#Two obsessions collided that shouldn't have
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LOST IN THE PADDOCK.
MV1 X FEM!READER
summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.
cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.
masterlist | taglist
—
"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.
You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.
You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.
After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her.
Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.
The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.
The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."
He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.
"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.
He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."
You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."
He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.
You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.
"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.
"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"
You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.
Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?"
"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"
You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"
He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."
"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.
"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.
"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.
"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"
Oh, shit.
It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.
"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.
He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?
"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.
"I told you I'm not good at this!"
You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over.
"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.
You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.
—
"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!"
Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."
It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."
"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.
Max shrugs. "I don't know."
"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.
Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."
"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.
Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.
—
"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.
You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers.
"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.
"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."
"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.
"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.
"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."
"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"
"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."
"Well, he's not wrong."
You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.
It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.
You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.
You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.
"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.
Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—
"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.
"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"
"He's the guy from earlier."
"What?!"
—
yourusername
liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.
tagged amaraiscool
yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.
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amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen
> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost
amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.
> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))
yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!
liked by yourusername
yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol
> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)
> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.
—
"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.
She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.
"Text who?" You already know who.
"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.
Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you.
"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."
She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!"
"No."
"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.
"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."
"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."
"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.
"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.
"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.
She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."
There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!"
What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing.
Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.
"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."
Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"
"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."
Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."
"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."
You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.
"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!"
"Shut up."
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#mv1#mv1 x reader#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one x you#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lando norris#charles leclerc#george russell#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen angst#max verstappen social media au#smau#formula 1 smau#f1 smau#social media au#frank writes
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i a d o r e the way u write tan it’s just so akdkdkdkkfkfkf gawd
there’s this scenario that has been stuck in my head so i’d like to request a tan x reader where both r contract killers and they r both in a mission somewhere in the south of italy or france during summer, and right after their mission they r in an empty beach and it’s sunny and warm and reader suggests swimming but tan is like miss girl what if they catch up to us or whatever like he’s a lil hesitant cuz they aren’t that far away from the place where the mission took place idk?? but ends up accepting after seeing her stripping into her underwear and stepping into the water being all giggly and happy
and just them having fun and giggling and maybe heated make out sess 👁️ feel free to change anything or not write it if u can’t it’s completely fine <333
love u❤️
hii!! thank you omg! this idea is SO cute and dare i say i kinda am obsessed w what i wrote so thank you! so much love<3
sunlight || tangerine
tangerine x f!reader
alt summary: though the moon would watch over him, he knew the sun was far closer to him because you were in his arms.
warnings: tooth rotting fluff
word count: 1.1k+
masterlist
"don't be ridiculous," tangerine paused, seeking to see if you were serious.
"does it seem like i'm joking? when do we get this?" you gestured with open arms.
tangerine sighed looking out at the water, it was tempting, like a siren singing his name. you took his silence as acceptance and grinned widely, turning to walk off the pavement and into the sand. he trailed behind you, watching you kick sand up and smile as the breeze took it away.
"we... we shouldn't stay too long, love," tangerine said uneasily, eyes wandering over the sleepy beach town, "they aren't that far away."
"tan," you laughed, kicking off your shoes, "those men are not coming for us okay? besides, they'd never think we would be stupid enough to stop for a swim just two blocks away from where we just kicked their asses."
his shoulders relaxed slightly realizing that what you said was true. you on the other hand were taking full advantage of the beach, you unbuttoned your pants and wiggled your hips to move them off your body. tangerine's eyes quickly darted away as you stood in your shirt and underwear. he leaned down, slid off his dress shoes, and tucked his socks neatly inside. when he stood up he was hit in the face with your shirt. tangerine removed the shirt from his face and gave you a pointed look and you gave him a teasing smile back.
he couldn't help his eyes wander down your body. the contours and curves of your skin on full display in your bra and underwear. he was grateful the sun was still minutes from breaking the horizon to hide his red face. you walked into the water gasping at the coldness on your ankles and tangerine opted to observe from the shoreline.
in that moment he swore he'd never seen a sight more beautiful. the sun peeked over the horizon casting an array of colors, signaling a new day. blushes of orange and pink danced up into the sky and faded into a light blue, the rays illuminated the water and he could see the mist from the colliding waves. the sun was bright and your body was merely a silhouette in the light. he watched the way your hair bounced as you jogged into the shallow water. you turned to face him and tangerine felt short of breath. even from the distance, he could see the hidden specks of color in the iris of your eyes as the sun hit the side of your face. the golden rays danced across your skin and the soft rolling waves lapped at your thighs.
tangerine was at a loss for words, enamored at your beauty which was being amplified by the light of a new day. he felt honored to be in the presence of such a marvel that it almost seemed unjust that it was only his eyes witnessing it. if he had a camera he would photograph the sight before him from every angle, sure to not miss even an inch of beauty. it would be a photograph worthy to be hung in a museum for millions to gaze at for years to come. they'd awe at the colors of the sky and murmur how beautiful dawn looked, but you, you were the show stopper that left everyone admiring your beauty and longed for the love the photographer had for you.
"tan!" he heard you giggle over the noise of seagulls flying past, "come on!"
tangerine inched forward so the waves brushed against his feet. he sighed, peering over his shoulder. there was no one in sight and even if the men from the job came running at him now with guns pointed to his head, he'd die happy knowing he had seen the most beautiful sight in the world. so, he unbuckled his belt and slipped his legs out of his pants. his fingers worked on the button of his shirt as he watched you dip your head backward to wet your hair. he tossed his shirt on top of his pants and walked into the water. tangerine crouched into the water next to you, your eyes closed, basking in the rising sun.
you felt the water ripple next to you and looked over at tangerine. his eyes were dancing across the horizon, the golden light glowing across his face. you could see the tiny brown freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and every individual eyelash from the light. tangerine turned toward you and his eyes were dauntingly beautiful in the rays. he ran a wet hand through his hair and his curls fell seemingly into place.
"you are absolutely breathtaking," his voice low as if the water told him to be quiet.
you tilted your chin down, slightly embarrassed. tangerine looked at you in anticipation, worried about his confession. you crouched down in the water to be level with him and grabbed his hand floating under the water.
"thank you, tan, and i hope you know how handsome you are," you grinned.
he shook his head lightly, known for being awful at taking compliments, "thank you, darling."
the two of you went quiet as your eyes danced over each other's faces. his eyes kept lingering over your lips and you took the silent cue to inch closer to his body. his arms snaked around your waist and your legs floated up to tangle around his body. the heat from the sun was nearly as hot as the nerves in your body. tangerine and you slowly started to close the space, noses bumping. his lips were slightly parted and ghosted over yours.
"can i kiss you?" he whispered, looking at you through his lashes.
your hand wandered to the back of his head, gently grabbing his curly hair and finally connecting your lips. it was soft, like the waves touching your skin. his lips tasted of sea salt and his facial hair tickled at your face. it was pure bliss and it made you dizzy as if you were seasick. tangerine pulled you closer to his body so your chests were pressed against one another. his hand cradled your face and your lower back with your arms draped over his shoulders. as the waves rolled in harder the kiss became more feverish like it was outrunning the light of dawn and you felt your lungs pleading for air. tangerine gently pulled away, your bottom lip between his teeth. he rested his forehead against yours and a tiny giggle bubbled up your chest.
"let's just stay here all day," tangerine whispered, his thumb brushing off droplets of water on your face.
tangerine would gladly sit here in the clear water till his fingers wrinkled and his skin toasted under the sun. he'd happily watch the colors of dawn fade and trade itself with the dark of night. though the moon would watch over him, he knew the sun was far closer to him because you were in his arms.
#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine x reader#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x oc#tangerine x you#tangerine imagine#tangerine imagines#tangerine bullet train imagine#tangerine fic#tangerine fanfic#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine bullet train fanfic#tangerine fluff#tangerine angst#tangerine blurb#tangerine headcannon#tangerine oneshot#bullet train imagine#bullet train fanfic#bullet train oneshot#bullet train x reader#bullet train#aaron taylor johnson imagine#aaron taylor johnson x reader#tangerine headcanon#sebsbarnes
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9:58 p.m. - Xu Minghao
pairing: minghao x fem! reader
genre: smut
words: 654
The girl leaned on the doorframe and saw the boy with the brown hair dancing beautifully around the practice room. She held in her hands the bags of coffee she had ordered for the trip, but at the moment she didn't care whether the coffees were getting cold or not. He danced with love, with a great admiration for what he was doing. He didn't move or forget to blink during all this, until the end of the song came and he realized it. Minghao gave her a big smile as soon as he saw it.
The two ate while talking animatedly about how Minghao was doing and how his dancing was getting more and more perfect as time went on, the girl looked at him with a silly smile on her face as she noticed her boyfriend talking about something she admired, and what she was admiring at the moment was the lips of the boy who had already noticed their glances. Minghao stopped talking and that's when the girl looked him in the eyes,saw him smile and he approached the girl giving her a quick seal.
He pulled her onto his lap, looking at her lustfully and tenderly, his eyes almost dimmed by the mutual feeling they shared, the boy felt numb to the touch of her hands on his body, numbed to the smell of the perfume she wore, extremely obsessed with it, with her. He slowly caressed the thighs and waist of the girl on his lap, intertwining his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him. His body was still warm from the dance, the thermal shock of the cold hands on his body made her shiver, she loved the feeling of cold and warm at the same time, it made her feel alive, every part of his being, she loved the feeling of knowing how he would react to the touch of a loved one. Minghao approached the neck area exhaling the smell - now not so strong - of the girl's perfume, touching the tip of her nose lightly, then giving her little kisses, hearing a giggle from the girl on his lap, who slid her hands to the back of the boy's neck caressing the long strands wet with sweat. Minghao gave little kisses followed by light bites on the spot, always receiving a different reaction from the girl on his lap. Minghao brought his hands up to the girl's neck, lightly touching the places he had kissed before, and ran his hands down her back, caressing her back softly. Minghao enjoyed the touch, the artistry of her body, he knew what it felt like with his eyes closed, he knew what his own body felt like. He knew what their bodies felt like when they collided on four walls, how he felt her warm skin on his. Minghao turned his hands to the girl's thigh, sliding them down her thigh, into her dress.
"We shouldn't do that...not here."
"No one will catch us."
Minghao kissed her again, desperate and more eager than before, eager with the desire to have her. This was not the first time they had done this in the practice room, Minghao was not the kind of person who liked sex in public, but in a few hours all he needed was the heat. The heat that began to surround the entire room every time the girl sat on his member and Minghao moaned low, the boy's hands clasped firmly around the waist of the girl who was standing on his lap, even though he couldn't see, he knew they would be white knuckles. The minutes passed very quickly and both of them were still and breathless, Minghao caressed the girl calmly and she soothed him with small seals on his neck. This was a small moment between the two, where they just felt each other without any worry.
#svt scenarios#seventeen#seventeen scenarios#minghao smut#minghao x reader#xu minghao#minghao#seventeen imagines#minghao scenarios#minghao imagines#the8#the8 scenarios#the8 x reader#the8 smut
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March 5th
First March 5th🎀🫶
There will be five parts to this story all loosely inspired by the film Vanilla Sky but very different and much more romantic😭 this is ofc written for @mqverick birthday, I hope you enjoy it bae🫵🎀
First March 5th:
My hand clamped around the glass bottle as I poured myself yet another wine that night. The room was buzzing with music and activity – people dancing and hollering whilst I stood in the corner and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I hadn't even wanted to come to David’s party and now I was standing here like some kind of loser but unable to leave.
Brian was my ride, and he was currently chatting up every woman in sight – the poor things. He wanted me to spend my final night in New York surrounded by work colleagues and having the time of my life but all I really wanted was to get home and pack all my belongings.
“What are you wearing?”
I spun to see a startingly blonde woman glaring at me as though I’d committed a crime. Her blue eyes bored into mine and I didn't fail to notice the slight sneer of her lip.
I looked down at my white dress, “Do you have a problem with it?”
“I have a problem when you wear matching costumes with my David,” she snapped.
I folded my lips together to stifle a laugh, as if I’d ever willingly match with David Aames. He worked at the same publishing company as me and I’d always hated his guts though I’m not sure he’d ever noticed. He was just another privileged man inheriting one of the greatest companies from his father - I didn't have time for people like him.
“You think this is funny?” She shouted over the music.
I really didn't have time for people like her either, “Nice meeting you.”
Tuning out her protests, I quickly walked away before she could catch up with me. Clearly, she was just another girl obsessed with David for reasons I really couldn't fathom. As I pushed past the dancing bodies and struggled to hear my own thoughts over the music, I noticed that a few heads had turned to face me. I shrugged it off, but it was hard to ignore everyone's stares following my every step.
“Brian!” I touched his shoulder in relief, “You left me.”
“I didn't leave you, I encouraged you to socially interact with your friends before you leave tomorrow.”
Smartass. I pinched the bridge of my nose and muttered, “Is it just me or are there loads of people staring?”
He looked down at me in confusion, “Well obviously.”
“Why is that obvious?”
“Because you're matching with David.”
“I’m not-” the words seemed to escape me as I spotted David from across the room. He was dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. With one hand, he’d flung a dark blazer over his shoulder, and he ran his other hand through his dark raven hair.
Brian leaned low and whispered for just me to hear, “Rumour has it there's two angles at this party and their destined to collide tonight.”
I shoved his shoulder and turned back to face David across the room. Even from so far away you could see that he was attractive. Maybe it was the confidence in his step, his ruffled black shirt, or the jacket flung over his shoulder, but he dripped with ease. Everybody knew I despised his very existence and now they all thought we’d intentionally matched. The angel and the fallen angel.
For fucks sake.
“Why do you look so pissed? This is a good thing!” Brian grinned from my side, “I’ve been telling you for years, you and David would make a good cou-”
“Don't finish that sentence,” I scoffed, “I know you two are best friends and I’m okay with that but you need to stop trying to force us together. I don't like him.”
“Only because he inherited a company, and that's not his fault.”
I huffed in annoyance, “I shouldn't have come here.”
“Oh come on don't be like that!” He argued, “It's your last night in New York and you want to be alone at home?”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.”
“Say what like it's a bad thing?”
I turned to see David standing there with a small glint in his eye as he looked between the two of us. Brian grinned and embraced him in a hug, nearly toppling them both to the ground.
“Happy birthday! And all the usual shit people say to each other,” Brian clapped his shoulder, “How you doing?”
“Living the dream,” he flashed a David smile then looked down at my white dress. It was cropped short and accentuated my hips and curves, but it wasn't meant for him. I swallowed back a remark and forced a smile.
“Happy birthday David,” I looked down at the gift in my hands.
“Thank you,” he never once broke eye contact and I felt a flush of heat creeping up to my cheeks. Under the intensity of his gaze, I felt myself growing hot but I refused to look away. It felt as though we were back at work, silently daring each other with eye contact and tingling with excited energy.
“We both picked it out,” Brian cut in and when David still refused to look away, he repeated, “We both picked it, David. The both of us.”
The corner of David’s lip turned upwards though that smirk quickly vanished with Brian commented, “Stop flirting and open it.”
My head snapped to his in anger and David shook himself out of a daze, “Yes, let's get a drink I’ll uh..leave this upstairs.”
I folded my lips together and walked away without another word. Just the memory of David’s hot gaze brought a shameful blush to my cheeks, and I tried to hide it. I always knew he had a physical effect on me, I mean- why wouldn't he? He was undoubtedly gorgeous; it was just the fact that he was an asshole that was such a turn off. He always walked around the company as though he owned the place, and I get it, he did, but did he have to be so cocky? He paid no attention to his workers so why should I pay so much attention to him?
I paused when something to my left caught my eye. Displayed on the rich guy's wall, was a smashed guitar behind a glass case. I honestly wasn't surprised this was the kind of thing David collected.
“It was a gift actually.”
How did he always manage to sneak up on me so quietly? And had I really spoken out loud? I gave him a sideways glance and he smiled at me as though all this was some kind of cat and mouse game, but I was bored. We’d been challenging each other for years, and on my last night in the city, I didn't want to be doing the same old shit.
“I like it,” I commented, hoping that would be enough to please him as I turned away.
“Woah, woah, woah,” he reached for my hand and his fingertips gently brushed mine. I pretended not to notice and swallowed hard,
“So how did you get all this stuff? This apartment, this life?” I asked, knowing damn well it was all to do with his father. For a long moment, he didn't reply and I scoffed, “I see.”
I walked away for good this time and tried to shake away the tingling sensation rippling through my hands. It was one fucking touch, why did I react this way? I could feel someone still staring at me and turned around to flip David off, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. I could only see the blonde woman from earlier who was still glaring at me with an icy blue gaze.
“How about if you help me?” David rushed back to my side though this time I was grateful to turn towards him. This blonde bitch thought she could stare at me all night just because my boss wanted to talk to me? Fine. I’d flirt with him all night long just to piss her off, because I was bored, maybe a little drunk, and David was – as I said – undoubtedly gorgeous. Yeah, I hated him but it was my last night here. I suppose I could put my feelings away for just a few hours, right?
“Help you with what?” His eyes flickered with surprise, but he quickly explained,
“See, I’ve got this little problem. I’ve got a stalker and I need a cover.”
My brow arched.
“I need you to pretend you’re my girlfriend for the rest of the night – I know it's tough.”
I bit back my smile though couldn't help the excitement building up in my chest, “Ill improvise.”
“For now, I need you to pretend were having a conversation and you are wildly entertained,” he pressed his palms together and pleaded, “I’ll do whatever you want in return.”
I grinned, “Whatever I want?”
His brow drew together, “Well within reason of course.”
I folded my arms together, “There's not much I want from you David, I’m not gonna lie. I’m leaving tomorrow for Chicago and I'll never-”
“I’ll talk to your new boss!” His voice heightened, “I’ll put in a good word, maybe even get you a high paying, new promotion...”
My eyes widened in surprise, I’d never seen David so desperate. Without uttering a word, I leant forward and wrapped my hands around his neck. He was stiff at first but then his hands came up to the small of my back.
“Shes right across the room, and she’d burning a hole in my back now, isn't she?” He whispered in my ear and I could hear the smile in his voice.
I stared at the blonde woman whilst I ran my fingers through his hair, “Red dress, strappy shoes?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, she’s really staring at us,” the corner of my lip lifted as the woman’s hands curled into fists at her sides, “And she seems to be growing less happy.”
I pulled back and stared into David’s green eyes, noticing the golden flecks in them for the first time, “I think she’s the saddest girl to ever hold a martini.”
He grinned, “Mission accomplished.”
I looked back over his shoulder to see the stalker making her way towards us through the crowd, “Let's go upstairs.”
David realised what I meant and didn't make the mistake of looking back. Hurriedly, we both rushed up the grand staircase and I found myself laughing as we tripped and tumbled our way to the top. I felt as though we were school children rushing through the corridors, and it felt so weird to feel so happy when with David Aames.
There was nobody upstairs except the two of us and yet I enjoyed the comfortable silence rather than the music coming from downstairs. It felt right...being up here with him, even with that dislike still bubbling evenly under the surface. There was something about David that seemed to put me at ease.
I looked up to see paintings adorning all the white walls, “Who did these paintings?”
He caught his breath and pointed at the first one, “This is Joni Mitchell...and this one is Monet. And this one-,” he proudly posed next to a brightly coloured snowboard, “Is done by me.”
“Well two of them are geniuses,” I quipped as I stepped towards the Monet painting, unable to hide my smile. His snowboard was cute to be honest.
“That is the real thing, his paintbrush painted the vanilla sky on this canvas,” he looked up at the art with an expression of awe, “My mothers.”
“Well what's going on here?” Brian stumbled up the steps with a wide grin as though he’d caught us in the act.
“Julie Gianni is stalking me,” David smiled.
I touched his shoulder, “She looked dangerous.”
“Well nobody stalks me, so I drink!”
“Were all out of drinks up here-”
“Here, finish my jack and coke,” Brian offered his glass, but it slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a smash, “Stupid glass.”
Tiny glass shards littered the floor and David put his arm out protectively to keep me back, “No it's the stupid guy holding it.”
I chuckled quietly as Brian walked back towards the door, “Where are you going?”
He solemnly touched his chest, “I am Frank, and Frank must go.”
“What?”
“I good you bid evening.”
David laughed at his remark and the sound seemed to echo as I stepped forward, “Wait I’ll go with you. You’re my ride.”
He huffed, “Stay.”
“I’ll give you a ride home after,” David offered as he began to clean the broken glass.
“No, I have to get on a flight early tomorrow.”
“You...you are in great hands,” his movements were sluggish as he stifled a yawn, “I’m just humoring myself that my opinion matters.”
Brian clapped David’s shoulder, “You will never know the exquisite pain of the guy who goes home alone,” David looked as though he was trying not to laugh, and I smiled, “Because without the bitter the sweet ain’t as sweet.”
I shrugged and Brian clapped his shoulder once more, “Have a good time.”
“Sweet and Sour speech again,” David murmured as Brian walked out the door, “Wait, you said that you have a flight early tomorrow?”
I nodded, “I told you, I’m flying to Chicago for my new job.”
“I didn't realise you were leaving so soon,” I shouldn't have loved his disappointed tone as much as I did.
“Yeah, it’s a shame, especially since now I’m finally starting to like you.”
“Well maybe if you’d have actually spoken to me in the two years that we’ve known each other at work, you would've realised I’m not that bad.”
“Oh no, that would've ruined the experience.”
“Experience?”
“The magical experience of spending my last night in New York with my gorgeous boss,” we shared a grin, “And I’m allowed to say that now because as of tomorrow, I’ll have a new boss so there's nothing you can do about it.”
“Mhm,” he folded his arms together and stepped closer, “You think I’m gorgeous?”
I almost regretted speaking so boldly, but I wasn't going to be a pussy on my last night here with him, “I have since the moment I first met you.”
“Aren't you the romantic?” I swear to God if he flashed another grin I was going to pass out.
“You should see my romance book collection at home, it's quite impressive,” I blurted.
“Why am I not surprised?” He chuckled, “I bet when you're supposed to be working, you have fantasies about me sweeping you off your feet and kissing you in the rain.”
I laughed and went along with it, “Am I that transparent? I have fantasies we have angry love confessions at the most inconvenient times, and you run to me for the airport kiss.”
“The airport kiss?” His brow raised.
“When the female is leaving the city, and the male lead chases after her in slow motion, then kisses her before the plane takes off.”
“Wow, now that sounds romantic, I bet you’ve read over 100 books with that trope.”
I blushed, “Would you like to see them?”
“See them?”
“Come back to my place,” I’d never been so forward in my life, but I wasn't going to stop, “You could stay at mine?”
The corner of his lip quirked up, “I’m just so surprised you’d want to actually spend time with me after hating me for so long.”
“Me to honestly,” I met his eye, “But I want to spent time with somebody before I go. I deserve to have one last great memory.”
He leant forwards and murmured, “I’ll make it unforgettable.”
I unlocked the front door and stepped into the familiar space, shrugging off my coat. All my furniture had been moved and the house was stripped bare though David still looked around as though he were impressed.
“Would you like something to drink?” He moved towards the kitchen whilst I kicked off my heels. The idea of David Aames walking around my apartment was so absurd I found myself smiling to myself in the hallway.
“Sure,” he stopped in front of the fridge and stared at the old photographs I still needed to take down.
“Oh ignore those, I look awful,” I laughed and began to tug them down.
“You can't say that about yourself.”
I grinned before realised he was being serious, “Why not?”
“Because the only times you see yourself are in pictures and mirrors where you force a smile,” I didn't think it was healthy for hearts to beat as fast as mine was, “I’m the one whose seen you real laugh, and I’m not talking about for photos or when you're around colleagues, I mean when were fake dating and you run up the stairs like you're scared to get caught. I’m the one whose seen your true beauty.”
I leaned upwards and pressed my lips against his cheek, only because I don't think I could've done anything else in the moment. There was no point kissing him as passionately and as shamelessly as I wanted to, because I was leaving tomorrow, and we’d never see each other again. I didn't want to give him false hope, but at the same time, I couldn't have gone another second without kissing him somewhere.
“Do you want to know the story behind this picture?” I picked up a random photo from the pile as a distraction.
“Sergio?” He scanned the photo for a second, “Your nickname is sergio?”
“Its a long story and we hardly know each other,” the truth cut through like a knife but I remained composed.
“So many secrets,” he shook his head.
“Well what about you? What's your nickname?”
He stilled for a moment in hesitation and I grinned. Whatever he was going to say was going to be incredible, I just knew it. He sighed heavily and reluctantly answered,
“Citizen Dildo.”
“Mhm,” I choked back a laugh and turned around, “Thats all the confirmation I need.”
I moved toward my CD player and held up two for him to choose from, “Do you want to hear Jeff Buckley or Vicky Carr?”
“Both,” he answered without hesitation, “Simultaneously.”
Pressing play, I moved towards the bedroom whilst he slumped down on the floor, “I’m getting changed out of this dress, don't walk in.”
“How will I ever contain myself?” He joked and barely dodged the pillow I threw at him from across the room.
I shut my bedroom door and undid the straps at my back, sighing with relief and considering what to wear. I needed something comfortable for the plane but I wanted something that still looked good for David. God, why did I care so much about what he thought?
“So, are you excited for Chicago?” He called from outside the door.
I nodded then remembered he couldn't see me, “I can't wait! It's always been a dream to go there, and though I’ll miss my friends here obviously, there's just so much more there. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, you have to seize those opportunities,” he agreed, “I’m going to miss seeing you around the office though.”
“Oh David, you’re such a flirt,” I batted my eyelashes jokingly as I swung open the door. I was wearing a black sweater and matching cropped skirt with my hair pulled back. I’d wiped my make-up clean, and I was hoping he wouldn't notice.
“You have freckles,” he murmured, staring down at me with a small smile that made me blush yet again. There was nowhere to sit now that all my furniture had been shipped but David didn't seem to mind sitting on the floor.
“Ooh,” I pulled my writing pad out from my bag, “Care for a drawing contest?”
“Drawing contest? I’m not an artist,” he grinned and accepted a sheet of paper, “Actually I take it back, I can draw caricatures.”
“Caricatures? Fine, I challenge you to a caricature contest,” I smiled and pressed my pen to the paper, “I never would've expected David Aames could draw caricatures. There's still so much I don't know about you.”
His lips pressed together as he concentrated on drawing, “Ask me anything.”
I began to sketch out David’s comically large head, adding huge teeth just for fun, “Does it ever get difficult? Controlling all those people’s lives and being the boss?”
He looked up and I continued, “Everyone at that party was connected to you for survival in some way it seems.”
His gaze lowered back to his pen, “It can be overwhelming at times but...but it's what I’ve been raised to do. I always knew I was going to be in this position, and I’ve worked hard for it, despite what you may think.”
I startled and David smiled, “I know you think I’m a nobody who inherited his father’s company and in some ways you're right. But I’ve worked hard every day for years to prove myself worthy of my position,” he swallowed, “I mean I used to be one of those guys just snowboarding through life with no focus whatsoever. But not anymore.”
I watched his expression lighten, “When did you change?”
“About five minutes ago.”
I recited in my wisest voice, “Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around.”
He grinned, “And where did you hear that?”
“My mom,” I looked down, “She was full of wise advice. There was one specific piece of advice she gave me which I’ve never forgotten.”
He looked up in anticipation and I continued, “She told me not to get serious with anybody until I turned 23 years old.”
A crease grew between his brow, “Why 23?”
“She thought it was the age of maturity,” I shrugged and nodded towards my picture, “Ive never drawn such a true likeness before.”
We spent the next few minutes perfecting our drawings and talking about everything - work, our families, our exes, our hopes, our dreams - all our conversations seemed to impact me in a way I couldn’t explain. I’d never laughed harder, and I never thought two adults could have so much fun sitting on the floor drawing each other as cartoons. I was learning so much about him and yet so desperate to still know everything.
David placed his picture face down on the floor between us, “Finished.”
“Already?” I finished the last few details and handed it to him with a proud smile, “Done.”
A low chuckle escaped his lips, “Thats how you see me.”
“Maybe I didn't add enough money.”
“It’s wonderful,” he cut in with a big smile, “Sign it.”
I looked down at his drawing still face down between us and he rubbed his brow awkwardly, “Let's see yours.”
“No,” he snatched it back and huffed a quiet laugh.
“Give me that-” I reached forward.
“Its-”
I grabbed the piece of paper and couldn't help but gasp at the portrait. How he managed to capture such a perfect drawing was beyond me and I couldn't help but stare at it in surprise. Every detail of my face; every strand of hair, every freckle, it was all there.
“I feel bad,” I sighed and looked up, “You said to draw a caricature.”
“I know, but I couldn't,” he gestured to the drawing, “I saw you like that.”
I shifted a few inches closer, “It's very good.”
“Oh yeah?” His head cocked to the side, “I’ll sell it to you.”
“You monster,” my eyes narrowed with a smile, “How much for?”
He paused for dramatic effect, “One secret.”
I grinned and turned away, my heart hammering once more at the effect of his words. I couldn't have such strong feelings when I was leaving in a few hours, but I couldn't help it.
“That smile is going to be the death of me,” he commented, watching me watch him.
For the first time since we got back, a feeling of dread nagged at me, “What happens when I get off the plane tomorrow? And I won't be able to see you, and I’ll have a new boss and a new job?”
He sighed and I continued, “And my promise to my mother? I know it's stupid David, but I’m not getting serious until I’m 23-”
“It's not stupid I get it,” he ran a hand through his hair, “It's just so frustrating. We could also try the long-distance thing?”
“That’ll never work,” I shook my head, “What about us visiting each other every other weekend?”
His smile this time was much sadder, “I know I’m the head of the company but even I couldn't afford that.”
I slumped down on the floor, and he lay down next to me, both our minds whirring as we tried to come up with a solution. I really did want to see him again, but it wasn't going to w-
“What if we meet up once a year?” He sat up in excitement.
“Once a year?”
“Like an anniversary,” his grin widened, “Every March 5th, you can come here, or I can fly over there. We’ll meet up once a year, every year for five years.”
“Until I’m 23,” I mumbled more to myself than him, “We can meet up at the same restaurant at the same time each year, so it doesn't get confusing.”
“No awkward long distant relationship,” he added.
“No expensive flights,” my smile faded as he lay back down next to me, “It’ll work.”
“It fits both of us, it just doesn't solve one issue.”
I turned to face him, “What's that?”
A glint of light shone in his eye though I might've imagined it, “I’m going to miss you.”
Without a second thought, or rather a first, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder. His arms came up to hold me instinctively and I sagged with relief against him. It sounded crazy I know – I'd spent so long hating him when now I realised he was the perfect one for me. He understood what I felt, what I thought without me having to say a word. He wanted the same things as me, and I was happy when I was with him and now...now I was leaving.
But the idea of meeting up every March 5th sounded perfect. It fit both our needs and though I knew nothing would ever be the same, I was ready to welcome this next step. I wrapped my arms tighter around him and inhaled the scent of his sweet smelling cologne, trying to commit it to memory. I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that – it could've been minutes, maybe even hours, but all I knew is that I’d never felt such a comfort like this before.
I sat up suddenly with a feeling of dread gnawing at my insides. David was asleep at my side, and we were both on the floor in the early hours of the morning. I frantically looked at the clock and realised I was running late for my flight. Shit shit shit this could not be happening. Not when I’d planned out every single detail for weeks! Well, I guess I’d never planned for David Aames to be spending the night with me but I couldn't worry about that now. I had to get to the airport.
David shifted tiredly and I touched his shoulder in a rush, “David? David wake up, we have to get to the airport.”
He yawned and rubbed a hand down his brow and if I wasn't in such a panic, I would've thought it was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen a man do. But I didn't have the time to think about things like that, I was going to be late! How could we have fallen asleep, one minute we were talking, the next we were holding each other and then...we must've just been tired after the party.
“I’m up!” He staggered to his feet then looked down at his watch, “Oh shit we are late.”
“Yeah!” I rushed into the bedroom and grabbed my bags, “Is your car alright to drive to the airport?”
“Oh yeah don't worry about things like that,” he grabbed some of my heaviest suitcases without even a hint of struggle, “Let's just go.”
We packed all my bags into the boot of his car and hurried towards the airport. We made polite conversation on the journey there, but we were both too worried I was going to be late for my flight. My palms were sweaty and my chest was heaving and David didnt fail to notice. He reached over and held my hand tightly, assuring me we were going to make it.
“Thanks David,” that tense feeling in my chest began to lighten as he squeezed my hand, “And not just for this for everything. I’m so sorry I’ve been a complete jerk to you these past two years.”
“Dont worry that,” he shook his head, “A wise person once told me every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around.”
“They sound like a weirdo.”
He laughed, and I felt sad that I might have to wait a whole year to hear it again, “Yeah they are pretty strange. I kind of like them though.”
He parked the car and we hurriedly clambered out of our seats and grabbed my things. Carrying so many bags and running through the airport was a lot harder than they made it look in movies, but we managed to make it as far as possible before one of the workers stopped us. It was time for me to get on the plane, I’d just about made it on time.
“You did it!” His hand came up to hi five mine.
“We did it,” I corrected and interlaced our fingers together. The worker stood there with his arms folded, annoyed that I was already late and taking my time but he was the least of my worries. I had so much to say to David and so little time. I didnt want to say goodbye, not yet.
“Youre going to do great in Chicago, I just know it,” he clasped my face in his hands and looked down at me as though I were the only thing that mattered, “You’ve got something special.”
“Autism?”
“Determination,” he chuckled and pressed his lips against my forehead, “Dont ever lose that.”
I exhaled slowly and tried to commit his moment to memory, knowing I was going to wnat to replay it the whole flight, “This sounds insane but I genuinely feel connected to you after spending one night together. Theres something about us that just works, you know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve never gotten so comfortable with anybody so fast,” his thumb stroked my cheek, “And I’m never going to miss anybody as much as I miss you.”
I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears and hastily tried to change the tone of the conversation, “We’ll be okay. A year will go by so fast, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh 100%,” he agreed, though he didnt sound as convinced, “But what if we break our promise of meeting once a year? What if we get desperate and try to contact one another?”
I bit my lip in thought, “We’ll block each other on social media and delete each other’s phone numbers. I think thats whats best.”
He nodded solemnly, “Yeah, thats whats best.”
I tried to control my shaky breathing and hammering heart but nothing was going to save me now. I was covered in sweat from running through the airport, tired from the night before with probably dark shadows under my eyes and tangled hair, but David didnt care about things like that. He liked me just the way I was.
He pressed his forehead against mine and I savoured in the way his skin felt and the connection between us that only grew. In that moment, it felt as though we breathed as one, we moved and communicated as one.
But now it was time to go.
“Miss, you really need to get on the plane if you dont want your seat taken,” the guy with his arms folded warned and I forced myself to smile. My eyes were burning and my heart had never felt this much pressure, but i managed to remain composed. I gave David my brightest smile and he returned it with a grin, though it wavered slightly as though he was just doing it for me.
Before too much damange was done, I walked out onto the platform and refused to look back. Each step mirrored each drag of my heart but I kept walking. I was going to have to survive a year without this man, and I’d already survived two. I could do five minutes before take off.
As I climbed up the steps onto the plane, I heard a yell echo from behind me. One foot hovering on the plane and the other on the last step, I turned to see David running towards me – except he wasnt just running.
He was running in slo-motion.
Mouth agape and calling my name dramatically, he slowly ran forward and I couldnt help but laugh at the sight. The people on the plane looked out the windows and I felt myself blushing with embrassment. David didnt seem to care about what other people thought though, running like an idiot with a joking, emotional expression.
He slowly made his way up the steps, the whole time yelling “Dont go! I came baacckk” making the flight attendents and everyone watching chuckle quietly. He never once broke eyecontact as he finally made his way to me at the top of the stairs. Without wasting another breath, he stepped forward and pressed his lips against mine, catching me so off guard I mightve moaned against his lips. He pressed himself deep against me, his fingers frantically rushing through my hair as he drove his lips even closer to mine.
The people on the plane cheered and I felt so stupid and yet so happy I couldnt find it in myself to pull away. David’s pupils dialted though the lighting had not changed and my heart hammered in its cage like a humming bird set free. I’d kissed before but never like this – like I was starving, like I could stay in the moment forever.
He pulled back and I panted for breath, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face. David didnt seem to ntoice the audience watching our every move, as his lips trailed across my jaw and his hands roamed over my back.
“Was that the epic slo-motion airport kiss you were hoping for?” He murmured against my skin, sending vibrations through my entire being.
“Everything and more,” I smiled against his lips, a feeling of relief settling within me.
David looked over my shoulder at the awaiting plane and then back at me, “You really need to get on that plane, and I need to run before security come find me.”
My jaw went slack, “You ran past security?”
“People do crazy things when love,” he winked as he stepped back, “I’ll see you next year, March 5th.”
“You promise?” I didnt like seeing him walk back but I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. My body was still pulsing with adrenaline but I no longer cared about all the eyes on us.
“I promise,” he dipped his head with a grin.
For a short moment, I watched him walk away before finally climbing onto the plane. Trying not to let the tears – of sadness, joy, i wasn't sure – fall, I took my seat and stared out of the window. Was I really leaving the one and only person who’d made me feel so impossibly happy? And two, did David imply that he loved me?
I was going to have to wait 364 days until I got my answers.
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'Today, August 6, marks the 78th anniversary of the destruction of Hiroshima by an atomic bomb dropped on the city by the United States during the Second World War.
Tokyo: America’s pathologies are, in my experience, more apparent (though no less troubling) from afar. The simultaneous release of the films Barbie and Oppenheimer resulting in the distasteful but hardly surprising “Barbenheimer” meme is a case in point: America’s twin obsessions of how it looks in the mirror and how it’s remembered in the history books have collided head on, leaving a twisted mess of wreckage – however harmless at this point – revealing more about our culture and ourselves than we care to admit.
As someone who has yet to see either film, I’ll withhold judgment on the filmmakers’ vision and their success or failure in realising it on the big screen. Like last year, I’m happy to report that I’m spending much of this summer in Japan visiting family, meaning my 11-year-old son’s grandparents and a whole host of welcoming uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, and neighbours.
These, it should be said, are exactly the kind of ordinary Japanese folks that director Christopher Nolan chose to leave out of his film about the “mastermind” of the atomic bomb, and precisely the people who suffered and died in the hundreds of thousands when the US dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
I respect Nolan as a filmmaker and, once again, will withhold judgment until I see the film. Being in Japan – which has yet to set a release date for Oppenheimer, but is expected to later this year after the August 6 and August 9 anniversaries of the 1945 atomic bombings – I haven’t had the opportunity to see his film, which I certainly will see. I have, however, had the opportunity to visit Hiroshima on a number of occasions, first as a young journalist nearly 30 years ago, and last summer with my wife and son.
On that first visit in 1995, not long before the 50th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, I had the great honour of interviewing Yoshito Matsushige – a photographer for the local newspaper who was just 2.7 kilometres from the hypocentre when the blast occurred at 8:15 that August morning.
As I wrote last August in Hiroshima’s Message, “His immediate reaction was to grab his camera and head toward the fire. But when he saw ‘the hellish state of things’ he couldn’t bring himself to take pictures. ‘It was great weather that morning,’ he said, ‘without a single cloud. But under that blue sky, people were exposed directly to heat rays. They were burned all over, on the face, back, arms, legs—their skin burst, hanging. There were people lying on the asphalt, their burnt bodies sticking to it, people squatting down, their faces burnt and blackened. I struggled to push the shutter button.’”
After what seemed like an eternity, Matsushige said, he finally brought himself to take two pictures of people, suffering horribly, who had gathered on Miyuki Bridge, about 2.3 kilometres from the hypocenter. Many were middle-school children, their bodies terribly burned. Someone was applying cooking oil to their wounds. He remembered asking them for forgiveness, wiping away his tears, and saying “I just took a picture of you as you are suffering, but this is my duty.”
In all, Matsushige snapped his shutter just seven times – the only photos taken in Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, that survive to this day. He died in 2005, at the age of 92, a dedicated peace activist who shared his story with people around the globe, including before the UN General Assembly.
Christopher Nolan has said his film – which was inspired by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of Oppenheimer, American Prometheus – is focused more on the moral dilemmas facing the scientist tasked with making a bomb that could end World War II than on making a war “documentary.”
“He [Oppenheimer] learned about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on the radio—the same as the rest of the world,” Nolan told MSNBC’s Chuck Todd. “That, to me, was a shock… Everything is his experience, or my interpretation of his experience. Because as I keep reminding everyone, it’s not a documentary. It is an interpretation. That’s my job.”
Fair enough. But I can’t help thinking of the photographer Matsushige and what he told me over a quarter-century ago, while taking pictures of children whose clothes and skin were charred and hanging from their bodies when only a few moments prior they were walking to school on a clear August morning: “I just took a picture of you as you are suffering, but this is my duty.”
Below is an interview, also from 1995, with the then-mayor of Hiroshima, Takashi Hiraoka, who, coincidentally, was a journalist before entering politics and worked for the same newspaper as Matsushige, the Chugoku Shimbun. I remember him as a true gentleman in his mid-60s, at ease with his role in local politics and passionate about sharing Hiroshima’s “Never Again” message with the world.
Now 95, Hiraoka served eight years as mayor of Hiroshima before retiring in 1998. Since our interview, two more countries – Pakistan and North Korea – have joined the nine-member “nuclear club.” According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, the US, the UK, Russia, France, China, India, Pakistan, Israel, and North Korea have among them nearly 16,000 nuclear weapons, all of which are many times more powerful than the two bombs dropped on Japan in August 1945.
Excerpts from the 1995 interview of the then-mayor of Hiroshima, Takashi Hiraoka, as published by The Japan Times Weekly, August 5, 1995. Used with the author’s permission
MJ: As mayor of Hiroshima, what is your message to the world on the 50th anniversary of the atomic bombing?
TH: The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki marked not only the end of World War II but the beginning of the nuclear age. In this respect, the bombings were a tragedy for all of humanity. The people of Hiroshima have chosen to see their experience as a lesson for humanity. The 50th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima is an excellent opportunity for us to look back on our past and think about our future.
Our message has always been that the tragedies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki should never be repeated. Now that we have reached the half-century landmark, this message should be re-emphasized, together with the call for nuclear disarmament. I see the 50th anniversary as an opportunity to come together with the people of the world so that we can work toward the abolition of nuclear weapons.
Japan does not consider the use of nuclear weapons to be against international law. What is Hiroshima’s official stance on the deployment of nuclear weapons ?
As the first city to have experienced a nuclear attack, we firmly believe that the use of nuclear weapons violates international law. We believe this for two main reasons. The first is the indiscriminate nature of nuclear weapons. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to restrict the destructive power of nuclear weapons. The second reason is the extraordinary cruelty of nuclear weapons. What I mean by this is that there are still many hibakusha (atomic bomb survivors) suffering the effects of radiation exposure.
International law prohibits the deployment of weapons that inflict unnecessary suffering on human beings such as “dumdum” bullets and chemical weapons. The United Nations General Assembly has passed a number of resolutions prohibiting the use of nuclear weapons for the very same reason.
The Japanese government has three non-nuclear principles: not to produce, possess, or harbour nuclear weapons. We must continue to push the government to uphold these three principles. Unfortunately, the Japanese government does not have a strong stance toward U.S. foreign policy because it wants to maintain good U.S.-Japan relations. But I think the Japanese government should have a stronger stance toward the United States, particularly in regard to its nuclear-weapons policy.
In what ways does the city of Hiroshima influence the governments of other nations? How do you get your message across to the world?
Whenever a foreign country conducts a nuclear-weapons test, we immediately send a telegram protesting the test and calling for an end to further nuclear-weapons testing. We also have a program called the International Conference of Mayors for Peace Through Inter-city Solidarity. Currently, 404 cities in 97 countries are a part of the program and support our call for the total abolition of nuclear weapons. The purpose of the program is to contribute to lasting world peace by strengthening the ties between the cities of the world…
Hiroshima and Nagasaki have long been calling for the total abolition of nuclear weapons. How can this goal be attained when many countries—Iran and North Korea, for example—see having a nuclear-weapons program as the key to gaining respect on the world stage?
This is a very difficult problem, and one the whole world will have to work on together to solve. We must continue to tell the citizens and leaders of the world that possessing nuclear weapons will never be a positive thing. Governments justify their nuclear arsenals with language like “national security.” But what about global security?
Not only does nuclear war mean the annihilation of humans, but every time a nuclear weapon is tested, the environment is irreparably damaged. What we have to do is raise public awareness of the dangers. We can push for the ratification of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty as soon as the negotiations are completed next year…
[Apart from the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty] … we must also enact a law or treaty that ensures nations which possess nuclear weapons will never use them against nations that do not. Such a treaty will ease the concern of nations that do not have nuclear weapons and, hopefully, lessen the incentive to initiate a nuclear-weapons program.
We must also have strict control over the materials required to produce nuclear weapons. Those countries currently trying to develop nuclear weapons feel they are not given equal consideration in international politics. So, on the one hand, we need strict control over nuclear materials, and on the other we have to address the needs and concerns of all the nations of the world in equal measure.
In the United States and Japan, there was a great deal of controversy over a commemorative stamp that was to be issued by the U.S. Postal Service. The stamp, which was never issued, featured a painting of an atomic mushroom cloud accompanied by the caption “Atomic bombs hasten war’s end, August 1945.” What kind of message do you think it sends the people around the world?
I have many reasons to believe that the statement “Atomic bombs hasten war’s end” is simply not true. By August 1945, Japan had neither the ability nor the will to continue waging war. The Japanese government was trying to find a path to peace as early as the spring of 1945. I believe the U.S. government was aware of this when it decided to drop the atomic bomb.
If the United States had wanted only to end the war, it did not have to use nuclear weapons. The United States possessed more than enough conventional weapons to destroy Hiroshima and Nagasaki and to end the war. There are many different opinions as to why the U.S. government decided to drop atomic bombs on the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
I would like to leave the answer to the scholars, but I do have a question. In 1945, President Harry Truman said that dropping the atomic bombs saved 250,000 to 500,000 lives. In 1985, President Ronald Reagan said dropping the atomic bombs saved one million American soldiers’ lives. In 1991, President George Bush said that several million lives were saved as a result of the atomic bombings. I wonder what this change means? I understand that the U.S. government uses these figures to justify the bombings, and that once a government has committed itself to a certain policy or decision, it does not want to change its stand.
But why do the numbers keep rising? Before the atomic bombs were dropped, many U.S. officials, including military personnel, argued that the bombings were not needed to end the war.
What is your reaction to the Smithsonian Institution’s decision to scale back its controversial Enola Gay exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C.?
A couple of years ago the Smithsonian Institution had an extensive exhibition on World War II that included an exhibit on the plight of the Japanese Americans who were interned during the war. Due in part to this exhibit, the U.S. government admitted that its policy was a mistake and compensated the surviving Japanese Americans who had been interned. This led me to believe that the people at the Smithsonian Institution were committed to historical accuracy.
Now, the Smithsonian has yielded to political pressure and has missed an opportunity to thoroughly examine the history surrounding the bombings. I am disappointed with the Smithsonian’s decision, as are many people of conscience in this world. We could spend hours talking about whether the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justifiable or not, but such discussion is futile—it happened 50 years ago. What we have to do now is learn from the experience and make sure it never happens again. We are not asking for an apology.
Some Americans say that we are trying to make ourselves look like innocent victims, that we are indulging in our grief in an attempt to diminish the atrocities committed by the Japanese military during the war.
Nothing could be further from the truth. As the mayor of Hiroshima I acknowledge that the Japanese military carried out a war of aggression and committed many atrocities. I have personally done a lot of soul-searching on this subject and have publicly apologized to those who suffered at the hands of the Japanese military. I would also like to add that if nuclear weapons are not abolished, the horrors that Hiroshima and Nagasaki experienced will be experienced by others. The question is not if but when it will happen. The nuclear weapons that exist today are tens of thousands of times more powerful than the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Obviously, a tragedy brought about by a nuclear war today would be far greater than the tragedies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Why do you think the Smithsonian Institution decided against displaying photographs of and items belonging to the victims of the bombings?
It seems many Americans are not willing to face the reality of what happened after the bomb was released, but for humanity that is where the lesson begins. Hiroshima’s mission is to let the people of the world know what happened on the ground—what happened to the people of our city. I first came to Hiroshima in September 1945, so I remember very well the devastation and the initial rebuilding of the city. What moved me most was the strength of the survivors. That strength has evolved into a determination to prevent others from experiencing the horrors of nuclear war.
They feel it is their duty to make a constant appeal for world peace and nuclear disarmament. This is their mission, and with this mission they have overcome their tragedy. They do not harbor any hatred toward the American people. Instead, they have chosen to work for peace. The people of Hiroshima have come to understand what peace means for the world. And as the mayor of Hiroshima, I am very proud of them.'
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When you said it was over
You shot right through my heart.
Okay, lets take the advice of people and try to write it out. Cuz you know, sending mass texts is apparently what no one wants, it doesn't matter what you do, just don't do that. Doesn't matter what you do, you could murder someone, but no one deserves to be told what they did wrong in one long beautifully scripted message that's meant to burn up the moment it is read by the reader. Nope. Don't do it. Don't do it Mary. Just send it to GOD. Say it to the LORD. You'll be fine. You're in God's hands.
But, yeah no, it's all about Great Expectations. Maybe they shouldn't be so great. My friend Yasu told me today, that every single time he has had expectations for something it has never once worked out. Ain't that how it is. No matter what you do, please for the love of GOD, don't have good expectations. Keep 'em neutral 'cuz if you let yourself feel, dayummm it gone hurt when they don't work out.
Yeah, she got a thick booty. Dats why I love her. PSYCHE.
I don't love anybody but myself.
(I imagine this is what plays on repeat in Carl's head.)
Let's talk about Carl. Nah, let's not.
Carl is a flaming dumpster fire apparently.
Do I see things where they don't exist? I know I've heard ghosts, so maybe I do have a psychic sense that can hear the thoughts of others without having them speak. You know that ghost I heard, didn't speak English. It spoke in tongues. That's the language of souls. Can souls speak to each other when the carrier isn't conscious of doing so? Or, is that just mania, some kind of twisted ADHD obsession.
He used to tell me to look in the mirror and repeat the mantra he gave me about how I was his property. Trash, and nothing more. But, when I look in the mirror, I see my ocean eyes staring back at me. Glittering from tears and shades of crystal blue green and I wonder, how, could anyone look into my eyes and say the things they said.
Your eyes were dark. Soulless. I accused you of that on the first night we met. I said, I was trying to look into your soul, and you said that it died a long time ago. I knew that wasn't a normal thing to say, maybe some sort of cry for help. Or, far more worrying, conscious evil.
OO I was so mad. I coulda seen this coming from the start.
You should beware, beware beware
Of a woman with a broken heart.
I asked you when we first met, if this was what it was like when soulmates meet, like two storms colliding. What happens when two soulmates part? Nothing less than a storm. There was a volcanic eruption. You froze. Genuinely mortified. I can only presume. I've never seen myself angry 'cuz you know, I only get mad at people and then rant about it behind their back. I'm a Libra. But seriously, don't piss off a Libra 'cuz you gonna get it. We are the Aries of the Air signs.
And, why was I mad, you ask? Lemme put it real simple, you can play like you wanna use someone, but then there's a huge difference when you actually use them. You narcissistic dumbass. How do you not know that? And why would you expect me to remain silent, at the end of all things. I have my limits, and that limit, is utter disrespect.
Did you mean to disrespect me, or was that just your own fear of hurting me further, that you knew you couldn't TAKE any more from me. So, if it was respect then, you could just say that. "I don't want to hurt you by getting more physical with you because it's going to deepen your attachment and I don't want to be with you." See? That's not that hard. But, i guess it is, when you feel some level of guilt, you'd be somewhat acknowledging your implicit guilt and you know a smart criminal knows to never do that. I'm probably getting ahead of myself. I don't think you're capable of thinking that deeply about anyone else's feelings.
He told me he could never date someone who wasn't financially stable. Yet proceeds to "Disney-villain monologue" about how he has accrued 71 million dollars yet lived a tortured life that made him the way he is. Why is that even a blip on your radar? You, who could have anything. Make anything happen, like the fairies in Sleepy Beauty. Just cuz your ex-wife said that you financially abused her? Is that the story you tell every basic bitch you fuck around with? Like, I'm supposed to just say, yeah okay. You're right. I am so far beneath you, it would never work. Wait what? No. LOL I ain't that stupid. None of it makes sense. Don't even date an artist /English teacher then.
He said "I can only date doctors and lawyers". Well nice try my friend. You know as well as I do that no matter how much a plebeian makes, it will never match to someone who has enough wealth they could amass a fairly size-able militia. Unless....... all that money is actually just tied up in Bitcoin. Who am I to speculate, you know what, I don't give a shit anymore. I'm just happy when you told me that you didn't think that I was a painter, that I told you "Yes, I am. You asswipe." Fucking hilarious.
Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
He didn't mean to disrespect me. He just didn't wanna love me. For whatever reason I will never understand. That's what it was about. I always tell people--"Sounds like a blessing in-disguise." As if that's some sort of solace. It's not. But you know, "Only Time Will Tell". There will come a time, when I say to myself, THANK GOD. I've always felt lucky that my exes left me, because DAMN they didn't deserve me.
Baby,
last time calling me baby
last time calling me crazy
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The fandom for A Land Fit for Heroes is so small and this is so niche nobody will relate to it, but :
Ringil Eskiath and James Flint meeting. Two slavery abolitionnist, erudite, anti-authority, former military, unapologetically gay/bi warriors determined to see the ruling class/political system burn to the ground, motivated by the loss of a lover earlier in their life, because of said system. Both good on ships and believed by their men to be able to conjure up storms. Both incredibly persuasive and talented when it comes to convincing their crews to follow them to almost certain death. Both with a black lesbian friend/ally working within civilization to try to tweak it in her favor rather than overthrow it and who ends up on top of it. Both single-minded and going into murderous rages when deprived of someone they love.
Ringil being an actual sorcerer who could conjure up a storm or water spirits or a kraken for Flint. Flint working with Archeth to manipulate the emperor of Yhelteth. Flint sacking Trelayne like he sacked Charlestown, taking down the torture cages for the execution of homosexuals. Ringil leading Flint's men in attacks inland.
The possibilities.
(That is, if they could work together without killing each other after five minutes. Ringil would think Flint is self-righteous and too much of an idealist and Flint might be disgusted by Ringil's selfishness and because he only does things out of spite, not ideology.)
And of course Silver seeing it all happen and hating all of it because Ringil is poison, he's an enabler, and he would just wind Flint up until they're all destroyed. Also, the pure jealousy he would feel seeing this man who looks like him (black hair, blue eyes) but with two fucking legs (internalized ableism) and no sexual repression inserting himself between him and Flint. My boy Silver would flip the fuck out. Silver trying to get Ringil removed or killed. Madi starting to see the value of Ringil as an ally in taking down the slave trade and Silver panicking about it. And if he wants to stop the war now, he has to get rid of the Urca gold and Ringil.
Damn, if only I could write.
#did I just write fanfiction?#and I can't draw either so I'll just have to imagine the fanarts#Two obsessions collided that shouldn't have#A Land Fit for Heroes#Black Sails#Ringil Eskiath#James Flint#read A Land Fit for Heroes but steal it the author is a TERF#it's not nearly as good and coherent as Black Sails but honestly what is#it's still so intense it fucked me up for months#anyway happy pride month
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WARNINGS: dark content. yandere, stalking, obsessive behavior, obsession, suggestive thoughts and sexual thoughts, fake sympathy. minors don't interact
a/n: editing in windows for the first time in years, i deleted all the drabble so re-wrote it from memory -more or less-. i want you all to play 14 days with you cause i wanna scream of how good it is.
He sees you from his place. Entering the supermarket, pretty as you are, with the little list you took notes into this same morning. As soon as you pass by his side, he takes a step ahead, casually colliding with you.
What a coincidental and beautiful encounter.
"O-oh, I wasn't expecting you to be here…" He was lying again.
Of course he was expecting you here, specifically, knowing that you would be here is the main reason why he came. His voice takes you by surprise as his cheeks get red, covering them with the beige sleeves of his soft cardigan, as he bites his lip under the fabric. You're looking so good… As always. It doesn't matter what you do. You always look so perfect for him. "I'm sorry, angel, I didn't mean to scare you…" As soon as you identificate him, you breath, calmly.
"Hey, Ren!" So sweet, how you smile at him. He hopes he's the only one able to see that smile. With your hand pressed against your chest, trying to calm down your heart, you talk. "What a surprise to find you here!"
He doesn't know if you're too innocent or too dumb, but it's incredible how you're unable to think about this casual encounters - that happen, at least, once every two days- as something premeditated. Still, he's not gonna tell you. It would make trash the fairytale of falling in love.
With him, of course. There's no way you can fall in love with someone that's not him.
He takes the sleeves away of his face, pink hair falling in his eyes as he smiles softly towards you. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
As if he doesn't know.
"Just needed some milk." you say, walking slowly. Milk, pads and a plastic bottle for the gym. You're starting tomorrow. At 7 a.m. He booked the same class as you.
Another magnificient and totally casual encounter.
He walks behind you while you give him little chat -about how high prices are.- every time you turn around, you see the shy, quiet boy that follows you blushed. But, as soon as your gaze is again far from him, he smiles devilishly, tongue licking his lips at the beautiful sight of your ass, shaking in front of him. He would prefer to be taking advantage of time between his sheets than there, making you moan his name and remember his fingers deep inside you if you ever dared to fuck another one.
What a dumb thought, you wouldn't. You have him, why would you search another one?
"And why are you here?" you ask, smiling at him, so quietly he wantss to treasure that smile. Cover it. Make it his. He randomly takes some cheese.
"Cheese, ham... I'm gonna make sandwiches for dinner." You laugh, checking the different milk bottles, the prices and the brands. Why do you take such a long time to decide? He already knows you'll end buying the first one. Is expensive in comparison, but the one you like the most. As he thought, you take that one with a sigh.
How can you look so beautiful even now, shopping groceries? People at the supermarket should feel amazed, no, honored, to have you here. They shouldn't pass without looking. Or maybe they should? HE should be the only one to see you.
He wants to be yours and to make you his. To mark every single inch of your skin, in places where neither clothes or hair can cover them. To make your body remember his, his caresses, his kisses, his hugs, his moans, his fingers. To be the only thing on your thoughts. To be filled with him and only him. To have him on your mind all day.
Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him.
He wants to make sure you're drunk of him, so addicted you won't ever leave. And, if you leave... Then, accept the consequences of your actions, angel.
#ren#14 days with you#ren 14 days with you#ren 14dwy#ren x reader#ren x you#ren x y/n#ren/[REDACTED] x reader#14dwy#14dwy headcanons#14dwy fanfiction#14dwy fic#14dwy x reader#tw: yandere#tw: stalking#tw: obsession
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Mated (3)
Mated (1) | Mated (2)
Pairing: Sehun x Reader / Suho x Reader
Genre: Wolf AU
Warning: Violence, Blood etc
Word Count: 2.1k
"Lay!" You call you, helping Sehun into the house. "It happened again." You sigh, helping him onto the couch as Lay comes over to take a look at Sehun's wrist.
Again.
"What the hell triggered it this time." Lay asks, examining the clearly broken wrist.
"Look I'm fine. I heal quickly." Sehun spits, standing up.
"Good, then I can fuck you up again." Suho spits, walking into the house, slamming the door shut. "Yanno Ayn, you're my mate too. You shouldn't play favourites." He spits at you.
"I'm not playing favourites. As I recall, I spent the day with you yesterday." You say, justifying yourself.
"You don't need to be an asshole." Sehun chimes in, making you sigh heavily.
"Should I break your other fucking wrist?" Suho snaps, charging towards Sehun. "Maybe just snap your neck this time."
"Stop it!" You yell. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?" You cry. You push between them, storming out to the yard to clear your head.
You weren't sure how much longer you could live like this. The constant fighting between the two men who were supposed to love you unconditionally was emotionally draining, the fighting for your attention, one always making it seem like the other was getting more was draining, the fact that you couldn't stand to be in the same room with them together was draining. And it wasn't just your relationships with Sehun and Suho that were suffering, the pack was as well.
Suho wasn't acting like the leader he should be, his temper was short, he wasn't the kind and caring man you once knew. He didn't care anymore, his focus was now beating Sehun in every single way possible, it was an unhealthy obsession they both had.
Sehun was the same way. He had a hatred for his leader that he once considered a brother, he needed being the better mate, the better man, just all-around better.
Their competition was exhausting. You were exhausted.
You headed back into the house, grabbing your keys before taking off in your car, heading to the one place you hoped had the answers you desperately needed right now. As you drove you thought about your options, you loved them both, they each had their set of faults along with their good qualities but as of now, everything bad was overshadowing the things that were once good.
"Oh my god." You giggle, running behind the couch. "Stop, please." You beg Sehun.
"No." He laughs. "It's called payback, baby."
You squeal as he lunges for you, running into the kitchen where you're grabbed by Suho.
"I'll save you." Suho smiles, hoisting you over his shoulder and play fighting with Sehun to protect you.
"Put me down." You say, lightly tapping his back.
Suho sets you down and you look up at him, giving him a small peck on the lips. "My hero." You smile before walking over to Sehun and kissing him as well. "My other hero. I'm so lucky." You sigh, looking at the two men who love you most in this world.
Before you knew it, you pulled up outside your parent's house. Your mom had passed away a few years ago but your dad still lived there, mostly spending his days sitting on the porch, drinking coffee while reading his book. He had a lot of knowledge in mates and you knew he would be able to help you out in your situation.
"Hey, dad." You wave, getting out of your car.
"Oh hi, bug." He chuckles, standing up to greet you. "What a nice surprise. What brings you here?" He asks.
"I need some advice." You say, giving him a small hug before sitting down next to him.
"What's on your mind?" He asks.
You pause for a minute, unsure of where to even start when your dad pipes up again. "It's the mates, isn't it? They're different."
"How did you know?"
"Despite there not being much research on it, I did see a Gemini mate once before in my lifetime." He smiles.
"Well, what happened?"
**
Sehun runs down the stairs, his body is tight, he's pissed off and ready to snap at any moment. He figures now would be a good time to go for a run, trying to get some aggression out while you're gone. Of course, he felt bad about putting you into the middle of his fights with Suho, but he couldn't help it. Even with how long it had been he was still jealous. You were never supposed to be with Suho, Sehun never wanted a mate he had to share but he adjusted to it, for you. But now enough was enough. He couldn't stand the way Suho looked at you, the way he smiled at you or spoke to or about you. Sehun needed Suho to disappear, and it needed to happen fast.
He walks out the door, slamming it behind him, making the rest of the men in the living room jump.
"This needs to end." Baekhyun sighs. "I can't walk on eggshells around them anymore."
"I worry if I cough too loud." Chanyeol whines. "Suho yelled at me for breathing yesterday."
"Things are tough but they'll get through it." Minseok sighs. "They have too."
**
Suho runs through the forest, not yet wanting to switch to his wolf form. He feels the burning in his legs as he picks up his pace, sweat dripping down his face as he pushes himself to do better. He knew he needed to be better, for you. But he was struggling because of Sehun. He wanted the whiny fuck away from you, if Sehun wasn't in the picture then things would be so much better. You'd be happier too, he just knew it. If only there was a way to cut the younger one from both of your lives. Suho knew it would be a big risk, somehow getting rid of Sehun, but you would eventually forget about him, and then finally Suho would be the only one in your life, the one that made you smile, the one who had your whole heart. That's all he wanted, was for you to be happy with him.
**
That evening you sent a message to both Sehun and Suho letting them know that you wouldn't be coming home that night. You had too much on your mind and you just needed space to think about things.
"You have to choose one, bug." He tells you. "There's no way around it. Wolves are extremely territorial creatures that do not do well sharing. It's a surprise you have lasted this long before things got bad."
Thinking back you remember the first time you noticed them starting to get short with each other.
"Get the fuck out of my way." Suho snaps at Sehun. You had been sitting on the couch with Sehun, watching a movie when Suho approached, snapping at the two of you cuddling before wanting to get in the middle. You honestly had thought he was joking at the time.
"What are you doing?" You giggle. "You know this is his night."
"Yeah, my night, now fuck off." Sehun growls.
"Okay.." you pause. "Are you both serious?" You ask. You look at both men whose eyes are locked on each other, their chests heaving as they stare each other down. "What the hell is happening?" You ask, moving out of the way.
"I told you, it's my night." Sehun growls.
"What the fuck, you guys?" You yell. "What's wrong with you?"
Suho shakes his head, coming out of whatever mood he was in. He looks at the two of you before apologizing and walking away.
That was only the beginning.
"I know." You sigh. "Maybe I should go and talk to them tonight."
"Can't hurt bug. I love you." Your dad smiles, kissing you on the forehead.
"Thanks, dad. I love you." You say, giving him a quick hug before running to your car. This talk couldn't wait until the morning.
**
"Do you wanna come out?" Lay asks Suho, who was drinking a glass of water.
"No." He answers, placing his cup in the sink before walking away.
"How about you Sehun? You wanna join?" Minseok asks the younger man. He shakes his head no, his eyes never leaving the TV.
"Try not to kill each other while we're gone." Baekhyun mutters as the rest of the pack leaves the two men alone.
Sehun's breathing becomes heavier as he feels Suho still in the kitchen. He hated being even this close to him, he could smell the pathetic need for you from where he was sitting.
"Christ." Sehun snaps, turning off the TV.
"What the fuck is your issue?" Suho spits.
"You and you're fucking need to have her is my issue. She was mine first. Mine!" Sehun yells.
"Well, now she belongs to both of us." Suho chuckles. "You just know if she chose, it would be me. You're too immature for her, she needs a man."
"Doubtful she would choose you. You should hear the way she talks about you after I've shoved my cock in her." Sehun laughs. "Pathetic."
"I'm done." Suho says. "I'm done with this two mates thing."
"Good, so leave us the fuck alone." Sehun smiles.
"No. We fight for her." Suho says. "You and me, tonight. The winner gets to be her mate."
"Loser dies." Sehun declares.
Both men nod at each other before heading outside into the field where the battle will begin.
Both men stand on opposite sides of the field, shifting into their wolf forms. They stand there on all fours growling at each other, each one waiting for the other to lunge.
Suho takes the first leap, running for Sehun. Sehun takes off, both their bodies colliding, snarling at each other.
Suho's mouth grips Sehun's neck, tearing a chunk of fur and skin off making Sehun yelp, but come back even more aggressive. He lunges for Suho, opening his mouth and comping down on his leg, twisting it to break. Suho claws at Sehun, using his head to knock him off.
They both back away, dropping low as they circle each other, snarling and snapping, waiting for the other to lunge until Sehun does.
**
You sped through the dark streets, making your way onto the gravel road just before the house. Out of the corner of your eye you see two large, what look like dogs fighting in the middle of the field. You turn your head to look and instantly recognize the two wolves that were tearing each other apart. You swerve your car into the ditch, driving into the field before throwing it in park and running towards the two men you loved the most.
"Stop!" You yell, your voice cracking as the tears fall from your eyes. You can smell the blood as you near them, both of their bodies are limping, tired and bloody.
"Please stop." You cry, running closer towards them. You should have stopped, you shouldn't have run in any closer but you did. The moment Suho opened his mouth to lunge for Sehun's neck, you stepped in the way, his teeth gripping your neck and shaking before he realized what he had done.
Within seconds Suho releases you and your body drops to the ground, blood spewing from your neck. Instantly they're both back in their human forms, huddling over you, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Ayn.. baby, I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry... I'm so.. sorry." Suho cries as you struggle to breathe. You reach your hand up, stroking his cheek before your eyes turn over to Sehun who is kneeling in the grass, tears shedding. A tear rolls down your cheek as you hiccup, your rigid breath becoming your last as you fade into nothingness.
Rage fills Sehun as he stares at the man who murdered his mate, the man who used to be his brother and leader but was now someone he didn't recognize.
"You did this." Sehun calmly says. "You killed her!" He yells, getting up and charging for Suho who just kneels there. Sehun tackles him, knocking his beaten body to the ground. Suho barely fights, he lays there as Sehun wraps his hands around his throat.
"Do it." Suho whispers. "Kill me. Let me see her again."
Sehun releases his neck, standing up, towering over the man. "You don't deserve that." Sehun says, limping towards the house as he hears the other men running towards them in the field.
"What happened!?" Minseok yells, stopping Sehun before he reaches the house.
He blankly stares at Minseok, trying to speak. "He.." he whispers. "He murdered Ayn." He finishes, moving past him to walk into the house, the fire that was once burning bright inside him was now gone, he was no longer mated.
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No one reads this or connects it with my other online identities but since I've removed personals involvement from my other social media stuff, and I feel like bitching, I am jsut gonna go ahead and do it.
So I have brain damage. Yeaaaaars ago I threw up so hard I actually ripped open the inside of an artery in my neck, and it threw a clot, and that clot did some nasty shit on its way on through and out.
No doctor noticed for two weeks.
Everyone else did.
Good times.
Anyway.
So now I have a damaged brain. Brains don't grow back. Some areas can regenerate a few cells - notably the prefrontal lobe - but mostly brains fix themselves not by regenerating like skin does, but by rearranging the cells we have to fire to fancy new configurations.
This has been quite the ride. Because shit, it changes things.
I don't even know how much of my personality is consistent. No idea. Let alone everything else.
I have memory loss my nurologist won't akowledge because it falls short of dementia. That was the bar. "You don't have dementia, you know what year it is." Gee thanks there chief.
Anyway.
My brain wasn't too stable to begin with. I have always been prone to logic leaps that occur very quickly and not necessarily in ways other people would make them. My mind is jumbled and a little random and things collide all the time that probably shouldn't.
This has become much worse since the brain damage. See, my brain keeps wiring shit together. Shit it really shouldn't. It changes who I am, what I think, what I can think.
It's actually quite terrifying to realise you're a sack of geletine misfiring lighting at itself.
So anyway. To the point. Yes - I have one of those. Probably. It's somewhere in here.
Oh right, no, another detour. I'm autistic. "Oh yeah, they definatly didn't screen girls when I was a kid because how the fuck did they miss this otherwise" autistic.
Back to the point.
Recently I had this sensory processing ... Whatever the fuck that was. I call them.idssocistive episodes. I don't know how accurate that is. But my mind unhooks from my sensory data. Everything feels muted and unreal - sound, sight, touch, heat. Name it. It's wrong.
I hate these.
It gets particularly nasty because there are nurologicsl consequences. See, my concious mind ramps up it's interpretation of sensory data. It goes all in and leaves the rest of my existence stuffed in this tiny little box without enough space to do dick.
One effect of this is I suddenly become highly obsessive. I think it's a comfort mechanism, I require the same stimulus over and over again or to somehow mentally connect it to the same element. Of course, it could also jsut be that obsessive behaviour towards interests is part of who I am. I am autistic. I DEFIANTLY go all in when something fascinates me. But not... Not like this.
Do you have ANY IDEA how many times I watched starwars 8 in 72 hours? Any clue? Holy fricking ... Something. I watched it fast. I watched it slow. I watched it skipping ahead 10 seconds every 10 seconds. I dissected that thing in micrscopic detail.
It gets better. Because mere hours before I got hit with this episode... I was not a starwars fan.
Nope. I watched it. It was ok. I wasn't going out of my way for it.
And suddenly. Wham. Episode 8. All the time. I watched some 7 and 9 as well but it was like it was entierly because eit was connected to 8.
I cannot even.
And while this is happening, *I know*. I know. I really do. I know this isn't my normal behaviour. I know this isn't my wheelhouse. I know something is deeply, deeply wrong in my brain.
I think it might actually be an ok movie, honestly. But not THAT good. And now it's one of my favourite things. Forever. I have no idea if it's actually good. Did I not give eit a chance the first time? Is my obsessive brain simply emotionally hooked up how? Fuck, I don't know.
So that's why I'm posting today. On this day. May 4th.
I'm seeing a lot of star wars today and it's making my brain tickle with it's own ridiculousness.
Not the whole point though. Because it lasted 72 hours (I watched dit one more time after that and if wasn't near as intense).
But what happened AFTER my 72 hours as an obsessive raylo (oh yeah. I went there. I'm not even ashamed. I am also compeltely content with the end they got, because I do not see that shit working out).
Brains don't regrow. They rewire.
And suddenly, I'm drawing. Like... A lot. I filled pages of doodles. Sketches. I redrew a peice I'd been working on for about a month in a few hours and damnit, it was good. It's not professional quality but I'd never down anything that well before. This goes on for another day. And then I started a story, and I wrote 2000 words all at once.
I'm dyslexic. And words are severely impacted by my brain damage to the point it can cause me phsycial pain to force my thoughts in to words.
And here I am. Going nuts on my phone. The words just spilling out and again - damnit, it was good shit.
My brain was abstracting. Where the concious sort had been shunted, it wasn't directing the abstracting aspect of my mind.
And I was making cognative leaps. My brain was wiring itself together for creativity.
For another 24 hours.
And now, dear reader, we get to now.
I have written 200 words in the last 2 days. They feel wrong.
I started and stopped a dozen images. None of them feel right. And there are objective quality differences.
I can still draw a bit. If I'm not tired. I'm almost always tired - it's neural fatigue, it comes with surviving a brain damage.
I have somehow brain damaged my way in to better skills.
And it's... It's not a good feeling.
Doing it the first time and watching something take place in front of my eyes I don't recognise was like magic. It was euphoric. Amazing. Exciting.
Realising as time wears on that the ability to do this is intrinsically tied in to the way ones brain handles brain damage and sensory processing issues?
Not a great feeling cats. Not at all.
I find myself staring at a document willing words on tot he page that just aren't there anymore and feeling so frustrated I could scream.
Whose idea was this anyway? Why can't I keep my rewiring?
It's so hard dto explain the feeling of loss.
It's not me who did these things. A version of me, yes. But not the one we are keeping.
The one we keep struggles to hold a narrarive in her head and the narrator's tone took 3 rewritten to preserve for a single paragraph.
I don't want to stop. But how do I keep going? I'm not the author anymore and I've always struggled with adopting the tone of others.
So yeah. That's where I'm at. And I wanna talk about it. Because I don't want to be alone. But I can't escape the feeling I'm being dramatic. Terribly dramatic. And so talking about it is hard. How much is my own spin and perception and how much is real?
Did this really happen?
I think it did. But like every story I tell, I don't know. Memory loss. Cognetive issues.
I just wanna tell stories and draw. But the words hurt and the art makes me tired.
It's frustrating is all.
I hate being lighting geletine.
In case you're wondering what kind of cognative leap happened:
That one is april 4th.
And that one April 28th.
🤷♀️
Fucked if I know, really.
#brain damage#star wars#wtf was that#autism#writing#drawing#spd#art#experiances#ramblings#and why not#so tired#and now i have a headache#i have no idea why Im even writing this#weirdly obsessive brain#just brain stuff#neurology#neurodivergent#brain damage is fucked up#that time i was brain damaged and joined a fandom#its not a bad fandom. im just confused.#i dont get tags#lightning geletine#i miss me
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