanding presence.

Hanno swiftly seized your waist with firm hands, nearly lifting you off the ground, and guided you to a secluded corner. His fury was unmistakable, reflected in the dominant grip he maintained on your waist, his hold firm enough to suggest he had no intention of letting you escape. "Have you lost your senses?" you demanded as he pressed you back against one of the great columns of the coliseum.

"I could not allow you to slip away from me again," Hanno replied, his voice low but resolute, his eyes scanning your surroundings with the precision of a predator ensuring no one dared approach.

"Our separation was necessary," you say with some difficulty, the closeness of Hanno's body to yours a maddening temptation that clouds your thoughts.

"Your master forbade you from interacting with me, and you simply obeyed, didn’t you?" Hanno says in a low, furious tone. His anger is not just visible but palpable, almost suffocating.

You seize his face with your hand, your nails pressing dangerously close to his neck. "Say once more that Acacius is my master, and I shall tear your throat out," you threaten, your voice laced with an inexplicable fury. Yet, Hanno seems to relish this, for he steps even closer, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"I missed you, healer," Hanno replies, his eyes holding an unusual tenderness just moments before he claims your lips in a tumultuous kiss. It is as though he is consuming you, devouring you with his kiss, seeking to capture you entirely while his hands map your body with desperate reverence.

If the two of you were caught, it would mean your undoing, the end of both your lives. Yet, some part of you whispers that it would be worth it. In truth, if death awaited you for this, a kiss alone would not suffice. Each second his tongue dances with yours stirs a longing so deep it borders on madness. You yearn for him to take you, right here and now, for the feel of him within you seems the only desire worthy of risking everything. "Do not die today, gladiator," you murmur against his lips as they part, allowing you both to catch your breath.

"It will not be I who dies today, healer," Hanno says, his voice steady, before capturing your lips once more, this time with tenderness rather than desire. His grip on you tightens, as though he wishes to sink his hands into your very being, to keep your body close to his for all eternity.

"I only hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. Before you can respond, one of the gladiators calls his name, and he steps away. An unease settles in your chest, fear creeping in as you wonder what he might be planning. Yet, the weight of your obligations presses against your thoughts—you must make your way to the emperors without delay.

"For what reason is the healer present here?" Lucilla, seated beside Acacius, questions sharply as you approach the section where they, the emperors, and other guests await the spectacle.

"The healer is my guest, Lucilla," Emperor Geta interjects swiftly, extending his hand toward you in expectation. Dutifully, you step forward and kiss it. Moments later, Emperor Caracalla mimics his brother’s gesture, and you lean in to kiss his hand as well.

As you rise, your gaze catches the familiar figure of Dondus, the small monkey, bounding toward you with recognition in his bright eyes. Memories of the time you were compelled to remain near the emperors, so Caracalla could indulge his desires with your late husband, flood back unbidden. "He still remembers you," Caracalla exclaims, his voice carrying an unusual note of delight as he grasps your hand.

"It is an honor to be here," you reply evenly, though the weight of his touch stirs emotions you work hard to suppress. Behind your composed words lingers the haunting memory of the cold efficiency with which Caracalla and his brother had ordered your husband's death—right here in this very arena.

"We have been separated by the misfortunes imposed upon us by the Gods, but I believe a new chapter is now opening for us, as your skills as a healer have not gone unnoticed. Hands as talented as yours deserve to care for the well-being of emperors, my dear," Geta declares, his gaze lingering on you with a fervent intensity that borders on desire. You struggle to mask the fear swirling within you, wondering what fate the Gods have in store for you next.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your chest, but before you can gather your thoughts, General Acacius rises abruptly and moves toward the two of you. Your hand lightly grazes the fabric of his attire, halting his approach. "Is there a matter of concern, General?" Emperor Caracalla inquires, his tone laced with an air of amusement, as his fingers idly stroke Dondus, who appears entirely at ease in his presence.

"There is no matter of concern, Emperor Caracalla," General Acacius responds, his hand firmly clasping yours against his chest beneath the folds of his vestment, his piercing gaze directed at the two emperors with the weight of an unspoken warning.

“Our most illustrious general appears perturbed that we extended an invitation to his mistress to grace these games in our company without first seeking his counsel,” Emperor Geta declares with an air of calculated provocation, his words laden with mockery. The faintest smirk curls his lips, as if relishing the tension he seeks to sow.

"Ah, brother, such concerns would trouble him only if he were entangled with her. Yet rumors abound that they no longer seek solace in each other's embrace and that she is no longer charged with tending to the wounds of our noble General," Emperor Caracalla remarks, his words clearly meant to provoke. However, his statement seems to have unsettled Lucilla, who shifts restlessly in her seat.

"Brother, remember that we ought not lend credence to idle gossip," Emperor Geta interjects, rising with an air of authority. "If our esteemed General Acacius insists that we disregard his lover, let him convince us that their bond remains intact. Otherwise, let him return to his rightful place beside his wife, and allow my brother and me the honor of tending to the fair healer." As Geta’s words echo, Acacius turns his gaze toward you, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange. Without hesitation, he pulls your face toward his, as though intending to kiss you before the eyes of all assembled.

"Do not sacrifice your marriage for me," you murmur, your voice trembling as the weight of the moment threatens to bring tears to your eyes. The inevitability of what you feared is now unfolding before you—Acacius can no longer shield you.

"You are worthy of such a sacrifice, mea domina," General Acacius murmurs near your ear, his hand gently caressing your face. His touch carries a tenderness that momentarily threatens to weaken your resolve. Yet, you grasp his hands, steadying yourself, and move them away from your face, refusing to yield to the moment. There is a depth to your bond with Acacius, a connection forged in unspoken understanding, but you cannot bring yourself to jeopardize him.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to let the healer decide where she wishes to remain," you say, your voice steady, masking the longing within you to leave this place with Acacius. Turning toward Emperor Geta, who now sits observing the exchange with keen interest alongside his brother, Caracalla. Without hesitation, Geta seizes the opportunity, pulling you onto his lap with a self-assured ease that leaves no doubt of his authority.

Your gaze meets that of General Acacius, whose displeasure grows ever more evident. His clenched fists and the tension in his posture betray the storm brewing within him. "I believe the games are about to begin, dear General Acacius," Emperor Geta states with a sly smile, his hand firmly resting on your waist to solidify his claim. "It would be most appropriate for you to take your seat and enjoy the spectacle." His words carry a subtle provocation, a challenge cloaked in politeness.

Acacius lingers, his body taut with restraint as though weighing the consequences of striking an emperor in defense of his pride. Just as the tension threatens to boil over, Macrinus approaches, his demeanor lively and oblivious to the undercurrents. "Ah, are we all ready to witness the might of my beast? My gladiator returns to the arena today!" Macrinus exclaims, his excitement cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade.

Acacius hesitates, his head tilting as though he is torn, unwilling to move from your side while you remain seated on Emperor Geta’s lap. Yet, Lucilla intervenes, her steps measured as she approaches her husband. She takes his hand with a quiet resolve, guiding him back to her side. A flicker of disappointment stirs within you, faint but undeniable. What else could you have expected? Acacius has always belonged to her, to duty, to the empire. He has never truly been yours.

The tension lingers only a moment longer before the spectacle claims everyone’s attention. The gates to the coliseum creak open, and the gladiators march into the arena. Yet something is amiss. Their faces are obscured, smeared with what appears to be blood, masking their identities. For those with inattentive eyes, it becomes nearly impossible to distinguish one from another. But not for you. No, Hanno’s eyes—those piercing, tempestuous eyes—are burned into your memory like the sharp point of a blade embedded deep into flesh. Even amid the chaos, they find you, unyielding and unforgettable.

"Macrinus, what are the gladiators scheming?" Emperor Caracalla asks, his words slurred as he drinks from his goblet, already appearing too inebriated to speak coherently.

"My esteemed Emperor Caracalla, I have no knowledge of their schemes, but I trust it is all in service of your entertainment," Macrinus responds, his gaze fixed intently on the gladiators below. He observes them with a sharpness that contrasts Caracalla's indifference, his expression unreadable.

Your eyes instinctively seek out General Acacius, silently willing him to understand that something is amiss. He meets your gaze, his brow furrowed as though catching the silent warning you convey.

"You seem unsettled, healer," Emperor Geta murmurs into your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "I am not accustomed to watching gladiators face one another, Emperor," you reply, steadying your voice. "I am more familiar with mending their wounds when they survive." The truth, however, weighs heavier on your mind—Hanno is planning something, and whatever it is, it may cost Acacius his life. A fate you cannot allow.

"Do not fret," Geta coos, lifting your chin with a deliberate gentleness that feels almost mocking. His eyes search yours, a predator relishing his control. "Guards, increase vigilance near the gladiators!" he commands suddenly, his voice sharp and resonant, slicing through the murmurs of the spectators.

"Emperor, it may not be wise to leave yourself so unguarded," General Acacius interjects, his tone firm yet controlled as he observes the guards dispersing to obey Geta's orders.

"And what greater protection could Rome offer than you, General?" Geta retorts with a smug smile, his grip on you tightening slightly, as though to assert his dominance. The tension is palpable, yet it is quickly eclipsed by the spectacle unfolding in the arena. The gates groan open once more, and three lions emerge, their emaciated forms a testament to their hunger. Their roars echo across the coliseum, a feral sound that sets the crowd alight with excitement. The gladiators ready themselves, their movements deliberate, each one measured and precise.

Your heart tightens as Hanno shouts to the other gladiators, "Remember our plan! Our enemy lies far beyond the arena!" Surely, he is plotting something, yet his precision in leading the gladiators against the lions is extraordinary. It is as if Hanno is channeling his spirit animal, his movements instinctive and deliberate.

Blood is everywhere—some gladiators brutally slaughtered by the lions. Two of the beasts have already been defeated when a revolt begins, chaos erupting as the third lion aids the gladiators in breaking through the arena gates. Suddenly, the tension in the air thickens. Panic spreads as the guards scramble to escort the emperors away from the scene.

Caught in the fray, you find yourself swept along with Emperors Geta and Caracalla, fate conspiring against you. In the madness, you lose sight of Acacius amidst the swarm of guards and gladiators. The tumult escalates into full-blown chaos until a voice pierces through the din, crying out, "Protect the Emperor!"

Before you can react, you feel the sharp pain of a blade slicing through your skin—or perhaps plunging into it. You cannot tell. Dazed, you glance down to see your blood staining your garments, and when you lift your gaze, you meet the eyes of your assailant. Hanno's eyes. You are certain.

The attack meant for Emperor Geta has struck you instead, delivered by the very man who has awakened feelings you dare not name. Tears well in your eyes as you feel your strength waning, your consciousness slipping into darkness.

Down The Road (F1 x Reader) SMAU Season 1

>> Down The Road 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous Part : Next Part

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @jpg3 , @tsukishimawhore , @minkyungseokie , @roseseraj , @bbhyuneee , @omgsuperstarg (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

A/N : I'm trying to write in time for the #QatarGP because I want the storyline in Part 2 to continue in real-time (spoiler alert: from Episode 3 onwards, there will be a one-year time skip). I hope you enjoy the racing and the fic too. If you do, don't forget to like and reblog. It's great encouragement for me, who has been sitting with a sore back at the computer for hours to write this SMAU fic

note ; age-gap, a bit of mentor/student relationship

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Season 1 : ── 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐬 ── (Lewis Hamilton x Reader) S1 : E02 𝐾-𝑝𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

Beyond the thrilling competition on the F1 track, the off-track relationships of F1 drivers have also become an exciting topic for fans. That's precisely what's happening with Y/N, a rising star in motorsport, whose relationship with Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time World Champion, is being closely watched. Is it real, or is it just a theory from fans? It's a tough question to answer definitively, as only they can shed light on the situation.

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Source : GQ Sports (On YouTube)

On this episode of "Actually Me" Formula 1 driver Y/N goes undercover on the internet and responds to real comments from fans on Twitter, Instagram, Wikipedia, Reddit, YouTube, and TikTok. How does it feel to be the only woman racing in Formula 1 today? How does she handle the pressure of competing in a male-dominated sport? Which driver is she closest to? And the most pressing question everyone wants to know : What is the true nature of her relationship with Lewis Hamilton? Are they friends, colleagues, competitors, or something more?

For this final question, she simply laughs and replies cryptically, “You guys should ask him (rather than asking me), because I’m curious too.”

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Source : Formula 1: Drive to Survive (On Netflix)

In the show “Formula 1: Drive to Survive” Lewis Hamilton finally opens up about his relationship with Y/N for the first time after it became a hot topic on Twitter world recently. Hamilton said “It’s hard to explain, but we have a very special bond because we’ve known each other for a long time,” He further defined her as the ‘special one’ in his life, yet he still remained enigmatic regarding whether their relationship contains romantic aspect or not.

Additionally, he delves into their personal closeness, mentioning that Y/N is very much a Gen Z personified, enjoying Twitter and often sending funny memes to everyone. He humorously reveals that she sometimes replies to him "OK Boomer," when he doesn't quite grasp the memes she sends.

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Source : Lewis Hamilton's Instagram Story (update)

Lewis Hamilton posted a picture of himself wearing friendship bracelets and tagging @Y/N on Instagram Story before deleting it 11 minutes after

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Source : Twitter (update)

Rumors about a romantic relationship between Y/N and Lewis Hamilton started circulating after a Twitter exchange between the two, leading fans to speculate and gather evidence suggesting they might be dating.

This wave of speculation has received both positive and negative reactions from fans. Some fans disagree with the dating rumors, while others support them. drawing parallels to the F1 version of Tom Holland and Zendaya

While the rumors have been hot topics among F1 fans on Twitter, there has been no confirmation from either Y/N or Hamilton.

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Source : Y/N’s instagram (update)

"Get in, loser We're going to do hotlap"

Y/N posted on Instagram that she will be doing a hot lap for the team's VIP guest in #QatarGP There's speculation that the guest might be a fellow racing driver like Alex, Albon, or George Russell, especially after she previously did a hot lap with Russell without any sign of Lewis Hamilton

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Source : Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

"Ready to go with the winner @Y/N"

Lewis Hamilton posted on Instagram, confirming that he is the VIP guest who will get a hot lap with Y/N. Followed by a massive response from fellow F1 drivers and fans who are closely watching their relationship.

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Source : Y/N and Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have arrived at the Lusail International Circuit to prepare for the #QatarGP race tonight. The media has been informed by their respective teams that there will be no interviews or comments regarding the rumors about them. They will solely focus on their performance in this race.

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Source : @PopBase

Reportedly the famous spanish singer Úrsula attended the Formula 1 race at #QatarGP amidst fresh rumors among fans that she might be rekindling her relationship with Y/N. This comes after her recent divorce from the Hollywood actor last month.

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𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙 (in the next chapter)

If you like it, don't forget to like and reblog for me.

Cr.https://x.com/PopBase/status/1708629114025116047?s=20https://twitter.com/GridRivalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b025AznQiGk&ab_channel=GQSportshttps://www.instagram.com/p/CyBimW-Ocyr/

Darling Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor has a sweet wife that, weirdly enough, no one really knew about.

a/n: hi divas! Erm this is my first time writing for Viktor so I'm sorry if he sounds out of character.

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"Viktor? What is that on your finger?" Jayce inquired, suddenly appearing behind Viktor and peering curiously over his shoulder. Viktor felt a knot form in his stomach as he glanced down at his hand, where a gleaming wedding band rested snugly on his finger. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had meant to remove it but had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of his work.

"Just a ring," Viktor replied evasively, casting a quick look back at Jayce while clicking his tongue in annoyance. Jayce, however, was undeterred. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Isn’t that the same finger where wedding rings typically go?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Don’t tell me you actually have a wife?"

Viktor maintained his silence, his heart racing in response to Jayce’s playful interrogation. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share that information with you," he said tersely, redirecting his attention back to the Hextech gemstone in front of him, his mind racing as he tried to refocus on his work.

Jayce, still leaning casually against the desk, raised his eyebrow further, the smirk on his face beginning to fade away. He studied Viktor’s expression closely, a frown of confusion.

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“Viktor has a wife? That’s just absurd,” Mel declared, waving her hand dismissively as if to brush away the very notion. 

“No, I swear! He’s actually wearing a wedding ring. When I asked him about it, he responded with, ‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,’” Jayce insisted, leaning closer to Mel's desk, his hands planted firmly on the surface.

Mel rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning back in her chair and letting her hands fall into her lap. “Who on Earth would marry Viktor?” she whispered, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism. “No offense, but…” she trailed off, momentarily glancing away, her thoughts clearly racing.

Jayce sighed, exasperated. “I mean, it’s not the best image, is it?” he muttered, shrugging as he contemplated the idea. His mind seemed to wander as he contemplated the strange pairing. “Plus, why do you even care?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow at him, a hint of playful challenge in her voice. “Because I want to know what she looks like!” he responded with a hint of frustration, glancing off to the side, and groaning.

Mel pondered for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Even if he did have a wife, wouldn’t she be here at the Academia with him?” she pointed out, her curiosity beginning to overshadow her previous skepticism. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Jayce exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. “It doesn’t add up!”

With a sigh, Mel straightened up, her expression turning serious. “Look, I have much bigger problems to deal with than figuring out who Viktor is married to,” she stated firmly.

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"When do you think he sees his wife?" Mel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peeked around the corner of the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the walls of the Academia. Jayce followed her gaze, cautiously poking his head out to get a better look.

"Hmm... maybe when he isn’t buried under a mountain of work," Jayce mused, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in thought. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he swept it back with a casual motion. Mel, with an exasperated huff, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"You should know this! You’re his partner, for crying out loud," she murmured, her tone tinged with disbelief as she crossed her arms. Jayce's expression shifted to one of sheepishness, his cheeks flushing slightly as he glanced away, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

"But I leave before him. I'm already gone by the time he usually starts his day. And when I come back to the lab, it’s always just him—working away, lost in his experiments," Jayce replied, his shoulders lifting in a shrug that conveyed both confusion and resignation. He could sense Mel's frustration, but the truth was, Viktor’s work schedule was a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Mel sighed heavily, her brow knitting together in thought. "How do you not know… never mind," she grumbled, her voice trailing off as she turned her attention back to Viktor, who was at that moment preparing to leave. 

"Shhh!" Jayce hissed urgently, his eyes widening as he quickly placed a hand over Mel's mouth, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness. They both watched in silence as Viktor slowly began to rise, gripping his crutch tightly under his arm while gathering his belongings with meticulous care. He seemed unaware of the two pairs of eyes on him, lost in his own world.

Viktor gripped his documents as he walked down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. He made his way down to the back of the Academia, opening a door. Jayce and Mel looking out the window from the other story. "The hell is he doing?" Jayce muttered under his breath. "Look," Mel said, spotting you not too far in the distance. "Is that his wife?" Jayce whispered.

"Viktor." You spoke up, smiling when you saw him. You stood up from the bench you were sitting at. Viktor eagerly wobbled over to you. "I've been waiting." You teased lightly, taking the documents from his hand and placing them down on the bench. Viktor could only stare at you. He hadn't seen you in a while. But he'd never say that he missed you. "How are you doing?" You asked gently, guiding him to sit down, placing his crutch aside. "I've been...well," Viktor said plainly. "I could be better." He muttered, glancing off to the side. You nodded, sitting beside him. You glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You wore your wedding ring?" You asked, a small smile forming on your face. Viktor's cheeks warmed a bit, sighing. "I meant to take it off." He grumbled as his fingers ran over the wedding band. "I'm glad you wore it. It suits you." You giggled lightly, placing your hand over his.

Meanwhile, with Jayce and Mel, they could only stare in shock. "Of course, he has a pretty wife too!" Jayce groaned as he shook his head. "Of course," Mel muttered as she sweat drops. "Who knew she was so darling?"

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folded ✸ jww

JAEiS valentines special 🩰 idol!wonwoo x f!reader

You post a slightly delusional tweet about your bias, not thinking much of it—after all, you’re just a fangirl. It’s all fun and games until Wonwoo, your bias, sends you a DM in response to that tweet. Turns out, he’s been lurking, and now he wants to test the truthfulness of your tweet.

ACT I

the start of it all (o_o)

to be added…

mi9yuz, 2024