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ollyissleepy · 3 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, reader commits a crime a/n: look at him!! he's finally talking to someone who isn't Alfred!!! I'm so proud!!! proofreading? what's that? based on this idea I had

"And so we meet again. "Commissioner Gordon sits down across from the boy, setting paper cups on the table. "And all thanks to Batman."

"What would we ever do without him?" (name) sneered, taking a sip of the tea from one of the cups. "I confess to whatever you want to charge me with, by the way."

"There's no need for you to do that. Your father already handled everything." Gordon places a stack of paper on the desk, encouraging the boy to take a look at them.

(Name) clicked his tongue as he was reading over the papers. Bruce Wayne really did handle everything. The boy wanted to laugh at 'his father's' attempt at keeping up the reputation and sweeping everything under the rug. There's a knock on the door, and, after receiving permission from the commissioner, police officers enter the room.

"Somebody's here to take him home," a man dressed in uniform announced, his back straight and ready for the next orders.

Gordon waved the police officer away, signalling for the teenager to stand up. The two of them walk down the hallway to the front of the station. At the front, he met with the butler, his eyes scanning over (name) from the moment he came into view. Alfred and the commissioner exchange polite greetings.

"I hope he didn't give you much trouble," Alfred said, looking over the boy one more time, making sure he hadn't gotten hurt on the days he was alone in the city.

"Don't worry about it." Gordon smiles, placing a hand on (name)'s shoulder. "He was worse before you guys took him in. This time we even got to chat a bit." His voice sounded almost proud of the progress he made with the boy.

Alfred takes (name) to the car that he parked right at the front door of the police station. The boy wonders if he should sit in the passenger seat, next to the butler. He decides to sit in the back again, at the chance that the man is mad at (name) for giving him more work. Alfred sits down at the driver's seat, putting the keys into the ignition, not starting the engine. He turns his body around towards the teenager, his eyes filled with something (name) didn't quite recognise anymore.

"Please, don't run away like that. Ever." The butler's voice is low, but the sharpness of it doesn't reach the man's eyes. "We were all so worried."

"Worried? If it wasn't for that fool in latex, we wouldn't be talking right now." (Name)'s voice comes out sharper than the butler's. The boy's brows furrowed at the, what in his eyes is, a fake care.

The butler doesn't reply, just stares at the boy. He not only wasn't expecting (name) to speak like him that way, but he also wasn't informed that one of the vigilantes in the city was the one that brought him into the station. The older man felt his heart squeezing, knowing that the boy took his worry and care for (name)'s wellbeing as something that wasn't real. Wasn't true.

"Alfred—" (name) tried to speak, knowing that he took this too far.

Alfred didn't let him finish, turning around and starting the car. (Name) was left alone in the backseat, filled with regret over his own words.

The ride to the manor feels worse than the first one. Instead of a man at the driver's seat, who had one poor attempt at bonding, it was Alfred behind the steering wheel. The same man who had respected every boundary (name) had set. The man who made the boys short stay in the manor somewhat bearable. The teenager recognises that he should've voiced his frustrations in a different way. And most certainly, not by lashing out at an older man, who hasn't done anything to use him.

Alfred drives into the garage, parking the car between two others, each just as luxurious as the one he was driving. (Name) braces himself, taking a deep breath before leaving the car. The butler barely manages to make it to the side of the car the boy was sitting in when the teenager was already out of the vehicle. Alfred, after noticing that (name) doesn't need help getting out of the car, starts walking away. The boy doesn't let him go too far, grabbing his hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry." (Name) doesn't dare to look at the butler's face, too ashamed. "I shouldn't have said that. I know out of all of them, you would look for me."

Alfred smiles softly. Even though he still hasn't figured out the way (name)'s mind works, the butler is happy with the progress the boy seems to be making. The man puts his hand on (name)'s shoulder, squeezing it. The teenager's head shots up, surprised at Alfred's reaction to his apology. He was expecting many things: a cold shoulder, some shouting. Not this. Not the warm hand on his shoulder, not the smile on the butler's face. (Name) became even more confused when the man offered him some tea and cookies, acting almost as if he fully forgave the boy for his tantrum.

During their tea, Alfred had promised to show (name) where the library is located in the manor, hoping that the boy would have something to do and also to check if he was taught how to read. And that could help with finding potential tutors for the teenager, allowing him to gain any sort of education. Bringing the boy to the library, Alfred was watching carefully from the entrance, hoping to see what book (name) would reach for.

It didn't take long for the teenager to form a new routine inside the manor. Every morning he would come down to the kitchen just before Alfred, still persistent on making his own breakfast. He would eat in silence as the butler works on the breakfast for the rest of the family. After his meal, (name) would usually hide away in the library with a book of his choosing. The boy would end his day with a small dinner, which Alfred always complained about not being enough for a growing boy, just to hide in his room.

"Do you think I could get, like, a calendar or something?" (Name) asked during one of the breakfasts, looking for a better way to track the time to his legal age. His plans on leaving the manor didn't change; the teenager still wants to leave. This time he wants to do it legally and hopefully with more resources.

"Sure. I'll bring you one." Alfred smiled, looking from the food he was preparing for just a moment.

The following day, after yet another long day spent in the library, (name) returned to find a calendar neatly placed on his desk, just as the butler had promised. He circled the day of his birthday with a thick marker and hung it up next to the door. That way, every day, as he's leaving his room, the boy can cross off another day, bringing himself closer to the day he can leave.

(Name)'s routine didn't last long, as the boy found himself bored of reading. He decided to give it another go at exploring the manor, this time less anxious, aware that the worst thing he could encounter in the halls might be the residents.

The teenager feels much braver than the first time he was exploring the place, going as far as opening some of the doors. Most of them led to a few empty bedrooms or abandoned study rooms. That's when he stumbles upon a suspicious-looking grandfather clock. Not only did it appear to be much wider than the few (names) seen in his life, but the floor around him seemed to be pretty scratched up as if it had moved around a lot. The boy carefully inspects the clock, attempting to move it to the side. When that doesn't work, he stares at the face of it, the hands frozen. The time stopped at six fifteen. Looking at the clock hands, (name) wonders if some sort of mechanism moves the clock around the floor. The boy tries to play around with the hands when he notices that he could only move the minute hand; the hour cannot be adjusted. He brings both of the hands to the number six on the face of the clock. Then, he hears it. Some cogs are moving inside the grandfather clock.

(Name) stumbles back, surprised he actually managed to move the clock. As the object moved, it revealed a dark hallway behind it. The boy tilted his head to the side, staring down the corridor. He looked around to see if anyone could be lurking around. Once he was certain that he would only be seen by the cameras and whoever was watching them, he walked into the darkness.

It took a very long hallway and a few sets of stairs before the teenager managed to find out where the secret entrance led him to. He found himself in a vast cave that appeared to be located underneath the manor.

It wasn't just an ordinary cave. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of technology and weapons. All bat-themed, which (name) found rather odd. He didn't understand why his father not only had weapons inspired by Gotham's most annoying vigilante; the man also hid it all under the manor like some sort of sick fanboy. (Name)'s face is twisted with disgust the more he explores the cave. He stares at the main computer with multiple screens attached to it, labelling his father as a stalker in his mind.

He walks even further into the cave, already with a plan to mess with his father in mind. That's when he finds them. The costumes. One of Batman, Robin and the rest of the circus. All safely inside some glass boxes. (Name) grinned. His father is the one running the circus of vigilantes. It will make the rest of his stay in the manor even more fun.

(Name) decided to leave before his visit to the Batcave could attract too much attention. He walked past the desk with the computer, stopping in his tracks. Messing with them a little wouldn't hurt much, right?

Without giving it a second thought, the boy grabs all the random pens scattered round the desk. Nobody should really miss these particular ones, but the sudden absence of them would be rather annoying to whoever is working at it. (Name) makes sure that the papers aren't moved, just in case.

With the pens stuffed in his pockets, the teenager leaves the cave. He puts the handles of the clock the same way they were before he left that wing of the manor. (Name) put some of the pens in the library and a few in some of the studies. Making it look like they always were there. He also brought one to his room. A keepsake.

He started the next day as normal, with breakfast in the kitchen hours before the rest of the family woke up. Alfred walked in, looking at the boy with amusement. He leaned against the kitchen island right before the boy.

"So, pens?" The butler asked, chuckling.

The teenager laughed as well, grateful that somebody else in the manor found his little escapade to the cave funny.

However, there were people in the manor who didn't appreciate the joke. One of them was the boy, who looked to be (name)'s age. He stopped in front of (name) as he was walking into the library. His sharp blue eyes looked over (name), annoyance slipping through them.

"Pens? Really?" the boy with blue eyes asked, blocking (name)'s way.

"What pens?" the boy asked, blinking innocently.

"Don't play dumb. You know what pens."

"Well, the only pens I saw were the ones in the library. They looked unused, so I borrowed one," (name) shrugged.

"That's not what I'm talking about," the teenager with dark, messy hair snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"Then I have no clue what you want from me."

"You stole the pens!" The teenager pointed an accusing finger at him.

"What pens? I'm telling you, I just grabbed one from the library!" (name) protested.

"The ones from the cave, idiot!"

"What are you even talking about?" (name) asked, continuing to play dumb, his head tilted to the side. He knew he probably couldn't fool any of the vigilantes, but at least he could annoy the one in front of him.

"The Batcave! I know you went down there and stole the pens!" The boy in front of (name) said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Batcave? Sounds like a sex dungeon," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Does Bruce have one in the basement? Gross."

The vigilante grunts with frustration. He stares at the boy as if debating if continuing to talk to (name) was worth it. Then, he storms off, disappearing deep into the halls of the manor. (Name) counted it as a win in his book.

During the next few days, (name) appeared to be on his best behaviour. Going as far as to not even look towards the corridor where the grandfather clock was located. He spends time with the butler, reads even more books at the library and avoids any and all contact with the rest of the residents. Luckily for the boy, nobody else came to complain about the 'stolen' pens.

(Name) keeps up with his behaviour for a couple of days. That is until Alfred mentions the manor being empty the following day. It seemed as if the butler was giving the boy a green light to mess with 'his' family some more.

As he walks into the Batcave for the second time, (name) isn't quite sure how he could inconvenience the vigilantes. He decides against messing with the computer, worried that they might send someone who wasn't just going to yell at him. The last thing the boy wanted was to get beaten up by a 'family member'.

He walks into the area with the costumes and finds gold. Not one, but two of the cases with Robin's costumes were open. He walked up to the one that looked like it belonged to a young teen. (Name) wonders if it belongs to the brat that had the audacity to mention his mother.

With a grin on his face, the boy grabs the mask of the robin's costume, hiding it in his pocket. He steps over towards the other robin's costume and does the same. (Name) doesn't touch anything else. Taking stuff from the entire family would attract too much attention. And picking on the robins seemed easy enough. Considering they were forgetful enough to not close the boxes their costumes were stored in.

As Alfred is distracted with cleaning on the other side of the manor, (name) sneaks off to smoke in the gardens. He finds a tree further towards the back of them and the pond. The one he had the pleasure of meeting that weird man the last time he went out for a smoke. Halfway through the cigarette, the teenager takes out the masks he took from the robins. He looks at them closely, even going as far as putting one of them closer to his face. He scoffs at the idea of being a pawn for a man dressed in latex. He finishes the cigarette, crushing it against one of the robin's masks. (Name) throws the masks under the tree, letting the boys look for it themselves. He takes the cigarette butt with him, preferring to throw it into a trashcan.

The next day, (name) picked up another book, getting comfortable on a bench with a good view of the door to the library. He began to read the first page when the youngest child of Wayne Manor passed by the room.

"Dirty thief. Be glad Father didn't throw you out like the trash you are," the boy sneered.

(Name) barely glanced up. He knew this was one of the Robins, but he had no clue what his name was. Damian? Daniel? Dominic? He had no idea.

"But that's exactly what I'm aiming for," (name) called after him, his eyes not leaving the book in his hands.

No other interactions happened for the rest of the week in the manor. (Name) had only one more trip to the Batcave during that time. He just went inside and stared at one of the cameras for ten minutes before walking out. Didn't touch anything, just walked in, stared and left.

On Saturday, as the teenager was walking into the garden, somebody called his name. The boy turned around, spotting Duke walking in his direction. (Name) leaned casually near the doorway, waiting for the teenager to catch up.

"I heard what you did in the cave. You must be good at stealing," Duke said.

"If you came here to nag me about it, then fuck off," (name) replied without hesitation, ready to walk out.

"No, I need your help," Duke said, lowering his voice.

"Oh? The ever-so-obedient Wayne child wants me to steal something for him? You do know stealing is a crime, right?" (name) smirked.

"There’s something I need you to get for me. A necklace. It belonged to my mother. I thought it was lost forever, but... I saw it a few days ago, and the person that had it didn't want to sell it to me." Duke spoke, glancing around worried somebody would catch them together. (Name) nodded, thinking.

"You’ve got patrol tonight?" (name) asked.

"Yeah, I do," Duke confirmed.

"You’ll turn off the cameras right before leaving. That way I should have enough time for me to leave the Manor and get far enough away," (name) said, piecing the plan together.

"Okay, I guess," Duke agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Good. After you're done with your patrol, lie to them. Make up something urgent. I know you can handle it. We’ll meet in the alley between the laundromat and the old Batburger on the 9th. We'll talk about the necklace there. Just to be safe," (Name) said.

"Thank you," Duke said sincerely.

"Don’t thank me," (name) shot back. "I’m not doing this out of kindness. I trust you’ll come up with a fair price for the job, Duke."

"I will," Duke promised.

"Great. Now get lost before someone sees us together and starts asking questions," (Name) said with a flick of his hand.

Hours later, (name) stands in the middle of his room. Dressed in black from head to toe, a hoodie in his hands. The boy isn't sure if he's making the right choice. Even if Duke had promised to make it worth it, he still had second thoughts. (Name) is used to working alone. By himself and for himself. The teenager had promised himself years ago that he wouldn't work for anyone, not wanting to repeat the mistakes his mother did.

The lights in his room flickered, the space going dark for a second before lighting up again. It was (name)'s clue to leave. It's no time to dwell on it. He should leave.

(Name) moves around the manor with confidence. Making it to the back door with his head held high. He knew that in case the butler would find him, he could lie about needing some fresh air.

The boy leaves the property in a similar way he did the first time, using an opening in the fence. He walks slowly, as rushing could bring attention. He was caught running away recently, and he wasn't interested in being caught again.

Waiting in the alleyway started to feel like an eternity. Perched up against the wall, hidden within the shadows, he managed to smoke the rest of the pack of cigarettes he had. (Name) starts to question if Duke will manage to get away from the rest of the circus. The boy sighs, throwing the empty pack into a dumpster nearby. Why did he agree to this?

Somebody jogged into the alley, boots splashing through a shallow puddle without slowing. The yellow accents on the person's suit caught the faint light from a flickering street lamp overhead, casting sharp shadows across their face. The mask was pulled low over their eyes, but that didn't stop (name) from figuring out who it was. Duke, finally. The tension in the teenager's shoulders said enough; Duke was nervous about the whole ordeal.

"(Name?)" Duke called out, glancing around.

"Took you long enough," (name) said, stepping out of the shadows. "Started to think you wouldn't show."

"Lots of work tonight, sorry," Duke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’ve got a few minutes before they start looking for me."

"Alright. What does the necklace look like, then?" (Name) asked, getting straight to the point.

Duke pulled a folded photo from his pocket, handing it over. It showed his mother, smiling warmly, wearing a delicate necklace.

"And where am I supposed to find it?" (Name) asked, eyes flicking from the picture back to Duke.

"At the pawn shop down the street," Duke said quietly. "The owner refuses to sell it to me. Something about it being too valuable to hand over to a kid like me."

"Alright then. Guess he won't be making any money off it," (name) said with a shrug. "His loss, really."

Duke didn’t say anything, just nodded, his eyes scanning the alley nervously, clearly worried the rest of the Bat-family might already be looking for him.

"Go," (name) told him. "I’ll grab it and bring it to the Manor. I’ll give it to you there."

Both of the boys go their separate ways; Duke returns to the Batfamily, acting as if nothing happened. (Name) walks through the alleyways, looking for the backdoor to the pawnshop.

Finding the right door wasn't hard for the boy. It wasn't the first time (name) sneaked into a pawnshop, and he knows the way shop owners secure the backdoors to places like this. The teenager takes his time opening the locks one by one, trying to avoid triggering any alarms.

As the last lock falls onto the ground, the teenager can open the door with little to no worry. He steps inside to the employee area, looking around for the electrical box. Walking up to it, (name) begins to turn off switches one by one, turning off the electricity in the shop. In complete darkness, he moves towards the main area of the shop. In there the boy can see much better, thanks to the street lights coming through the security bars.

(Name) stands in the middle of the shop, scanning the shelves for the necklace Duke wants. He spots it on the jewellery bust behind the counter. The boy walks over, making sure it's the necklace he saw in the picture. Once he was sure, he slowly took it off, trying not to damage it. With the necklace in hand, he turns to the counter, looking under it to see if there are any jewellery boxes he could put it in.

After some rummaging through the shelf under the cash register, (name) managed to find a box to put the necklace in. With the jewellery secure and hidden away in one of his pockets, the boy got ready to leave the pawnshop. He looked back at the cash register, remembering that he no longer had any cigarettes on him. With a sigh, the teenager returned to the register, taking out a few bills.

(Name) took his time returning to the manor. He had what he came out here for, so he didn't see the reason to rush. On his way back he stopped by a gas station, where he knew nobody would question him buying cigarettes.

The teenager walked back into the manor through the same door he'd slipped out of earlier. What (Name) didn’t expect was to find Alfred standing right behind it, waiting for him. The butler looked at the boy with disappointment as the smell of cigarettes was filling the man's nostrils.

"I went out for some fresh air?" (name) said, trying to sound innocent.

Alfred didn’t buy it. He waited for the boy to confess where exactly he was.

"Fine. I needed some time away from the Manor," (name) admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "But I returned, didn’t I?"

"Give me them," Alfred said, extending his hand. "The cigarettes. I know you have them. You reek…"

(Name) reluctantly handed over the pack, hoping that that was the only thing the butler caught up on. The jewellery box suddenly felt heavy in his pocket.

"Go back to your room," Alfred ordered. "And I better not catch you with a new pack."

(Name) runs off, taking multiple stairs at a time, just to get away before the butler starts asking more questions.

He moves towards his room, wondering how he could return the necklace to Duke. The boy needed to think of a way he could do that without being spotted. (Name) settled on sneaking into Duke's room before breakfast and leaving it there.

When (name) opened the door to his room, he learned that he didn't have to sneak in anywhere. There he was, Duke, sitting on his bed, waiting. The teenager appeared lost in thoughts, as he didn't look up when (name) opened the door. The boy stepped inside, a soft clack of the door heard behind him. The quiet noise was apparently enough to snap Duke out of his thoughts.

"Do you have it?" Duke asked, standing up from (name)'s bed.

"Yeah, who do you take me for?" (Name) tossed the small box with the necklace in Duke's direction, making sure he caught it.

Duke opened the box, his eyes widening when he saw the necklace, his mother's necklace, glinting under the light.

"Thank you," Duke said, his voice filled with gratitude as he suddenly rushed toward (Name), pulling him into a tight hug. "It means so much to me. I promise, this trip will be worth it."

(Name) froze, not used to physical affection. He stood there, awkwardly stiff, as Duke pulled away almost immediately.

Without another word, Duke dashed out of the room, leaving (Name) standing in the middle of his own, the silence settling around him.

The next morning, (name) walked into the kitchen, unsure of what the butler would do. Was he going to be punished? Has Alfred somehow found out about the necklace? With trembling hands, the boy worked on his own breakfast. He was ready for it to be the last meal he had with the man.

Alfred entered the kitchen, greeting the boy. He doesn't say anything else. He starts to move around the kitchen, just as he always does. Nothing about the way he acted had changed, and (name) didn't know if the butler decided to let it go or if it's just quiet before the storm. But then, the teenager finishes his breakfast, leaving the dishes in the sink. Not once he was stopped by Alfred, not even as he was leaving the room to spend time in the library.

(Name) settles on a bench, getting comfortable with the book he started the other day. The manor is quiet, as always, the rest of the residents are busy in their rooms. The boy gets absorbed in the book in his hands, not noticing somebody entering the library.

"Alfred was right about finding you here," Duke said as he approached. (Name) looked up from his book.

"Not much else for me to do," he said, lifting the book slightly to show it.

Duke sat down on the bench next to him, and for a moment, the library fell into a comfortable silence.

"I brought you your payment," Duke said eventually. "Told them my phone broke and asked for a new one. It's all yours now."

"Thanks, but..." (Name) hesitated. "My phone works just fine."

"Barely," Duke teased. "It looks ancient."

(Name) chuckled under his breath.

"Just keep it," Duke said with a grin. "Besides, Alfred was already planning on giving you one. Had a whole SIM card and a new number ready for you."

"Guess I won't be escaping the upgrade, huh?" (Name) joked.

"Nah, dude," Duke said, grinning wider.

He noticed the way (name) still looked a little unsure about the new phone.

"I could teach you how to use it," Duke offered. "They're pretty cool once you get the hang of it."

"...Alright," (name) said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

That day marked the first time that (name) not only didn't spend time alone in the manor but also was willingly spending his time with someone his age.

Duke told him everything he knew about his brother's new phone, making sure to put his phone number in it. He talked about getting a phone case, wondering which one would suit (name)'s overall look.

The two boys were enjoying each other's presence so much that neither of them noticed the butler watching them from afar. Alfred heard laughing when he was cleaning in the same wing as the library was located on and went in to check. That's when he noticed (name) and Duke, both hunched over the phone. He watched them for a moment, glad that the new boy finally was interacting with someone his age. The butler left before any of the boys noticed him, not wanting to disturb either of them.

Duke didn't stop at explaining how his brother's new phone works. He went out of his way to spend even a second of his time with (name). Interacting with him was easy since Duke also was rather new to the family and not always had an easy time fitting in. (Name) seemed to understand that.

Duke even managed to convince Alfred to take them to the city so they could spend time somewhere that isn't the manor. The butler wasn't sure at first. It took a lot of promises to be on his best behaviour from (name) that he agreed to drop them off at the mall.

"Have fun, young Master Duke (name)," Alfred said before driving away.

Both boys walked into the mall. Duke couldn’t help but think about the way the butler had addressed (name).

"Why doesn’t Alfred call you 'master'?" Duke asked.

"I asked him not to," (name) replied, looking around at the different shops.

"Why? Most of us just accept it as one of his weird quirks," Duke said, curious.

"Usually when people use titles instead of my name, they mean it in a derogatory way," (Name) explained. "It’s usually 'brat' or 'thieving bastard child', just different ways to make me feel small. 'Young master'... isn’t that much different. It strips me of my identity, in a way."

Duke nods, not picking up the subject again. He knew that if his brother wanted to talk about this more, (name) wouldn't hesitate to. Instead, he drags the boy over to one of his favourite comic shops.

The teenagers spent hours at the mall, walking from shop to shop. Duke fills in (name) on all the things he missed out on, as he was focusing on surviving and not being a child. By the end of their outing, (name) not only had new pieces in his wardrobe, but he also learnt so much about the world of normal teenagers that it made his head hurt.

(Name) ate in the dining room that day, Duke and Alfred his only companions. The boy didn't speak much, tired from the day of being in public. Duke, on the other hand, was talking the butler's ears off, telling him about everything they did and all the things they saw.

Alfred kept smiling, listening to Duke's story. He couldn't help but feel proud at the way these two seemed to have gotten close. He only left the room after both of them were finished with their meals. With empty plates in hand, he excuses himself from the dining room. Duked turned over to his newfound friend, a new idea for a hangout in mind.

"Next time I'm taking you to an arcade," Duke said with a grin. "I have a feeling you'd be good at the games there."

"Yeah, whatever you say," (name) laughed. "Though I might need a few days to recover from this trip."

"Aww, did the mall tire you out?" Duke teased. "Does the little baby need a nap?"

(Name) shoved Duke, laughing. As they joked, Duke spotted someone standing in the cracked doorway.

"Hey, Damian, what's up?" Duke called out.

(Name) turned to look, just in time to see the boy run off without answering. (Name) scoffs.

"And he called me weird," (name) muttered.

"He's like that sometimes," Duke said, shrugging. "Don't mind him."

The next day, as (name) was finishing making his breakfast, somebody entered the kitchen. The boy looked up, ready to greet what he expected to be the butler. Only for these words to be caught in his throat, noticing it's not Alfred but Damian, his youngest brother.

Neither of them said anything to each other, (name) barely looking at the younger boy. He hoped that if he ignored Damian hard enough, the boy would go away and not bother him.

"Good morning, (Name)," Alfred said as he entered the kitchen. "Ah, young master, you're up early."

"I was hungry, so I came downstairs," Damian replied.

"I could fix you something small if you'd like," Alfred offered. "I'm sure a snack before breakfast wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," Damian said politely.

(Name) fully expected the boy to leave after that, not wanting to disturb the quiet routine he shared with Alfred. But instead, Damian moved closer, stepping right up beside (Name) and standing there, silently, as the butler began preparing his snack.

Brother bonding time didn't last long, with (name) finishing his breakfast in record time. All to avoid spending more time with the younger boy than was deemed necessary.

As he walks out, he doesn't notice the determination in Damian's eyes.

Something was telling Alfred that it wouldn't be the first time the youngest Wayne would be joining the two of them in the kitchen.

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213

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asapstarkey · 2 days ago

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It's Complicated — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two: It’s just how it always ends

Chapter One

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader

Summary: You try to stay away and set boundaries with Rafe. For worse or for better.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, vomiting, possible grammatical errors

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Another semi-short chapter. They will get longer as this fic progresses. Once again, this is a slow burn. I’m building things up and trying to set the scene. Feedback is always appreciated!

It had been almost three weeks since that night on the beach. Almost three weeks since you had seen Rafe at all. His two-in-the-morning phone calls and text messages went unanswered by you.

The Pogues didn’t get much out of you about what happened. They just knew Rafe had opened his big fat mouth like he always did and you had enough. You couldn’t tell them too much without giving away your dirty little secret. How you had been able to keep sleeping with him a secret for over four years was a miracle.

You had pretty much been in hiding. You hadn’t left the Cut at all, gone to a single party, or gone downtown at all. You couldn’t keep it up much longer either. You couldn’t stay away forever.

The bell above the door chimed as you walked into The Wreck. It was still early in the day so there weren’t many people in the restaurant. Kiara had asked you to come help her and Dad that day. A couple of employees called out and the business still needed to run. Thankfully, you had worked there your Senior year of High School and a couple years after to keep the lights on and food on the table for you and John B.

“(Y/N)! So good to see you,” Mike greeted you with a bright smile and a tight hug. “How are you? How’s business going?”

“Just taking things day by day,” you answered truthfully. “This Summer seems busier than in the past.”

“You’re telling me,” Mike sighed and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I really appreciate you helping out today.”

“Anytime! You know I loved working here back in the day.”

It was true. When your dad was missing, being at The Wreck was your only escape. Balancing school and trying to parent your menace of a kid brother took up all of your time. You couldn’t imagine it any other way though. Had John B not met Kie, and she not helped you get the job, you didn’t know where you would be now. The only reason you quit was to keep John B alive when he and the Pogues went after the Merchant Gold.

Mike handed you an apron and you got to work like you had never left. Time moved quickly as you moved about the kitchen making food. Music played softly from a speaker Kiara had brought. You sang along quietly, dancing around Mike as the two of you worked together.

You felt at peace. For once you weren’t at the Surf Shop, balancing numbers and figuring out how much more you needed to make that month to make sure everything was paid. You weren’t worried about JJ coming home with some elaborate scheme that would surely get all of you arrested. You weren’t worried about making sure Cleo wasn’t getting into trouble with people, Pope’s college papers, or whether or not your brother and Sarah were using protection. For once you had no worries.

And Mike had already said he was going to pay you generously for helping him out. If that was on paper or not, he told you not to concern yourself with that, so you didn’t.

Your phone chimed from the counter behind you. It had gone off a couple of times but you figured it was just your brother updating you on how business was going. Deciding you should check it, you walked across the kitchen and picked it up. You scoffed when you saw you had new messages from someone who was /certainly not/ John B.

Rafe: U up? 2:21 am

Rafe: Um hello? Are u alive? 10:47 am

Rafe: Ur starting to worry me here.. Like fr 3:09 pm

You shook your head and locked the phone back. It’s been three weeks, dude, take a hint.

“(Y/N) can you go help Kiara bus some tables real quick? The rush is over and I’ve got lots of dishes to bring back,” Mike poked his head in to ask you, work phone pressed to his shoulder where someone was surely on hold.

“On it!”

You put your phone back down on the counter and grabbed a buss tub before heading out into the dining room to clean up. You had barely finished bussing your third table when the bell above the door signaled someone walking in. You turned around to greet them, not expecting it to be the last person you wanted to see.

His eyes found you within seconds and there was no escaping. You couldn’t just hide in the kitchen and you couldn’t escape out the side door with no explanation. You had to face him.

Rafe looked almost relieved to see you. His features softened and his shoulders lost tension. He walked straight over to the table you were wiping down and stopped on the opposite side.

“Did your phone break or something?” he asks.

Some greeting that was.

“No.”

“Well, I know my number’s not blocked cause all of my texts and calls have gone through.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you replied with a shrug, trying to play it off like this didn’t bother you. But the hurtful things he said to you on the beach replayed in your head daily. Your subconscious always reminds you of how he truly felt about you. You went back to cleaning the table, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

He laughed as he questioned, “You’re not seriously still mad, are you?”

What a silly question for him to ask after you quite literally exploded on the beach.

“Yes, Rafe, I am,” you snipped. “And I’m working so you need to leave.”

You grabbed the tub and moved to a different table, moving with haste as you cleared the dishes. Your back was to the blonde Kook but you felt him move closer as he followed you around the dining room. You glanced around, hoping to see Kiara or someone who could save you from this situation.

“C’mon, baby,” Rafe’s voice dropped as he took on a more pleading tone. “Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Your chest tightened and your face heated up. The same rage you felt on the beach slowly reigniting in your chest. This was just a tactic to get you back into his bed like he had done time and time again.

“No,” you whipped around to face him, the smirk on his lips slowly fading. You pointed your finger and every word off your tongue was laced with venom. “You always do this. You use me to get your fix, then treat me like shit and throw me away when you’re done. I don’t know if it’s some sick kink of yours to belittle me every chance you get, but I’ve had enough.”

Rafe scoffed and shook his head, “That’s not true, (Y/N).. I-“

“Shut up!” You held your hand up, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. There are still tables in here, keep your cool. When you looked at him again he looked hurt. A small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Just shut up, Rafe. I don’t care what you have to say anymore. I’m done. Do you hear me? I’m fucking done.”

You meant it. Every word you said to him you meant. You were sick and tired of him treating you like all you were meant for was a quick fuck. You were fed up being spoken down to like you were less than because of how you grew up. You were absolutely done being Rafe Cameron’s secret little play thing, and judging by the look on his face, he knew it.

Rafe didn’t say anything else. He stared at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he left.

You were visibly shaking at that point, breaths coming out in short puffs as you tried to calm yourself down. You felt lighter after finally speaking your mind and letting it all out. Though, your eyes stung with unshed tears as the door to The Wreck shut behind him. You just let go of someone you wasted years of your life with after all.

What was supposed to only be a few hours of you helping turned into a twelve hour work day. After your run in with Rafe it seemed like all of Kildare Island and some decided The Wreck was the spot that day. You stuck around helping Mike cook, Kiara take tables, and you even helped the bartender make drinks when they got swamped.

By the time Mike was ready to let you and Kiara go it was just after nine o’clock and the sun was lowering beyond the horizon, casting an orange glow over the parking lot as you climbed into the passenger seat of your curly headed friend’s car. You couldn’t wait to just get home, take a hot shower and absolutely crash.

A few more weeks had passed since Rafe sought you out at The Wreck. You’d barely seen more than a glimpse of him. He’d pass the shop on his boat but never stop for gas or come inside. He’d be at the beach with his friends when you were surfing, always keeping his distance and leaving shortly after.

You had even ended up at the same house party somehow. Some Touron’s parents left him at the AirBnB alone and he threw an absolute rager. The two of you would steal glimpses of each other from across the room without the other knowing. Though you were never in the same part of the house at the same time for more than a minute or so.

It was a relief, truthfully. You weren’t anxious the whole time that he’d walk over and whisk you away to the bathroom for a quickie and someone would see you. You weren’t scared your brother would smell his cologne in your hair from your face being tucked into his neck. You weren’t afraid Sophia would see the scratch marks on his shoulder blades and know they weren’t her doing.

But, God, did you miss him sometimes.

You missed the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek when he was too tired and spent to kick you out of his house and he’d fall asleep holding you close. You missed him playing with your hair as he talked to you, trying to convince you to sneak away from your friends for five minutes so he could take care of you for once. You missed the weight of his lips against yours when all you could do was steal sloppy kisses in the dark and there was no time for funny business. You missed the way he looked at you, even if it was purely lustful and nothing more, his blue irises saying more than words ever could.

But Rafe had made it very clear he would never be with you. And despite those little moments where you thought otherwise, you could never be with someone who made you feel so shitty all of the time. You had to hate Rafe in order to protect yourself.

“Something’s bothering you,” you were snapped out of your thoughts by your brother’s voice.

John B had been watching you from behind the wheel of the boat. You sat at the front, staring out at the water as you mindlessly picked at the skin around your nails.

He got up from his seat and walked over to you, holding out an ice cold bottled beer fresh from the cooler. “What’s on your mind, sissy?”

The snort you let out brought a smile to John B’s lips. He stopped using that nickname years ago, unless he wanted something from you or he got himself into trouble. He was genuinely worried about you though. You hadn’t been acting like yourself for months and everyone was starting to notice.

“Just.. stressed,” you sighed and shook your head, avoiding his prodding hazel eyes.

“Business is good, (Y/N). We’re finally getting our feet under us,” John B tried to reassure you. Little did he know this wasn’t about the shop at all. “We’re finally getting everything we deserve.”

You twisted off the cap of your beer and tossed it in the grocery sack being used as a trash bag hung off of a rope hook. “I know, I know. That doesn’t mean I’m just gonna stop caring. Someone around here has to run payroll and budget,” you continued. “No offense, but none of you are remotely close to qualified. Except maybe Sarah.”

John B laughed but didn’t disagree as you took a swig from your bottle. He wandered over to the edge of the boat to talk to JJ and you watched the other four Pogues as they hung off foam noodles and talked not too far.

As you brought your beer back up to your lips, you paused. Your stomach twisted as the bitter smell met your nose. Suddenly, you were scrambling to turn around and wretched into the water in the knick of time. The sound of the amber bottle hitting the deck of the boat was what caught the attention of your brother and friends.

JJ must have skipped the ladder and hoisted himself onto the boat from the side because he was pulling your hair back in a matter of seconds. He rubbed your back and encouraged you to ‘just let it out’. You could hear John B calling the others back to the boat, your stomach too busy emptying its entire contents for you to protest.

Once everyone was back on board and you weren’t vomiting anymore, John B crouched beside you, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know.. One second I was fine and then I just felt sick.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and sat back against the seat with a heavy breath. Your brother stared at you worriedly and rubbed your knee. “Let’s take you back. I don’t want you out here in the sun in case it gets worse,” he suggested.

“No,” you groaned. “Don’t let me ruin the fun. I’ll be fine, JB.”

JJ had already started cruising towards the Chateau though, so you knew it was pointless to argue.

“We planned on heading down to catch some waves anyway. I want you to rest. Kay?” John B insisted.

He reminded you of your father in that moment. Caring and protective. You tried to be the strong older sister who looked after everyone but he was always looking out for you too. So you nodded and let him wrap a towel around your shoulders for the short boat ride back home.

After reassuring your brother that you’d be fine alone, you headed into the Chateau while they loaded into the Twinkie and headed off to surf. You dropped your belongings on your bedroom floor before falling face first into your bed. Exhaustion caught up with you and in a matter of minutes, you were fast asleep.

A/N: Add yourself to my tag list for this series if you haven't already! As always, feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @badasspizzalover @enthusiastms @ficlibraryfavs @klauslovemepls @maybankslover @nouis-bum @ohemgeewhat @owl0y0s @run-for-the-hills @simpforromance @spideysimpossiblegirl @thebumbqueen @adribarbie @babygirlwilly @bellstwd @drewstarkslut @eringaitskill @fallout-girl219 @hadidsworld @hoeforthefictional @honk4emoboyz @iknowdatsrightbih @itsmattiesworld @iwannaleavethis @jayjayshere @magicalyoura @midnight4034 @probablyreadingsmutlol @rafes1luvr @ravenroyale @reidshearts @riah1606 @sweetestrose569 @whore-for-pennywise @writingwithmai @xolos-wife @aespa-savage @aesthetic-lyss @aiddaab @aloe-7 @angvl3tears @balletalbum @bejeweledsthings @bilssturns @brittancqs @cigaretteshoney @constantsadness @coquettebiatch @dancingqueen21 @daniellequinna @diduzzola @dilfluvr4evr @dream-alive789 @dreamygirli3 @dstrkeywife @enemiestoloverhoe @escapismlourve @exhaustedbutelated @f4ll-for-you @fastlovela

If you did not get tagged either I couldn't find your blog or your URL changed! Please send me a message or resubmit a google form.

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #outer banks writing #obx writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron writing #chai writes

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anneangel · 2 days ago

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The worst thing is that, with my pessimism in the face of this information, I fear that he will win. And that this information will be distorted throughout the world. For example, I live in a non-English speaking country, and the news here is "Neil Gaiman sues woman who accused him for X amount", in an article that distorted the facts in such a way that it barely explained the situation and made it seem like he was suing her for defamation (the only line that stated it was for breaking the NDA was shallow and unclear). Anyway, what I mean is that information will be modified to make it seem like he didn't do what he did. It is very likely that, if he wins, the news will be "Gaiman wins lawsuit against woman who accused him", and the title alone will mislead thousands.

Fortunately, this distorted news itself had no repercussion here. And, besides, most of the media I see are boycotting him and speaking against him here (it took a while for this to happen, but now I have seen people speaking against him).

I don't want to get into the discussion about the works here of his, like Sandman or Good Omens, or even Coraline. But in general, the news only circulated more, here where I live, precisely because of the cancellation of shows, otherwise it was possible that no one would know (Gosh, even with the whole issue of canceling shows, there are still people who don't know. That's because there are many people who don't follow the personal lives of the authors they read/watch).

I think that we as fans of his work will have to choose how we will deal with these works in light of everything, and that each person will make their own decision. I know people who have distanced themselves from the work, people who have not distanced themselves from the work (but who have shown repudiation of the author and are trying to boycott him and not consume/officially acquire anything else that comes from him, and who tell others to do the same), I know people who have repudiated him (but who are not boycotting his works, and continue to buy official items).

Each person is doing what their own free will and heart tells them to do. And I will not judge anyone for their decisions, and I hope not to be judged for my decisions. I think that whether you have distanced yourself from his work or not, the IMPORTANT thing is to know that he is wrong and that he is a vile person.

But the worst reaction I've seen, of all, is people BLAMING the victims. I've even seen people who weren't even his fans, but who, without knowing about the case, think they should wait for "justice to give its opinion".

And what bothers me the most is the behavior of some people who are being "impartial" and saying that they "will wait for justice to act", they usually say this to blame the victims, because they question "not having reported it before, and having accepted money". But that doesn't justify NG's predatory behavior! A man of his age and with the power, money and popularity that he has, was in a very high position in relation to these girls, and it's obvious that he CHOSE these girls with evil carefully. He saw which ones were in the most vulnerable situation and then suggested an abusive sexual relationship. He chose people in vulnerable situations. A minimally decent person doesn't do what he did.

His "modus operandi" was to "coerce" girls in vulnerable situations (psychologically/financially/or other) PRECISELY because he knew they were "easier prey to persuade" and abuse. And remember that he was a "feminist" man and defender progressive, as well as the LGBTQIA+ cause, who wrote about social justice and brought good messages in his books, movies, shows and social media. He was a fucking liar and a manipulator. He fooled ALL of us.

He knew exactly what he was doing wrong, and he did it anyway. He knew that the things he defended were just lip service, it was just to look "cute" in his books, shows, movies and on social media, but it was ALL a lie considering that, in his personal life, he "abuse girls" just because he could take advantage of them using his popularity.

The fact that he did this SEVERAL times, with different girls, is a pattern that cannot be denied. And he even tried to pay them to keep quiet! It's not a question of judging them for having signed an NDA. His behavior is still WRONG, him wanting to hide it just proves the obvious.

He really thought he could do anything with these girls and get away with it! And for him to simply turn around and say "it was all consensual" and that "they are being greedy and want to sabotage me, and they always have been mad" does NOT EXPLAIN his inconsistency and evil behavior!!! Understand? I wish his defenders would understand this and SHUT UP!

His pro-feminism and progressive activism was a LIE to promote himself. And now knowing how he acts with girls much younger than him, I would not let any girl who is psychologically and financially unstable near him and his predatory behavior. And I would also never get close to him.

For me, his inconsistency is too huge to ignore. The worst thing of all is seeing/reading, in his books, series and movies, how much he knew what was the right thing to do in the end, when in real life he chose to do what was morally wrong, thinking he could get away with it.

Now I'm in a situation where I love what he created, within his facade of a "good guy". Liking the things he said on his books, shows, movies, social media, using that facade. But I hate who he revealed to be in real life.

I really fear that he will win the lawsuit, that he will be able to intimidate his victims and that this will be distorted in the news to make him seem "innocent'' in the situation. AND THAT'S NOT RIGHT.

But let it be clear that anyone who questions the behavior of the victims, but not NG vile and predatory behavior, has lost all sense. Anyone who defends him, instead of the victims, has lost all sense of context.

Even if he is freed from the charges and is found ''innocent'' by the courts, for me his inconsistency is too BIG to BELIEVE that he did nothing wrong. He is disgusting. And no matter what the courts say, I will still hate him for his vile actions.

How very depressing that Neil Gaiman had trended not even a tiny bit for demonstrating what a fucking horrific person he is.

As a reminder, he's suing Caroline Wallner, one of his accusers, for breaking her NDA. Not for libel. He's saying she shouldn't have told anyone about it, not that she lied.

He doesn't need the money. He's risking the Streisand effect. He is punishing Caroline, he's trying to intimidate other victims who have signed NDAs to scare them into continued silence.

He is no friend to women, to the LGBTQIA+ community, to anyone quite frankly unless he thinks they are of value to him.

Share the story. Put it on Facebook and bluesky and whatever else you're on. Make it clear what a horrifying person he is. Tell your friends. He's paying Edendale a fortune to try and cover this up. Make this hard for him. Make it cost him money.

#neil gaiman allegations #tw neil gaiman #neil gaiman #support victims #support survivors #end violence against women and girls #good omens

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heartsforjh · 2 days ago

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I'm back!! and requesting "(making an attempt at) braiding their hair" with jack 😁 (him getting his hair braided)

not me acting like we literally weren't just talking about this

- cait🌻

you know i am ALWAYS down to think, yap, and write about jack !!

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

“Babe, you serious?” Jack asks, his mouth tugging up into a smirk. “I’m not doing that.”

You scoff and your shoulders slump, looking at him with your best puppy dog face. “Please, J. Please? It’ll be so good, I promise.”

Jack watches your expression turn into a sad one, and of course, he feels bad. He’s convinced. He’ll do it. He’s just not exactly sure how.

“I don’t think I even have enough hair for a braid,” he says, trying his last excuse.

You sigh again, not wanting to push him if he’s actually just really not into the idea. “I could make it work, but just… let me know if you change your mind.”

You get up to go put your brush back into the bathroom because you won’t be needing it anymore, but Jack puts a hand on your waist, stopping you.

You look down at him as he sits on the bed, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “No, no. It’s okay. You can do it. Come braid my hair.”

“Are you sure? It’s fine, babe, really not that serious,” you say with laugh.

Jack just shrugs in return. “Yeah, so, not a big deal. Come do it. I just didn’t understand how you were gonna do it.”

“It’s easy! It’ll just have to be a tiny braid,” you explain with a giggle as you sit back down, and motion for him to turn away from you.

He shifts his body to be facing away, so that you could get to his hair easier. “A tiny braid? Don’t have me looking crazy, baby.”

“It’ll be fine! Lots of girls pull off the small braids,” you say while fluffing out his hair a bit, sitting up on your knees for a better view of what you’re doing.

Jack can’t help but smile at your logic. “Oh, lots of girls?”

“Mhm!” you confirm simply, starting to brush through his hair.

The first brush through gets stuck, and he hisses, instantly pulling away to look at you. “Hey!”

“Hey, what?!” you ask, looking back at him just as confused.

His brows furrow slightly when you don’t understand what his problem is. “Why did you do that?!”

“Do what exactly? Try to tame this mess?” you argue.

Jack scoffs. “Excuse you! It’s not a mess! It just… needs a little help sometimes!”

“Okay, so shush and let me help it,” you tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips to shut him up, then gently turning his head back around.

You immediately get back to work, brushing through his hair. Of course, you can’t get through it without his dramatic little whines or telling you you’re hurting him when you’ve barely done anything yet. He’s honestly glad you can’t see his expressions, knowing you’d probably find them way too funny for his liking.

You finally finish, running you fingers through his hair proudly. “Your mane is finally tangle-free.”

“Mane? Really? Was that called for?” he asks, but in reality he’s holding back a laugh at your random quips.

You just shake your head and go on to part his hair. As you pull it together, it starts to look somewhat like a braid, but it needs to be tighter! And once again, Jack’s got a lot to say about that.

“Babe! You’re killing me!” he winces, pulling away… again.

You desperately hang onto the progress you’ve made as he jerks away. “Jack! Sit still, dude! You’re gonna mess it up!”

“Dude?!” he repeats. “So you don’t love me? I’m just a dude now?”

You shoot him a glare, completely unamused. “J… I do love you. Now please, turn back around. I’m almost done, okay?”

“Fine. I’ll let you continue to torture me,” he says with a huff as he turns back around and crosses his arms.

You’d be shocked at the pure sass of this man if it was anyone other than Jack. But, it is Jack, so the pouting and smart comments are on brand. Your boyfriend is a drama queen and you’ve learned to accept and love that by now.

“Beauty is pain, honey. Relax,” you tell him, finally getting to the point where you’re wrapping things up.

Unsurprisingly, Jack is getting bored of just sitting there so he starts questioning you. “Baby, do I have enough hair?”

“Yup. I told you I could do it.”

“Have you tied it up at the bottom yet?” he asks, extra curious about what you’ve got going on.

“No, I’ve got a few more pieces to do, then I’m gonna tie it up.”

Jack exhales, wanting to be done with this. He fidgets with everything he can reach while you get those few pieces done and begin to tie it so it doesn’t fall apart. “It’s done, Jacky!”

“Does it look good?”

His question makes you take a step back from your zone and really look at it. It definitely resembles a braid, but his hair is so short that it’s sticking out. You cannot help but burst into laughter at the sight of it on your boyfriend.

“What?! What? What is it? Does it look stupid?” he asks embarrassed, frantically trying to grasp at the braid to feel it.

You try your best to compose your laughter, not wanting him to feel like he’s being made fun of. “No! No! It’s not stupid. You look so cute!”

“Babe,” Jack looks at you with a straight face. “Be honest. I look dumb, don’t I?”

“The whole point was that it was gonna look a little silly on you, Jack! That’s why I wanted to do it. But, you pull it off! You look adorable!” you encourage, kissing his cheek.

He sits there staring at you for a moment before sighing. “Adorable because I look like a joke, or just adorable?”

“Just adorable, J,” you smile.

(jack is a baby polar bear to me. yes, i will elaborate with my album full of comparisons if need be.)

tags: @beenucks @nic0-hischier @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @macklin-celebrini-71 @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @ruinix @dancerbailey3

join the taglist here! :)

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duskbornraven · 1 day ago

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Not A Date

Dragging myself out of Animal Kingdom and Chicago PD to get this out in a reasonable time.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!Reader

Contents: Some implications around being widowed, a lot of awkward not date but totally a date energy, no use of y/n, no beta

Summary: After recovering from a surgery someone has a meet up with Jack. Just as a thank you, certainly not a date or anything. This is a direct sequel to this post.

Word Count: 3k

It had been weeks since your surgery. And recovery had been miserable, stuck on a second floor apartment for the first few weeks with the blessing of a very kind nextdoor neighbor who had come to check on you when he got home from work and his days off. Aside from him you had a few friends stop by here and there with news and life updates and bring you food. It had been mostly lonely stuck inside.

The last week though had been a special kind of hell now that you were cleared to walk on your own and finally regained freedom. But it also meant following through on the invitation. You had opened your contacts to send a message to Jack more times than you cared to admit, even to yourself. He had texted you the night you gave him your number. And you hadn't been able to think of a single thing to text him about since.

Sure you could have sent him an update on your foot, but admittedly you were sick of sending updates. All you seemed to do while you were stuck home was send updates after appointment to family and work. You were sick of talking about recovery and retelling the story, especially since you were distinctly not telling anyone about Jack. You did not need everyone in your life demanding to know everything about him in addition to everything else. You hardly knew anything about the man to begin with. And, selfishly, you wanted to have a thing that was just yours while you were in recovery. Something to look forward to that was only between you two.

You opened the message thread again, took a breath and sent him a text, nothing crazy, just asking if he was free that weekend for that drink. It was hopefully around the time he would be waking up anyway. Which meant you were sure he wouldn’t have time to answer and you could take a breath and remind your stupid brain that you were an adult and not a teenager with a crush on the star quarterback. Then your phone chimed and you all but threw it across the room, the soft ding feeling too loud in your small apartment.

You took a breath and tapped the power button to see what the notification even was. And there in plain bold text was his name. Unlocking the phone displayed a simple Yes and the typing bubble beneath it. You watched it appear and disappear twice before another message came through. Commons around seven?

You sent back a yes without hesitation. A quick google did show it a good way from your place but not an impossible trek, especially with newly working legs. You had made sure you were cleared to go back to normal activity three times before you had left your last appointment.

But this was it, in a few days you would see him again and hopefully not choke on your words now that you weren’t heavily drugged or in mind bending pain. Though based on how the thought of just texting him had been a struggle for weeks, you weren’t sure actually seeing him would go much better.

The rest of the week passed painfully slowly, finishing another series on your to watch list and making sure you kept up with your therapy exercises, managing to ruin your progress was not an option this close to the finish line. Whe Friday hit you felt like your eyes were glued to your phone. And as you were scrolling mindlessly trying to kill time a text from Jack came through.

Your heart sank for a tiny moment as you tapped the notification, expecting a cancellation, some reason why he actually decided this was the worst idea and he didn’t want to see you again. In reality, it was just a confirmation that you were still good to meet this evening. And of course you were, this was all that was keeping you sane for the last week. You didn’t tell him that, instead you fired off a simple yes. And decided that you needed to start getting ready for the night, getting stiffly to your feet and making your way to the shower.

Just over an hour later you were hopping off The T at a downtown station, checking your maps app you headed off down the road in the slowly fading evening light. You had to remind yourself to breathe when the bar came into view. Forcing yourself to push through the door it takes you no time to spot him leaned against the bar back turned to you.

Feeling your heartbeat in every step you walked over to him slowly. About half way across the room he turned enough to spot you over his shoulder. Raising a drink in greeting as you got closer.

“Look who's up and walking around.” He smiled warmly at you. The dim lights overhead casting him slightly in shadow.

“And very happy to be out of the house.” You joined him at the bar, squeezing into the space beside him with just enough room to avoid touching him. You were too aware of everything right now, a drink in you knew it would be better.

“I can’t imagine.” He settled further back in the stool, turning slightly to face you, his knee brushing against your leg, neither of you pulled away right away. “I can hardly handle being home alone as it is. Stuck there? That would be some level of hell.”

You ordered your go to, from the bartender. Something safe that you knew you would be able to handle. You had already almost died in front of him once, he didn’t need to see you struggle through a night a complete mess.

“So, awkward small talk?” He asked and took another pull from the bottle. “You already know where I work.”

“You make it sound like I knew you’d be there.” You nudged his knee with your own lightly. But did indulge him in the usual small talk, where you lived, what you did for a living, hobbies, and pretty much everything that you would normally go over with on a first date. Except this wasn’t a date, it was just drinks. With someone you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of.

“So medicine was really the only thing that made sense when I got out.” He finished, waving over the bartender for another drink. He pretended not to catch you watching him out of the corner of his eye. “But really I think it was always where I was going to wind up. At least I can’t imagine it any different.”

Jack was not doing much better than you were being aware of how this looked, how it felt. He kept his drink in hand for as long as he could, just to keep his hands occupied. He was fighting the urge to lean an arm on the back of your seat while you talked. Or to help get the hair out of your face when you only managed to brush it mostly out of the way.

“That’s still really admirable.” You were starting to feel the flush that always came with a buzz. Your hand landed on his knee, he didn’t pull away.

“Glad someone else thinks so.” Another pull from the bottle, and another drink ordered. He slid in just a little closer, his free arm resting behind you, not quite touching, but close enough for you to be very much aware of it.

You were painfully aware that you were both incredibly close, your hand still resting on his leg, the warmth of him radiating through the denim beneath your palm. This close it was hard to miss the details, his freckles, the hint of his cologne, the indentation from a ring of his finger.

You pulled back from him slightly, leaning back, hands retreating back to your own lap. You looked away quickly, some gross feeling slowly forming. Something almost like shame that felt heavy in your chest.

Jack wasn't unobservant, even drunk he watched you studying him, enjoying the proximity, the attention on that human level. But he also watched your eyes fixate on his hand still resting on the bar top. Probably see the void where a ring should be. Still should have been, if he was honest with himself. And felt a pang when you pulled away, color draining from your face as your eyes met his again, searching behind the fog of alcohol.

He had agonized over whether he wanted to take it off all day, he had felt wrong without it, a reminder even more than when he was wearing it. He didn’t break your gaze, he did also lean away from you though, his arm falling back into his own lap. “Should have just mentioned it earlier.” He absently twisted his fingers around the spot where his ring should have been. “I just” He took a breath and another long drink from his beer “I haven’t been ready to take it off.”

And for a minute you both sat there in this heavy silence, surrounded by the noise and the chaos of the bar. You moved first, breaking the still and the quiet between you like glass. Your hand took his, reassuring and soft. “Then you don’t have to.”

He took your hand in his and the safe feeling you had first felt months ago washed back over you. You hardly knew him, were just meeting him for the second time really, but you trusted him. It was maybe a little difficult to imagine not trusting someone who, as far as you knew, saved your life. But it was deeper than that, there was just something about Jack that felt safe, safer than most people you knew.

He pulled his hand away gently, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and retrieving the wedding band. “I couldn’t just leave it at home.” He glanced between you and the ring before slipping it back into his pocket. “But I got this far without it on, a little longer won’t kill me.”

He paused, a half amused scoff coming from him. “Or maybe it will, you never know.” He caught the way your eyebrows knitted together. “Kidding.” He held up a hand placatingly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whatever tension was left evaporated as the bartender came to check on the pair of you. One more round ordered and you decided to take the break in conversation to use the bathroom. And while you were gone Jack took the casual liberty of getting the bartender to add your drinks to his tab and close you both out for the night.

You weren’t gone but he was able to get everything paid by the time you emerged around the corner and slipped back into your seat. Your drink sat waiting and Jack was scrolling something on his phone. A tired smile on his face as he typed out a reply and placed his phone back on the bar top next to him.

“Welcome back.” He said, glancing down as his phone buzzed next to him. He flipped it over, examining the preview and scoffed before locking it again.

“Everything alright?” You asked before taking a sip of your drink.

“I take a night off and people lose their minds, but nothing they need me for.” Another buzz against the bar top, this one he ignored, drink in hand and focused solely back on you.

“Something crazy happening at the hospital? Some crazy accident?” You turned in to face him. Your knees bumping lightly against his.

“No, we’d hear about anything new and exciting at a review. This is just” He trailed off looking down at his phone again as it buzzed “Hospital drama.”

You leaned a little closer, and almost whispered, a conspiratorial smile spreading across your face. “Anything worth sharing?”

“I will tell you after it’s over.” He half laughed watching your face fall just a little. “I’ll have an update after work tomorrow, probably when I get in actually. I’ll text you an update if you really would like to know.” He checked his phone again and sent off another text smiling a little wider when he set it back down.

It was embarrassing to admit but the idea of him texting you actually made you blush, just a little. Not that he really seemed to notice, his expression unchanged as he finished his drink, his foot now westing on the bottom rung of your seat, his leg resting against yours comfortably.

A warm comfortable silence fell between you, just existing in each other’s company for a while. Jack tries his damn best not to stare at you while you finish your drink, occasionally checking his phone just as a distraction. Very aware of where your bodies touched and the warmth shared between them. It had been too damn long since he had felt this, felt connected.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by you setting the drink down on the bar, the finality of glass on wood. “Ready?” He asked, leaning a little away, getting ready to stand.

“Just have to get my tab settled and I am ready to leave if you are.” You leaned down the bar looking for someone to wave down.

“No you don’t. I got you.” Jack stretched behind you, doing his best to keep a neutral tone. “Paid when you went to the bathroom.”

‘But I was supposed to get you, that was sort of the deal.” You protested, trying to maintain a glare while he just smiled back at you completely unphased.

“Well I guess you’ll just have to take me out again.” He pulled your seat back for you, giving you more room to slide back onto the floor. “And I promise I won’t pick up the check behind your back.”

“It sounds like you’re asking me to see you again.” Your tone was accusatory but you were also doing a terrible job of fighting off a smile. You let him lead you through the crowd.

“I am. Assuming you’re okay with that?” He said as the pair of you stepped out into the night air.

“Yeah, I would like that.” You glanced up at him, it was harder to read him in the shadows of the streetlight but you were pretty sure you could see a self satisfied smirk on his face. “Let me know when you have another day off of work then? I think I have a more regular schedule than you.”

“I’ll check when I’m in tomorrow, should have some time around the weekend coming up again soon.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, as he spoke, examining the decently busy street, watching the crowd. “Did you take The T?” He added after a beat of silence.

“Yeah, I’ll have a few stops before I get home, but I’ll be good.” You turned absently to look back up the road towards the station.

“I’ll walk you to the station at least.” he said, following your gaze down the road towards the distant lights of your stop.

“You don’t have to.” It was a weak protest. A large part of you was more than happy for an excuse to spend a little more time with him.

“Come on” And Jack took you by the arm, leading you up the street, letting you fall into line with him after a few steps.

He lets you slip from his grip, returning his hand to his pocket as you walk. The streetlights overhead casting shadows of the pair of you walking in sync. Your shadow watching his slide silently along the pavement. He watches the people you pass, making sure he’s between you and the road.

When you pass a group of people he draws closer to you, arms bushing against each other on occasion. At one point he took hold of your arm to steer you well out of the path of a larger group of college students. He watched them until they were well past you and didn’t let go until you were at the station.

“Keep me updated.” He caught your eye again. “And text me as soon as you're home. Okay? I can wait for you to get picked up if you want.”

I’ll be fine, text you as soon as I’m back.” Jack lingered, focused entirely on you in the lights overhead. And blame it on the drinks or the warmth in his eyes, you stepped into his space. When he didn’t back away you pressed a little further, leaning in to kiss him lightly on the cheek, your hand on his chest. “I promise.”

As you stepped back his hand caught your wrist. “The second you get home alright?”

“The second I can see my front door I will let you know.” And he let you go, slowly started to make his way back up the road in the opposite direction. “Jack?” He turned back, just enough to face you, his face half cast in shadow “Thank you again. For everything. I’m glad we got to do this”

And you saw a flash of a smile in the dark before he responded “You can pay me back by making it home safe this time.” You watched him as he started his walk back until your ride rolled into the station.

And keeping your promise, the moment you saw your door come into sight you sent him a message letting him know you were home safe, getting another almost instant reply from him letting you know he made it home safe as well.

And the next evening he kept his promise to you as well, sending you his next free nights for the rest of the month. And a promise that he would have an update on the whole work situation he hinted at when he saw you again, making it sound like there was more to it than he had initially thought. Which if you were being honest with yourself, could not come soon enough.

#dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #x female reader #jack abbot #fanfic #fanfiction

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weirdmarioenemies · 19 hours ago

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Name: Mikey Mine

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

Everyone knows Bullet Bill! Many people know Torpedo Ted! Missile Meg is a promising up-and-comer! But what about Mikey Mine? Where does he fit in? Nowhere! He's from a different family, of a different culture, with a different naming system. Mikey Mine does not know any of those people, so stop asking him. He's trying do do his job, for Projectile Pete's sake!

This is his job! It's to wait underwater until someone comes by, then explode and kill them. "It's tough work, but someone's gotta do it," says Mikey Mine. He's lying! Nobody's gotta do it! The world is worse with you in it, Mikey Mine. So, Super Mario Wiki, how do we kill this guy?

"They can be defeated without harming Mario (or Luigi) if they are hit by a Star Bit or a Koopa Shell."

Ah! Thank you, my dear friend and sidekick. You always know just how to kill the weird guys that Mario encounters in his adventures. I don't question it, because I assume you know exactly how to kill me, too.

In addition to Mikey Mine, there is also the Space Mine, which is nearly the same thing! Mikey Mine is just aquatic, while these ones go wherever they please. But I don't think they please anything, because they are fully inanimate! A bit strange that they didn't use the same design for both of them, but I assume it's because Space Mine is used more as a simple obstacle, while Mikey is more like an enemy, appearing in a situation where he must be destroyed to progress. Giving Mikey eyes makes him more of a creature. Makes it clear he can be killed.

Geez! That makes sense from a gameplay perspective, but it's also messed up that it does. Killing creatures is so normal for even a friendly scrimblo like Mario to do! When Mario sees something with eyes, he assumes he will either be killing or eating it. To any eyeless cave shrimp in the audience, rejoice! Super Mario cannot hurt you!

#mikey mine #space mine #super mario galaxy #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako

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bloodsoakedearmuffs · 3 days ago

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IMPORTANT NOTE: my following suggestions are only for if you feel safe or need to be staying at this job.

Having done this at a corporate job before (no longer there but they were trying to have me do bad things during COVID) here were some strategies that also helped disguise it.

Ask people for help! It takes up their time and looks like you're having some difficulty which can explain slow progress or mistakes

Follow up/clarification questions! Same idea for using up time but shows "interest" as well. Can make people talk in circles and confuse themselves or forget what they were asking for if you're good at it. Especially good if this can be a meeting and thus leave no paper trail of the exchanges.

Willful misinterpretation, you did what they asked, you swear! Can be a great stand in for follow up questions if talking to them is rough. It keeps you looking busy and "hitting deadlines" but causes a need for rework and corrections.

Office chatter! You can keep multiple people from working, it can even be about the work itself but you want to avoid progressing any topics if that makes sense. Ex. "How is this project going? Oh I've had something similar before" (doesn't keep them thinking about their work and can lead to other topics)

Get off track (funny because mine was about trains) push the non harmful work first, derail (heh) a meeting, better yet get someone else to derail it. They'll need to schedule a follow up and who knows how long that may take

See if you can sit in on meetings you aren't applicable to! You can listen and learn while actually wasting the time they have you for. You can ask for invites for mentoring reasons or pro active training.

Biggest thing at least for my way of doing this?

MAKE THEM THINK YOU WANT TO BE GOOD AT YOUR JOB. Make them think you like your job and are trying your best. You may come with a few kinks now but once you figure it out they're sure you'll be a great employee. Endear yourself to them if you can. Since otherwise they may get rid of you and put in someone who actually is "competent" and will get the machine to spit out evil faster.

So anyways with the rapid rise of fascism I feel it’s a good time to point out that it’s perfectly legal to follow unjust orders slowly, badly, or inefficiently

#be the lovable ditz you want to see in the world #best if youre new #too nice to fire but a bit shit at your job

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hyruling · 1 day ago

Note

For the domestic prompt - buddie, 'a spare room'?

combined with 9. books stacked on a nightstand

---

The house is fine.

Definitely better than the glimpses Buck would get on FaceTime in those first few weeks. The wallpaper is gone, replaced with a nice shade of blue paint. The grout in the kitchen is sparkling, the sink faucets replaced with something from this century, and the floors are — well, a work in progress. But they’re covered with nice rugs, and Eddie’s scattered some fake plants around, added some pictures to the walls and mantle. It’s nice. Cozy, but strangely devoid of Eddie. It doesn’t have the same lived-in feel as the house in LA, doesn’t have the knickknacks picked up at various zoo trips or baseball games or homemade projects from Chris’ school. He hasn’t asked, but he can assume Eddie has them stored away somewhere, waiting to be unpacked when the rest of the house is done.

He can acknowledge his bias though. Eddie could own a thousand houses, and none of them would make him feel like the way the one on South Bedford does. Still, he compliments Eddie’s hard work, following Eddie around as he’s given the grand tour.

And Eddie — well, Buck doesn’t quite know what to think about Eddie, who’s been fluttering around him like a skittish animal since they pulled into the driveway.

“How’s the setup?” Eddie asks.

Buck turns. Eddie’s hovering in the doorway of the spare room, wringing his hands together. It’s small, just a bed with an end table and a lamp. In the corner is a small chest of drawers it looks like Eddie picked up at Goodwill — in good shape but definitely used. There’s a fake cactus on the dresser beneath a nice mirror. Eddie is chewing his lip, staring at him like he’s a judge on Rock the Block and is about to send Eddie home.

“Great,” Buck answers.

He drops his duffel on the bed and notices the sunflower painting above the bed. It used to hang in the bathroom in LA, between the shower and the toilet. It was his favorite of Eddie’s odd collection of artwork, and he used to tease him about purposefully keeping it in the bathroom just to spite him.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it looks great Eddie. You really didn’t have to get a whole bed just for me,” Buck adds, scratching the back of his neck.

Eddie shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a faint flush on his cheeks. “It’s not—it’s a guest room. I would have gotten one anyway. For other guests too, so.”

Continue reading on AO3

#my fic #buddie fic #911 abc #i was going to tag this as drabbles but she is almost 4k. hence why i put it on ao3 lmaooo #anywayyyy one more 'buck visits eddie' fic before daddy long dick lands back in la xoxo

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 days ago

Text

Vampire's Kiss | Chapter Five

Pairing | Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 7,5k

Warnings | +18, smut, oral sex, kiss on kiss (!!!❤️), Jungkook is a super sexy vampire and his eyes change color, breast worship, body worship, pussy worship, our vampire boy is a real gentleman, sweetness and adoration, it's Jungkook's first time with a human woman so he's surprised by certain reactions of MC's body, big dick, foreplay, mild biting, Jungkook keeps his instincts at bay (poor boy. ..), vaginal sex, care after sex, at the end of the chapter some anxiety …

⤷ Summary | Humans have finally unveiled and accepted the centuries-old existence of vampires, in a modern world people share their lives with these peculiar and mysterious creatures, but it is not all roses.

Will two souls belonging to such different species be able to be together?

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! ❤️ I am back with the fifth chapter of VK and I warn you, it will be mostly smut! A reader asked me to continue the story and having chapters ready I took the opportunity to publish this one! I know you are waiting for the story about Yoongi that I promised in March, unfortunately my life is full of work and it's like my happiness has been sucked away by a dementor 💀. But even though I am progressing slowly, the story is almost towards the end so I hope to publish it soon! In the meantime I leave you with this chapter and thank you as always for your support, I love you ❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie - @peterstarkchrishiddleston - @reallygenerouskoala - @btsuga-d - @angelicsmilesworld - @jimincrystal - @velvet-stardust2002 - @ke1k029 - @pantara - @lennieharper - @takemeaway5402 - @jkslaugh97 - @jaisilver

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Entering the elevator like two rowdies, Jungkook's lips take possession of yours as if they have always belonged to him, one of his hands goes up to hold you still and with his tongue voluptuously traces each flap of soft skin, he seems intent on not wanting to let you go and you taste the firm flavor of wine with pleasure from his own soft, rosy tongue. Your eyes flutter when, he not content, he sneaks under your dress with his other hand, brushing against one of your thighs with ardent curiosity, squeezing the flesh as if that was always the place of his hand.

He pulls away from you slightly to whisper, “That's the way you want me, isn't it?” he emphasizes those words by pushing your pelvis against his, you moan against his lips and a flush of arousal gets the better of you, apart from your panties there is nothing else to protect you from his presence, “I wanted to be good to you, I wanted to be a real knight,” he murmurs an expletive, squinting his eyes dark with lust as he inhales the air.

“But I want a vampire” you sigh against his lips.

His irises glow red, you wordlessly admire that peculiar coloring, but he holds you in a needy, strong embrace, as if to keep you from seeing them, his shoulders tremble slightly at your admission, “Your scent is everywhere, baby” he murmurs in your ear in a persuasive voice, "Think of how many humans will come in here and without realizing it will breathe you in" your heart loses a beat at the idea, your intimacy throbs without you being able to hold back the tremor, it is exciting to think of such a thing.

Jungkook goes back to nibbling your lower lip, licking it occasionally, you chase it with all your might, unable to stop.

“But don't worry, my darling... only I know how delicious your scent is” with a gentle ‘ding’ the elevator doors open, inviting you to get out as soon as possible, Jungkook guides you out without ever taking his eyes or hands off you, you read the desire in his every action and it surely reflects your own as well.

In front of your door you frantically search for the keys to open it, and once you do the boy is not slow to enter, almost tumbling in because of your haste, you have no time to laugh, he slams the door violently, making you jerk in surprise.

He voraciously swallows your exclamation into his mouth, enjoying the warmth that he lacks, and you reciprocate with transport, wanting him to feel pleasure in more ways than one, and if that means making him feel your human warmth, then that's okay too.

You tighten your arms around his neck, wanting to breathe him in and make him yours, you will declare yourself satisfied only when you have succeeded in imprinting him in you forever.

His fingers trace the contours of your waist, climbing higher and higher, until he reaches the edge of your breasts, eagerly squeezing your body, not allowing himself to really touch it.

You pull away breathlessly, “What are you doing?”

“I need your permission,” he whispers, making you smile.

“Do vampires need permission to touch a woman, kind of like the little story that you can't cross the threshold of a house without the master's invitation?”

He shakes his head gently, his dark eyes again shining with an amused sparkle that you watch spellbound.

“No, I just want to make sure you really want this.”

Butterflies flutter to your beating heart, you caress a snow-white cheek softly, “I want everything you can give me, Jungkook and I definitely want this” you deliberately emphasize the last word, honestly you have dreamed of such a moment too many times, you want to enjoy it in reality too.

As if to show him you mean it, you accompany him to your room. You turn on the lights and he finally see where you spend your nights thinking about him, he surrounds your hips with a bright face, lowering himself to give you a kiss on the forehead.

“You have no idea how happy you're making me, if we don't go further tonight I'll still feel satisfied, you know? Even just your presence means a lot to me.”

You think his reassurances are awfully nice, you press a hand to his chest, at the level of a heart that is no longer pumping life, you want to be the one to restart it, and you wave him over to the bed covered with soft sheets, he sits on the edge next to you, sighing in pleasure tilting his head back as you plant a soft kiss on his skin, right where a lovely little mole shows off, you continue further and further toward his well-defined jawline, his skin as smooth and velvety as the petals of a rose, you lightly clench your teeth on his flesh in a small provocative gesture, but you can go no further, he puts an end to your seduction plan before it can even be implemented and like a hawk he swoops down to capture your lips again, plundering your mouth without hesitation and with his hands on your shoulders he forces you to surrender to his strength, bringing your back to match the mattress beneath you.

Without any more embarrassment or indecision his strong hands cup your breasts, probing their shapes carefully, and you have to move away from his ravenous mouth to catch your breath. He smoothly continues his attentions and tickles your nipples with curiosity, pinching them playfully from above the light fabric of your dress; instinctively you spread your legs and arch your back, unknowingly giving him a chance to settle between them, heedless of the strong presence that goes hardening in his denim pants.

His dark eyes leave out no expression that takes shape on your face with each of his slow caresses, amused by the stiff tips pushing at the fabric, trying to get his attention.

“You're not even wearing a bra...” he blows in your ear, uncontrollable shivers traveling straight to your core, which clenches with pleasure, begging him to take any action.

“It-it's the dress, not... “ you stammer, the boy hums thoughtfully and your breath stops as he drops his head to your chest, from your view you can only see his hair, but you can clearly feel the slight bite he leaves at the stiff tip of one nipple, it's delicate, but you can sense how sharp his teeth are, and a jolt of pleasure stronger than the others makes you sigh in delight, with one leg you wrap around his side to keep him from pulling away, while a more lascivious moan escapes from your throat at the light sucking that follows the bite.

His large hands glide like snakes over your hot thighs, and move up your bare skin confidently, taking the rest of your dress with them past your hips, then higher and higher, and with a few quick gestures you are naked under his eager gaze, were it not for the panties - lace - that still conceal your intimacy with regard, except then you feel a damp stain on the fabric, you should feel embarrassment, but Jungkook looks at you as if you were a goddess and that helps you get over it.

He does not focus on your bare breasts as you expect, rather he takes his time to simply look at you, before giving you a sweet, lingering kiss on the cheek, even as he pulls away you feel tingling where he has just kissed you, your eyes becoming slightly moist. You feel there is something different with him, a level of intimacy you have never experienced with anyone else.

“You are so beautiful, you leave me breathless,” he murmurs fondly, before leaning over you.

Then it's just a slow, meandering descent into carnal sin, his tongue darting over one of your turgid little buttons with adoration, watching in amazement as it swells and turns scarlet under his insistent, curious tongue, as if he had never seen such a reaction to his own touches before he met you, and as he leaves a trail of wet kisses and bites with each of your moans, he unhesitatingly sucks every patch of skin his attention rests on, where he cannot reach with his mouth, he leaves it to his hands to take care of it, kneading the flesh of the other breast with appreciation, putting pressure on the other sensitive nipple each time you pull at his strands. After a deep moan he pushes his cock harder and harder against the sheets, the thought of what he is hiding under all those clothes does not leave your thoughts, you want to have him naked on top of you, inside you, and he does seem of the same opinion.

Jungkook pulls away from your breasts battered by his teeth and glistening with his saliva, his own lips are swollen and moist, his lip piercing glistens mischievously against the tip of his tongue, which leaves one last wet trail. The sight is so erotic that you try to kiss him once more, but with a devious smile he pulls away returning to your body, with little open-mouthed kisses that make you shiver with impatience. He is eating your body with painful slowness.

“Quietly, baby,” he whispers on your belly, you squeeze your eyes shut whimpering, the pain of unfulfilled pleasure between your legs is unbearable, "Be a good girl and you'll get your present," he chuckles cruelly, his hands returning to caress the inside of your thighs, reveling in their softness, each touch is always a greater trail of wet kisses that Jungkook deposits on the skin of your lower abdomen, never venturing down where you most demand his attention, never giving you the satisfaction you so much seek.

His hand travels up your soft skin like a cloud, going to graze the edge of your briefs, a choked moan escapes your lips at the idea that he might finally please you, he sneaks under the fabric and touches your hot pussy with sensual calm, shivers run through your entire body as an exclamation escapes him; “Oh, God...”

Your gaze flies to him, his face shows a surprised expression that immediately leaves him. With your heart in your throat you wonder why he said those words.

“What is it?” you ask with a dry mouth, he swallows softly.

“You're so wet, and hot.... I didn't expect that” any strange doubt is swept away with a laugh, which is promptly silenced by his thumb moving over your swollen clitoris carefully, he plays with it slowly, taking his time to study the way it contracts and makes you drip, you drop your head between the pillows breathing heavily, the sensation is divine and finally that pain in a small part shuts up, giving way to a pleasure that sends hot flashes to the tips of your hair. You feel so wet and soft that you would even be ready to welcome him into you right away.

His face moves lower and you arch your back slightly, reacting to the chaste kiss he leaves on your still-covered mound, you clench the sheets in your fists, your breathing getting heavier as the vampire lays more light kisses, but he suddenly stops with the circular thumb motions and you are tempted to scream in protest, before you notice his fingers latching onto the edge of your briefs to pull them off.

“I wonder... will you be as sweet as your perfume?” a sly smile makes room on his face as his eyes chain you in a silent plea.

“Jungkook, please... stop making me wait, I want you,” you beg him to get a move on, you can't stand all that procrastination anymore, and for a moment you have the idea of telling him to go to hell.

“I want you too, you don't know how much, my love” you widen your eyes at the way he just called you, just in time to see his tongue licking your glistening entrance, going all the way up to your clitoris, there his lips latch onto that pulsing, stiff pearl of arousal, his tongue rolls over it once more and, oh fuck.

“D-Don't stop!” you exclaim, your legs stiffening as his fingers sink into the flesh of your thighs to keep them wide open, as if to prove that he is the one getting much more joy out of what he is doing.

You are petrified with bliss, your hips moving toward his mouth in desperation and in response with the polished tip of that soft muscle he moistens your soggy opening, moving back and forth slowly between your sagging and trembling folds.

One of your hands reaches up and clasps his silky dark strands, begging him to stay there and feast on you, and not letting him say it twice he sprinkles your pussy with several sloppy, wet kisses, only to resume sucking the tender pink bud soon after, taking it gently between his teeth in agonizing torture, you murmur disconnected words that even you can't understand, you are burning all over and a long moan leaves your throat when his tongue collects the transparent essence gushing from your trembling slit, he closes his eyes continuing that wonderful smooth and wet movement, small spasms take control of your limbs and you look for a moment to recover away from him, but his index finger gently penetrates the slit he is playing with, making space between the walls that immediately tighten around him, tormented by pleasure. Your legs imprison him in a grip that would leave a normal human being breathless. He soon adds another finger, working his way in a little hard, but you love with all your soul that slight burning sensation from long abstinence. You whimper asking for more, thrust your hips into his face, and he separates his lips from your folds, leaving behind a glossy trail that smears his chin.

“Ssssh. You're too tight, I might hurt you,” he admonishes you, but you shake your head.

“That's not true, you just want me to beg you to fuck me!” you growl and something in his eyes changes, they get darker and he pushes his finger more roughly inside you. You hold your breath at the change in speed, his fingers reaching places that would have been impossible for you to find, it's getting more and more complicated trying not to go crazy.

“I just want to make you beg me to fuck you, is that it? No, honey... Here the one begging to fuck you is me, but as a gentleman I'm preparing my lady properly, can't you see my efforts?” he growls, before giving quick, short licks to your scarlet clit, which vibrates desperately under his care.

“J-Jungkook... Wait, I don't want to come like this,” you whimper again, inhaling when he adds a third finger, your pussy swallowing the new intrusion with delight, moving rhythmically with him, your belly sending waves of pleasurable heat to the rest of your body.

The boy pulls away slightly, without stopping moving his fingers, churning between the walls as your clitoris throbs unceasingly in search of more attention. He himself looks a mess, the blackness of his eyes completely absorbed by the dark red of his true nature, his lips are pregnant with your taste and he licks them carefully, cleaning up every trace of you. He is beautiful. He is not hiding and this makes you smile slightly.

“You're so warm and sweet, baby,” he moans, pressing his forehead against your thigh, you're wet with sweat and you notice that his hair is curling because it's damp in turn. Fuck, it's terribly sexy and you spontaneously clench around his fingers still inside you, “I'd stay here eating you for hours and hours, your taste is more delicious than the blood I'm used to drinking” he confesses tightening his lips, forcing himself to let go of your heat, a part of you is sorry.“I'll do as you want this time” he brings his two glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking them as he looks at you greedily, those damn intense eyes of his communicate the desire he hides behind an innocent face.

He gets down on his knees on the bed, beginning to unbutton his shirt and you immediately go to help him, curious to see what he looks like under his clothes, he lets you do it with a small smile, which you kiss immediately, you can't get enough of his mouth.

As the buttons are opened, more and more alabaster skin is put on display, with well-defined, massive muscles that your fingers graze with desire, you caress each bundle of muscles and his wonderful narrow waist, admiring him as if you had a work of art in front of you.

You attach your lips to his neck without a second thought, licking him gently before sucking his soft skin, his hands settle on your hips, clasping you to his chest to give you more access to his neck, while your smaller ones reach for his belt, which you open quite quickly, barely registering the sound of metal falling somewhere on the floor, you again provocatively bite the space between his shoulder and neck, and this time he lets a faint gasp escape, kissing you under your ear and then further and further down to your throat, never opening his mouth too much. Yes, that's his weak spot. Something in your bite turns him on, something that perhaps ... also wants to push him to bite you.

He pulls away slightly to unzip his jeans, you are not ashamed to watch him free his cock from his pants, his boxers do nothing to hide the powerful shape he usually tries to keep at bay, there is a darker spot on the fabric, at the height of the tip, and you swallow.

“I've never seen a naked vampire, to be honest,” you say almost shyly, he smiles releasing his boxers, showing you his erection, and you widen your eyes at the sight.

None of your previous partners were this size, not to mention just magnificent, on the rosy tip shines clear liquid and the soft skin perfectly envelops that size which, you know, is hard as marble, you felt it as it was pressed against your thigh, he must have been in a lot of pain.

Jungkook takes his cock in his hand teasingly, giving himself some preparatory caresses with languidly half-closed eyes, his skin is so clear that you can see his blue veins, Jungkook as a vampire mixes such an elegant yet vigorous beauty that it makes your mouth water.

“You're the first human I've ever tasted like that, and believe me when I say I found you delicious...” you blush as you reach for his cock, gently tightening your grip on that velvety, stiff skin, you run your thumb over the tip, sprinkling that liquid all over his rod pulsing between your fingers, you feel like taking him in your mouth and tasting him, knowing what gives him pleasure and at what speed he'd prefer to fuck your throat, Jungkook gently stops you, ”Not now, sweetheart... later you can have as much fun as you want, right now I just need to get inside you,” he whispers in your ear, pinning your hand against his cock and pushing you back onto the bed, you quiver under his hands like a cat in heat, and maybe that's just what you are.

He nibbles gently at the column of your neck and tilts your head to give him a better angle, you enjoy the gentleness used to keep from tearing your skin apart and open your legs inviting him to do what he wants with you, he takes a moment to go back to teasing with his fingers the bundle of nerves that makes you whimper lustfully, the fingers are soon replaced by his cock.

He presses on your folds pushing back and forth, wincing with a moan with each caress. He embraces you in need and with an emotional warmth you've never experienced before. You push your fingers over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin as he catches your entrance without really going in, he slowly kisses the lips of your delicate slit with his cock before penetrating inside you in one sinuous lunge, you immediately feel yourself split in two and moan open-mouthed, his hips end up pressing against yours and you feel wonderfully complete with him inside you.

He remains still between the yielding flesh that welcomes him, you see him close his eyes, inhaling slowly.

“Fuck...” he blows through his teeth, a few drops of sweat beading on his forehead, and you dislodge a few wisps of his hair that have clung to his forehead, "You're amazing, how have I lived so far without you?" he trembles as you clench around him at those words, and not content he goes deeper.

You move your pelvis against his and he slowly starts moving again, stepping out slightly and then stepping back in gently, feeling his full weight against your body is an all-encompassing sensation that you will never tire of. He drags his lips down your chest, reattaching himself to one of your nipples shamelessly, sucking and pulling on it with his dangerously sharp teeth. Increasing the power of his mighty lunges, your soft walls twitch with delight as his length comes to stimulate a specific spot inside you, fuck, he's so big you can feel him reach all the way to your stomach, you arch your back unable to do anything else but stand there and take it. You almost cry when the pearl hidden between the folds throbs unbearably, begging for attention that Jungkook seems unwilling to give you for the moment.

You drive your nails into his shoulders, a scream manages to escape your mouth at the umpteenth time he enters you more forcefully.

You cast a glance down between you, his lower abdomen seems moist with something, the inside of your trembling thighs is too, and then you understand, that is your out-of-control arousal, a sigh from him catches your attention.

“Do you see how beautiful you look as you take me like a good girl?” he growls an inch from your lips, making you gasp before he kisses you hard. You willingly take his tongue into your mouth, sensing the aftertaste of your flavor lingering in him, a shuddering, uncontrolled breath makes room in you, his pelvis collides faster with yours, his lips fall back on your sweat-soaked neck, and there you notice something very different.

Something long and sharp is dragged across your skin, which ripples shivering under his care, you intuit that it is the tip of his fangs, he continues to drag them gently with each forbidden thrust of his hips. The knowledge that you could receive a bite at any moment makes you stiffen, making the stretch of your cunt that much tighter, your heart pumps blood fast, arousing you like never before, and Jungkook's eyes widen, invested by all those sensations assaulting you, “Holy-!” he exclaims, before increasing the pace of his uncontrolled lunges, dragging you with him into a vortex of insatiable enjoyment.

You meet the thrusts with your pelvis asking for more, your walls flicker around his cock, willingly welcoming each of his overpowering lunges, with your hands he grasps your thighs tightening them around him, he tilts your pelvis toward his planting wet kisses and light bites in the hollow of your neck, imagine what you might feel on receiving a bite from him, perhaps a mix of excruciating pain and mind-numbing pleasure, your pelvis twitches repeatedly, an intoxicating sensation warms your belly and you tremble violently, Jungkook holds you close to him as his fingers return to torture your swollen clit.

“Oh! Shit,” you sob in shock.

He slows down his thrusts and continues to stimulate you in quick circles that you try to escape, "Ssh, ssh...come, baby.... I know you can do it, you're my obedient human, right?" your breath catches in your throat, pleasure expanding from your tight walls to your stiffening clitoris before a long series of pleasurable jolts work their way throughout your body, concentrating in one powerful orgasm that leaves you breathless.

Jungkook resumes with hard and fast thrusts, continuing to murmur how wonderful and perfect you were for him, taking advantage of your orgasm to trigger his. In the throes of overstimulation you feel his hot semen deliciously invade your pussy, reaching your belly and you gasp at his final lunges, just at that moment his teeth bite lightly into your flesh, without piercing your skin as you would have expected, you feel the stiffness of his shoulders under your hands, before he begins to lick the spot he has chosen, just at this instant he is showing you exceptional self-control.

Jungkook remains inside you a little longer, his head pressed against your breasts, letting your heartbeats lull him as you run your fingers through his wet strands. Even after he comes, his size barely changed, he fills your intimacy smoothly.

“How was I, for a human?” you giggle with a dry throat, he smiles against your skin.

“I don't think I can describe it in simple words,” he brings one of your hands to his lips, affectionately kissing your knuckles , “The only thing I know is that I would repeat everything from the beginning.”

You shake your head, your eyes are beginning to close, “Oh, please ... give me a moment to breathe,” he untangles himself from your legs and immediately you have to deal with several things.

The uncomfortable sensation of his sudden absence hits you hard, and at the same time your legs are screaming in pain, you close them with difficulty, and when you do, his semen is pushed slightly out of your intimacy. You gasp, your only concern now is taking a shower.

The fact that he cum inside you is not a problem, a human and a vampire cannot have children after all.

That thought leaves you a little bitter in the mouth, in truth, but you can't help it.

“I need a shower...will you join me?” you ask shyly to the figure lying on his stomach, your eyes immediately falling on his sculpted buttocks and trying hard not to open your eyes wide, indignant you wonder how you dared not touch that heavenly work, designed by the angels themselves.

With a smile he nods and gets up smoothly, “Lead the way.”

You go to the bathroom together, where waiting for you is a shower large enough to accommodate you and his immense size, he does nothing sexual as he helps you rub your skin gently, you lean wearily against his chest, selfishly letting him do all the work, his hands quiet as he cleanses you from the fragrant lather of your favorite bubble bath.

“Now we'll dry off, hmm?” you nod absentmindedly at his words, barely registering the towel dabbing at your skin, you're tremendously tired, you just want to sleep, to witness this a yawn escapes your control. He laughs lightly, guiding you to the bed completely naked, not that there's a problem, it wouldn't be the first time you've slept with only sheets to cover you.

You notice in the half-light his figure looking for something and frown, “What are you doing?” you murmur, he stops his movements.

“I'm going home- I wouldn't want to disturb you,” he replies unsurely, you narrow your eyes, aware that he can see you in the dark.

"Disturb me after all I've let you do? Don't be an idiot and go back to bed, Jeon," you mutter, he accordingly gives up the search for his clothes and joins you with a smile.

He wraps his arms around your sides and drops his head against your shoulder, sighing quietly.

“Does that mean I passed the test?” he asks with amusement, you smile slightly with your eyes closed.

“With flying colors... it would mean you won't get rid of me so easily” you squeeze one of his hands between yours, pressing it against your chest.

“I'm glad to know that” he kisses your lips lightly, before settling in better, his chest against your back giving you a kind of security that helps balance your heartbeat.

That night you fall into a dreamless sleep, totally relaxed and exhausted.

You open your eyes slowly, looking confusedly at the window of your room, it is open and only the curtains protect your privacy, you wonder if you had forgotten it open last night, then a gentle ache between your legs reminds you of what happened on that bed and a squeal of embarrassment escapes your lips, you press the pillow to your face with a huge smile plastered on your face.

As you inhale you realize that his scent permeates every corner of your sheets, and you enjoy that fresh, masculine fragrance that still makes you feel wrapped in his arms. You would gladly stay in bed all day, if it weren't for your work, which certainly doesn't like to make life easy for you; Jungkook probably had the same thought, given his absence-maybe he ran home to get ready.

You kind of regret not waking up with him, but at least a note or message has to be there, right?

You struggle to lift yourself up, God--how are you going to walk in such conditions? You've been shot down like a beast in the middle of hunting season.

You look around, at the bedside table, at the bed itself--nothing, no romantic note as often happens in the movies. You check your phone and there too, no message.

You slowly get out of bed with tight lips, noticing only now that you are no longer naked, you are wearing one of your nightgowns that you surely didn't put on of your own accord, but why get dressed you rather than leave a message?

Maybe it's a vampire thing...

“I'm starving,” you mutter, not at all in the mood to start cooking anything, it's 7:00 a.m. and your shift will start at 8:15, you shake your head; milk and cereal sound better.

You put on your bunny-eared slippers and walk into the kitchen with the mood under your feet, still mulling over the fact that Jungkook might as well have written you something-.

“What the...” frozen, you stare wordlessly at the boy with his back turned who is preparing something in the pan that smells delicious, “Jungkook?” is more of a question than an exclamation, the boy gives no sign of being surprised to find you standing there. Of course, his senses must have picked up on your movements in the bedroom.

He turns slightly with a gentle smile, "Good morning, baby.... did you sleep well?" you don't miss the mischievous spark behind his words, you cough embarrassed.

That's why he didn't leave anything behind, he's still here.

“But what are you doing here, don't you have work today?” you ask, puzzled.

He's wearing the same clothes as the night before, but they're clearly more rumpled from the evening on the floor they spent, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“I called Yoongi, said I was feeling unwell and that he could take Namjoon my place for the morning shift, as for what I'm doing here- I'm taking care of my human, of course. Bacon and egg sandwiches is good, right?” he shows the contents of the pan and nods at the appetizing appearance, can he cook now too?

He looks pretty confident as he picks up cutlery and ingredients in your kitchen, a suspicion tingles in your mind, “Jungkook... but did you sleep last night?”

He shakes his head cheerfully, “Actually no, we vampires don't sleep at night,” you open your mouth slightly, then close it again.

Gosh, what did he do then all night?

Then how do vampires even work during the day?

“Take it easy, I enjoyed hearing you talk while you slept,” he says, taking two plates and two glasses, you widen your eyes.

“What?”.

His smile turns slightly wicked.

“You clung to me, but you kept repeating that you were cold” he chuckles and you would like to dig your own grave, ‘It's normal, we vampires have a different body temperature than yours, so I helped you a little’ he says pointing to what you are wearing, "Then I thought that after all the activity we did, you would be hungry so I studied the situation in the kitchen, memorizing the places where you keep the items, by the way, you should do the grocery shopping" he scolds you before putting the steaming plate in front of you.

That's one of the things your mom always scolds you too, you never feel like cooking and prefer to eat instant stuff from the supermarket, heck... you didn't expect such a lecture even from a vampire.

You take to eating in silence under his watchful gaze, the sandwich is seasoned to perfection and you don't mind continuing, evidently satisfied he takes to eating too, you remain spellbound for a few moments, can a person appear sexy just by the way he bites into a sandwich? You watch those lips close around his bite and the memory of what he did between your legs the night before pops into your mind. You clear your throat, searching for a way to calm your body's reactions.

“No need to hide, Y/N ... I really enjoyed it too, and if I think back on it I can think of many other ways to have fun” you choke on your eggs and immediately run to take a sip of water.

“You can't think of such things when we're eating!” you blurt out with teary eyes, in response he snuggles into his own shoulders with a tender smile.

“But even yesterday I was eating, yet you didn't complain.”

Oh, gosh. What happened to the boy who at first didn't even dare mention certain practices for fear of making you uncomfortable?

“You really are impossible...” you say wearily, your entire body seems to have been torn apart, and to your surprise he intertwines your fingers, leaving a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, your heart missing a beat.

“Just kidding, you know,” a faux-resentful snort escapes you, before you hear your cell phone ring.

Reluctantly you let go of his hand, “It must be for work, I'll be done in a moment.”

You go to the bedroom, casting a glance at the messy sheets, swallowing before grabbing the infernal thing, reading the name you turn to stone.

Sweet Jimin.

You pluck up courage and answer, keeping your voice low, you don't know to what extent vampire hearing works, certain is that you want to prevent Jungkook from learning certain details.

<<Jimin...>> you mumble his name like it's a curse, and in a way it is.

<<Y/N... please don't do that, I already feel like shit for what happened at the party>>.

You hiss his name one more time, <<Not now, I can't talk>>.

<<What? Why?>> he looks confused, taken aback, and you hold back the snort that was about to escape you.

<<Let's just say I'm in company ... in very good company, and it's not exactly the time to talk about such things, you know ... I too can have someone who wants me all to himself>>.

<<I never said otherwise, don't make me out to be a heartless being, now... I told you a thousand times it was not my intention to interrupt->> you inhale between your teeth to shut him up, you look alarmed at the bedroom door, but nothing is moving.

<<All right! I'll talk to you later, okay? I really don't have time now>> you hiss before shutting the phone in his face.

You're really running out of time, you're in danger of being late for work, and you run to get ready in the bathroom as fast as you can, when you get back to the kitchen you find two probing eyes, two beautiful probing eyes, waiting for you.

You're not really mad at Jimin, at the end of the day he's not really at fault, but remembering the role you're going to have to play once again nausea comes back to grip your gut, you have Jungkook now. You don't want to mess it up.

“Um... It was Jimin,” you say uneasily, Jungkook holding his chin with his hand, studying you carefully.

“I know, but you don't need to tell me, you and he are friends, right?” you look at him nervously.

Of course, you are friends, so why do you feel so uncomfortable telling him about Jimin? He knows absolutely nothing and never will, you can rest assured.

“Yes, yes! We are friends, but he just has a lot of time on his hands,” Jungkook melts into a small smirk.

“Give him time to find a girlfriend and we'll see if he still has time to call you” you freeze on the spot, he doesn't know Jimin has a girlfriend?

“But did something happen at the party? He seemed anxious to talk to you,” he continues, and at least you can tell him that, after all it's about your relationship.

“He feels bad about what happened at the party, you know--his inappropriate interruption, he doesn't know we're dating.”

Jungkook nods, intertwining his fingers, “Don't you want to let him know for the time being?” that question slightly unsettles you, doesn't it! You simply haven't had a chance to talk to each other face to face anymore.

“No, no! That's not it at all, what the heck are you saying? I haven't had a chance to tell him, as you explained yourself, you're working like hell too... in truth I expected you to be the one to tell him.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Me? Why me?”

With a catlike smile you approach his figure, going to trace his features with your fingers, stopping at his well-delineated jaw, “Don't you males usually mark your territory?” you ask sarcastically.

He follows your caress with half-closed eyes, “Us males, huh?” he is quite amused, “I've already marked what I had to mark tonight, believe me, every vampire will know you're mine... especially Jimin” he grabs your hips, pushing you onto his muscular thighs and in response you bring your arms around his neck, placing your nose in the crook of his neck. You enjoy his scent, which is now mixed with yours as well; he must have showered using your products, and this makes you stupidly excited.

“That's not fair,” you mutter, ”How will the vampires know that you are mine? I don't have anything in particular I can leave on you.”

He flinches slightly so he can look at you, there is joy shining in his eyes, “Baby, I have your scent everywhere, maybe you won't smell it, but it won't go unnoticed by vampires,” you are still not completely convinced. You want to see with your own eyes something that binds him to you.

“You haven't convinced me, Jeon... I have to be sure.”

In response he cradles your lips in another sweet kiss, you sense a hint of moisture when he opens his, inviting you to taste him again, you don't let him tell you twice and sink your hand into his hair as he takes possession of your mouth again.

His hand travels down your side, feeling and squeezing the flesh hidden by your shirt, you tighten your thighs around his waist in an attempt to calm the pleasurable throbbing between your legs, but groan in annoyance when your phone starts ringing again.

You reluctantly pull away, notice his eyes no longer as black as a raven's feathers, but a shade that wanders to reddish brown; he must have gotten nervous, too.

“It's definitely work this time,” you mutter a few inches from his face, "I have to go.”

You make to get off, but his grip on your wrist stops you, you stare at him confused, his expression so serious that you feel strange.

“At dinner I made you a proposition and I threw it out for a laugh, but I was serious. Come work with me.”

The butterflies in your stomach multiply to such an extent that they catch your heart and make him take flight, you smile at the sight of his face so serious and determined, having to admit that his proposal is not bad at all. But there is always a but.

The two of you. You could stay together as well as you could break up. In the last case it would be rather awkward to work together. You don't feel like giving him a straight answer.

“With you, or for you?” you ask amusedly, his smile showing off his perfectly white, sharp canines, but it's wonderful for you to see that smile come to life so closely.

“Does it really matter?” he asks mischievously, "It would be exciting either way," his hands slide down your thighs, slightly lifting the light fabric covering them, scenes from the night just past come to life in your mind, but you shake your head away from his bewitching figure.

“I will think about it, Jeon... You'll have my answer soon.”

You arrive at the office in a subdued mood, not wanting to leave Jungkook alone, but work was calling. Before leaving home he promised he would tidy up a bit before leaving in turn, this makes you smile.

A vampire cleaning a human being's house? That would be a moment to frame.

You walk in sullenly, trying not to point out your rather odd walk, Jungkook went pretty hard the night before, but you're not complaining about sore legs and your most sensitive pussy, you're loving this, and the image of Jungkook fucking you in the copy room becomes more delirious.

As you expect, Valentine is there taking calls with an annoyed look. She doesn't even make eye contact with you, and for that you are grateful; perhaps she realized that she had been bugging the wrong person and would now stop pestering you with her idle chatter.

You sit down, ready to suffer your boss's anguish already early in the morning, open the notepad you always keep in your desk drawer to read that day's appointments, but something else catches your attention.

On the open page of the mass of papers used to take notes or scribble phone numbers is a small post-it note folded in on itself.

You cast a suspicious glance at Valentine, but she is not paying even a little attention to you.

You take a deep breath and open it, unsure of what might be written there. Maybe it's from the boss, but it's strange. If there was something he wanted he would have come and yelled it in your face, he's not the type to write post-its and hide them, then!

Bad choice.

You widen your eyes.

You study your surroundings, the knot in your stomach returning to weigh down your breath.

“Valentine?” you call in her direction, she gives you an annoyed look, but does not look away.

“What do you want now? I'm busy.” the instinct to growl at her is suppressed, but it remains there, below the surface.

You show her the post-it note with an icy stare.

“This is a joke on your part, isn't it? Are you trying to scare me?” she narrows her eyes in response.

“Oh, no! I had nothing to do with it this time, look elsewhere for the culprit,” she blurts, turning away.

With her out of the way, you already know who to suspect with more confidence.

Someone knocks on the door and you gasp at the sound, Valentine breaks into a smile, and you... You look up fearfully, from the glass door Yoongyu is smiling at you.

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hrrtshape · 1 day ago

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do you know what job you want to do in your marauders dr?

not really. technically, i am supposed to be prepping for like...high imperial shit. ministry girlie. my dad was minister of magic. nepotism baby realness. if i sneezed in the wrong direction someone would probably hand me a department. but in my heart??? in my soul (said like marilyn monroe on her sixth divorce)??? i just wanna disappear into france with coriolanus snow and a rosé addiction. like. get stupid on a balcony. just...exist. be soft and petty. live in permanent exile from ambition.

also. politics are so exhausting. it's fun to criticise them but boy oh boy. it's all elbow-kissing and side-eyes and fake duels. like being stuck at a kennedy family barbecue for eternity. i don't want to "work" i want to be a housewife (derogatory) (affectionate). coriolanus would probably get guilt-tripped into going to the ministry anyway. or like decide he wants to take over the world. either way i want three kids. because he thinks he's smarter than everyone and also he's got that weird brain where if he's not in control of something he thinks he's dying. he's my roman emperor who needs to personally supervise the bread-making or he'll start foaming at the mouth. i love him and cherish him

i'd be making pastries. raising a small army of cats. staging fake hauntings in london so we don't get taxed. i'm listening to kate bush and faking migraines to avoid social obligations. i'm tragic and useless and ethereal and it's all very deeply emma bovary meets princess diana meets 2008 tumblr post about running away and never coming back.

i graduate hogwarts in like five months and i literally have not mentally progressed past the mindset of a girl crying in the bathroom during yule ball because her hair wouldn't curl correctly. i am unfit for public service. i should not be allowed anywhere near an official ministry document. i would be doodling in the margins while england burned.

short answer??? no job. long answer??? revolutionised housewife pipeline. perchance but like PERCHANCE PERCHANCE we have me being a journalist. thank you. bisous

#asks #emmas marauders dr #reality shift #desired reality #realityshifting #shifting realities #shifting community #reality shifting #shifting #shifting motivation

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mediocre-shark-tales · 2 days ago

Text

Mental Healing with the Race

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Hey Guys, I just wanted to say I am still super sorry with every chapter that takes longer than I used to be to get them out. I asm currently in the middle of the last 2 weeks of college, so lots of studying and prep for our huge Final Projects or Tests. On top of that my FSAE team and I are prepping to leave for the Big Competition three weeks from now. However, I do not want any of my chapters to lack in the love and work that I put in to writing them. So I will do my best to try and get them out more regularly, but I will not post anything early or with any less love than the last one. So should they continue to take longer please remember this. No one has said anything about this but I still want to make sure that everyone knows I am not done with this story, just a little busy right now. With that said please enjoy...

The gym lights flicker on just before sunrise, humming low above my head like they’re still waking up, too. My hoodie is heavy with sleep and my shoulder twinges the second I shrug it off, revealing the newer, thinner brace beneath. It’s progress — less restrictive, easier to hide under my clothes — but it also means I’m out of excuses. The world thinks I’m still resting. But rest never made me stronger.

I roll out my mat in the same corner of the performance room as always. Familiar. Quiet. Grounded. Axel lays just a few feet away, head on his paws, eyes tracking my every move like he knows this day is going to be rough.

Because it is.

Today is cardio and strength. And no cast means full-arm weight again. It’s the first real milestone — a make-or-break kind of day.

I sit on the mat for a moment, my back pressed against the cool wall. My fingers find the scar on my forearm, tracing it absentmindedly. A reminder.

The crash didn’t defeat me.

"Alright, warrior,” Diego calls, stepping into the room and clapping his hands once. He’s grinning, but there’s a crease between his brows — the one that always shows up when he’s worried about me. “Scale of 1 to 10. Pain?”

I crack a tired smirk. “About a 4. Maybe a 5 when I raise my arm too fast.”

He raises a brow. “And how much of that are you downplaying to look cool in front of us?” Slightly nodding towards Axel.

I glance over at my dog, who immediately perks up like he knows he’s being talked about. “A solid 60 percent.”

Diego laughs, but he kneels down next to me, softer now. “Y/N, you’ve made insane progress. But we’re still building up. You don’t have to prove anything today.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, even though it’s a lie. “I’m just trying to… feel strong again.”

He doesn’t challenge me. Just gives a nod and offers his hand to help me up. “Okay. Let’s do this. But the moment I see that shoulder falter or your breath get shaky, we’re pausing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The warm-up is fine. Easy even. Jogging laps around the indoor track with Axel trailing behind me like a shadow. My lungs are steadier than they’ve been in weeks. I feel… almost like myself.

Then we shift to shoulder presses.

“Let’s start light,” Diego says, passing me the small dumbbells — the baby ones, I tease in my head. I hate how small they feel in my hands.

“Come on,” I mutter to myself, planting my feet. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. Hell, you used to double this weight for warm-ups.”

“That was before your bones tried to throw a party and forgot to invite safety,” Nico pipes in from the corner where he’s leaning against a table, flipping through my training notes. “Let’s not reenact the crash scene here, yeah?”

I shoot him a look but secretly, I’m glad he’s here. He grounds me. Keeps me from letting the fire inside burn too hot, too fast.

I managed the first set. My form is shaky on the second. By the third, my shoulder screams. My breath catches.

Diego notices before I say anything. “Stop. Drop ‘em. Right now.”

I obey, lips pressed tight. My pride stings more than my shoulder.

“Sit,” he says, nodding to the bench. “Now tell me what your body’s saying.”

I slump onto the bench, sweat trickling down my spine. “It’s saying I’m not ready.”

He kneels again in front of me, tone low and honest. “No. It’s saying you need time. Which isn’t the same thing.”

Nico steps closer now too, crossing his arms. “You’re not failing by resting, Y/N. That’s the bravest thing you could do right now — listen.”

I exhale shakily, brushing my sleeve across my face. “I just… I don’t want them to worry. The boys. They were scared enough. If they knew I was training again, they’d—”

“—They’d be proud,” Diego finishes for me. “Because you're doing this smart. You're building up again. You’re not throwing yourself into a cockpit half-healed. You’re working for it. Quietly. Strongly.”

I don’t respond right away. Just nod and lean forward, elbows on my knees, eyes on Axel who’s still watching me with that serious, almost human stare.

“Just… don’t tell them yet,” I finally whisper. “Let this be mine a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico says, his voice softer now. “Your story. Your pace.”

“Besides,” Diego adds, grinning again as he hands me a bottle of water, “when you finally show up at the garage again and toss your helmet on like nothing happened, they’re gonna lose their damn minds.”

I chuckle. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

I pick the dumbbells back up before they can stop me. Not for another full set — just one more press. One more reminder that I can. I lift them once, clean and steady, before lowering them again.

“That’s enough,” Diego says gently. “Today, that’s enough.”

And for once… I believe him. Because I know I’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after that. I’m not chasing the old me anymore. I’m building someone stronger.

—

I hadn’t realized how much I missed the scent of race fuel and burnt rubber until I stepped through the paddock gates again.

The buzz. The noise. The heartbeat of a track that never really goes quiet.

The second my shoe hit the pavement inside the circuit, it all came rushing back — that itch in my fingers to feel the steering wheel again, the thrum in my chest that didn’t hurt anymore but still pulsed with memory. I wasn't driving today — still under the "you're technically held together with sports tape and medical optimism" clause — but I was here.

That counted for something.

Nico was walking just to my left, sunglasses on, hands in the pockets of his black team jacket, looking every bit like my silent, slightly too-calm bodyguard. Meanwhile, Paul practically bounced beside me on the right, grinning like a rookie who’d been handed keys to a spaceship.

“I swear, I thought you were just a myth,” Paul said, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “They said ‘Ghost will meet with you before FP1’ and I was like, cool, should I also expect a unicorn and a sentient AI?”

My voice changer cracked slightly as I tilted my helmet toward him. “Sentient AI would be less chaotic than most of this team.”

Paul snorted. “And here I thought you were gonna be mysterious and intimidating. You’re… kind of hilarious.” I shrugged beneath my oversized hoodie. “Don’t get comfortable. I bite.”

“That would explain never taking that helmet off.” he said with an exaggerated look of fear. “Let me just go prep for my debut with the racetrack cryptid watching me from the pit wall.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Your job today is to not crash my car, Aron. It likes being pampered.”

“Anything else I should know?” he asked, just as we turned down the garage hallway.

I smirked under the helmet, then nudged him with my elbow. “Lots. Don’t downshift too hard into turn six — it’ll get twitchy. There’s a subtle bump on the exit of nine, trust your rear to hold but don’t overcorrect. And if you talk back to Diego during the debriefs, I’ll personally short-sheet your bed for the rest of the season.”

Paul stared at me, eyes wide. I tilted my head playfully. “What?” “That was… disturbingly specific. How do you even know about short-sheeting beds?”

“Because I’m creative and mildly vindictive.” Nico coughed — poorly disguised laughter — and muttered, “He learned it from Oscar.”

I pretended not to hear him and turned my attention back to Paul. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be on the pit wall the whole time, headset on, translating Diego’s feedback into ‘Paul Speech.’ He’s been dying to lecture someone other than me.”

“Oh great, I’m the replacement victim,” Paul said, mock sighing. “But really, thanks. This means a lot, Ghost. Being the reserve is weird — you never know when you’ll actually be used. I thought I’d be invisible.”

I reached up and tapped the visor of my helmet, voice softening through the modulator. “Invisibility doesn’t mean unimportant. You’ve got this.” He smiled then, really smiled. That bright, pure grin that reminded me so much of Jack it almost stung.

“Alright, cool,” he said, straightening his posture like he was trying to match the height of his moment. “Let’s go make you proud.”

“Oh, you’re already halfway there,” I replied. “You didn’t trip coming off the shuttle. That’s one more point than I had on my first day.”

“I knew you were a disaster once,” he laughed.

“Once?” Nico muttered beside us. “That implies improvement.”

“Rude,” I said flatly through the voice changer, flipping him off.

We turned into the garage then, the loud hum of tools and chatter dimming the second we stepped through the threshold. The mechanics looked up, a few nodding in recognition as I passed, others just giving me that respectful kind of glance — Ghost’s back. Even if I wasn’t driving, I was here.

Paul peeled off to go suit up. I took a breath, looking over at my car — technically still mine, even if someone else would be behind the wheel for FP1. It gleamed under the overhead lights, waiting.

My fingers twitched. Soon.

Nico said something, but I didn’t hear him — not really. Because just then, the gravity of being back settled in my chest. Not pain. Not fear. Just this warm, solid weight of home.

And I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding onto that until I let myself feel it again.

—

The hum of the garage had dulled to a low buzz after FP1 wrapped. Tools were put back in drawers, pit boards were stacked, and Paul was somewhere in the back being debriefed, grinning like a kid who’d just aced his first big test.

I stayed where I was on the pit wall, not wanting to really speak to the media or answer questions. I didn’t need to hide here. But, it still gave me that edge of comfort… a thin line between me and the rest of the world. Especially when emotions threatened to press a little too close to the surface.

“You looked good out there,” a voice said behind me — calm, familiar, warm.

I turned slightly, already recognizing Franco’s tone before my eyes landed on him. He gave me a soft nod, leaning his elbows against the barrier beside me, helmet tucked under one arm.

“I wasn’t out there,” I said, the voice changer wrapping my words in static.

He tilted his head, blue eyes sharp and quiet. “Didn’t say you were driving. I said you looked good out there.”

I paused. Then exhaled through my nose and pulled out the mic cord completely, letting it hang from the railing as I leaned forward a bit, matching his posture.

There was a moment of silence before I added, softer, “You know it hurt… at first”

He didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“It hurt a lot to sit here and not be the one buckling in. To know that the car — my car — was about to be driven without me. And that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fight it.”

My hands clenched slightly at the memory — the ache in my ribs still faint under the surface, the scar on my arm pulling a little under the hoodie.

“I kept thinking about how many races I might miss… how slow recovery’s felt. How I used to fly in that thing. And now I’m grounded. Watching. Coaching. Like I’m some kind of whisper in the background of my own team. Truly a ghost by name. ”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just reached out and tapped his knuckles lightly against mine — an anchor.

“But…” I said, slowly, breathing in deep. “Then Paul started talking. Asking me questions. Getting excited. Like… full-on spark-in-his-eyes excited. And I realized I could still be part of it. Just from here. From the wall. From the headset.”

I looked down at my gloves, flexing my fingers. “He listens. Like really listens. And seeing him figure things out… watching him light up after his first laps? I don’t know. It felt… right. Not perfect. Not the way I wanted to be here. But right… okay.”

Franco nodded once, voice soft. “You’re still racing. You never stopped.”

I looked at him.

He smiled faintly. “Just because you’re not in the seat doesn’t mean you’re not driving this thing forward. He wouldn’t be out there doing so well without your help. You’re shaping him. You’re shaping this whole team.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

My throat tightened a little behind the helmet. “I think… for the first time since the crash… I don’t feel broken being here. I feel like I still have a purpose. I want Paul to do well. I want him to prove himself. I want him to have the chances I had. And if I can help him get those… then maybe this isn’t all just pain and waiting.”

Franco reached up then and gently knocked on the side of my helmet. “That’s the champion mindset. And the good teammate mindset.”

He grinned. “Even with the scary voice mod.”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s for dramatic effect.”

“You’re terrifying,” he deadpanned. “Inspiring, but terrifying.”

We both chuckled, the kind of laughter that eases tension like a pressure valve finally letting go.

Then Franco leaned back and said quietly, “It’s okay to feel both, you know. The pain and the pride. You’re allowed to miss it. And you’re allowed to find joy in what you can do right now.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “For saying that.”

“Always,” he replied, and for the first time that day, I let myself take my helmet off — slowly — and just breathe.

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t stare. He just offered a genuine smile, no different than the one he gave me when I was Ghost.

“You’ll be back in the car soon,” he said. “But until then? This version of you — the strategist, the leader, the teammate — is just as badass.”

I blinked at him, then smiled.

“Don’t tell Diego or Nico that. It’ll go to their heads, like some mother duckling they might pull me from my seat.”

Franco smirked. “My lips are sealed.” I smiled back before following him back across the pit towards the garage.

—

It was race day when the others finally found me.

Sure, they knew I was here. The media had caught glimpses of "Ghost" in the paddock all weekend, whispers and blurry photos circling online. But catching me for a real conversation? Actually pinning me down? That was a whole different challenge to them.

Until a very familiar flash of papaya orange caught me out.

I was tucked away in a quiet corner behind one of the hospitality buildings, sitting on a crate, sipping from a water bottle, my legs stretched out in front of me.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up — only to see a smirking Oscar Piastri standing there, arms crossed.

“Well, look who I finally found," he said, tilting his head at me with a grin. "Thought you were supposed to be taking it easy during your injury. Yet here you are. Hiding like a delinquent.”

I didn’t get a word in before he stepped closer, peering dramatically at me.

“I hope you at least have your brace on under that hoodie," he teased, tugging playfully at the sleeve. "Would hate to have to carry you back to the medical center and explain to the physios why you’re broken again."

I scoffed behind the voice modulator, batting his hand away. "Relax, Mum," I said dryly. "Brace is on. Doctor's orders. I’m being good."

Oscar chuckled, dropping down onto the crate beside me with a quiet oof, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.

"I dunno if sitting here in your emo corner counts as being good," he quipped. "But it’s good to see you. Missed you, you know."

I smiled — small, hidden — but it was there.

"Missed you too, mate."

We sat there for a beat, the sounds of the paddock — tools clanging, fans yelling, engines roaring in the distance — fading into a quieter hum around us.

"You look good," Oscar said suddenly, voice softer now. "Healthier. Stronger."

"Feel stronger," I admitted, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie. "Still a long way to go. Still can’t race yet. But it’s... better being here. Even if I’m not in the car."

Oscar nodded, watching me with that patient, careful look he only ever used when he dropped the sarcasm.

"I’m proud of you," he said simply.

Before I could say anything back — feeling dangerously close to getting a lump in my throat — another familiar voice floated over to us.

"There you are!"

I turned just in time to see Charles approaching, helmet in one hand, hair a little messy from pulling it off, suit half-zipped down. His face was lit up with relief, though there was a thin line of worry etched between his brows too.

"I have been looking everywhere," Charles said, crouching in front of us, resting his elbows on his knees so we were eye-level. "You are impossible to find sometimes, you know that?"

"Occupational hazard," I joked lightly, voice still crackling with the modulator.

Charles huffed a laugh, but then his gaze softened as he studied me.

"You are really here," he said, almost to himself. "And you are doing well."

"Trying," I said honestly. "It... wasn’t easy at first."

Oscar nodded beside me, nudging my arm. "But she's kicking ass. You should've seen her, Charles. Advising Paul like a damn pro. Ghost engineer era unlocked, I can’t wait to see what they can do during the race together."

Charles smiled — a real, warm smile — and reached out to squeeze my hand where it rested on my knee.

"I am proud of you, mon amie," he said. "More than you know. It takes a lot of strength to be here. To stay when it hurts."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing gently into my chest — not painful, not overwhelming. Just... steadying.

"I needed to be here," I whispered. "For the team. For myself. Even if it’s just helping from the wall. It feels like... I'm still part of it."

"You never stopped being part of it," Oscar said quietly.

Charles nodded, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. "And you never will."

For a moment, the three of us just sat there in the shade, the chaos of race day spinning on without us. It didn’t matter. It could wait.

Because here, hidden behind the noise, tucked into a small, forgotten corner of the paddock, I was reminded that even when I couldn’t drive, even when my body wasn’t at a hundred percent — I wasn’t alone. And that was enough. For now at least.

—

The race was chaotic.

From the second the lights went out, my heart thundered in my chest, the noise of the engines vibrating through the pit wall. I sat perched on a high stool right beside Diego, headset snug over my helmet, live feed on the monitors in front of me.

Paul's voice crackled through the radio — tight, a little anxious. His first F1 race. His first real chance. He'd qualified P14, and while it was a hell of a debut, he wanted more. We all did.

"Focus up, rookie," I murmured into the radio, voice softened by the modulator but still carrying the firmness I knew he'd hear. "Eyes forward. Breathe. You’re better than half the grid out there."

"Copy," Paul answered, clipped but trying to sound calm. I could hear the nerves anyway, layered under every word.

The first few laps were brutal — midfield battles that could turn ugly fast. Paul held steady, sharp and clean even under pressure. But he hesitated at key moments — lifting just a fraction when he could’ve pressed the attack.

"Car ahead is struggling with rears," I said, low and steady in his ear as Diego fed me data. "Watch him out of Turn 7. You’ll have him on exit."

A beat.

"Okay," Paul breathed. "Okay, Ghost. I trust you."

I smiled behind the visor, chest tight with pride.

And sure enough, two laps later, Paul slipped past in a beautifully patient move, climbing to P13.

The race ebbed and flowed, the pit stop cycle throwing chaos into the midfield. Every time Paul's focus wavered, I was there — guiding without overwhelming, steering him without grabbing the wheel.

"Car in front weaving under braking. He’s nervous. You stay clean. He’ll crack first."

"Brake balance forward two clicks. Save your fronts, we’re gonna need 'em later."

"Trust your exit speed. You’re faster in S2. He can’t stop you if you set it up early."

It was like music, almost — this silent, invisible dance we did together, woven between the roar of the engines and the crackle of the radios.

Lap by lap, Paul clawed his way forward. P12. Then P11.

When we hit the final stint, fresher tires on and the car lighter on fuel, Diego leaned toward me, excitement flashing in his eyes.

"One more position," he said into my private channel. "We get points."

I keyed my mic again, calm even though my heart raced like mad.

"Paul. Eyes up. P10 ahead. You are faster. You are faster. Stay close. Pressure him."

Paul’s breathing was heavier now, the strain of the race wearing on him, but he responded instantly. "Copy, Ghost. I’m on it."

I watched, fists clenched, as he chipped away at the gap — lap after lap, tenth by tenth.

Finally, into Turn 4, he made the move — bold, late on the brakes, perfect.

P9.

Inside the points.

The final few laps were a blur of adrenaline, shouting, encouragement.

When the chequered flag waved, Diego practically threw his headset into the air beside me, and I couldn't hold back the yell that ripped from my throat over the radio.

"YES, PAUL! YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT!" I screamed, voice cracking with pride and joy.

Over the team radio, Paul whooped, the pure exhilaration pouring out of him.

"OH MY GOD, THANK YOU, GHOST! THANK YOU!" he shouted, breathless. "I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!"

"You did that," I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt under the helmet. "You kept your head, you fought smart — you earned this, Paul. You earned every bit of it."

He was still yelling and laughing as he pulled the car into parc fermé, tires screeching slightly. The mechanics and engineers around us were clapping, cheering, and I stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed.

He did it. We did it.

I pushed through the crowd toward the car, heart hammering.

Paul barely waited for the car to cool down. As soon as he wrestled himself out of the cockpit, he tore off his steering wheel, slammed it into its mount, and sprinted toward me.

"Ghost!" he shouted, voice hoarse with emotion.

I didn't even have time to react before he threw his arms around me, nearly knocking us both off balance.

Our helmets clashed with a loud crack, making both of us stumble a little, but neither of us cared. Paul clung to me like a lifeline, arms tight around my back, helmet pressed to mine.

I wrapped my arms around him in return, gripping him just as hard, laughing breathlessly even as something in my chest squeezed and ached with pride.

"You absolute legend," I said, voice trembling. "I'm so proud of you, Paul. So, so proud."

He pulled back just a little, enough that our visors almost touched.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Ghost," he said again, voice thick. "You believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could do it."

"I knew it from the start," I said quietly. "You just had to see it for yourself."

For a moment, the noise of the world faded away — the shouting, the music, the celebration. It was just the two of us, standing there in the middle of it all, holding onto each other like it mattered.

And maybe it did.

Maybe it mattered more than either of us could say.

Masterlist

Taglist @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym @ferrarisstrategy

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver!reader

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honeypiehotchner · 22 hours ago

Text

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-two

Don't look at me I have zero self restraint😭 I am so sorry (not sorry) for the curveball thrown in this chapter and for the curveballs that are about to come (our unsub is devolving, folks!)

Warnings: you know the drill, our usual angst, Rossi being Rossi, Strauss being Strauss, an almost panic attack, dare I say...fluff? comfort to accompany the hurt? from Hotch of all people? y'all...

Rossi comes to find you in Garcia’s lair at barely four p.m. You’re in the middle of watching Garcia — completely legally — hack into some database or another. She’s not looking for anything specific; this is purely for fun, and to kind of mess with one of the guys that works there that she’s old friends with. It’s good entertainment and a wonderful distraction after Hotch’s sudden weird behavior.

“Knock knock,” Rossi says, already opening the door. “It’s closing time.”

“What?” you spin around in the chair. “What are you talking about?”

He taps his watch. “It’s time for me to get out of this place, and I’m your ride, so that means it’s time for you to get out of here, too.”

You never leave this early. It’s a miracle if you’re out of here before five-thirty. But Rossi gives you a look that tells you he is not budging on his leaving time, not even for you.

“Fine,” you huff. “Until tomorrow.”

“Drink some glorious wine,” Pen says, blowing kisses at you.

“I will,” you promise, returning her kisses.

Rossi follows you back to the bullpen so you can grab your things. The team is hovering around the coffee pot, clearly taking a break from everything — you can’t blame them. You’re never one to condone leaving this early, but you want to tell everyone to call it for the night.

“Hey, there she is,” Emily smiles when she sees you. “Heading out?”

You nod, thumbing in Rossi’s direction. “Someone said it’s time to go already, and I’m without a car, so I’m at his mercy.”

“How tragic, I’m making you work less,” Rossi deadpans, but he’s smirking. “Go get your stuff.”

You turn to do just that, nearly smacking right into Hotch’s chest and spilling the mugs of coffee in the process. Thankfully, he saves them and you both from being covered in cold coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, taking a step to the side. “Heading out for the day?”

“Yep,” you nod. “Rossi’s orders.”

Hotch smiles a little when he looks over at Rossi. “Alright, well, enjoy your night. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You step around him and go to your desk, grabbing your purse, and deciding to leave everything else for once.

You’d like to know exactly what the hell those two talked about in Hotch’s office, but you’ll be damned before you ask either one of them. If it’s important, they’ll clue you in. If they don’t, that’s their own stupid decision.

Hotch is rinsing out your mugs when you return to the circle, his back turned. He cranes his neck to look at you as you wave goodbye. It’s a small look, but it’s enough, and it’s…soft.

You’re annoyed that he felt the need to have a private meeting with Rossi to discuss something obviously pertaining to this investigation. But you’re not as angry as you might’ve been a month and a half ago, which is saying something. It’s progress, if you want it to be. Do you want it to be?

You don’t know.

You’re quiet on the ride back to Rossi’s house, but so is he, save the occasional humming to the jazz radio that he is playing.

It’s not until much later that the two of you talk. You, perched on a stool in the kitchen with a glass of wine and Dave, standing at the stove with a towel over his shoulder as he cooks, his own glass of wine on the counter next to him.

You’re scrolling randomly on your phone when Rossi asks, “Do you remember being kidnapped at all?”

You sit your phone down, peering at him. “Is this really what you’re thinking about right now?”

He chuckles, shrugs, and continues stirring whatever sauce it is he’s concocting. “I’ve never stopped thinking about your case, you know.”

“Mine?”

He nods, keeping his back turned to you. “The kids always stick with me the most. Yours was special because of who your dad was, but…also because of who kidnapped you.”

You pause mid-sip of your wine. “What about him?”

“Well, because we don’t know who it was,” Rossi continues. “That isn’t typical. Usually it’s a family member, or a family friend, or at the very least, we catch them when we find the kid. But not with yours. We have no idea who it was, to this day, and you never saw his face, did you?”

You shake your head, even though Rossi isn’t facing you. “I never did.”

He hums.

“What are you thinking?” you press.

He shakes his head again, turning around to look at you while the sauce simmers for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

You shift on the stool, leaning onto the counter on your elbows. “Have you really been thinking about it all this time?”

He nods seriously. “It’s hard not to. Of course, I’ve thought about it more since everything has been happening.”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah, me too. Hard not to rehash it all when it’s coming back to haunt me like this.”

Rossi smiles, a bit sadly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll have to,” you say. “We have no choice, and something tells me the unsub is getting close to making himself known.”

“Gut feeling?”

You nod. “A bad one.” You don’t want to let that admission linger in the air for a second longer, so you quickly change subjects. “By the way, Hotch will be staying here for the weekend.” You pause. “For security.”

You don’t miss the way Rossi’s lips tug into a smirk that he quickly tries to hide with a nod. “That’s a good idea.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, it is.”

“I assume this means the two of you are on…better terms now?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re no longer arguing at every turn, if that’s what you mean. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about him going behind my back— or the sudden private discussion with you today.”

“Ah, that.” Rossi’s eyebrows raise as he turns back to the sauce on the stove. “I told him he could’ve timed that better.”

“Or just asked whatever it was right there,” you argue. “What was so important that I couldn’t hear it?”

Rossi shakes his head. “It was nothing.”

“So now you’re lying to me.”

You see his shoulders rise and fall with his deep breath.

“Dave,” you try again. “Please, I’m serious.” He still doesn’t turn around. “There’s so much going on with this that we don’t know, the biggest part being that we still don’t know exactly why the unsub is targeting me— I can’t stand any more secrets.”

You can practically hear the battle going on in Rossi’s mind as he keeps his back turned, idly stirring the pot and waiting.

Waiting. Sighing. Waiting.

“He asked me about your kidnapping,” Rossi finally says. “Because everything that has happened has mirrored your life, including Lila’s kidnapping, and— She did see her kidnapper’s face.”

You don’t get it. “And?”

Rossi turns slowly, watching you carefully. “Are you sure the man who kidnapped you didn’t show you his face?”

“Yes,” you answer automatically, and Rossi’s gaze doesn’t waver. “What are you trying to say? Even if he did, it was twenty years ago. How would I remember?”

“No, you’re right,” Rossi says. “Memories can be fickle at best, even worse when they’re two decades old.”

“Exactly.”

“But some things stick with you,” he continues. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about how calm you were when we found you. Do you even remember how we found you?”

You open your mouth to answer, but your mind comes up blank. It’s like one minute you were at the bus stop that afternoon, the next you were speaking to a younger Rossi in the police precinct while your mom and dad were in separate rooms just across from you. You had a feeling in that moment that your life was about to change drastically. You just didn’t know how. You remember getting to say goodbye to your dad, but only for one second, before your mom pulled you away.

“How did you find me?” you ask quietly.

Rossi’s face softens. “It was similar to Lila. We were patrolling the area and you waved us down.”

“I did?”

“You were just walking,” Dave recalls, somewhat in disbelief. “You were in the same clothes, but they didn’t look dirty. You didn’t look dirty or uncared for.”

“He had given me other clothes,” you blurt, short flashes of memory rushing back. “And let me shower. I remember the bathroom had a lock on it, on the inside, like one of those bars on bathroom stalls, because that was why I felt safe to actually shower, knowing it was locked.” You pause, swirling your wine and staring at the liquid as it whirls. “But I remember he told me to put that outfit back on, the one I was wearing that day. So I’d match the description the police had put out for me.”

“He told you that?”

You nod slowly. “I didn’t question it, I just put them on and…next thing I knew I was walking down the road and saw a police car coming toward me.” You look back up at him, a tiny memory coming back, your eyebrows furrowing. “You were in it.”

“I was,” Dave confirms. “I was patrolling with an officer when I spotted you.”

You take a deep breath. “Do you think he — the unsub — knows that you were at the BAU then, too?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi admits. “Maybe. But he hasn’t seemed to target me. That could just mean he’s not interested in me, not that he doesn’t see the connection, though.”

“Right.”

“We can talk more about it tomorrow,” Rossi says after a too-long moment of silence from you. He turns the sauce off and puts a lid on it. “Come here, I’m showing you how to make pasta.”

You perk up. “From scratch?”

He looks mortified that you’d even imply otherwise.

+++

You try not to let what Rossi talked to you about earlier keep you up that night, but it’s easier said than done.

You do choose to sleep in a different guest room, this one further away but still on the same floor as Rossi’s room. You know he has the best security system money can buy, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t paranoid. It’s hard not to be.

As a result, you barely sleep, and it’s clear on your face the next morning. Rossi is kind enough not to mention it or try to keep you from going into the office as late as lunchtime again. He does stop by a cafe to get you both fancy coffees — that you’ll admit does taste heavenly — but you’re in the office just a few minutes after your normal time.

Just in time to see everyone’s worried faces in the bullpen.

“Um…” You drop your purse on your desk, looking around. Everyone is down here. Even Hotch. No one is sitting. Everyone looks…scared. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We have a mystery meeting with Strauss,” Emily says.

“In about five minutes,” Morgan adds, glancing down at his watch.

Reid grimaces.

“I think I know what she’s going to tell us,” Hotch says quietly.

Your eyes snap to his. “What?”

To his credit, he opens his mouth to reply, but he doesn’t get that far. Strauss breezes through the glass doors five minutes too soon, halting when she notices everyone huddled around the desks.

“Conference room, now, please,” she says, raising her eyebrows at all of you. “We aren’t having this discussion out in the open.”

That sends your panic spiking. “What’s going on?”

“Please,” Strauss gestures again to the round table room just up the stairs. “Everyone, now.”

You leave your coffee on your desk, deciding to lead the way since everyone else seems frozen in place. You have no idea what could come out of Strauss’s mouth next, not with how unpredictable everything has been as of late.

You take a seat at the table and everyone follows suit, with Hotch to your right and Morgan to your left.

Strauss enters last and shuts the door — both doors — and draws the blinds. She paces to the front of the room, standing in front of the screen. She doesn’t sit.

“I will save you all the agony of wondering whether or not I know what you’ve been doing,” she begins, her eyes landing on you. “I may be absent from this department at the best of times, but I am not oblivious. I haven’t stopped it because I thought it might prove useful, and I was right.”

“Where is this going?” Reid blurts out.

Strauss pauses her pacing to clasp her hands together. “Richard Monroe has escaped from prison. He is now a missing person.”

You freeze. Hotch tenses beside you, his arm reaching slightly across the table, just barely inching into your space.

“When did this happen?” Morgan asks.

“Sometime this morning between one and five a.m.,” Strauss replies. “I was notified when I arrived this morning.”

You aren’t sure if you can or can’t breathe. You don’t know what’s going on — not with Richard Monroe, not with any of it. Hotch’s hand is just barely in front of you on the table, and you have the urge to grasp it, to hold onto his arm for some sort of stability, but you don’t. You lean back in your chair, putting some distance between the two of you, as much as you can.

“I know you’ve been investigating the recent cases and their connections as an additional priority, but as of right now, I want it to be your first priority.” Strauss locks eyes with each of you, ending last on you. “I understand this might all connect back to you.”

You nod slowly. “We think it might have something to do with my father, ma’am.”

“So you’ve told them,” Strauss notes. “Understood. Well, I want to be briefed on everything you’ve discovered thus far, and any new leads you think you might have.”

“You’ll want to sit down, then,” Rossi says, standing to pull a chair out for Strauss. “This will take a while.”

You relay everything to Strauss, everyone chiming in at certain points to fill in each missing piece until she has the full picture.

Once you’ve finished, Strauss nods once, firm. She looks at you. “Normally, in circumstances like these, I might ask that you relieve yourself of your duties for this case.”

You hold your breath, expecting her to do just that.

“I will not be doing that, for now,” she finishes. “Don’t make me regret that decision.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Your top priority is this investigation,” Strauss reiterates. “I will be coordinating with the authorities to receive updates about Richard Monroe’s whereabouts, but until then, get to the bottom of this. Quickly.”

“Yes ma’am,” Morgan says. “We will.”

“Good,” Strauss says, standing to her feet. “Now, unfortunately, this isn’t my only important meeting of the day, so I need to get back upstairs.”

Rossi stands to open the door for her, and he follows her out, shutting the door behind him.

You stare blankly at the table before you, your mind still reeling beyond comparison. Richard Monroe broke out of prison? He’s missing? None of this makes sense. How did he get past the prison guards? How did he not get stopped somehow on the grounds on the way out? How did he just disappear?

“Hey,” Hotch’s voice is soft beside you, and you blink up at him. He nods in the direction of the door, you think. “Come on.”

You nod, feeling almost outside of your body as you stand, placing your hand in Hotch’s when he offers it to you. You feel the team watching the two of you, especially now that you’re hand-in-hand, leaving the room to head to his office. But you don’t care.

You don’t let go of his hand until you’re in his office, leaving him to shut the door as you collapse down onto the couch. You hear him shut the door and close the blinds, giving you some privacy.

“Can I get you anything?” you hear Aaron asking. “Water?”

You shake your head.

“Can you breathe?”

You nod.

Aaron sighs deeply, sounding relieved, sitting down in the chair next to the couch, clasping his hands together. He waits.

“What are we supposed to do?” you whisper, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. “How are we supposed to find him if he got past the guards and disappeared into thin air?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god, it’s not your fault,” you laugh, just from the absurdness of it all, dropping your head into your hands. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“No,” Aaron says immediately, turning his body toward you. “This is not your fault.”

“How is it not?” you cry, lifting your head, your eyes wide when you stare at him incredulously. “This is all related to my father—”

“Which does not make it your fault,” Aaron interrupts, leaning closer to you. He might as well move to the couch, but he won’t. Not unless you tell him to.

You lean your head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I never should’ve joined the FBI. I should’ve listened to my mom, I should’ve done something else with my life, I should’ve never let this— let him consume my life like this, I—”

Hotch is next to you in an instant, acting against his better judgement and grabbing your hands. “Listen to me— Look at me.”

You stop your rambling, your eyes darting to him. You don’t move an inch away from him, though.

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch repeats. “What your father did, and everything that has happened as a consequence, is not your fault. You joining the FBI, following this path, does not mean you brought this all on yourself.”

“It means that I didn’t even try to stop it,” you whisper. “I could’ve kept running. I could’ve chosen some other life, changed my name again— Instead of just walking right into this. It feels like my whole life I’ve been walking into a trap and I didn’t even realize it and now it’s too late.”

Hotch says nothing for a moment, his brown eyes swimming as he scans your entire face, squeezing your hands. He shakes his head finally, slowly. “You wouldn’t be yourself, if you weren’t here. You’re doing what you’re passionate about.”

“Passion isn’t always a good thing,” you suck in a deep breath. You let your head drop, resting your forehead just barely on his shoulder. “It certainly doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“I know,” Aaron whispers, still holding onto you. It’s the closest you two have ever been, the closest you’ve let him get, and he’s not moving. Not unless you tell him to. “I know.”

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