#also I didn't get around to do make up today so this is how I look 'clean shaving' x'D

[myojinn]

You'll Be Safe Here // 2 - Sukuna Ryomen

You'll Be Safe Here ... Part of Cursed Spirit!Reader Series Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen (JJK) x Cursed Spirit!Reader tags: SO MUCH FLUFF, soft 'Kuna, comfort summary: After seeing you on the brink of death—there was no way you were getting out of his clutches now. How will he protect you if you aren't by his side? a/n: Since the first part got a lot of love, I decided to make a part 2! I'm also thinking about making it a Cursed Spirit!Reader Series, so like full on one shots and drabbles here and there.

First Part | masterlist soon hehe

All he could see was red.

And all he could hear was the agonizing screams for help of those he terrorized. But nothing else really mattered to Sukuna Ryomen after he saw you on the brink of death.

He'd like to believe that he was a level-headed individual—never one to be consumed by trivial things such as emotions. But he knew, at that time, he was driven by pure unadulterated anger...

... anger at the good-for-nothing scum that hurt you.

He never thought he could feel this strongly about anything. But then again, meeting you had opened up his eyes to unpredictable things. And maybe that's why he lo-

"Ryo! Hey!" He let out an annoyed grunt at the disturbance currently seated to his right... on his bed... in his sacred chambers.

"For a woman who almost died you surely are loud," he grumbles. He crosses all 4 arms and turns to look away, closing his eyes once more. He made it clear he wanted peace. But having you around made it impossible. You poked his cheek repeatedly. "Thanks to your reverse cursed technique, I think I can go back to my temple today." He swatted your hand away from his face to which you (convincingly) yelped out in pain. His eyes have never opened so quickly as they did now. A look of concern washed over his face while you (convincingly) pretended to be hurt.

He was about to take your hand to inspect it—heal it even. But before he could do anything, you laughed in his face. The soft gaze transformed into an intense glare. "Oh man... you really do care for me, don't you, Ryo?"

He folded his arms again as he grumbled to himself. You knew just how to piss him off. But even though he seemed irritated, deep down he was glad that you were back to your normal self.

He was fucking relieved to have you by his side again.

His silence piqued your curiosity. Normally, he'd have a quip for every move you made. But he just sat there, arms crossed and taking in every effort you made to rile him up.

You huffed your chest out.

Truthfully, the whole temple raid fiasco already put a massive dent in your ego... and maybe your image in Sukuna's mind. That's what you thought at least. So you made it a point to act as if nothing happened. You weren't planning to soften up and thank him for helping you.

Hell, you don't even remember the last time you uttered an expression of gratefulness.

But he also made you do things you usually would not do.

"Ryo... I'm sorry." He sighs and looks at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. Well, you could never tell what the great Sukuna Ryomen was thinking... ever. But your gut told you that this moment was different.

Something had definitely changed within him.

"You don't have to apologize. I've dealt with your craziness for decades now," he says flatly. You slowly shook your head. "I mean... I'm sorry I couldn't protect myself and you had to clean up after my mess." He sighed even louder. He always did that whenever you said something "stupid" as he'd call it. "I told you that it doesn't matter. I am the strongest, aren't I? You should only worry about losing if you were in my position. Say 'thank you' and move on with it." Of course, he didn't exactly mean for that to be affectionate. It was coming from a place of arrogance. But, nevertheless, it made you smile.

"Thanks, Ryo. I owe you big time." He raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk forming on his face. "You owe me, yes." You meant it as a way to emphasize your gratitude, but you didn't really think he'd bank on it. After all, the strongest sorcerer never needed favors from you. He always said you'd come in handy one of these days and maybe today was finally it. "Eh? So... what do you want me to do? I'll do anything just don't take the statue in front of my temple. Do you know how difficult it was to steal that?" His face contorted in confusion. No one in history had ever made him do that face, but you. However, you weren't sure if you should be glad about that fact. But you were sure that you loved that statue to bits. Sure, it was weird, but that's why you love it!

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want that ugly thing near me." "Hey! I'll have you know it's a significant part of my temple."

"Significantly ugly, yes."

You were about to retort when he placed a finger on your lips, shutting you up. "As I was saying, you owe me—and you can repay me by simply staying here at my temple." You wanted to speak, but he pressed his finger on your plump lips even harder. "And no, you can't refuse." He finally drops his hand. "I can't just leave my temple like that. It was trashed and-" "I have already sent servants to clean it up and restore it." "What about my offerings? What if someone comes up and asks something from me and-" "I also have separate servants stationed there to gather any messages, offerings, whatever—and relay them to you."

"Wha-" He groans in frustration. "Woman, I have taken care of everything if that's what you're worried about. Give it a rest, will you?" You were hesitant at first, but the look of worry on your face quickly changed into a mischievous smile that he (loved) dreaded to see. "My, my, Ryo... if you wanted me to move in so badly you could've just told me. Goodness, was this part of your elaborate plan? Sending sorcerers to attack me so I can live with you?" This ridiculous humor wasn't new to the both of you. He had heard insane things come out of your mouth and he would never bat an eyelid. But after joking about him possibly indirectly hurting you evoked a sickening feeling deep in the pits of his stomach.

"I would never hurt you," he said softly.

The devilish grin on your face was wiped clean and replaced with an apologetic smile. "I know... I just... I was kidding, you know?" "Joke about anything, but not about me hurting you." Thinking about others hurting you was enough to make him feel sick. But you suffering at his own hands? It made him angry. He realized he had gone silent and that you were just staring at him with that same smile from earlier. "What?" he asked coldly.

"You're a strange man. You act so gruff, but you say things like this?" she laughs. "That's why I love ya." He was proud to say that he had never encountered an attack before that would surprise him. But the words you just spoke had taken him aback. He was shook to the core. "Shut up... you're staying here. Got it?" "Heh... say that you love me too first~"

You were annoying, reckless, and incredibly childish at times. You pissed him off beyond belief. But he couldn't imagine his life without all of your insanity. He loved you... maybe. He still didn't know exactly what 'love' meant. But whatever it is that he felt for you... he'd do anything and everything if it meant keeping you by his side.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 7)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: here we are! and CHARLES WON MONACO! (also sorry for the lance slander RPM influences me far too much)

P7 - 2.5L water bottle

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.

Mother fucking Lance Stroll.

Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and the cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help your opinion of him that his treatment of the Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) - but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.

His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.

Namely - you.

Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had (unfortunately) been in F1 long enough to make the connection that the flash JDM car parked in the lot tended to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't know that it was you.

If anything, he likely made his driver park next to your Supra on purpose.

"Lord give me strength." You muttered seeing him come up to your window.

But then Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.

You immediately reached for the handle and opened the door which caused him to stumble for the lack of space as you did so. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.

"Don't touch my car." You said, voice flat.

"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."

"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle. You always were carrying a lot.

"Need help?"

"No."

"I insist."

"Don't."

"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"

You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite nice and you really taking the piss with Nando.

Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable - and you were evidently out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions. You were just glad his father wasn't around. God help you when it came to the European races.

"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from behind where some Aston Martin people were waiting Lance but he ignored them. Instead, falling into step with you.

"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.

You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Your eyes checked the time at the top of your phone screen. Based on what time it was, Oscar should've been here by now - and could save you from Lance Stroll.

to: piazzas 👼

where the fuck are u ?? lance stroll is trying to talk to me send help

"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.

"That wouldn't be because you're working for McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.

to: piazzas 👼

srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point

"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.

Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."

from: piazzas 👼

I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR. Can you come?

You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried.

Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.

Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.

"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.

"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.

"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."

You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

But, of course, unable to say anything.

"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.

Fuck.

Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey. This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.

"Approval for what?"

"None of these drivers are worth your time. But this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Hearing his voice always had you picking up a football - and Dia had never been in short supply of balls at home.

"Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"

"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle asked and you had groaned, expecting him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.

"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."

"Sainz? Hm. Is he's father a rally driver?"

"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that. How did your uncle know that?

"Ah! I know him. Good family." Your uncle had said. "Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"What?" You said, still stuck on how your uncle knew the Sainz family. How?"

"I want you to talk to him. Carlos." Your uncle didn't relent. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."

Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was a 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (Daniel barely identified as Italian).

However, all of your uncle Carlo's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.

But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had the Ancelotti tick of approval and he was adamant you and Carlos apparently go out for dinner.

You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh.

That and the fact that they had led you through a #carlossainzedit deep dive unlike anything before.

You had lost count of how many times you'd heard the "all I see is sainz all I see is carlos sainz" version of the Rihanna lyric.

"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.

Carlos came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.

Your smile dropped.

What the fuck?

"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.

"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.

"You're telling me."

It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?

"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.

"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."

"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."

You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."

"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.

Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding all your many, many belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality.

"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.

You didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help.

And so your mouth just came out with it.

"My uncle likes you."

"What?"

You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."

Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey. You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.

"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"

"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.

You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.

Also, apparently, you'd heard of a Haas employee who used to babysit Harry Styles or something. You thought the LeBron thing was cooler.

So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.

"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. You knew he was an avid Real Madrid fan since last night's video had let you down something of an internet stalk.

"I definitely need to let my dad know." Carlos said.

"Apparently they know each other?" You asked, hoping he might shed more light on the connection your uncle somehow had to Sainz Sr.

"Do they? He never said." He said and you blew a raspberry. You really were going to give your uncle a piece of your mind. You shook your head and Carlos laughed, saying something that went to deaf ears as he took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.

Fuck.

He used the other hand to run through said black locks.

Double fuck.

The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.

You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"

"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.

"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."

"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.

"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."

"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."

Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. Let alone that he would remember such a minor fact like this - and about you.

"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness. You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.

And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.

"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."

"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "

" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"

"What is?"

"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."

"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.

You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.

You were going to kill your uncle.

"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."

Thankfully, his words momentarily distracted you from the embarrassment. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was. Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.

"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.

"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"

This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.

Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.

And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.

So this was very much news to you.

Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.

More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.

"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.

The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.

But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.

Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.

"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."

It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?

Something erupted in your stomach.

However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.

"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."

Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.

You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.

-

“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"

“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”

“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “

The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you. Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.

It was startling to say the least. 

"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.

Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.

However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.

And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.

Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.

"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."

There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.

Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.

"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.

"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.

Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.

Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.

"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."

You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."

Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.

"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "

"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.

"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."

"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."

"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.

"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here--"

"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.

"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."

"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.

You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.

If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.

Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.

"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"

"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."

This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."

"Yeah, no new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso. Charles was granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he... he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso. Never Ferrari."

"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari." You said nothing. Toto had approached you once or twice but your none answers evidently were enough for him to realise and drop it. You didn't realise he dropped it because he had sought out the fine print.

"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"

You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.

"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."

The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.

"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"

You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles -- I, we grew up together? I don't know. Everyone knew."

"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."

You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.

"You also trained Daniel. I remember he told me." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him." Zak did have a point.

A key point that you had forgotten.

"I guess so." You began. "It was nothing official in print but yeah, Christian allowed me to work with Daniel since we were... well yeah." You trailed that off, awkwardly. "But yeah, it was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."

"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "Well I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.

You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.

Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.

"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.

"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two."

"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." Oscar finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."

You looked back at him and took a deep breath. He smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.

"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."

"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.

Such was the way of F1.

Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.

kymillman

liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others

kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!

view all 76 comments

halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls

ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there

logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?

f1fanforever they're friends?

ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD

oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫

justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!

team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?

maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and had barely used Instagram in how long.

"It'll be hard to argue to make up that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."

"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.

"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.

"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.

"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."

"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, feeling tired of it all already.

Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.

"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.

"Wait does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.

"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"

"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.

"Download it. You're already at 1.2k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.

"The fuck? I had like two or three hundred last time I checked."

"Yes and then you started training the F2 winner who follower you after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"I already said sorry about that."

"Do you know how stressful you made my first day?" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Nothing like jumping in the deep end."

The app had downloaded and you logged on to be met with a plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You would deal with that all later.

"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."

"Yes, only uses Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.

"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.

"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?"

"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.

"Perfect!" She said, beaming.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.

"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.

You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.

The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.

"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"

She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl @stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon @charllleclerc @richardniixon @sp1rl @nikfigueiredo

[ejundo]

Do u think maby you could do an outgoing reader and a quiet introverted guy who's a huge secret perv there friends and reader finds out his 'shy' friend isn't so shy~♡ (top m charecter, bott m reader) - (love Ur writing!)

outgoing bttm m reader x top shy giant charac

—

NOT PROOFREAD(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ [ characters are obviously 18+ ]

a.n : hai!! apologies for not answering to everyones request.. finals r kicking my ass… but i thought this would be a good drabble (saw the request while witth my friends.. almost screamed.) and THANK YEWE for the compliment my dear! ALSO THANKS FOR 500 (almost 600) FOLLOWERS?? ILY ALL!! <3

laughter filled the room , and that laughter was coming from you, arms wrapped around the victim. his gaze averted but small laughs left his lips ‘it wasnt— that funny..’ he mumbled as he watched your beautiful eyes. the shadows contouring your face perfectly as the sun set, casting a glow to your features . fuck

‘oh come on!!! it was pretty funny… you cant even lie t’me” pulling away, you looked back at your packed lunch. ‘ooh!! we should hang out today— or have a sleepover! theres no school tmrw remember?’ suggesting while grinning , your hands wrapped around the metal container. ‘mmm… maybe i mean ill have too see..’ he was appalled, he was so excited he was gonna strangle the next person he saw… not you though. pulling out his phone to seem busy you looked away from him as you ate the last remaining pieces of food.

‘shouldnt be busy today. your house?’

‘duhhh!!! and yay! we could play video games and watch that one movie that came out—‘

‘mhmm, im down. ‘

—

the sound of the door bell ringing quickly caught your attention, racing to the door you dropped all blankets needed for the sleepover.

the door swung open the cold air entering the home making you shiver though sigh in relief as it freed the warm hot air. ‘haiii! glad ya got here safe, ooh-! i made us some snacks, and then some store bought food on the table in my living room— you can. settle down your stuff up in my bedroom’ you explained quickly as you practically rushed to be by the others side. his hands fiddled with eachother while your warmth embraced him , arm wrapping around his bicep.

"hope you didn't have too much trouble coming here- you can settle down on the couch while i get my blanket from upstairs! then we can watch that movie and uhh! sleep? or play games!!" you suggested moving away from him, he watched your every move, the way you carried yourself up the stiars settling himself on your couch. the house was cozy, it was cold aswell.. just how you liked it.

it even smelled like you, the scent invaded his nostrils calming him, his head was thrown back as he relaxed in ur smell. eyes closed, though the shuffling of your feet and blankets dragging against the floor caught his attention as he awoke and stared at you "need help?" he asked, shaking your head you threw the blankets onto the couch- well onto him..

throwing yourself onto the couch you snuggled the cold blankets ontop of him. he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, "what movie were you talking about?" "you'll see! i think it may be a horror movie- its rated r" "so you don't know for sure what it would be?" shaking your head you got off him and grabbed the remote. he took that time to sit up and lay the blanket out.

your hands grazed the remote before heading over to the streaming site, scrolling through to find the movie. once found, pressed the button and rushed onto the couch jumping onto the other, yelping in surprise he only held you. "cuddle?" he asked softly, you nodded your head frantically. I mean.. it was normal to cuddle your homies right? thought so.

.

his heavy breathing and your calm breaths. eyes tuck to the screen, but it seemed as if your were the only one paying attention.

your warm body held by the arms of the boy infront of you. he gulped softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, oblivious as to what you were doing. your body pressed up against him, and his growing hard on.

you had noticed- but it was normal for people to get hard.. but fuck he just couldn't contain himself. the way your bodies collided, how you unintentionally rubbed his cock with your inner thigh. his hips bucked into your thigh before he let out a long sigh.

"fuck, im gonna go to the bathroom.." you looked at him and tilted your head "oh alright ill pause the movie." getting up your sat up and leaned over grabbing the remote before completely getting off him. the view presented infront of you surprising you, his flushed cheeks and his hard dick pressing against his sweats. blinking rapidly you stared at the obvious hard on. . noticing your gaze, his member twitched. "stop . . don't look" he mumbled embarrassed.

but he only lied. he wanted you to look, he didn't try covering it up. thats when you came to conclusion. "ah!- . . you- did i ? do that to you.." it throbbed.

"shit . . ." he mumbled throwing his head back. " look i don't mind . . i just didn't think-" you flushed at the thought he even- got hard because of you. "i actually.. i invited you here just. for you know.."

his eyes widened, feeling embarrassed you covered your face thinking he was gonna call you weird... but when you looked at him, a smirk was placed on his lips.

he reached out grabbing your wrist as he pulled you ontop, legs straddling his sides. " y'dont know how long ive been wanting to fuck you..." your heart pounded in your chest. "are you-" interrupted as he pulled you into a kiss, his rough lips pressed against your soft ones. a moan leaving his lips as his tongue grazed your bottom lip.

allowing entrance, both tongues dancing in a rhythm. relaxing in his grasp, he pulled away looking at your now disheveled look. the way your pajamas fell loosely down your shoulder, your throbbing cock pushing against your pants. "matching boners.. cute. except mines bigger." he mumbled he reached down grabbing your dick and pressing it against his own. comparing the two.

he wasn't wrong.. yours was smaller compared to his girthy one. "ive been waiting for this y.n.." the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue was sweet like honey, his large hand trailed to slip your pants down revealing your throbbing member following behind he whipped it out practically jumpscaring you. the wet tip looking at you .

"c mon baby." he mumbled eyes low as he watched your eyes, oh how hungry you looked. " dont be shy darlin" he mumbled his hands trailing up your body, hands resting at your hips rubbing gentle circles. your breathing heaved as you trailed down , face met with his girth. licking your lips, your tongue licked his tip as if it was your last meal, getting comfortable your lips wrapped around his cock. sucking on the tip , leaking precum onto your soft tongue he audibly groaned moans spilling out from him. "fuck why are you so good at this shit..." he grumbled, a large hand gripping onto the back of your head slightly edging you to go on further. and further you went, reaching the back of your throat you took it.

moaning at the sight he grinned messily biting his lip. "atta boy.." he hummed.

with one hand, you wrapped it around with whatever you couldn't take stroking it gently while your free hand prepped your hole, moaning into his dick, he pressed his lips together with hazy eyes he pulled your head away. "mngh.." you moaned , staring into his eyes as you fingered yourself open. he grabbed your hips pulling you closer , you laid your head against his chest, whining as he pulled your hand away. "i wanna fuck your tiny hole.." he hummed into your ear, feeling the tip of his girthy cock align with your slick he pushed up. causing you to twitch you gripped onto his shirt sinking down onto his length.

"fnh! hmmnhahnh" smiling at your dazed face held your hips, fucking into you gently as he watched your head nuzzle his chest. "lemme see your face." though your eyes only looked up at him , feeling his dick throb inside of you.

by then he was fully in, your tight warm walls huggin his yummy large cock. his eyes staring at you lovingly, hungry. hands gripped onto your hips, he used you as if you were a fleshlight. moans spilling out drool leaking from your lips as your eyes stared up at him. "your- funhck.. beautiful."

"gonnhacuhm.." you moaned into his chest, your juice leaking onto his shirt, staining it as you twitched reaching your climax, not far behind he held you down as he came inside of you.

the both of you moaning in pure bliss.. head thrown back you held onto him.

"ill fuck you better next time.." he mumbled, pulling out of you as his warm cum leaked out of you.

-

a/n : i finished a request yayyayayayy!!! another one cummin soon sooo be prepared guys!! (,,>ヮ<,,)!

[hey-i-am-trying]

hi, tripoier here! Long text incoming alert and a detailed explanation of the situation for qsmpblr (also sorry if I make some typos I'm writing without translator)

Yeah I also saw what happened today with the og admin of Pepito and I have a lot to say about it. First of all I'm not speaking in behalf of the community but I'm my own experience of the situation. I watched the development of Pepito's story since day one and fell in love with that little guy (and his laggy PC). Then second day arrived and I noticed the admin change bc he was less laggy and I've learned enough Portuguese and 07's (Richas admin) mannerisms to recognize when he's playing a character, even Roier noticed but didn't say anything until the screencap incident lol

Few day passed and 07 created such a cute and wholesome personality for Pepito, that contrasted very well with the role that roier was having at the moment— that it's understandable that it may not be too comfortable for some people but for the ones that had been watching Roier's story in the server + his relationship with Bobby, we take it with humor/hope for him to heal slowly after what happened in Purgatory and with Bobby (and believe me, Bobby had a HUGE impact on how Roier behaved with the rest of he eggs after his death)

So during the days 07 played as Pepito all the tripoiers were in this state of hope because we knew how much q!Roier was trying hard to not to get attached to Pepito, he knew the moment something happens to him he was gonna suffer A LOT, and Pepito was this pure, innocent ray of sunshine that it was imposible for us not to love immediately (Roier also did from day one but he loved to play with us + his lore at the moment was being in depression for the lost of his husband and having Richas and Leo in their comatose state). Also, is worth to mention that after he discovered it was 07 the one playing as Pepito he became more playful and started to tease him just to make him go out of role (and succeeded one time). Which is why he used the chancla a lot with him, as a shield for the feelings that were starting to grow on him again.

Then, Otipep happened.

This is the part I'm gonna be more careful to explain bc there is a language barrier that for the people who don't have Spanish as their first language they cannot understand or got confused

When Otipep appeared Roier noticed that it was another admin playing as Pepito because 07 was busy helping with Q's lore, we don't know if he recognized immediately that it was the original one or just a random temporary admin, but he noticed that this Pepito appeared where the fist one disconnected (in the garden outside of his house). Some people noticed that it was the original one and got happy bc it meaned that finally Pepito had his permanently admin back and bc Richas and the others eggs were also back from the coma we could see them both at the same time (roier used to joke about it every time 07 was around)

We also thought that the og admin had been catching up with the role that 07 has built so far with Pepito (which was not, and we would never know if it was either miscommunication between the admins or the og admin just decided to ignore the actual role to keep their 'idea' for the role), so at first we were a little bit shocked when this Pepito started acting so "dry" (idk if this is the correct word) with Roier, bc we had already gotten used to Pepito's tender way of speaking, but we just let that pass for a bit.

But then that "dry" behavior started going to go down a path were even we as an audience started getting uncomfortable, because roier was trying to socialize with the admin but they clearly didn't knew what's has been going on these past days, so Roier take the time to make a summary of the last days with his typical chill humor, and while he was doing that everything reached its final point with the sign "hueles a culo también hijo de puta" = you also smell like ass son of a bitch.

now This. THIS right here is what destroyed everything. Because you would say "oh, it's just Pepito following Roier's game, it's was in a playful way".

No.

It. was. not.

When Roier starts calling someone with some swears or related words is always in a playful way, and there is context and trust behind. When Otipep put that sign Roier was making a summary of the role that 07 has been doing with Pepito, bc he didn't wanted to let them behind, and while doing that he always explain with his usual humor to make it less unconformable for the admin/ entertained for his audience.

So when he placed that sign we all get out of the loop because it came from nowhere, even Roier kept silence of a few second because 1). it sounded rude, that sign was so out of place 2). Roier was explaining the last few days to the admin so he can keep up with the role, he was not "joking" with the admin, or moving on to another topic, he was helping the admin. 3). We, as an audience, felt so shocked because they weren't saying that to Roier in a playful way, they were giving weight to those words. And this is the part that people that do not have Spanish as their first language doesn't understand. They gave weight to the insult. They didn't wrote that as a joke, they directly INSULTED the streamer.

Then roier proceeded to hit him with the chancla bc he wanted to take the control back of the situation in a humorous way, a damage control in other words, because the chat was filling with "??????" And people getting offended and angry (justified, even I felt offended) with the admin, but Roier is not of those type of persons and he always try to make his streams a safe place for his community, so if you ask me he did a really well job handling the situation even tho he felt offended and his audience noticed that for the rest of the stream (hell, even days later)

And if that was not enough, Roier kept trying to save the situation but the admin was not cooperating, with the "no he preguntado"= I've not asked you and other sign that I just don't remember and is not really worth it (and bc Otipep literally left Roier speaking alone with the "I'm going to look for better parents" and went to spawn zone), he just gave up trying and waited for Richas to come back (which was also chocked w the situation)

And this is me speaking from a non-neutral tone, but I think we could've had a Roier being super loving and caring with Pepito if this situation didn't happen in the first place, bc after this I noticed that Roier stopped tried to get close to Pepito, the situation really affected him so whatever role he was building with the character he just simply stopped and changed the dynamic with another one more limited and less parental, but keeping his usual humor bc it was not the fault of the actual admin or 07, it is what it is unfortunately.

That's why I'm so glad that the actual admin and Ricardão did such a good job saving Pepito because the Spanish speaking community was about to drop him, even streamers friends of Roier that are not part of the qsmp acknowledge the behavior of Otipep with Roier (if that doesn't say a lot about how complicated it was on this side of the road)

And even after all these things there was people out there calling the Spanish speaking community as dramatic or harassing Roier when the situation happened (and it seems they still do it :/ ), but most of us kept quiet because we respect Roier and as he says, mejor pasamos de movidas.

and well, this is it, I know I'm missing some points in the story but honestly getting into fights or hate in general is not my thing, I wanted to give some context for the people of Tumblr because I know, at least here people take the time to read and are more chill unlike twt, and I hope I gave some clarification for the rest of the communities that are not native in Spanish, I really really love Pepito and I'm so glad we had 07 and the actual admin there to play this character, I still can't believe that person had the audacity to come out proudly as Pepito's 1st admin when literally no one from the Spanish community considers his 2 appereances as canon after their blunder xd

Thank you for sharing!

I understand that some stuff are hard to translate, thank you for taking the time. I didn't know that your community was being called dramatic because of that! That is dumb as hell and I am sorry it happend in the first place.

Of course we are no in business of spreading hate. I have always tried to see the other side of situations, I think from what I read in the admin's doc they had some kinda of vision for the character, but I guess they didn't realized that well, they were not going to become automaticly friends with Roier and have room to "joke" like that just because they have become an egg admin. Probably my best guest of what it happend.

It is really weird, maybe they were banking on the support that the other admins have gotten? Or they actually never realized how insulting they have come out as.

Well, I don't have much to say, except I am sorry it happend at all with Roier and the hispanic community.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes​ @wnstice @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday @moony-toasts @sketchiethebear @trawberry-fire @hangmanscoming @agent-scorpio @julesjewelss36 @chonkercatto @dcgoddess @hollandorks @anotherr-fine-mess @miriamnox @dumdumsun @phoenixgurl030 @marvelouskatie @swangelss @millercontracting @aivlisdecolores @geeksareunique @xxrougefangxx @theres-a-bea @keepingitlokiii

[likedovesinthewindd]

game; part eight of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: patrick doesn't understand the game you're playing | content/warning: explicit language, light angst, arguing, and everyone being shitty lmao | tags: @midwestprincesss

"Do you ever think she's just using us?"

Art makes a questioning sound, muffled by the mouthful of donut he had all but shoved into his mouth. He chews and swallows it quickly before speaking up again. "What do you mean?" he asks.

Patrick sinks a little lower into the plastic chair, the sun catching his face before he sits upright again. "I dunno, like," he thinks a moment before continuing. "This thing we have, whatever it is," he says, gesturing between the two of them, "it just kinda revolves around tennis."

"It's like some kind of weird pavlovian response she has," he continued, eyes trained on the blue clay of the turf. "Like as soon as she starts talking about tennis, it gets her going."

"Kinky," Art joked with a playful scoff. Patrick shook his head, his body sinking back down into the chair. "It's kinda fucked up," he added softly. Art only hummed as he thought the situation through, his hand wiping across his mouth absent-mindedly. "Maybe it's better that way," he says, "I mean, she knows you're not serious—"

"Who says I'm not serious?" Patrick asked, looking at Art, who in return had a incredulous look on his face. "C'mon, Pat," he started, "you're in a new city every week, she's doing good for herself, moving up the ranks. I mean," he shrugged.

Patrick scoffed, sitting upright once again. "Why do you sound like you're trying to protect her from me or something?" he asked with a laugh lacking any humor. Art stayed quiet, his eyes now also trained on the blue turf, and just in time to see you emerge from the locker room, the giant bag hanging from your shoulder.

Patrick's eyes followed you for a moment, watching the way your tennis skirt swayed with each step before he suddenly stood up and moved through the grumbling people wordlessly.

When you scanned the crowd, you found Art sitting in the fourth row, a small smile on his face when your eyes finally met his. You returned the gesture with a wave before you noticed the seat next to him empty, no Patrick in sight. Your stomach churned with something uncertain as you started warming up.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

You lost, and horribly at that. Your opponent was still fairly new and the fact that she had managed to beat you inflated her ego by a hundred and made you want to throw the tennis racket at her head to wipe that smug look off her face. You should've been able to beat her, but you didn't, and now Sarah Joy Anderson had ended your winning streak.

You were in a foul mood after that, not even waiting around for Art and immediately making your way back to your dorm. A piping hot shower later, and you now sat quietly in bed, finally working on your assignments as the small radio on your dresser softly played.

A knock at your door startled you a bit and you had to gather all your strength to face anyone considering the mood you were in. You got up with a grunt, taking a moment to take a few calming breaths before opening the door.

It was almost funny how fast the initial calmness seeped right out of your body at the sight of Patrick standing in front of you, a matching scowl on his features.

"What kind of game are you playing here?" he asked, voice soft but still demanding of an answer. "I don't wanna do this right now," you said, ignoring his question as you moved to slam the door shut until he effectively stopped it with an outstretched arm. "I'm serious," he said, eyes staring you down and filled with so much unidentifiable emotion you almost folded. "What's your plan? Why are you doing this?" he tried again.

You were quiet for a few moments, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You were angry at him, angry at losing to fucking Sarah Joy. Angry that he thought he could come here and confront you like this. "Why weren't you there today?" you asked, a small smirk forming when you could physically see the frustration expression deepening, his hands moving to rub over his reddening face. "Because I don't want to play your fucking game anymore," he answered in a frustrated breath.

"Choose," he said suddenly, catching you off guard. "What?" you questioned, recoiling when he moved closer to you, almost in your face. "Choose," he repeated, "me or Art."

"No," you said, watching that sickening smirk stretch across his face. "C'mon, is it really that hard?" he laughed. Actually laughed. "Fuck you," you said with so much venomous anger you felt lightheaded once the words left your mouth. "Yeah, you've been trying to for months."

The sound of your open palm hitting his face was loud in the quiet hallway, echoing through the area and through your body. The bright red hand rapidly imprinting itself onto the side of his face almost made you smile if it weren't for the look on his face.

You both were quiet, the realization sinking in as you stared at each other. It was a blur after that, as cliché as it sounded. All you remember was him pulling you closer with a force that had you practically falling against his chest and his mouth on yours. And as messed up as it was, you could feel the anger pouring out of you with the way he was gripping at you and the way his mouth moved against yours almost angrily.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

[cxrsed-angel]

Key Hooks Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Joel repeatedly loses his keys after you suggest a key dish. He finally gets a key hook and has a suggestion of his own.

Warnings: None really. slight mention of sex, domesticated fluff. No Outbreak Au. Sarah is in college.

A/N: Just Joel based on an ad and a dream I had. Pretty sure this is my first fic with Joel that doesn't have an age difference mentioned 😭. Also, it's the first nonsmut Joel fic in a while. (also nervous bc i haven't posted in a while and I kinda hate the title but whatever)

Joel was running late, super late. He had woken up later than expected. Hit snooze on his alarm twice. Partially because you were in his bed, and he didn't want to leave you, but partially because of you again because you kept him up begging him to fuck you more, and of course, he couldn’t resist. He could never tell you no, but that resulted in him being sore and tired and missing his two alarms.

You woke up yourself when you heard him cursing and muttering to himself, loudly moving things around, frantically searching for something.

You sit up in his bed, confused by the sounds Joel is making as he searches for his keys. Looking at him, you see him shake a pair of jeans that was lying on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing? Shouldn't you be leaving?” you ask, barely awake as you look at the time on his alarm clock.

“Can't find my damn keys.” He moves, searching through the stuff on his nightstand.

“I told you you needed a key holder.” Slowly leaving the warmth of his bed to help him search for the missing keys. You look on the other nightstand but don't see them there either. You sigh, looking as Joel searches on his messy dresser.

“Where'd you leave them?” you ask mid-yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It still takes a moment to actually wake up, and you're fairly tired from last night as well.

“Don't remember, you were yanking my pants off the second I got through the door, could be anywhere.” Joel searches on the floor but still fails to find them.

You nod, remembering how desperately you needed him after he returned from work. Putting your hands on him the first chance you got.

You decide to go downstairs. You glance at the clock. 9:30 a.m. Yeah, he was already 30 minutes late for work. You get out of his bed, putting on a pair of slippers you keep at his place. You search downstairs, checking underneath mail and other documents, on counters, and in the kitchen, but nothing. Joel’s not far behind you, also searching downstairs.

“Are you sure you can't skip today? Stay home. I can skip; we can both relax at home.” You ask, joking, kind of, but you're meant with just one of his unamused glares, taking it as a no. He sighs, frustrated as the search continues.

You move to the couch, searching under the cushions, the scene of last night's activities; you figure they could’ve slipped in between the cushions.

“You know, if you had a key holder, you could’ve been out the door.” You remind him as you look around for them.

“Also could've been out the door if you didn't beg me to fuck you last night before I even had my shoes off and made me lose them in the first place.”

You nodded. He had a point. With how fast you were on him, you probably tossed his keys across the room. You reach into the couch cushions and feel the familiar shape of keys in your hand. You hold them up, jangling them to show Joel you found them. He smiles as he walks towards you to grab them, but you pull them away from his reach at the last minute.

“You will finally get a key rack. I mean, I get it. Sarah moved into her dorm, so you want the whole man cave thing and everything, but will a key rack kill you? He rolls his eyes and reaches for them, nodding.

“Yes, I’ll get a damn key rack now give them so I can go.” He reaches, grabs the keys out of your hand, and gives you a quick kiss on your lips before leaving.

A few weeks later, Joel picked you up for a date and decided to take you to a new movie. You're in his black pickup truck heading back to his house since you have a few roommates back at your apartment and just want to spend time with him alone. After a car ride of forcing Joel to listen to your favorite songs since he lost rock paper scissors you got control of the music. He pulls into his driveway, turning the car off.

“Can’t believe I spent the last 15 minutes listening to that.” He grumbles, getting out of his truck, you watch as he comes around to the passenger side to open your door. You quickly find that you’ll never be opening doors when you're with him.

You smile as you get out. “You were dancing to it. Don't think I missed that.” He rolls his eyes as he closes the truck door behind you with his right hand while his left comes to the small of your back.

“I wasn’t dancin’. You were seeing things. The truck was just moving.” He walks with you to his front door as you laugh. Knowing he was definitely dancing to the songs.

“Yea? Does the truck always move to the beat or just this once?” You giggle again as you enter his house, your second home. He’s right behind you, closing and locking his door. You're removing your shoes and getting more comfortable when you hear his keys jingle.

You bend over, taking your shoes off, not facing him, but you didn't want a repeat of a few weeks ago. “Better remember where you put them this time, old man. I don't need you tearing your place apart at 8:00 am because you can't bother getting a key dish.”

“Well, I won’t forget since they have a home now.” His words make you stand up

You look up, noticing a wooden key rack with a shelf above it and a spot for mail. You see Miller engraved in the wood. You see Joel’s set of keys on it, and you smile.

“You bought a key holder?” You stare shocked at him, never expecting that he actually would.

“No, I built a key holder with some leftover wood and got some hooks. Sarah helped me with it one weekend. It was she who told me to add the mail holder.”

You laugh, looking at it closer, admiring his work, and looking at his house with his woodwork around. The shelves, the bookcase, the CD stand—all things he made over the years.

“You know it never fails to amaze me when you show me what you make. You've made things like a dresser and a table, and you made my desk for me and added cute flowers on it.”

Joel shrugs, never been good at accepting compliments, he shakes his head as he looks at the key holder.

“It’s my job, sweetheart. Would be kinda embarrassing if I was shit at it. I’ve been building things since I was a kid with my dad. He taught me and Tommy.”

You nod, slightly rolling your eyes at his inability to accept a compliment. You move closer to him. “Yeah, I know, but it’s still cool, Joel.”

You feel his hand come to your lower back, pulling you into a kiss, and you instantly melt against him, feeling his lips on yours. His left hand joins his right on the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him. Before the kiss gets too heated, you feel his lips leaving yours.

“Wait, almost forgot.” You watch as Joel reaches into the back pocket of his Levi’s, pulling out a single key and holding it out to you. “a key cause…well, I know you mentioned your lease ending in a few weeks….and well, we've been together for a bit…. I was just thinking about you moving in. If you want. If you don’t, that’s fine. I mean, you can keep the key anyway and-“

You crack a faint smile hearing him ramble and you could tell he was nervous about asking you to move in, which was sweet. You had thought about it but assumed Joel had preferred his bachelor pad since Sarah moved into her dorm this past fall. You never thought he’d actually ask. you only mentioned your lease ending soon once on the phone. You didn’t imagine he’d remember, let alone offer you to move in.

“You want me to? Because I have a lot of shit, and Sarah just moved out. ” you smile a bit, seeing him laugh.

“it’s up to you, baby. No pressure, just offering. But half your shit is here anyway. You spend most nights here anyway, and I got half your wardrobe taking up room in my closet already.”

You nod, smiling, knowing he was 100% right. You’re still thinking about what to do when he speaks again.

“Sweetheart, I don’t need an answer right now. Relax. Just let me know, okay? My offer isn’t going anywhere.”

His deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts as he grabs your hand lightly, pulling you into his living room. You sit on the couch while he goes to the kitchen, grabbing the remote to find something to watch. A few minutes later, Joel hands you a glass filled with your favorite wine while he has a beer for himself. Moving his arm around your shoulder, he pulls closer to you, still thinking about his offer in the back of your mind.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Shooting a Movie part 4

Note: another thanks to @foxyanon for encouraging me while writing! & thanks to @legitalicat for coming up with a little nickname for a certain character ;)

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated, and make sure to read the previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3.

Warnings: 18+!! smut and a bit of angst.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) / Modern!Masema x you (f)

summary: you continued to work with Sihtric, as well as with Masema.

wordcount: 5,4k

Masterlist

Your trip with Sihtric from Durham to London had been pleasant so far. He was a good driver and his energy was always positive and warm while he also eased your mind about your upcoming photoshoot. He would be there with you, and he promised that if anyone would even do as much as look at you the wrong way, he would tell them off. You were still nervous for your shoot, but knowing someone you feel safe with would be by your side made it easier.

You shared a hotel room together during your five day stay and also slept in the same bed, but Sihtric was respectful and never tried to have any sexual activities with you during the first two nights, despite aching to be intimate with you. He didn't know you would have never turned him down if he were to initiate something, but you also held off from making a move yourself because you wanted to keep things professional. And beside that, Sihtric was a real gentleman anyway, taking you out for lunch and dinner every day and always making sure you had everything you needed during your stay.

The first evening together was a little strange. You were both quite unsure about how to behave, as you were together for the first time without having any job to do or script to discuss. You eventually decided to watch some random tv in bed and, almost naturally, you ended up cuddling under the sheets. The butterflies you felt were overwhelming when you rested comfortably against Sihtric's bare chest while he had one arm wrapped around you, and you fell asleep like that not much later.

The second day you went over your contract together for the photoshoot, as Sihtric wanted to know what exactly you had agreed to, and after that you just did some sightseeing in the capital city. You ended up roaming the streets together, hand in hand, while you both slowly began to open up about some more personal things in your lives. And later that night, after dinner, you ended up all cuddled up in bed again to watch some easy tv, while Sihtric uploaded some content to his OnlyFans which he had already made before the trip. 

Sihtric chuckled when he saw the notification pop up on his phone that you had liked the video he had just shared, which was a rather sensual video of him jerking off in his shower, and you grinned when Sihtric looked at you with a mild side-eye.

'What?' you snorted, 'you know I see that stuff when you post it.'

'Yeah, well,' Sihtric laughed a little shyly, 'it's weird to see you're watching me touch myself while I'm literally next to you.'

'You should've thought about that before,' you smiled and shrugged.

Sihtric shook his head lightly and rolled his eyes while he smiled, 'Yes, okay, just… just stop watching now.'

'Fine,' you fake huffed and locked your phone, then rolled over to your other side of the bed and switched off the lights.

'Hey,' Sihtric complained.

'What?' you shrugged, 'I have to get up early tomorrow.'

'Fine,' Sihtric sighed, not even close to being annoyed but still pretending that he was, and he also put his phone down. 

And then, once again like the night before, he almost naturally cuddled up to you from behind while you both dozed off.

Today, the third day of your trip, was the day of the photoshoot. You arrived to set early to get your hair and make-up done, while Sihtric was present in your dressing room and just minding his own business, mainly scrolling on his phone and keeping up with what was going on in the industry. You occasionally glanced at him, without his knowledge, by looking in the mirror and seeing him sit behind you, looking so ridiculously sexy while he was just wearing some simple black sweatpants and a loose fitted black shirt, while the unshaved side of his head showed his messy curls. You felt truly blessed to have him around and cherished every second in his presence. And once you were all dressed and ready, Sihtric followed you quietly when you were called on set.

'Good luck,' he smiled and gave you a wink, to which you felt yourself blush and thanked him before you carefully walked in your enormous white latex heels to the mark on the floor.

Everything started off well, and Sihtric was glad to see you were treated decently. He was also glad to be there to witness your stunning look, as you were dressed in a tight fitting and dangerously short skirt with a matching white, stretchy crop top. And it all went fine, until the photographer, who Sihtric then realised was the Aethelred, told you to lower your top seemingly out of nowhere. Sihtric carefully monitored the situation from a distance and he watched your response before deciding if he had to interfere or not.

'My top? But…I,' you stammered, a little bewildered, 'I wasn't told…that…'

'Listen,' Aethelred sighed and threw his hands up, 'show those tits or go home, okay?'

You stared at the photographer, desperately fighting your tears and the tremble that was about to take over your lower lip. You were too ashamed to look for Sihtric in the crowded room, and your shaky hands then slowly reached for the neck of your white stretchy top, and you curled your fingers around the fabric as you swallowed hard. You came all this way and you needed the money, while Aethelred was also one of the most famous explicit photographers in the business, so you felt like you were in no position to disagree. But just before you could unwillingly expose your breasts, Sihtric jumped up from his chair and stormed over from across the room.

'Hey!' Sihtric shouted, which startled everyone on set, 'was that in the contract?'

Aethelred stared at you and then at Sihtric, not sure what to say as the man with fury in his mismatched eyes came closer, so he just laughed awkwardly while he felt his face turn red.

'Well, showing more skin will make her more popular,' Aethelred nervously argued while Sihtric got up in his face.

'But was that in the contract?' Sihtric asked again, more threatening this time as he already knew the answer to his own question.

'I… well…' Aethelred stammered.

Sihtric then looked at you and asked you the same question.

'No,' you said, barely louder than a whisper, 'this was not described as a topless shoot.'

Sihtric looked back at Aethelred, who was fuming as much as he was actually terrified.

'Well,' the photographer cleared his throat, 'if she wants to continue working in this industry, she better listens-'

'I think we both heard enough,' Sihtric cut him off and backed away, 'come,' he said as he came over to you, 'we're leaving.'

'But, Sihtric, I… I need the money,' you confessed quietly.

'You don't, let's go,' he said and held his hand out to you but he saw the clear doubt in your eyes, 'I got you, okay? You're not going to work with this guy anymore. Don't worry about the money.'

'But it's Aethelred,' you whispered, 'he… you know he's big in the industry, Sihtric, he can ruin my career if I leave now-'

'No,' Sihtric protested, 'he will not ruin your career. That is just what everyone makes you think so they can pressure you into undressing for them. But this is not how it works, sweetheart, trust me. This is not okay, and we're leaving,' he said sternly.

You needed a moment to let his words soak in, but then you took his hand. Sihtric attempted to walk you with him, past Aethelred, but the latter suddenly grabbed your arm and you gasped as he pulled you towards him and away from Sihtric.

'I will make sure you will never get hired again,' Aethelred hissed at you.

Sihtric turned and saw Aethelred's bruising grip on your arm, and he gave the photographer a harsh shove away from you to which every employee on set turned their heads and became quiet.

'If you touch her again,' Sihtric growled, 'I will fucking sue you!'

'Do you know who I am?' Aethelred scoffed, arrogantly.

'Do you know who I am?' Sihtric asked, to which Aethelred took a few steps back, 'and do you have any idea how hard I work to create a safe space for these girls in this industry? To keep them away from assholes like you? And I… I will fucking ruin you,' Sihtric nearly whispered as he got full up into Aethelred's face, 'and not ruin you in the pleasant kind of way, sweetheart. I can expose you for the creep that you are and then I will make sure you never get hired again. You got that, Aethelcunt?'

Aethelred didn't speak, he just stared at Sihtric with his jaw clenched. He knew his behaviour with girls had been awful, but no one had ever dared to confront him about it so he never cared, until now.

'I asked if you got that?' Sihtric pushed his question.

'Y-yes,' he said hoarsely.

'Good,' Sihtric said, 'now apologise to the lady.'

Everyone held their breath as they stared at Aethelred, the famous photographer who was finally being put in his place for his misogynistic behaviour over the years, and they all secretly enjoyed how embarrassed he was.

'I… I'm sorry,' Aethelred mumbled.

'What was that?' Sihtric spoke up, thickening the awkward tension.

'I said I'm sorry!'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled, satisfied at humiliating the poor excuse of a man, 'if I ever see your face again…'

Sihtric didn't have to finish his sentence for everyone to understand what would happen if they crossed paths again, and he circled his arm around your waist to help you walk back to your dressing room in those ridiculously high heels. You changed back into your own short black skirt with a comfy hoodie on top without saying a word, and after that Sihtric drove you back to the hotel, the drive being just as quiet as the dressing room had been.

There was a tension between the two of you since that moment on set, not an uncomfortable one or a threatening one, but there was something lingering and unspoken. A heavy pressure you both felt, which was building up as the drive back to the hotel continued, and with each passing second that gnawing feeling intensified. Sihtric felt his heart pounding in his chest when his eyes trailed off the road and to your bare legs, while you heard the sound of your own blood pumping in your ears as you looked at his hand clenched on the gear stick. You silently imaged his hand around your throat, while Sihtric imagined your legs thrown over his shoulders, and the quiet tension became thicker once you got out of the car and stepped into the hotel elevator. 

Sihtric stared at doors as they closed, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark, and the light shock the elevator gave when it went up seemed to be the moment you both lost control. You grabbed Sihtric's shirt while he immediately reached for your face, pulling each other closer and crashing your lips together in a passionate and heated kiss. Sihtric pushed you up against the steel wall and hooked his arms under your legs, lifting you with ease and you instinctively enveloped your legs around his waist while your lips never left his. You felt his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you with such force, it was almost painful but you were desperate to kiss him until your lips were bruised. Your tongues slid around each other's and your hand moved up in his curls, the other settled on his neck to keep the kiss as deep as possible while Sihtric moaned into your mouth and squeezed your buttocks with such force it bruised your skin.

The elevator came to a halt at the eleventh floor, and Sihtric lowered you down before the doors could open. You felt the ground beneath your feet as soon as the elevator bell sounded and you grabbed Sihtric's arm to pull him with you immediately once the doors opened. You almost tripped over your own feet because of the haste you were in, but Sihtric caught you in time and pulled you flush against him while he pushed you to walk backwards to the room.

'Eager,' Sihtric chuckled and kissed you intensely again.

Your back hit the door of your hotel room and, while Sihtric kissed you, your hands searched the pockets of his sweatpants for the keycard, but you felt something much more exciting and began to rub his hard cock instead.

'Back pocket,' he murmured and pushed his hips into yours.

You reached for his back pocket and fished out the card, then turned to swipe the key, but before you could open the door Sihtric had already shoved your skirt up and pressed his clothed arousal against your ass, while you were trapped between his body and the door. You smiled and pushed your behind back against his crotch, which earned you a low chuckle from Sihtric and then you finally pushed open the door. You both almost fell into the room and Sihtric was fast to kick the door shut behind him, then picked you up and threw you on the bed.

'I wanna fuck you so hard,' he breathed while mounted on top of you, lips lightly touching while he grinded his hips against yours, 'lovingly though,' he chuckled.

'Then fuck me hard, Sihtric,' you whispered with a smile and teasingly traced his jaw with your fingertips, 'lovingly or not.'

The next morning you woke up in Sihtric's arms, and you both figured you needed a shower after you ended up having sex once again the night before.

'You go first,' Sihtric murmured, still half asleep.

'No, you can go,' you smiled while you tried to keep your eyes open.

'Well,' Sihtric said and paused to yawn, 'maybe we should shower together then.'

'Maybe we should,' you giggled, your hands roaming his naked body under the sheets.

'Oh, you want it to be that kind of a shower?' Sihtric smiled, then rolled over and picked you up in his arms with ease and carried you into the fancy bathroom.

'Should we… film something?' you asked almost shyly.

'Do you want to?'

'Yeah, I mean now that I won't get paid for that photoshoot, you know,' you shrugged lightly, 'I need to earn some money.'

Yesterday after dinner, and after another wild sex adventure, Sihtric had told you that you should consider making exclusive content for your OnlyFans, while also making stuff on your own terms and selling it to the studio you have a contract with. That is exactly what Sihtric did and it worked for him, being in control of his own footage and who he works with while also having a safe environment to work in. It was a new way of working for you and you needed to get the hang of it, and you figured why not make a short video with Sihtric as your first exclusive OnlyFans content, as the demand for you two together was clearly there.

Sihtric was up for it, without a doubt, and he was quick to grab his tripod and the camera he always travelled with and used to shoot his own footage whenever he felt like it. Within minutes he had it set up and rolling, starting the shoot with you from behind, completely naked and sensually leaning in to feel if the running water had a pleasurable temperature. And everything that followed after was just as hot and steamy as you hoped it would be, and only a few hours later you had the ten minute long video uploaded to you page, which quickly gained the interest of many and you saw the number of your paid subscribers increase with each passing minute.

And so you figured that maybe Sihtric was right. Maybe this would be a good way for you to work and make money while still enjoying it, as you had full control over who you decided to work with, if with anyone. Because, like Sihtric, you could also just make solo content. And with that newfound motivation and confidence, you went home the next afternoon, after having shared the bed with Sihtric a few more times though.

'Thanks for everything,' you said after he had dropped you off at your home, 'for looking after me and helping me and all that. It means a lot.'

'Anytime,' Sihtric smiled, 'you take it easy. Focus on making your own content and I promise you will be just fine. And only work with those you are comfortable with, okay?'

'Like you?' you chuckled.

'Sure, like me,' he laughed softly, 'I'm always just a text away, sweetheart,' he said and pulled you in for a hug, then kissed your cheek to say goodbye and you promised each other to stay in touch this time.

While you and Sihtric texted on a regular basis since your trip, you found out after a few weeks that your OnlyFans content wasn't just popular amongst the porn consumers, but suddenly a lot of fellow adult movie stars wanted to work with you privately as well. And one of them being very persistent was Masema. Masema was all about making money, and he knew that right now you were one of the people who he could make a lot of money with. You knew he wanted to work with you again ever since that movie you made with him, but it seemed that after he saw your short video with Sihtric, and the success it had, he had only gotten more eager. 

He suggested shooting at least two videos, one for his page and one for your own, and maybe some explicit photos as well. You liked his idea and you couldn't lie either, you wouldn't mind shooting some footage with him, so you decided to accept his request. You met him a few weeks later at his insanely fancy house again, while dressed in one of your signature short skirts with knee high boots and a faux leather crop top.

'It's good to see you again,' Masema flirted right away with his soft spoken voice as you both had a seat on that famous loungeset near his pool.

'Good to see you too,' you smiled and couldn't hide a faint blush on your cheeks.

He looked insanely good, as always, wearing tight black jeans and a black shirt. You didn't feel the same way about Masema as you felt about Sihtric, but you weren't completely unaffected by his good looks and his smooth voice either. And Masema clearly knew the effect he had on basically every lady he met with for work, and he used it to his advantage. He thought you were hot, but he wasn't in love with you, yet he'd go out of his way to try and make you believe you were the only one for him to make you want him more and more. And so he lightly brushed his fingers against your arms and shoulders while you had some small talk, setting you on fire with each touch and making you so desperately needy for him.

'So you're good with the idea?' Masema made sure to double check.

'Two videos, right?' you recalled, 'one blowjob, which will be exclusively for my page, and one of us just fucking for your page, right?'

'Yeah,' Masema nodded, 'that should do it.'

You agreed and Masema took your hand, 'So what are you up for first, pretty girl?'

'I think we should film that sex video first because we both know you're going to ruin my make-up when you shove your cock down my throat,' you said deadpan, to which you both burst into laughter seconds after.

'Yeah, I'll apologise in advance for making you cry,' Masema said softly and took your chin as he leaned in, 'but you do look so fucking sexy all ruined by me like that,' he trailed his fingers down to your neck, 'and it makes me so fucking hard.'

'Shouldn't you save that talk for the video?' you purred.

'We better start filming then,' Masema murmured with a cheeky smile.

He took your hand and led you back inside and up the stairs. He had a large spare room set up, from where he filmed most of his videos, and it had a comfortable looking bed and a large couch against the wall. The entire room was painted a fresh white and it was cleaner than a dentist's office, which showed you how professional Masema actually was underneath his rugged and stern look.

'I'm surprised to see no chains and leather stuff,' you chuckled as Masema switched the camera on which he had set up already.

'I got another room for that, gorgeous,' Masema smiled, 'but I know you're not into that, or at least not as experienced yet, so I have no business taking you there.'

'You have another room?'

'Yeah,' he scoffed with a laugh, 'why do you think I have so many bedrooms? I have one room that's just where I sleep, and all the other bedrooms are more or less different sets for shooting at home.'

'You don't really shoot at studios then?' you frowned.

'Absolutely not,' Masema shook his head, 'I did it with you that one time, but it's not something I usually do because I want to be in full control of what I do. And as soon as I got well known and respected enough to be in control of that, I designed every room here to be a different space. This industry is nasty, sweetheart,' he sighed, 'it's better to be in control of your own footage, trust me.'

'Y-yeah,' you cleared your throat and sat down on the large bed, 'Sihtric told me the same thing. He also prefers to make his own content.'

'Sihtric,' Masema mumbled, 'yeah, he got his business well arranged too it seems. But you know all about that, don't you?' he smirked.

'What's that supposed to mean?' you chuckled.

'We all saw that livestream you did with him,' he said as he neared you, 'and that shower video you uploaded a few weeks ago. I gotta ask… are you two dating?'

'What? No,' you blushed, 'we're not dating.'

'You make a lot of footage together.'

'Yeah, but… we're not dating. He's been helping me set up a safer place too, like you did here for yourself. He's looking out for me, you know?'

'That's kind of him,' Masema said half-heartedly.

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'he really is the sweetest guy I know. No offence.'

'Well, fuck,' Masema laughed, 'you're in love with him, aren't you?'

'Oh, shut up,' you laughed and slapped his muscular chest.

'Fine,' he leaned in, smoothly taking your chin again, 'you could belong to me, you know?' he lied.

Masema was not a guy to settle down, but he enjoyed knowing he could probably steal a girl away from someone. And Sihtric was competition in the business, so if he could hurt him somehow, he'd do it.

'I don't belong to anyone, Masema,' you said quietly while your heart skipped a beat at his touch.

'I don't care if you belong to someone or don't,' he whispered and traced your lips with his thumb, 'because regardless, I'll make you forget about everyone else when I fuck you.'

Masema smiled darkly and winked, then moved away to start filming while you moved off the bed and took your position on his white couch, leaning back relaxed and seductively to welcome him over. Masema joined you by sitting next to you, and you started off easy by making out sloppily until he had you so needy, you sat in his lap and grinded his thigh desperately, to which he smiled darkly once again. He truly had corrupted you that first time, making your shy and innocent side disappear as soon as he kissed you, seeing you change into the needy girl you were for him, and he loved it.

'Good girl,' Masema smiled as he looked up at you, sitting back with his arms spread across the backrest, just watching how you tried to get off on your own.

'Please,' you whined after a few minutes, 'Masema,' you breathed, 'fuck me, please.'

'Beg for it,' he said sternly and didn't move an inch.

You then moved off him and down on the floor in front of him, looking up with pleading eyes as Masema got up and towered over you. He took your chin firmly as he leaned in.

'I said beg.'

'Please,' you mumbled with a dazed smile, 'fuck me, please.'

'Good girl,' he whispered, 'take off my belt.'

He stood back as you obeyed, taking off his belt and unbuttoning his jeans while your mouth nearly watered, but you knew you couldn't suck him off now, you had to save that for later. There was no oral pleasure planned for this video, just sex.

Masema took off his shirt and you kissed your way up his toned torso, leaving red lipstick smudges all over his skin and he picked you up before you could kiss his lips again. He threw you on his bed and tore your panties off along with your skirt. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards the end of the bed where he stood, and he wrapped his hand around your throat pleasantly while he pulled his cock out and spat on his hand before he gave himself a few good strokes.

'Beg,' Masema said curtly.

'Fuck me, please,' you said with your cheeky laugh as you squirmed desperately on the sheets, 'please.'

You spread your legs for him, and he teasingly slapped your wet pussy with his hard cock a few times before he entered you. You arched your back and moaned with pleasure as soon as he began to thrust into you so deeply, easing you into it at first, but before you knew it he fucked you so hard into the mattress with his hand still wrapped around your throat and the other holding your waist almost bruisingly as he had his way with you.

'Fuck,' you moaned, 'ah, god, yes, fuck me.'

'You dirty slut,' Masema growled and only went harder while you clenched the sheets in your hands, not holding back or having to fake any moans and gasps while you were ravaged in all the right ways until you could barely remember your own name.

You climaxed fast but Masema kept going, promising he'd make you cum twice while he continued to ravage you. He tossed you around the bed, taking you in different positions and spanking your ass multiple times.

'I'm going to cum again,' you whined as he fucked you hard and fast.

'I told you,' he breathed, 'that's okay, sweetheart, cum for me.'

'Fuck, fuck,' you nearly screamed and clawed at the pillows your face was pressed into, 'oh, please, fuck.'

'That's it,' Masema moaned, 'that's it, that's it, cum for me.'

You came with another loud moan and Masema pulled out shortly after, he stroked his cock almost violently while he pulled you to sit up and he grabbed your face with his free hand.

'Open,' he said with a low grunt.

You did what he asked while still half dazed and allowed him to cum on your tongue as you had stuck it out for him.

'Good fucking girl,' Masema said hoarsely as he stroked himself through his high, and he then kissed you before he switched off the camera.

In between filming that first video and the second one, Masema took good care of you by making sure you were all cleaned up and comfortable while you both recovered. You were dressed in one of his comfortable oversized shirts while Masema wore his black jeans again. You had made your way downstairs to the kitchen together, where he made you some "dinner". You quietly looked at the salad he was preparing as you sat on one of the barstools, and you suddenly missed the pizza and tacos you had with Sihtric after you had sex with him that afternoon you had walked away from the photoshoot.

Masema was very kind and wanted you to be comfortable, but you secretly longed to be with Sihtric now. Masema was not as lighthearted and also very strict about his working out and diet, while your other co-star was just as good looking and not strict at all. With Sihtric it was always comfortable and you could truly be yourself, but Masema's personality was so different that you always felt you had to stay in work-mode around him, so you never really had any deep conversations or got to know each other better. Which was fine too, but you couldn't resist texting Sihtric to let him know Masema was making you a salad while you missed the fast food you had shared in the hotel weeks ago.

To your disappointment Sihtric didn't reply and left you on read, which was an odd thing for him to do because he usually replied within minutes. You tried to not think much about it and, luckily, Masema was nice looking company too so you just observed him while he served the food. You both ate in silence, which was almost awkward, and after that you helped him load the dishwasher which was just as awkward. And the time you spent together in his living room was just as awkward for you as the previous moments had been. You and Masema had chemistry during sexual activities, but other than that there was genuinely no vibe.

'So, ready to shoot?' Masema asked about an hour later, much to your relief.

'Ready when you are,' you smiled.

You went upstairs again and both undressed, and you shot what was probably the sloppiest blowjob you had ever given someone in your life. The result was filthy but you were proud, because you knew this would earn you some good money. You both fixed yourself up separately and got dressed again, but as you wanted to leave you both suddenly saw the weather outside had turned rather dangerous as rain and wind was gushing forcefully.

'It's not safe to drive,' Masema said as he stood in the front door with you, 'you should stay until it clears up.'

'But that's tomorrow morning,' you said and showed him the weather app on your phone.

Masema was quiet for a moment as he stared in the dark distance, mindlessly tracing his fingers across his bare chest.

'Well,' he said softly, 'I guess it's better to stay the night then.'

You agreed, not entirely reluctantly, but you'd rather sleep in your own bed. Or with Sihtric. And the difference between both men became evident again once you laid in bed together, on the opposite sides of the mattress and with your backs turned to each other after having said good night.

You grabbed your phone and saw there was still no response from Sihtric, which unsettled you. You decided to upload the video that was shot for you OnlyFans, so it could spread across the viewers while you were asleep, and you tried to go to sleep then. You tossed and turned in bed for a while as Masema was already snoring next to you, and you grabbed your phone again after a few long minutes, checking to see if Sihtric had texted you back already. But there still wasn't any reply, and with a lump in your throat you decided to text him again.

You: thinking of you, handsome xx

You saw Sihtric read your message immediately upon sending, as he was in his own bed, contemplating to text you before you reached out again. He ached, badly, knowing that you had been with Masema that night and having seen the video you shared had simply crushed him. He knew it was just work, and that's all it was, but he couldn't get over it and it frustrated him beyond words. Maybe this business wasn't for him anymore, he pondered before he finally wrote you back, and then threw his phone across the room and cried himself to sleep.

Your eyes teared up when Sihtric's message appeared, and you wept silently while you laid next to Masema in the dark and quiet room.

Sihtric: missing you deeply, angel, so much I feel it could kill me.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama

@lexeirikrleif @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a

@verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777

@urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50

@hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305

@carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @reidsbookstore @thenameswinter99

@deathbluestar113 @ladyinred2248 @zaldritzosrose @maryelle-cats @penumbrie

@solinarimoon @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @yungpoetfics @legitalicat @stupiddarkkside @volklana

if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 38 of????

2634 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

You wake up to the same squeezing feeling settled around your chest, although that could also be the weight of Jungkook's arms as the bunny holds you tightly even in his sleep. 

All things considered, you had slept quite soundly, you just wish someone had told your body that as it tries to tell you how exhausted you are. 

You do your best to worm your way out of the youngest's embrace, disturbing him only slightly before he turns around and gathers Jimin into his arms instead. You take one more look at their sleeping forms before tip-toeing out of the room. No one is sitting in the living room making your escape easier as you slip silently through to the front door. 

You aren't really sure where you are going, you just know one more minute in the house is going to make you combust. So you walk for a while, you pass your old office, pass the restaurant you went to the day you met  Jimin, pass Hobi's karaoke shop. You continue going until nothing around you is familiar and then your stomach starts to growl. 

You walk into the first cafe you see and sit yourself in a booth at the back, taking a deep breath as you finally take stock of the position you are now in. The cafe is mostly empty with one other customer in the far corner and two waitresses who look more than a little annoyed that you have invaded their space. The elder of the two hands you a menu and waits to take your order. You barely take any notice, pointing to the first thing under the breakfast title. 

With nothing left to distract you from the fear, it starts creeping back in; A remnant phobia from the hybrid genes mixed with your sheltered childhood. An instinct that tells you to disappear before you're trapped again. 

Your mind runs through the previous day countless times. How ready you had been to fight for Taehyung and his freedom, only for his solution to be to trap you with him. The logical section of your brain tries to remind you that he is not trying to collect or ensnare you, that this may be his best shot to stay with you and the other members of your relationship. 

The emotional side of you however can't quite get over how much your new life has come to resemble your previous one. Living in someone else's home, no career to call your own, and now a convenient trophy on the arm of another rich man... 

A stack of pancakes is placed in front of your face bringing you out of your miserable monologue but instead of finding the aging waitress, you find Noelle beaming down at you.

"Y/N! Long time no see," She smiles.

The mouse hybrid invites herself to sit with you, sliding into the booth opposite.

"Although it feels like I'm all caught up with the amount Jimin talks about you at the shelter," 

She reaches out and takes a berry from the side of your plate. You do your best to smile in return at her, before today you may have actually been thrilled to see Noelle since she was right, it had been a long time. But right now didn't feel like a socialising time.

"Perhaps I'm not all caught up judging by that sour look in your eye... Maybe a new set of ears can help?" She offers.

"I don't know. It's a lot, I'm not sure I fully understand my issues, I wouldn't want to burden you,"

"You're my friend Y/N, you could never be a burden to me. And if you're not at home talking this out with the seven wonderful men that dote on your every whim, then I think you need the outside ear... Am I wrong?" 

Noelle takes your hand from the table and holds it in her own, doing her best to reassure you. 

You ponder it for a moment, but she is right an outside opinion might help your brain to rationalise, although perhaps you should think about booking your own session with Dr. Triever instead...

Still, you relay the entire situation starting from your 16th birthday all the way up to today. And she listens to you patiently, not interrupting once even when you stray from the main subject on to distracting details, although she does steal a few bites of your breakfast. 

"And so I've landed at the point where I know I have to marry Tae, and I love him so that's okay! I'm just having a lot of trouble getting my instincts to retreat. My hackles raise every time I think about it, and honestly it's making my back start to ache."

"Have you considered not saying yes to marrying Tae?" Noelle suggests.

"Of course not. If I don't marry him then he and that poor girl are going to be forced together. I know what that's like and I won't let it happen to someone I love." 

"No, you'll just let it happen to you a second time," She rolls her eyes. "Okay, let's start with an easier part of the equation. Jimin said you had put a lot of the funds behind the new renovations, doesn't that make it your house, not just theirs anymore?"

"I mean, I guess? But it's not what I had in mind. My name isn't on any of the paperwork for the land, and I really did think I was going to live all on my own in the world."

"Living on your own is not all it's cracked up to be, trust me. I'd give anything for a cuddle some nights, especially during storms," She shudders dramatically. "And you gave up your job yourself, but I'm 100% sure we could get you another one if that is an issue, but I think your brain is just searching for reasons to run. Really think about it, how much do you mind not working?"

You do think about it. And maybe spending your time in the house was far more satisfying than going to your nine to five. But it's still the principle of the matter. You had promised yourself that you were going to do it on your own. Now you've failed.

And that's really the crux of it. Not that you're living with the boys, not that you've dipped into your money, not that you find yourself suddenly betrothed. It's the fact that you have perceived yourself as failing. Unable to prove that you could take care of yourself in the big bad world that your parents worked so hard to protect you from. 

You let Noelle in on your thoughts as she finishes off your breakfast for you.

"The way I see it, you haven't failed yourself. You've just found something more suitable instead. But if your stomach is still in knots about it, it's better to run now than on the day of the wedding," She shrugs. 

"You make an excellent point," You concede.

________________

With the food gone, and your heart somewhat unsqueezed, you and Noelle head back into the world. You walk her back as far as the shelter. You intend to leave her at the door, but Jimin sees you through the window before you can make your escape.

You contemplate running, pretending you didn't see him. But a confrontation is on the cards either way and it's probably better to get it over with than let Jimin drive his colleagues insane through the course of the day. Plus the man is far faster than he looks and he is stood in your path before you would've been able to escape anyway.

"Where the hell did you go?" The redhead tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks in the middle, your heart along with it, "You didn't wake anyone, you didn't answer your phone, you didn't even leave a note. Why?"

"I couldn't breathe, I didn't really think about it, I just knew I had to move," You answer honestly.

He sighs and glances around you, noticing the audience that seems to be gathering in the windows

He wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into him, and his other hand lands in your hair smoothing it down. He shuffles the two of you into the shadows of the building instead of standing out in the open where anyone can look out and see you there.

"Obviously you're not okay so I'm not going to ask you that... Are you... Is there anything I can do?"

"No, it's not your problem it's mine."

"Was it the proposal? I think that caught us all off guard and Taehyung doesn't expect you to go through with it."

A dry laugh escapes your mouth before you can stop it. Jimin takes a step back and meets your eyes.

"You don't believe me?" 

"I believe you that he doesn't expect me to go through with it, but I think we all know that I have to... and I want to! honestly, I do. I'll do anything so you guys don't, so we don't, lose Taehyung. I just need to get my head around it."

"I think you should go home Y/N. Talk with Jin or Namjoon, although maybe avoid Kookie and Taehyung until you can lie more convincingly than you did to me just now," He pecks your forehead and lets you go fully, "I'm so glad you're safe."

He sends you away with a promise to text him when you return home. You drag your feet the entire way knowing that Jimin is right and you need to talk through everything with a voice of reason. Jin might be the obvious choice, while a clown the majority of the time, his clinical doctor side allows him to separate emotion from sensitive topics. Something tells you that he isn't what you need right now. 

So when you reach the main house you walk inside the unfinished building and straight into Namjoon's new office finding him sitting at his new oak desk, just stroking the wood. He startles as your hand lands on his shoulder. 

"Shit Y/N, where did you come from?" He clutches at his chest dramatically. 

You flop down onto the new armchair as you wait for him to recover from his mini heart attack. He sits silently observing you for a moment too long until you start to wiggle uncomfortably.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" He reaches out a hand and places it on your knee. 

You thought you were, but the concern in his voice makes you hesitate. You just shake your head in response instead. 

"Okay, then let's not talk. Stand up." He stands too. 

He switches places with you sitting down in the armchair and pulling you back into his lap. He manhandles you until you're curled up on his knees with your face nuzzled into his neck. His fingers trace patterns along your thighs and the two of you sit in silence. 

The tightness in your chest is still there, curling up in Namjoon's arms is doing nothing to assuage that feeling but it still feels nice everywhere else. You think about what Noelle said about finding a new goal for yourself and you let yourself sniff Namjoon's comforting firewood scent. 

"I missed you this morning," He whispers in your ear. 

 "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be sorry, you needed space and that's okay. I just wanted you to know I missed you," 

He pecks your cheek and you continue sitting in silence. The rope around your heart seems to release, just a little as you allow yourself this comfort. 

"I love you," You whisper.

"I love you too," He confirms.

"I love all of you,"

"But you aren't ready to marry Taehyung, or any of us for that matter." He guesses

"I don't think so no... But I can't let Taehyung leave. I know better than anyone how it feels to be in a marriage you didn't choose. And it's so much worse for Taehyung, no one ever threatened me, I didn't have anyone I loved that I had to leave."

"We can think of other solutions for Tae Y/N. We aren't going to let you put yourself in a situation you don't truly want ."

"You don't know families like Tae's, families like mine. There isn't another option. I'm just going to suck it up and marry Taehyung."

"Ah yes, what every man wants to hear his fiance 'suck it up and marry him'" Namjoon chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his unserious response and start to wonder whether you should have gone to see Jin instead. 

"Look, this whole situation sucks for all of us, but there are other options we need to consider as a family, this burden doesn't lie on you. Now tell me what else is going on, because the proposal may have been a catalyst but it isn't the whole problem, I can see it in your eyes." 

"It's nothing," You sigh 

"If it's something, then it's everything. You listen to all our problems so often but won't let us listen to yours." He chastises.

"That's because you guys have real problems, I have stupid insecurities that have no basis in reality. There is no point in me bothering you with superficial issues."

"if it bothers you then it's not superficial and you should be talking to one of us. It doesn't have to be me, but I would love nothing more than for you to be able to confide in me."

"Really Joonie it's silly." You assure him.

"Tell me anyway," he insists. 

You contemplate confessing more of your issues. Realistically you know that he does actually want to help you but you also know the burden he already holds, having everyone else's concerns on his shoulder, you want nothing more than to lighten the load for him, not pile more on. However, you also know he won't drop it. 

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't make a big deal out of it. It's my issue and it's something I will get over by myself,"

"Scouts honour," He crosses his heart.

"I'm fairly certain you weren't a scout," You raise an eyebrow.

"The sentiment still stands," He shrugs, "Now tell me."

So you tell him what you told Noelle. He listens intently to each minor problem, each insecure thought, and he doesn't say a word. But you can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to come up with solutions. As you finish speaking, you hold a finger up to his lips.

"But I..." He tries to speak around your finger but you just press harder against his lips.

"You promised," you chastise. 

He smirks and your finger slips past his lips and onto his tongue. 

He pulls on your wrist to remove the digit from his mouth but not before licking along the length.

"If you really don't want my opinion I won't give it... but I would love for you to sign your name on the lease." he suggests

"That sounds like a solution I didn't ask for," You complain.

"But it's an easy solution that makes so much sense, don't you think?"  He sounds far too excited, probably because he is right.

"Maybe... but I still need to come to terms with all these issues on my own Joonie," you enforce the boundary.

"And I will let you... if you let me distract you from those issues for a little while." He says suggestively.

"And how do you propose you do that?" You ask innocently.

He responds by replacing your finger in his mouth and using his now free hand to trace back up the inside of your thigh.

Next

Masterlist

[pinkyqil]

Flirt // Jenni hermoso x r

Jenni was a flirt least to say she could flit with anyone as long has it as lips head and a body anything else wouldn't matter to her. So that why you felt really confused with your "relationship". with her cause she always gave you mixed signals that rarely made any sense to you.

One day she's all over you complimenting you, making you blush and all as it the usual Jenni package. next thing you know someone else is getting the same treatment that she gives or how she likes to call it "her delicate taste".

That made absolutely no sense to you but one thing you knew was that you were done. with anything that had to do with Jennifer hermoso you didn't want a part of it unless it was something serious. But it didn't look like it things where going to change with her so you thought.

You started pulling away from jenni it went from you two always partnering up to you straight up ignoring her and picking someone else as your partner.

To dismissing her and canceling plans that she made cause you knew it would be some different by tomorrow.

Slowly a hole formed in your friendship you both couldn't even spare each other a glance or a simple greeting.

The only time you would actually say a few words would be around game days where you needed to communicate with jenni but that wasn't something you both could do outside of work.

It honestly broke your heart to be pulling away from her like this. You missed her smile silly jokes that she would make trying to lighting up the room.how she would be there whenever you needed something or that you weren't feeling well she was always by your side like your order half.

Least to say jenni also felt the same way her heart felt incomplete like the other pieces to it was missing. but she knew one thing and it was to make it up too you for whatever she did cause her heart couldn't take you acting like she didn't exist.

The last few days you noticed Jenni putting in some efforts but you would always denie her and.

still continue shutting her out she tried everything from leaving notes and your favorites chocolate in your cubby opening the door for you. helping you carry heavy equipment without calling out for help but you wouldn't come forward.

It wasn't that you heated what jenni was doing you loved it all but your heart wasn't ready for what would happen if you guys where to talk it out.

Would things go back to the same way with how she was treating you or would you two become something. Was what you wondered.

Jenni's act had been going on forever but still she didn't get any improvement from you side always the cold shoulder and nothing more for her.

Today she jenni had planned to conner you when everybody as left as she knew you loved taking your time.

Your day went on with how it usual was Jenni still left you some notes and perfume in your cubby for when you arrived but you hadn't seen her anyway around the training grounds which was quite weird as she hung out with her group of people. But needless it was none of your busses.

You were tye last one to shower as everyone else had left or that what you think.you quickly dressed up and started existing the building until you felt a strange but familiar hands grab you by the waist.

It was none other than jenni she looked broken and hurt. All you could do was stare at her.

"What do you want hermoso". you asked her as you tried pulling your hands away.

" I just want to talk to you it would only take a few minutes". She said

"Well get talking cause I didn't have enough time to spend with you in my way".

She took a deep breath before speaking.

"I know that lately have been giving you on and off signals and just acting out as if you aren't important to me which is false so I just wanted' to tell you that I love you so much more than a friend we've both been through anything".

anyone can imagine and I just can't keep living like this knowing that j hurt you instead of protecting you so I just wan to apologize for that". She said as she took time to catch her breath.

"oh jenni you don't understand how long I waited for you to tell me how you feel cause I' also share the same feelings as you, I love you more than anything else that you can imagine"

and it hurt me a lot seeing how you would always treat me I love you jenni hermoso". You told her not expecting all that to come out of your mouth.

"So will I be able to treat you out to a date". She asked

"Yes you can have honestly seen the way that you've improved and I love it". you told her before tip-toeing and leaving a peck on her lips.

"You deserve it". You said

"I guess I do". She replied back

"So I'll see you saturday for dinner". She asked

"Definitely". You told as you walked away holding the notes that she had been living for you onto your chest.

Maybe luck was on your side after all and jenni wasn't just a flit after all.

A/n: hope y'all enjoy this read and if you see any mistakes no you don't cause I just finished writing this at 12:18 so mistakes shall be fixed later. anyway feedbacks, request and comments or if you want to chat with me inboxes are always opened and everything else is appreciated and don't forget to take care of yourself 💗

[sumerianlanguage]

Hello! I was wondering if you had any advice for writing a song in Sumerian? I have been writing lyrics for a bit and I have always been interested in ancient languages so I wanted to know how I should get started. I have some ideas swirling around in my mind as the music I have been writing is very soulful.

Hello! What an interesting question - I haven't done any songwriting in Sumerian myself, but I have practiced by translating modern songs into Sumerian, which I think gives a little insight. On my twitch stream we once translated Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen - a song that is not written for easy translation, it turns out! But it taught me many things about the interaction between Sumerian phonology/grammar and lyrical composition.

One thing I've learned is that sentences in Sumerian often use fewer words but more syllables to convey the same information. "I'd trade my soul for a wish" is seven syllables, but it's nearly impossible to convey the same meaning in Sumerian in less than nine: Zinga ashta shu gabalan. So if you write music with a strict syllable plan, prepare to convey less information per line; or to convey the same amount of info, prepare to sing "faster" (i.e. cram more syllables into a line).

Another important issue is that Sumerian sentences always end with a verb. This makes rhyming a different experience than in English - rather than having two "impact nouns" rhyme at the end of the sentence, common in many music genres, you instead have to rhyme the verbs, and often the verb conjugations. (Here's a post about how this functions in Sumerian poetry - I've linked the in-tumblr version since the on-blog version seems to be rendering out of order, and will also reblog it after this post.) Creative liberty with concept structuring can help: "You took your time with the call / I took no time with the fall" is most easily translated by making call and fall function as verbs: Ullabi gu numaden / Annga ullabi shuben "You didn't call me quickly / But I fell quickly", still a slant rhyme but helped by the fact that the first and second person conjugations ("you called", "I fell") often look identical.

Note that we can't rhyme ullabi "quickly" with the second ullabi since they're adverbs and can't end the sentence or clause. Though in my translation of the chorus, I use namga "perhaps" as almost a final exclamation in order to pull it out of the sentence and slant-rhyme with annga "however": Uda muraten / tumidim, annga / shidngu murabban / gu hemaden, namga "I met you today / a wild act, however / I give my number to you. / Call out to me, perhaps!" (Another really useful word in translating pop music is gana "let's go!" or "yeah!", which is an interjection and thus can stand separate from any clause like this.)

And one final tip: Keep your sentences simple! This is both because of the verb-final structure - Sumerian sentences don't "trail off" in the same way they do in English - and because English loves to use helping verbs, weird time-clauses, etc. that you rarely find in Sumerian. One long, languid English sentence is often best matched by several shorter, choppier Sumerian sentences. It's really hard to convey the combo of time-sequence and counterfactual in the phrase "before you came into my life, I missed you so bad", unless you're willing to spend a whole verse of the song to do so, so I ended up just simplifying it to Zae namtila ekur / Ngae namurashen "You entered my life / I wished for you a lot".

I hope that's helpful! Do check out my Sumerian music tag for more, including examples of actual ancient Sumerian lyrics (not to say "Call Me Maybe" isn't timeless and eternal in its own right). And let me know if you have further questions or any translation I can help with!

[writing-whump]

Woww thank you for the accident fic I was one of the fans who asked for it 😄 maybe it was not fun for you as much as other but I really enjoyed it (guess I'm a huge fan of those kind unexpected drama and sacrifice lol) Tbh, I don't want to bore you, or mess your schedule and attention but I can't help myself! Well, ok, I admit I'm a drama-addict and love to read other's reactions to it. Sorry for insisting!!

So it's just a tiny request, it really doesn't have to a fic-long as usual (if you want to write that way of course it's way better for me lol) I'm just curious about how would Isiah feel and think when he found out about the accident. I understand that this kind of trauma can be healed easily for wolves and not a concern, and Hex&Arnie got through it well, but it could be worse, right? Idk maybe Arnie would feel stressed about it afterwards and worry about Hex even though he's already healed. He might also blame himself for what happened as he was driving? Anyways, would you consider write another part stress sick Arnie and caretaker Isiah?

-🛼

I mean, this is fitting, since Arnie doesn't get stress sick, but he gets stress migraines. And we didn't have him with Isaiah as caretaker for a while...here you go🥰🤗

Stress migraine

Arnie really wanted to have fun today.

Hector was sleeping third day in a row already, tyring to get his shadow back up after all the healing. Nobody really knew, since Hector wouldn't want the pack to know and refused to call anyone.

Arnie understood. It was usually just the two of them, when something bad happened to either. Hector never let himself or Arnie find out if they had other people they could trust.

But now they had someone like that back. Someone they could call.

Other thing was that there wasn't really much to tell. Hector was fine, the car was getting fixed, Arnie wasn't hurt very much. What was he supposed to make a scene for, when there was no proof something even happened?

He caught himself looking for the little wound in his hair in the mirror just to make sure he didn't dream the whole accident up.

They had a scheduled meeting with Isaiah on Saturday though and Arnie figured it was a good opportunity as any to get out and distract himself.

He wanted to stop waking up to the fear he was back at the car or keep checking Hector every 30 minutes like he would start coughing blood out of his sleep all of sudden.

No, this was good.

Isaiah took him on a tour around Vienna. He said it was a scandal Arnie didn't get to see the center yet and that he didn't know all the sights by memory now.

Isaiah definitely did. They took Tram D around the main ring of the first district. Many important things were all after each other, parliament, city hall, the two giant museums of natural history and art history right across each other, the giant theater, the Butterfly House...

Isaiah refused to take a car, when everything was so well-connected and they spend the day on foot, from one park to another, one big street to another.

Isaiah seemed to have a thought out plan of switching between greenery and impressive buildings, talking all about the style of architecture, how many times they were rebuild, who famous lived there.

Arnie was so overwhelmed with all the information he stopped putting it together halfway through. He took comfort from just Isaiah's relaxed mood, his zealous voice and ardent expression.

Everything was all good with the world again. One could believe it, listening to him.

Somewhere around midday they went to get lunch near the Schonenbrun castle and gardens, Isaiah treating him to schnitzel and cake for good measure. He never let Arnie pay for anything when they were together.

"I have the same inheritance as you do," Arnie objectdd as he took a sip from his cold brew coffee.

Isaiah smiled. "Yeah, but we will start this talk once you make your own. Rich or not, there is nothing like earning your own money for the first time. Your effort, you decision."

"So you want to pay for everything with what you earn?"

"The assistance job I got at the uni pays well. I also helped out with a city planning project last year that had very good funding."

Arnie leaned back in the chair. "That's cool. What about your whole wolf helping activities? Hector says you get called to things all around the city. Do you get any pay from that?"

Isaiah took a spoonful of his chocolate lava cake. "No, I don't do that for money. I like helping out."

"You shouldn't be doing that for free though, when it takes so much of your time. Or is it the contacts and favours you gather that way?"

"Isn't it worthwhile and helpful when you can give people things without having them pay for it?"

"Yeah sure, but that's sustainable if you actually use all the money you were born with. If you were born with it." He was getting the impression Isaaih didn't like relying on anything that came from their father. "Besides, don't people take skills and advice more seriously if they have to pay for it? If you give it for free, they might not take any interest at all. It's a way to show them something is valuable."

"What exactly would I call it? Hello, I have experience that your shadow is entirely manageable with the right kind of training, but your pack doesn't seem to know, so come and listen to me?" Isaiah shook his head. Way to insult the pack and trivialise the wolf's problems.

"You have expert training from leading packs of the West. If you wanted to make that systematically accessible through courses or stuff, I think people would find it easer to find you. You could even prevent most of the problems the packs and human authorities call you to."

Isaiah chuckled. "You aren't the first one to suggest something like that. Matthew said something similar. Even Seline said I could make it a job. I don't know. I like working in the academic environment as well."

"It's not like you would have to choose between one or the other. Plus academic jobs are pretty instable I hear."

"You didn't even start uni yet and you are hearing about uni conditions?"

Arnie shrugged. "Lots of protests about the Mittelbau and the time constrained chain contracts around lately." Apprently 80% of the academic workforce that didn't have safe professor status worked under conditioned contracts, always afraid if they were going to be prolonged or not and if they wouldn't have to move to another town just to get a job they specilized in.

"It's impressive you can understand it. You still thinking about law school?"

"Yep." Hector was very careful about not mentioning it too much so Arnie wouldn't feel pressured, but he knew Hector would find it useful. Even wolves had to respect the law.

And Arnie would love to feel a bit more powerful around them.

"You are still studying it too?"

"Additional classes and courses, yeah. It's not my main subject, but it's useful in practice."

Arnie hummed, satisfied with the prognosis of that. He wanted to know useful important stuff.

They talked some more about law and different teaching styles of different faculties.

Everything was going well, except the sun was becoming a bit too much and Arnie's temples were starting to pulse.

Why now? He finally relaxed, finally forgot about what happened at home...

His stomach flipped at the reminder. He was pleasantly full just a minute ago, but now it felt like too much.

They paid and strolled around the gardens, when Arnie said: "Let's sit in the shade for a bit?"

Isaiah gave him a puzzled look that they barely got up and Arnie wanted to sit down already, but complied.

For such a historical sight, there were lots of people chilling on the benches in the shadows. Lots of trees planted for that purpose aside all the magnificently styled flowers everywhere.

"It's really hot today," Arnie said, tugging at the collar of his buttonup. Short sleveed, but still.

"There is a good ice cream stand nearby. I'll get you some." Isaiah patted him on the back as he left.

Arnie slumped back on the bench, relieved to be out of sight for a bit. He didn't want to ruin the tour that Isaiah planned out so carefully, but his head was positively pounding.

He didn't get a headache after the accident. That was weird in hindsight. Usually, when something stressful like that happened, he would absolutely get one.

He must have been too worried for Hector to let himself relax enough for it to set in. Veins must have finally opened from their tense contraction, and that's what made it painful.

Cold sweat was gathering at the back of his neck. His right temple felt like someone was putting a drill to it, while the other was held in a crushing grip.

The sunlight was so blinding, even though he was in a nice shade. He felt goosebumps on his arms, as his lovely lunch churned inside him.

Arnie leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees as he swallowed heavily against the saliva pooling in his mouth.

His stomach let out an angry whine, cramping up. Arnie hid his face in his hands, taking quick shallow breaths. Not now, not now, not now.

He groaned as his lunch roiled inside him, sniffling. There weren't many people around him in particular but this was still a public space. Beautiful gardens under a tree with a view of the castle, no less.

A burp snuck its way past his lips. His upper lip was covered in sweat now too. He could taste the salt as he licked his lips.

Arnie knew from experience it would only make him more miserable to fight it. The pain in his temples pulsed in synch with his heartbeat.

When he looked up from his hands, the sunlight pierced his eyes even stronger. The pain in his left temple spiked and Arnie heaved, pulling his feet more apart.

He swallowed the first retch down, but the second almost made him choke. Letting his head hang between his knees, he burped, the third wave bringing up the cake and the cold coffee onto the ground.

His brain was buzzing in his skull, so he kept his eyes closed, completely giving in to the sensations. Another wave of puke landed between his feet. Arnie only hoped his shoes wouldn't get dirty.

"Aww kiddo. What happened to you?" He felt Isaiah's cold hand against his nape. Isaiah discarded the two scones of ice cream on the ground at the sight of him, sitting down gently next to him.

That's when another wave of yellow brown puke found its way up, tasting of the potato salad and meat. Arnie groaned, back arching as he vomited up the longest stream yet.

Isaiah held his shoulder to steady him, rubbing up and down. "What happened? Did you feel sick suddenly? Or before? Is it the sun?"

Arnie burped emptily, spitting at the pool between his feat. The smell was making him nauseous still.

"I thought we took enough breaks in the shade. Maybe I miscalculated. You are sweating all over."

Arnie sniffled, his nose running. He kept his eyes closed still, the pounding in his head worse whenever the tried to open his eyes. He tilted towards Isaiah's voice blindly.

Isaiah obediently filled in the spot, letting Arnie lean against his shoulder. "Shhhhh. All good now. We will cool you down and you will feel better in no time."

Arnie sniffled again, curling into Isaiah's clean cologne, probably leaving a trail of snot behind. "Head hurtsss."

"I know, buddy, I know."

"...wanna go home."

Isaiah nodded over his head. "I'll call a taxi. We can go to my place too..."

Arnie shook his head. "Home." He wanted his own bed, his curtains, his medicine, though it would probably take a bit for his stomach to settle enough for it.

Isaiah was quite as they waited, only wrapping his arm around Arnie and helping him up when the taxi came. It was more or less a blurr for Arnie, who was glad Isaiah took over so eagerly, masterfully, despite not even knowing what was wrong.

As they sat in the back of the car, Arnie buried his face in Isaiah's chest, trying to muffle the sounds and light as much as possible.

"You will be okay. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry I ruined the trip."

"You didn't, you didn't. Should have chosen a later hour. With this heat-"

"Not the heat," Arnie sighed. "Migraine."

Isaiah tensed underneath him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Miragine. It's fine. Not...not your fault."

"Since when do you get migraines?" Isaiah said in a strangled voice.

"Since I was 12? Or 13? Something like that." He moaned quietly as the car took a turn and jostled him.

Isaiah tighed his grip around his torso. They sat in silence for a while before he spoke again. "How often do you get them?"

"Not regularly anymore. Something...usually something triggers it."

Isaiah's hand went up his arm, gently sneaking into his sweaty hair. When Arnie leaned into the touch, Isaiah started rubbing at his temples gently.

"What triggered it this time?" Isaiah asked softly.

The car jostled them again, making them both jump up and down on their seats. Arnie tensed up, then buried his face against Isaiah's neck with a moan.

Isaiah held him as tight as he could without making it painful. Arnie fought against the growing pressure behind his eyes, lips pressed together.

"Arnie?"

Isaiah's voice was so soft and concerned in his ear it got the tears spilling down Arnie's cheeks. "I-it's nothing. Nothing really happened. We-we just-" He sobbed quietly.

"Shhhhh."

"We-we were in a car accident with Hex. Three days ago." He felt the coldness wash over them as the car came into the underground parking place of their apartment complex. Arnie blinked, leaning back, blinking his eyes open in relief at the darkness.

He looked at Isaiah with teary eyes. "I-I was driving and it wasn't my- but Hex, he- protected me and got super hurt and, and he is fine now..."

Isaiah watched him carefully, green eyes of the same shade meeting his. They seemed to have a glow in the dark from how intensity he focused on Arnie.

"But I was really scared, you know? And it's stupid to be upset about it, cause nothing h-happened-"

"It's not stupid. It was scary and horrible, no matter the outcome. I'm sorry that happened."

"B-but I shouldn't be upset, right? Cause we are fine, we are both fine-" His breath hitched with another sob as another tear ran down his cheek. Some part of his brain wondered how the taxi driver didn't say a thing, waiting for Arnie to cry his eyes out on his backseat.

Isaiah brushed some sweaty blond hair away from Arnie's forehead. "And that's important that you are both healthy and okay. But it makes perfect sense you are upset too. You are allowed to get scared and worried."

Arnie's face twisted with another sob as Isaiah petted his hair gently, carefully watching him for any signs it was making the headache worse. But the pressure was really going down as Arnie let the emotion go, through words and tears.

"We didn't have to go out today if you were upset," Isaiah said.

"I wanted to see you though. And we had it scheduled..." so it was the best opportunity.

"If you called me, I would have come. We don't have to just meet when it's 'scheduled' or when you need help with something serious, you know?" Isaiah was still combing Arnie's hair away, when he started to look through his pockets with their other hand, manifesting a paper towel out of nowhere. "Here."

Arnie wiped his face and carefully blew his nose.

"I want to know when something happens in your lives. Good or bad, big or small," Isaiah said, no trace of reproach in his voice, though he sounded firm. "I want to be in the picture."

Arnie felt better hearing it somehow. It was like a permission to call him, even when the trouble wasn't real. Even if it was just Arnie wanting to talk.

The younger boy took a shaky breath, offering Isaiah a shy smile.

[mitamicah]

My haul from local clothes trade event

I went to my second ever clothes trade event yesterday (a good excuse to spring clean my closet) and here's the things I bought with me home :3

First up: Bojan core xD

Floral gay ^V^

Floral gay but sorta Käärijä inspired xD

Here's one for my inner child :D!! (I ended up cutting the sleeves off)

Sort of slavic dad core :'D xD

And then the last two shirts combined for full teenage boy mode x'D

Thank you for reading along :3

[keeps-ache]

i don't wanna take over the world, it sounds like a lot. but you know, laying siege to a golf course sounds really nice sometimes

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[sudokuplayer]

i'm so angry and heartbroken and i think this is all i will ever be