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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

So Many Signs (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara tries to ignore the obvious, while Taehyung finally loses his cool.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, sexism, mention of assault, infidelity, longing, heartbreak

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be posting this so soon but I do want to reach a certain point in their story before I continue posting for other members. This one’s long, but I hope you like it! It takes place about a week after Chingu.

This is also a submission for the 2023 K-Pop Fanfic Bingo Event “The Sound of Music”, using the square with one of my favourite childhood songs, Moon Glow by Benny Goodman.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “moon glow” by benny goodman

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

It’s close to the end of the calendar once the Portuguese GP rolls around. It seems to have awoken both PR teams as well, for the schedule suddenly tightens up and two photoshoots, one advertisement and a Run episode filming are all squeezed into a single week.

The first of the photoshoots takes place in a nice, leafy garden in the outskirts of Portimao, rented for the entire day for the shoot. For once, the participants from the F1 side of things nearly match the BTS members in number, with not just the Red Bull drivers there, but also the AlphaTauri ones, along with Max’s girlfriend Kelly accompanying them.

Maybe it’s the peace of the outdoors; maybe it’s the fact that on the plane ride over, Dilara had a front row seat to the view of Taehyung sleeping as he hugged a pillow. Either way, for the first time in forever, Dilara realises she isn’t counting down the minutes until the shoot is over.

The next day, the Thursday before the race weekend, the same day BTS is meant to join as well, she goes for an early morning run at the paddock before her own team PR begins for the day. A Run episode is meant to be filmed on the circuit and wrap up before the other drivers arrive, and Dilara watches as the crew sets up at top speed, even before the members arrive.

After her run, she’s getting a glass of water in the Red Bull enclosure when she feels someone come up behind her. When she turns, she almost spills the water on herself when she sees maybe three inches of distance between her and Jaden Park.

“Shit!” she mutters, taking a step back right into the water cooler. Jaden grabs her arm to steady her and, when she tries to take it back, doesn’t let go for a moment. Dilara’s heart skips a beat but then he drops her arm and sort of forces a smile onto his face.

It does nothing to comfort her, and she suddenly wishes more than ever that Chris or Fred were here. “Hi - hi… Jaden,” she stammers, taking a deep breath to slow her heart.

“Hey.” Jaden shoves his hands into his pockets. “I, um… I saw you last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“At Albert’s Bar?” He nods, assuming her acknowledgment. “You were with BTS, right?”

Fuck. Aside from the fact that she had stepped out for drinks with her housemates the previous night that now seems to have been seen by people, she thinks she can predict what Jaden’s line of thinking is with this.

“Um… yeah, Max and all of us did a photoshoot with them yesterday, so we went out for a drink after,” she tells him, pleasantly surprised at how normal she sounds.

“That’s nice. Feel up to going again?” He cocks one eyebrow and gives her a small smile.

Unsurprised and unimpressed, she exhales. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaden,” she says firmly, not in the mood to try and let him down easy. She moves to walk past him but he blocks her way. Heart hammering, she looks up at him, slightly incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“So you can have a drink with seven guys but not one with me?” he asks, that strange frown still on his face.

Dilara scoffs. “I wasn’t having a drink with seven guys, I went out for drinks with a few colleagues,” she clarifies through gritted teeth, part of her wondering why she’s even giving this guy an explanation. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You really made up your mind about me after one date?” he demands, frowning. “It's… I mean, you're free to reject me if you don't like me but…" He shrugs, "... this just seems unfair."

She raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Jaden," she continues quickly, now reaching the end of her fuse, "I told you, alright? It's nothing to do with you. I'm just not dating. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't have this conversation again." She moves to walk away again and, yet again, he steps in front of her.

"Then what is it? The least you can do is give me an explanation, Dilara." He's dropped all pretense of politeness, practically glaring at her now.

She stares at him, contemplating. There's a hundred things she can rip into this guy regarding his behaviour, but she knows there's only one thing that will work with a guy like him - she hopes.

"Look, I…" Dilara exhales, heavily resenting that she has to do this, "when you asked me out, I'd just got out of a relationship, okay? It was complicated and - and I was still working my way through it. There’s - there’s another guy," she clarifies, disgusted yet unsurprised at the sudden understanding on his face.

"So… I was, what? A rebound?"

"No," she says immediately, sensing a bruised ego. "I didn't realise I was still… not over it until we went out. And I didn't want to lead you on any further," she explains, suddenly realising she’s not totally lying.

"Right." Jaden nods, jaw clenched. "And, uh… this guy. Your ex. Is he here? Is he in F1?"

It's a complicated answer, but Dilara is out of patience with him. "I don't think that's important," she says hastily, wanting to shut down whatever man-to-man ape nonsense is going on in his head at the earliest. "And, uh… yeah. So I think we can just put this behind us now? And be colleagues? Great," she says in one quick breath, and without waiting for him to respond, she sidles away, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It rankles Dilara all day, how entitled some men are and how only the mention of another man can get them to back down. She takes it out on all the men around her, refusing to pass Max a bottle of water when he asks, and later in the afternoon, sniping at a reporter for asking her how she manages her personal life. She knows she’s not a good person to be around right now so when she goes back to the house, she heads straight away to the home gym to work out some of her frustrations before she snaps at someone else.

It works; she over indexes on the weights and barbells, working up a good sweat. She loses track of time, too; when she glances out of the window towards the end of her session, the sky is a dark indigo, almost black, and she feels a light and cool breeze blowing in, feeling incredible against her damp skin.

She runs into Jimin as she’s leaving, who offers her a can of beer and a smile.

“It’s a race weekend,” she says in explanation, her hands still in her pockets.

“You drank last night,” he points out.

“Exactly. I think I maxed out my quota of booze for the week. Especially booze with this many calories,” she adds, tapping the can and moving to walk past him.

“No worries,” he says easily, falling into step beside her. The walk to the house is a few minutes away; Jimin manages to keep the silence going for about half a minute before speaking again.

“I don’t mean to… what’s the word? Pry?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I don’t mean to pry, but… you and Taehyung seemed to be getting along well yesterday.”

Dilara looks up after a moment, surprised to see how hopeful his smile is. “Was that a question?” she asks after a moment.

“Um…” He looks mildly confused for a second. “Not really. It was nice, that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wants is to mislead anyone - especially when she has no idea what she wants herself.

“Does that mean you’re…” Jimin trails off but when Dilara doesn’t respond, he sighs uncomfortably. “Do you think you might… I mean, will you two be okay?”

Deliberately not looking up at him, she responds carefully. “What does okay mean?”

“Just…” The leaves under their feet crunch in the silence. “Will you go back to normal?”

They’ve almost reached the house. She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the porch. “And by normal you mean… before we broke up?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it’s apparent he’s already regretting bringing it up. “Maybe? It’s just… I mean, what more needs to happen? He can’t take it back, you know… what he did.”

“I do know,” she says forcefully. “And, yeah, a lot more needs to happen. Starting with him having this conversation himself,” she mutters, starting to walk away when he pulls her back. Startled at the second time today, she jerks back.

“S-sorry. Just… God, please don’t tell him about this,” he begs, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you? Is he that miserable to be around?”

“Oh, yeah.” A brief smile flashes across his face before it fades. “But it’s not just him, okay? When I said it was nice seeing you together yesterday… I mean it was nice to see you like that, too.” His gaze falls slightly. “I think we’re friends, too, right?”

Dilara frowns, for she hasn’t the faintest where this conversation is going. “I - sure. But if you’re asking me if us having a conversation yesterday without breaking down means we’re going to get back together… then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jimin sighs and nods. “I know it doesn’t. But… I don’t know, are you waiting for something?”

There’s something about that question that makes her bristle. “Waiting for something? Like I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to prove himself and pass some test so I can take him back? Do you think I’m having fun or something?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Because the answer is no, Jimin. No, I am not waiting for anything. I waited enough, alright?” she reminds him. “I waited a long time for him to say something before I blocked him and made sure he never could. All I’m doing right now is just… I’m just trying to not be so angry anymore. Because it’s not helping anyone.”

She starts walking backwards towards the house as Jimin processes this response, hoping he gets it. Just as she’s about to turn, he looks up.

“I’m sorry, Dilara. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry. That’s my whole point.”

He raises his eyebrows but thankfully lets it go. “Fine. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Dilara nods. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she repeats after a moment, a little calmer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not… hoping for something.”

Jimin frowns. “Like what?”

She bites her lip before sighing. “Like - like a sign. Maybe. This is not an easy decision - not least because I don’t even know what he wants. It’s -” But she’s interrupted by his scoff.

“Come on, I’m sure even Max Verstappen knows what Taehyung wants,” he tells her, laughing softly.

Dilara narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t take his word about this. He’s too complicated for me to guess.”

“Max?”

“No, T- you’re… V,” she stutters, rolling her eyes at the blatant slip. “He can’t just waltz back into my life because a PR plan forced me to let him back in.” She starts walking backwards again, careful not to miss the steps on the porch. “That’s what’s always happened. He’s just had to sit back and everything has fallen into place for him. I need an indication, at least, that it’s different this time. I don’t know what that is, I don’t know what it’ll look like… but I need -”

“A sign.” Jimin nods, looking at least somewhat as though he understands what she means. “I get it.”

“Good.” Hoping the conversation ends here, she turns on the spot and opens the door, almost getting a heart attack when she sees Taehyung standing there and pulling on a jacket.

“What - How did you -”

“Gwaenchanha?”

It takes her a moment to be able to answer as she catches her breath. “No, not really,” she gasps, wondering if all the men on the planet have planned to constantly startle her wherever she is. “I - were you standing here this whole time?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. A lock of blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead, the rest of his face absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

Dilara stares at him, suddenly mortified at the thought of him overhearing her talk to Jimin about this, or worse, her need for a sign. “I mean… you know what I mean,” she finishes lamely.

“Not really.” He glances at Jimin behind her and nods in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “The team wants to take a couple of extra shots at night, so I’m heading there with Jungkook. You want to come?”

He asks so casually, as though he’s asking her if she wants to go to the grocery store with him, that her heart flutters unexpectedly. “I - your staff won’t like that,” is her first response, before she cringes inwardly. “And also… no. No… thank you.”

Taehyung nods, looking as though he expected it. “No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Dilara watches him leave in silence, his gait cool and smooth as he passes by Jimin, murmuring something in Korean before heading out. She tries to count herself lucky; it doesn’t seem as though he’d overhead her - but if he has, she may as well just begin avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of her life.

Jimin, apparently waiting for Taehyung to be fully out of earshot this time, grins at her. “That kind of sign?”

“No,” she says immediately, entering the house. “Never that kind of sign.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, following her into the house and shutting the door behind him. “It’s him - he’s the sign,” he explains dramatically.

Dilara gives him a pointed look, stopping at the door to her bedroom. “Never that kind of sign.”

—

The next day when Dilara sees BTS in the paddock, her gaze goes straight to Taehyung and Jimin. They're walking next to each other, albeit talking to members on their other sides. She tries to look elsewhere; it's officially race weekend again and she can't afford to be distracted. It's hard, though, because her situation with Taehyung is complicated enough; the last thing she wants is for a private conversation to have been overheard by him, however accidental it may have been.

So Dilara avoids them all day, all of them. She tries not to make it obvious because she’s glad that they’re all finally getting back on decent terms, so she opts to spend time in the garage with the rest of the team, going over free practice times and tyre strategies for Qualifying tomorrow. Even when Jaden Park, who's supposed to be in Max's garage and not hers, accidentally-on-purpose bumps into her and she notices Seokjin looking at them and frowning, she keeps her goal in mind and handles it herself.

It’s a success, for the most part. Her car feels fantastic and the paddock generally seems more lively this weekend for some reason; she doesn’t know if it has to do with the nice weather or the fact that Portimao is generally an exciting race every year. Either way, it’s good for her because in her effort to avoid BTS and give them their space, she ends up spending time with all the other drivers.

Later in the evening, when the paddock is emptying out, Dilara is on her way to the Red Bull conference room for a team briefing when she gets a notification from Jimin. Heart hammering slightly, she swipes it open.

Jimin [19:52] Dilara. Please stop avoiding him because of me.

Dilara [19:53] I’m not? Why would you think that?

Jimin [19:53] Have you said anything to him at all today?

Dilara [19:54] I have gone many many days without saying a single word to him. Did you by any chance tell him what we talked about yesterday?

Jimin [19:56] Of course not. Please don’t avoid him because of that. He’s really confused - I can tell.

Dilara [19:56] Jimin. I’m not avoiding him. Really. I just don’t know what to say to him, to be very honest.

Jimin [19:57] What? Things were getting so much better between you two.

Dilara [19:58] Well, sure. We weren’t throwing things at each other and screaming anymore. That’s a pretty low bar.

Jimin [19:58] Fair enough. Will you be joining us for dinner?

Dilara [19:59] Not sure. I have to go for a briefing. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jimin [20:00] Want me to tell him to pick you up? You guys could talk.

Dilara [20:00] Omg NO. Jimin!

Jimin [20:00} What? He’ll be happy to do it.

Dilara [20:01] I’m sure he would. Look, Jimin, I know you feel guilty about your part in this, okay? If this is your way of trying to help - you’re off the hook. I forgive you.

Jimin [20:02] Really?

Dilara [20:02] Yes.

There’s no response. Dilara slows down slightly, wondering if her hunch is actually right. She’d only said that to shut him up, but his silence seems to indicate otherwise.

Then -

Jimin [20:05] Did you kiss last week?

Dilara [20:06] I fucking beg your pardon?

Jimin [20:07] Hobi hyung said he saw you guys hugging. If I remember correctly, you two had no problem going further than that in public.

Dilara [20:08] Jimin. Shut up.

Jimin [20:09] Just a question. Jeez.

Dilara [20:09] I dare you to go ask him this.

Jimin [20:10] Well played.

Dilara [20:11] Look, Jimin, I have to go. Just… I’m not avoiding him, okay? And even if it seems like it, it’s probably for the best.

When Jimin doesn’t reply, she breathes a silent sigh of relief. She’s almost at the conference room now and she’s getting late, but she needs to know this conversation is closed. Then, just when she thinks she can move on with her day, a picture pops up on the chat. It’s of Taehyung, shockingly, in the backyard with his blond hair catching the setting sun as he points - her heart skips a beat - the Polaroid she’d gifted him at the horizon.

Realising with a start that she’s been staring at it for almost a minute, Dilara types out a reply, fingers shaking slightly.

Dilara [20:15] What am I looking at?

Jimin [20:15] He’s been out there for an hour now. He looks like he’s in a k-drama.

If by that he means that Taehyung looks tall, handsome and tragic all at once, he’s right. Dilara feels a familiar rush of mild envy and pride all at once, and knows she needs to nip this in the bud.

Dilara [20:16] Well, he certainly acts well enough to be in one. I have to go. I’ll see you later.

All through the briefing, Dilara can’t help but think that her decision to avoid them is for the best, if Jimin’s reaction is anything to go by. Even after the briefing, she dilly-dallies near the enclosure, wondering how to kill even more time before she has no choice but to head back to the house.

Dilara sighs and glances down at her phone. It’s barely seven; she can’t hang around here for five hours… she looks around, wondering if she can possibly hang around with her pit crew to fix her car or something, when she suddenly catches sight of a small group of them and sees Jaden Park in the middle of it. Her heart in her mouth at how narrowly she’s avoided him, she turns the opposite way and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Then, a miracle happens.

Dilara’s phone pings and she groans softly, not in the mood for more of Jimin’s guilt trip. Honestly, she’s glad that her confession of sorts seems to have indeed been kept from Taehyung, but she’s more convinced than ever that both of them need this space to clear their heads.

Max [22:40] Komyshan. Heading out for a bite with Daniel, Lando and Charles. You’re coming, right?

Her heart leaps and she thinks if her taste were slightly different, she could kiss Max Verstappen. She types out a reply, not even trying to suppress the relieved smile she can feel on her face. Rapidly saying a quick yes, she skips over to the parking lot.

As she nears it, she feels something nagging at her, tugging at her heart. She reopens her chat with Jimin, slowly scrolling up until she finds it.

He’s really confused - I can tell.

There is no reason this should evoke any sympathy in her. She should want him to feel bad for everything he did, but that angry part of her feels like a past version, like a person she used to know. If anything, she knows how he feels, with the confusion - and she realises it’s not sympathy, but empathy she’s starting to feel for him, especially if he’s had Jimin breathing down his neck the entire time as well.

Dilara scrolls further down to the picture Jimin sent her of Taehyung; of course he looks like a model, like a stock photo. Perfect body proportions, perfect jawline silhouette, perfectly falling hair, capturing perfect pictures, looking perfectly heartbroken.

She sighs again, struggling. Things were getting so much better with you two. It’s the validation she didn’t know she needed. She recalls how his unexpected appearance behind the front door had taken her breath away last night.

Feeling apprehensive, she opens her chat with Taehyung to see only two messages, from the night Chris visited. She bites her lip, deciding that she needs to tell someone where she is anyway or they’re bound to get worried. Thumb hovering over the keyboard momentarily, she types out a message.

Dilara [22:50] I’m going out with some of the guys. Not sure when I’ll be back but let’s talk later?

Dilara hits send and immediately panics. Talk? Talk about what? She groans out loud, attracting the attention of her fellow drivers. When Max calls out “Komyshan!”, she waves back tiredly and walks towards them. After they’re all strapped in and Charles is reversing out of the parking lot, she receives a reply.

Tae [22:52] I’ll be waiting.

---

He isn’t, not exactly.

It actually ends up being an extremely late night for them; Dilara and her friends go back to the same club that she’d gone to with BTS two nights ago and although they don’t drink nearly as much and definitely don’t dance, it ends up being a pretty fun night overall and actually succeeds in making her forget about her love life for a couple of hours. When it’s finally time to go, it’s almost one in the morning, just as she’d hoped.

Dilara is pleasantly surprised when Max drops off the other three before driving her back to the house, remembering that they can’t let the group’s location be revealed to anyone. They don’t talk about it, thankfully, but when he stops the car and she’s about to open the door, he finally speaks.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Max points to the house. “Are you two good now?”

She shrugs. “No idea, honestly.”

He frowns, looking mildly curious. “Oh. Looked like everything was fine at the photoshoot the other day. You two looked like you were sneaking around again.”

We were? Dilara’s confusion must show on her face, for Max chuckles. “Obviously, I’m wrong. Anyway,” he says abruptly, and she takes that as her cue to step out, “good luck for tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

When she enters the house, it’s to see all seven members huddled on the sofa, with Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the back of the couch. She frowns and stares as the door clicks shut behind her, wondering why on earth they feel the need to pile on top of each other while there are two more perfectly comfortable couches right next to them.

Then she spots the laptop perched on the coffee table in front of them and when Jin says something in Korean and a couple of them laugh and Jimin replies, she realises they're live.

All their eyes flicker up to look at her, though, before quickly darting back to the screen, their expressions carefully unchanging - all except Taehyung.

He meets her gaze; with his long hair brushing his ears and a green cardigan making him look warm and inviting, it’s no wonder she doesn’t look away for a couple of seconds before he tears his eyes away to look back at the screen.

Sensing this as the ultimate opportunity to avoid whatever conversation he has in mind, Dilara swiftly makes her way into her bedroom and quietly shuts the door. Hesitating for exactly one second, she crosses her bedroom and opens her tablet, the only device she has that still has the Vlive app, and joins the stream.

Taehyung looks up again in the direction of her room before turning his attention back to the screen, and for a moment it feels like he’s looking right at her. He glances vaguely over at the rest of them before he locks eyes with Namjoon and - it happens in a split second - Namjoon gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

Dilara lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, somewhat thankful yet regretful that she won’t hear a knock on her door right now. The next moment, though, she sees Taehyung look down at his lap again and pick up his phone this time, fingers flying over the screen. Right on cue, her phone buzzes next to her.

She scoffs quietly, ignoring how her heart leaps in spite of itself, unsurprised to see a message.

Tae [01:10] How was your night?

Dilara [01:11] Tiring.

Tae [01:12] Still up for that talk?

Dilara [01:13] Aren’t you live?

Tae [01:13] I go live a lot.

Dilara [01:14] Namjoon looks like he could kill you if you left.

Tae [01:14] Hold on, are you watching?

Dilara feels like slapping herself. When she looks up at the screen, she sees his cheeks pulled back slightly, head still bent over his phone.

Dilara [01:15] Just a guess. Can we take a raincheck? I’m pretty tired and I have Qualifying tomorrow.

On screen, he freezes for a moment and she thinks she notices his shoulders fall slightly. He types something before locking his phone and looking up at the camera, tossing his hair out of his eyes, face completely unreadable. Her phone pings, and her heart thuds softly at his reply.

Tae [01:16] Of course. Sleep well.

The next day, the flaw with her proposition comes to light when Dilara, once again, sees them in the paddock. She’s been in the garage for nearly two hours by the time Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon arrive. Given the public setting, the most she can do is wave to them from afar and ignore Jimin giving her a pointed look.

She’d thought long and hard about it as she fell asleep last night, the content of their “talk”. We need space, she’d rehearsed in her head. Just to think. Just to figure this out. Short and vague, the best way to go.

Of course, talking about space isn’t the best decision, especially since none of their conversations have ever gone as planned. They either fight or cry or both, and she’d really rather avoid any of that. As a result, she avoids all of them, specifically Jimin’s texts and even Jungkook when he comes up to her car, eyes shining in admiration. She engages with him while the cameras are on them but the moment they drift away, she immediately excuses herself and hurries into her changing room.

It’s Qualifying day, though, so there’s enough to do in any case. Dilara goes out for FP3, having long and serious discussions with Christian, all his attention on her for once since Max will start tomorrow from the back of the grid due to his penalty.

Dilara feels strangely stressed, still. Part of it is Qualifying, part of it is having Max all the way back in P20 and therefore of no support to her, part of it is Jimin’s continuous texts, Taehyung’s presence, their impending conversation, and Jaden bumping into her yet again - except this time, he’s openly cold.

“Good luck,” he says shortly, brushing past her.

“Thanks,” says Dilara automatically, stumbling slightly while he continues walking.

“Pity you didn’t get the new engine,” he adds, turning around and walking backwards.

“Bite me, Park.”

She shakes her head as he disappears around a corner, the competitiveness emerging in full force. One date, one date and this is the fallout she has to deal with. She makes sure to continue thinking about it, enjoying the anger she knows will help when she gets into the car and zooms into Q3, eventually qualifying P3 for the race tomorrow.

Everyone’s happy; Christian hugs her, Max comes from inside the garage in jeans, hugging her for the cameras, and Natalie Pinkham interviews her, Lewis and George, all the top three qualifiers, one by one.

Dilara still evades the group, though; she sees Namjoon smile at her from across the garage and tentatively smiles back, but looks at no one else. She’s aware of what a terrible job she’s doing with this; she doesn’t even want to imagine what Taehyung’s face looks like when she ignores him. But there’s only so much she can focus on during a race weekend, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Dilara does have one moment of pleasure, though; on her way back inside for a shower, she passes Jaden again.

“Looks like I won’t be needing that engine after all,” she says innocently, mimicking his shrug and ignoring his scowl as she walks away.

She manages to sneak away from the paddock without the group. There’s a sponsorship meeting they have with the Red Bull marketing team, which was the reason they even showed up today, and the moment she spotted them shuffling into the conference room between engineers and press officers darting about, she hurried away, keen to get back home and lock herself up in her room until she has to go to sleep.

The house is a fifteen minute walk from the paddock. Dilara tries to let go of everything else for a while and just enjoy the weather in silence, along with her P3 starting position and her jab at a bitter ex-flame. It’s peaceful, the last rays of the sun lighting up the sky while the cool breeze makes autumn leaves crunch under her shoes. The house is two minutes away now, within her view, when her phone pings yet again, followed by a series of pings.

Frowning - and panicking, slightly - she opens her phone to see eight messages on the most ridiculous WhatsApp group she’s a part of: Taehyung’s true loves, courtesy Jimin, who added her and Jungkook in an effort to convince her that their friendship is independent of her relationship with Taehyung. Neither she nor Jungkook had ever said anything on it, too awkward to, so eventually after a series of whiny messages, Jimin had stopped as well.

Dilara has no desire to start becoming an active participant now. With all the strength in her, she locks her phone and is about to slip it into her bag when it buzzes, the ringtone loud in the quiet of the street.

Huffing, she answers it. “What?”

“Dilara? Uh… have you left?”

“What… Jungkook?” Unexpected, to say the least. “What are you - I mean, yeah. I have. Why?”

“You should come back,” is all he says. “Taehyung hyung kind of… it’s a bit of a situation.”

This explains nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Jungkook’s voice moves away, as though he’s speaking to someone else. “I think he - I think punched your ex? That guy? Or - or he tried to, anyway. He’s not the best at -”

“He what?”

“Yeah, no, his stance wasn’t very good either and -” There’s a shuffle and she hears the phone transferred to someone else.

“Hey, Dilara,” comes Jimin’s voice, calm - and smug. “Remember when you said you needed a sign? I think you just got one.”

–

Her legs are starting to cramp but Dilara doesn;t stop, not until she gets to the garage. She spots Jimin and Jungkook hovering at the entrance, shoulders relaxing in relief when they see her.

“What - the - hell?” she pants, stopping for the first time since the phone call.

“Holy shit, did you run all the way?” Jimin asks, ignoring her shake of the head as she tries to catch her breath. “Here, have some water first.”

“What happened?” Dilara asks desperately, reaching for the water anyway and downing half of it in one go. “What do you mean he - and who’s -” There are so many moving parts to it that she falters, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her chest.

“Jaden,” answers Jungkook. “The pit crew guy. He said…” He swallows and looks at Jimin apprehensively.

Her heart skips a beat. “What? Jungkook, what?” Then she remembers. “Wait, where the hell is he?”

“The medic is trying to stop his nose from bleeding,” answers Jimin, sounding repulsed. “Hope it hurts,” he adds savagely.

Her eyes widen and she slaps him on the shoulder. “Not him!”

Jimin blinks, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Oh. Taehyung’s over there - but he’s really angry so be careful when you -”

But Dilara ignores him, brushing past both of them into the changing room he’s pointed at. Kicking the door open, she sees Seokjin standing next to Taehyung, who’s sitting holding an ice pack over his limp hand, while Jin speaks rapidly in Korean, sounding rather like he’s lecturing him. Taehyung looks up mid-wince, face going slack when he sees her, as though he can’t quite believe she’s here.

Seokjin mutters something when he sees her and pats his shoulder before walking out past her, giving her a small nod as he does. Dilara doesn’t look away from Taehyung, though. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other, him with apprehension and defiance, and she with an overwhelming sense of anger… and fear. There’s so much she wants to say, yell, scream that she can’t choose.

She walks forward until she’s standing right above him. “Give me the icepack.”

Taehyung’s face reacts minutely before smoothing back out. He looks back down at his hands and shakes his head. “No.”

Dilara stares at him, incredulous. “Give me the icepack,” she repeats. “And you better start explaining while you’re at it.”

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he mumbles, twisting his body away from her. When she lunges towards him, livid and missing his hand by inches, he looks up in horror. “What are you doing?” he cries. “Do you have any idea how much this hurts?”

Her chest constricts. She reaches forward and takes off his snapback, just for something to do. “Then give it to me!”

“What the - no! Go away!”

“No way. You don’t get to cause drama on my paddock and then tell me to -”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“Goddamnit, Tae! Why do you have to make everything so difficult!” she shouts in frustration. “Just give me the fucking icepack!”

Taehyung stares up at her, eyes wide. He takes a shaky breath and she realises with a jolt that for the first time since they broke up, she’s addressed him by his name. Tae… She hasn’t said that name out loud in months, not to Jimin, not to Lexie, not even to herself.

Silently, he raises his hand and hands her the icepack. Taking it, she kneels in front of him and takes his right hand, gingerly placing the icepack on it. He hisses but keeps his hand steady, and she carefully continues, trying not to think about how close they are, how she can feel him looking at her.

His knuckles are red and bruised, but thankfully not bleeding. She tries to hold his hand as gently as possible, but firmly enough that he can’t pull away because she really, really doesn't want to let go of him right now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands in a low voice, not looking up. “How could you -” she breaks off, shaking her head.

It’s a moment before Taehyung answers. “It’s not important.” When her head snaps up to look at him incredulously, he frowns and looks away, shrugging stubbornly.

“How is it -” Dilara pauses with the icepack for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “You hit him. You punched him - apparently.”

He frowns. “What do you mean apparently?” he asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically, holding up his hand and ignoring his dramatic gasp. “Look at this. Have you ever punched anything before?”

“Jungkook taught me once. Kind of.”

“That’s great. And now Jaden is with the medic getting his nose fixed! How is why not important?”

Taehyung scoffs in disgust. “There was barely any blood. Don’t worry, his stupid face will be fine,” he mutters scathingly.

Dilara glares up at him again, fighting the urge to smack the back of his head. “I don’t care about him!” She ignores how he suddenly looks up, as though surprised. “What about you? You - you hurt your hand!” She takes a deep breath. “What if he complains? He - he will complain and then Red Bull -” She gasps as something horrific occurs to her. “What if they - what if Big Hit gets involved? This - this is a PR disaster!”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have heard most of what she’s said. “It - it will be fine,” he says finally, but she can hear an undertone of worry in his voice. “Namjoon hyung is talking to the team.” He swallows. “I trust him.”

Don’t we all. But Red Bull is a whole other matter. “God, Tae…” She drops her head before raising it slowly to look up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t about what you overheard the other night.”

He says nothing for a moment but then frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign. When I told him that -” But it’s too much to explain and she doesn’t have the patience to get him to admit something he doesn’t want to - if he indeed has something to admit to. “Forget it. What did he say? Jaden?”

Predictably, Taehyunglowers his eyes again. “I can’t tell you. But he deserved it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I mean that there’s no point if I tell you. He said a lot of stupid stuff but if I tell you, then it’s not - it’s not…” He sighs and looks away, and she knows he’s searching for the English word. “It doesn’t mean anything if I tell you,” he says finally, giving up.

Dilara stares. “Are you telling me… you punched a guy - badly - and hurt your hand and you can’t tell me because you’re trying to be chivalrous?” When his eyes light up at the sound of the word he was looking for, she snaps. “You - what? You jeopardized your career to - to defend my honour? Are you actually serious?”

“You didn’t hear him,” he states, frowning down at her now. “You don’t know what he was saying. And no, I’m not telling you,” he adds before she can ask again. “But, yeah. What he said was horrible. And…” He shrugs defiantly. “I didn’t like hearing that about you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. She should be flattered, and she thinks she is, but it pales in comparison to how worried she is for him right now. He has no idea the power Red Bull holds - none at all. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispers. “He could press charges. How are you not more worried?”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker. “I don’t think he will,” he says, but his fake confidence doesn’t fool her. “I - I don’t regret it.” He meets her gaze. “Everything he said was bullshit,” he blurts. “He doesn’t know you at all. Seriously, I can’t believe you went out with him.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”

He frowns churlishly. “He’s an asshole. He -” Taehyung stops himself, biting down on his lip. “You are so out of his league,” he says eventually, looking away.

After a moment, she dips the icepack onto his hand again, slowly, concentrating on nothing else. “You’re an idiot,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her. “Such a drama queen.”

Taehyung rests his other hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb lightly against her jaw. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but she doesn’t think she’s the one that needs it right now. “I still can’t believe you did this. You’re going to be in so much trouble, Tae,” she repeats, looking up at him again. His eyes soften when she says his name again, and she can tell it means the world to him. But right now, she doesn’t care about that.

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I told you, I trust Namjoon hyung,” he reminds her, eyes flickering to her mouth momentarily. But then a shadow passes across his face. “I just hope I haven’t got him in trouble.”

To that, Dilara has nothing to say. The ice has almost melted now; they’re basically just holding hands, but even the realisation doesn’t make her want to let go. “What did he say?” she tries again, deciding that disdain towards Jaden is better than this worry for his leader. “Jaden?”

Taehyung’s face twists in disgust; somehow he still manages to look handsome and sexy all at once. “I told you, I’m not telling you,” he says obstinately, a slight smirk appearing when she rolls her eyes.

“I can’t think what would be so bad that you’d do this,” she confesses, shaking her head. “You never struck me as the violent type.”

He frowns. “I’m not. But you make me step out of my comfort zone quite a bit,” he adds, cracking a smile.

Dilara holds his gaze, not sure what about the situation today could have required it. It’s not surprising that Jaden would’ve said something, maybe even something really bad. Did he call her a bad driver? A slut? A whore? She’s mildly shocked at how little those words affect her, especially when it’s in comparison to the sheer terror she’s feeling for Taehyung right now.

She’s just contemplating how she will face him and the rest of the group if it turns out that she’s the reason BTS goes from seven to six members, when he bumps her forehead with his. “Stop worrying,” he chides gently. “It’s happened now. We’ll see how it goes.”

Even as her heart races at the momentary proximity of their faces, she glares up at him. “I can’t stop worrying. You should be worrying,” she points out, jabbing him in the chest with the hand holding the icepack.

“You - ugh, you’re getting water on my shirt…”

The door behind them swings open then and she sees Taehyung’s head snap up, face going smooth, before she turns to see Namjoon walking in, Seokjin right behind him. Both of them stand up in unison and before she can register what’s happening, Taehyung is ushered out and into a meeting room.

“Wait, wait,” she says quickly, grabbing Namjoon’s arm. “What’s - who’s in there?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of people from Red Bull and Big Hit,” he replies, in what she presumes is meant to be a reassuring tone. “They just want to know what happened. Although, Jaden is…” He trails off, and he winces uncomfortably.

“But what’s going to happen to - to Tae? What are they going to -”

“Dilara, relax,” says Namjoon hurriedly, starting to walk out of the room. “We have our reps. It should be over soon.”

That doesn’t sound comforting at all. “What is that supposed to - do they know it was Jaden’s fault? Apparently he said -” Here she breaks off, remembering suddenly that even she don’t know what he said.

Apparently taking advantage of her momentary silence, Namjoon starts to slip out. “He’ll be out soon,” he promises.

“Stop making it sound like prison!” she says loudly as they leave. Alone once again, she trudges out of the changing room to see…

“Shit,” she mutters, spotting her across the garage. “Vicki.”

Dilara’s press officer raises her eyebrows before beckoning her exactly like Namjoon did Taehyung, and just like her ex, she silently follows her into a secluded corner of the garage.

“Alright,” says Vicki, somehow managing to sound stern, knowing and worried all at once. “Please tell me you did not go out with someone from Max’s pit crew.”

—

“... and then he cornered me again yesterday to ask me why I wouldn’t go out with him -”

“Again?” Vicki shakes her head, incredulous. “Jesus, Dilara. Why didn’t you tell someone he was bothering you?”

“Because -” Dilara shrugs uncomfortably. “We’re racing. And it wasn’t a big deal.” When she catches sight of Vicki’s expression, she backtracks. “Okay, honestly? If he’d come up to me one more time, I probably would have.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for that,” she declares in her usual business-like fashion. “But maybe you didn’t because he’s a member of the team…?” Vicki tilts her head knowingly.

Dilara’s face heats up. “I know it’s not technically against the rules,” she murmurs, only slightly guilty as she looks down at the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

Vicki observes her for a moment before nodding. “Still doesn’t give him the right to talk like an arsehole.”

“Okay, what did he say?” Dilara asks for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why won’t anyone just tell me?”

“Well, firstly because he said it in Korean,” she points out. “And secondly… you should ask your friends,” she adds, tilting her chin at something behind Dilara. She turns to see Jimin and Jungkook waiting at the end of the corridor, trying to look nonchalant but clearly waiting for her. The rush of affection she feels for them in that moment is overwhelming.

Dilara turns back to Vicki, not meeting her eyes. By the way she said “friends”, it’s clear she knows they aren’t just any friends. Or it’s because one of them hit a guy a member of the team. “What’s - what’s going to happen to - to Jaden?”

Vicki shrugs sympathetically. “They’re both in there,” she answers, and Dilara is grateful for how she includes Taehyung in it, too. “We’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Dilara. You have a race tomorrow,” she reminds her.

Dilara nods and watches as Vicki leaves after patting her shoulder, before turning around and walking towards Jimin and Jungkook. Suddenly aware of how much taller they are, she buries her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “You guys want to go for a walk?” she asks in a small voice.

Even though they both nod instantly and Jungkook simply puts an arm around her shoulders, they only end up getting as far as the garage before Seokjin, who’s still outside the conference room, shakes his head silently as soon as he spots them. From this, she gathers that they’re still not in total privacy and she can’t be seen alone on a street with just two members and no production crew.

They slowly drift apart, taking seats on opposite sides of the garage. For the first time ever, Dilara initiated a conversation on Jimin’s silly WhatsApp group. Both of them reply immediately and she finally, finally gets the whole story.

They tell her how after their meeting, a couple of engineers had come in to use the printer for some data. One of them, Jaden, recognised them and greeted them in Korean, after which everyone else left, leaving only the eight of them in the room. It was small talk for a bit initially, with Taehyung hanging in the back and not participating at all, before Jaden really opened his mouth.

At this, Jungkook hesitates, wondering if Taehyung hyung should be the one to tell her. She informs them about the weird chivalrous trip Taehyung’s on and that she’s not getting a single answer out of him. After some silent begging and pleading from across the garage, Jimin visibly rolls his eyes and spills.

Jimin [19:41] He said he thought you were hot and it was good to finally having something nice to look at on the paddock

Jungkook [19:42] And he said that he went out with you in Yeongam and you… did stuff.

Dilara [19:43] Oh god. Seriously? He actually said that?

Jimin [19:44] Yeah. And then Namjoon said that we’ve all known you for a long time now and then Jaden asked if any of us had ever hooked up with you. Obviously we all said no.

Jungkook [19:45] Except Taehyung hyung. He just didn’t answer.

Jimin [19:46] Yeah, but Jaden didn’t notice. He said he thought you were cool initially but then you became kind of mean and you didn’t want to go out with him anymore.

Dilara [19:46] He said I was “mean”? That’s the word he used?

Across the garage, she can see Jimin look up at her apprehensively before glancing at Jungkook, who simply shrugs uncomfortably.

Dilara [19:46] Come on, what did he really say?

Jimin [19:47] He called you a spoiled brat… and a bitch. And he said that you turned him down after one date because you were still hung up on your ex.

Fuck. Dilara groans inwardly, Taehyung’s suppressed happiness and gentle yet confident caresses suddenly making sense. When she looks up at them, cringing visibly, she spots both of them biting back smug smiles.

Dilara [19:48] Shut up.

Jimin [19:49] Hilarious. Anyway, then Jin hyung tried to change the subject but Jaden brought it back to you again. He said if he’d known you were just good for one date, he would’ve gotten as much out of it as he could right then.

Jungkook [19:50] And then he… did a thing with his hand.

Dilara [19:51] So he’s a creep. Tae hit him because of this? Really?

Jimin [19:51] Well he said it in a lot more detail. But I can’t type that out.

Jungkook [19:52] Yeah, he called you a really bad word. And I can’t tell you. It’s in Korean and I can’t say it. It’s too horrible.

Huh. Dilara looks up to see Jungkook frowning at the screen, apparently troubled just at the thought of it. She wracks her brains for the worst thing a guy could call a girl in English. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds she doesn’t really want to know.

Jungkook [19:56] Anyway. Then out of nowhere, Taehyung punched him. Jaden got knocked back into the wall and I think his nose was bleeding.

Jimin [19:56] He deserves it. Who the fuck talks like that?

Dilara [19:57] And Tae? I saw his hand.

Jimin [19:57] Yeah, he was quite pissed. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.

Dilara [19:58] Do you know what they’re talking about in there?

Jungkook [19:58] Not a clue. I think they’re just working on a way to keep it quiet.

Jungkook and Jimin launch into a discussion speculating what will happen now, whether their lawyers will get involved or whether they’ll try to resolve it right here, and if Jaden will try to make it a bigger deal. Dilara can’t participate; all she can think about is Taehyung in there, no idea what they’re talking about or what frame of mind he’s in. He’s smart and clever, but he’s also impulsive with his words. One wrong question or remark and he’ll respond with the snarkiest comment he can come up with, making the situation worse than it already is.

Jimin [20:03] Don’t worry, Dilara. This wasn’t your fault.

Dilara shakes her head, not caring that she’s this transparent. Jimin’s words, while technically what she needs to hear, don't help at all because, really - isn't it her fault? Wasn't Jaden a dick because of her, because she turned him down? Wasn't Taehyung being reckless because of how far she’s pushed him? Because she entered his life in the first place? Her thoughts spiral as she imagines being the sole reason for BTS's negative publicity, for their hate, for their disbandment -

Her phone pings again, but from a different contact. The moment she sees Namjoon's display icon, she dives for the phone.

Namjoon [20:08] Hey. You alright?

Dilara [20:08] What is going on in there? How are you texting?

Namjoon [20:08] Hard to say. And Christian got a phone call that he had to pick up.

Dilara [20:09] Damnit. How's Tae?

Namjoon [20:09] Pretty calm.

Dilara [20:09] That’s… not good. Right? Or is it?

Namjoon [20:10] No, he's not going overboard. I was there - I kind of get why he got so mad.

Dilara [20:10] Really?

Namjoon [20:11] Yeah. I mean, not mad enough to punch a guy in the face.

There’s a rolling eyes emoji at the end of the message. Dilara feels a tingling in her fingers and a prickle of defensiveness.

Dilara [20:12] I guess if a guy had said that about Kaya, you wouldn't have done the same.

She doesn’t phrase it like a question; she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s challenging him… even though she kind of is. Dilara watches the ellipses appear to indicate that he’s typing. He types for a while, nearly a minute, pausing constantly. Finally, the message appears.

Namjoon [20:14] Yeah, I would’ve broken his face.

Mildly satisfied, she places the phone down and waits. Jimin and Jungkook have stopped their bickering on the group, too, but she makes a mental note to thank them later, genuinely and profusely, for being so nice to her when she’s been anything but.

It’s nearly thirty more minutes of excruciating waiting, with Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook sitting with her. She hasn't the faintest where Yoongi and Hoseok are; she’s about to ask Jin about it, just to distract herself, when the door opens and Christian comes out.

Dilara leaps to her feet automatically, thoroughly relieved when his eyes land on her instantly and he beckons her to follow him. She jogs after him until they’re out of earshot and he turns to her, suddenly looking taller.

“Has Jaden been harassing you, Dilara?” The first question out of his mouth throws her for a loop.

“Has he -” She swallows, biting her lip. “Why - um, what have you heard?”

“That he’s been harassing you.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “Vicki just told us. It changes everything.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Changes what? What - what do you mean? What happened? What’s going to happen to -”

“Well, Jaden has been fired,” he begins, placing his hands on his hips. “He was a good engineer, but…” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a person on the team who treats a woman like that. It would be a publicity nightmare.” His eyes snap up to her. “And it’s incredibly disrespectful to you, too, of course.”

Dilara nods, somewhat in a daze. “So, he’s… fired? Just like that? What if he goes to the press?”

“He’s signing an NDA. If he wants his severance and doesn’t want to be blacklisted, he’ll sign it.” Christian’s confidence seems dangerously unbalanced. “Plus, Big Hit would lose millions if they broke the contract now. And also, apparently, the negative publicity would be enormous if it got out that their employee was being punished for defending his… friend.”

By the way he says it, she knows she’s been made. “Christian…”

“He was the same bloke that miraculously found you on the middle of the road in Monza, was he not?”

Dilara swallows. “He was. Look, it’s not -”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t -”

“No, I genuinely don’t want to know.” He looks at her knowingly - too knowingly. “It’s better,” he says, slower this time, “if I don’t know.” When she nods hesitantly, he pats her shoulder once. “Right. Your friend… I think he should be fine. But in the future, Dilara,” he adds, suddenly sounding tired, “do let us know if a team member is creating a hostile work environment, will you?”

Dilara nods silently as he walks away, at the last minute telling her to go home and rest for the race tomorrow. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, not until she hears from Namjoon himself that this is over. Not Christian, not even Taehyung - Namjoon. Only him.

The next two minutes are unbearable. She walks back slowly to where she was seated before to see Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook waiting for her expectantly.

“Well?” Jimin prompts urgently.

“Um… he’s - he’s signing an NDA,” is all that comes out of her mouth. When all three of them look completely confused, she doesn’t know where to begin. “He said Jaden - Jaden signed an NDA and I think he said that Tae -”

At that moment, the conference room door opens and three people spill out: Taehyung, with a Korean man in a suit next to him, and Namjoon a step behind. To her immense relief, the latter strides over to them first thing. He says something in Korean, to which all three of them sigh loudly in relief. Heart hammering, Dilara looks up at him and tugs on his sleeve.

“What?” she asks quietly, desperately.

“He’s off the hook,” says Namjoon in English, clearly trying to keep his own smile under control, even as the dimples pop on his cheeks. "He's going to get a warning from the company, but since it won't get out… it'll be okay. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

Dilara swallows with difficulty, the words suddenly making no sense. “He’s -” She clears her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from Taehyung. His eyes meet hers for a fraction of a second over the man’s shoulder, but his expression is as unreadable as ever. “He’s not kicked out of the group?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You would think… but no.” He chuckles. “I’m kidding. We have some pretty good lawyers, you know?”

She doesn’t comment on how ominous that sounds. Next to her, Jungkook is rubbing his eyes, smiling in embarrassment. She can’t see what Seokjin and Jimin are doing behind her, and she only vaguely registers someone patting the top of her head.

Ahead of them, the man in the suit is finally walking away. Taehyung says something to him as he leaves but she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She turns to Namjoon.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if we…”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at this unfinished request. He glances at Taehyung, who’s now slowly walking up to them, and nods. “Just… I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but…” He shrugs apologetically “… one minute. We need to get on a conference call after this.”

She nods mutely and waits for all of them to vacate the garage before finally, finally facing Taehyung.

He stands before her, a respectful few feet between them, his hands in his pockets and looking breathtakingly handsome. He looks expectant, defiant - but above all, he looks relieved. It suddenly reminds her of how he’d looked at her nearly two years ago in the Suzuka paddock, before they’d ever exchanged a single word.

Taehyung exhales shakily, and something snaps in her. All the anxiety of the weekend rushes into her chest at the same time and she tilts her head slightly, taking a step forward as though on autopilot. He nods silently and meets her halfway, and they wrap their arms around each other in an emotional hug.

Taehyung displays none of the hesitation he’d shown in the kitchen a week ago. His long hair brushes against her cheek where he’s buried his face in her neck, breathing now slightly uneven and she knows that despite his cool exterior, he was worried, too. She tightens her arms around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Taehyung,” she murmurs shakily, savouring the familiar scent of lotion and spicy cologne. Christian Dior Sauvage, she remembers, tilting her face and inhaling slightly.

Taehyung nods, squeezing her waist with one hand. “I know,” he whispers against her skin, voice deep and reverberating in her ear.

Every bit of frustration, exasperation, gratitude and all the unnamed feelings she’s pushed deep down threaten to resurface. There’s so much she wants to tell him, and this is it. She doesn’t know how to tell him more; when she feels his lips press against the skin just below her ear, as though instinctive, she feels an old familiar warmth in her abdomen and she doesn’t want it to go anywhere.

Dilara vaguely registers voices, a cue that causes them to begrudgingly separate. There’s some bustling; a phone call, some instructions in Korean, and Namjoon beckoning to his members. Dilara quietly takes her leave, trying not to think about how tightly she and Taehyung held each other or how her fingers slipped out of his hand when she left.

—

Dilara is woken by the sound of raucous laughter outside that abruptly dies down when someone shushes them. She groans softly; it’s still dark outside and the time on her phone indicates that she’s been asleep for less than an hour.

She hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the paddock. Too buzzed to be by herself, she’d headed straight to the hotel where the rest of the drivers were staying. A couple of the drivers had been playing FIFA and she’d piled on, making every effort to distract herself from the events of the day. She’d come back to the house an hour ago, sneaking in and going straight to her room and crashing.

It was a fairly uncomfortable sleep, mostly because there’s something nagging on her mind, something she’s forgetting. Dilara can’t put her finger on it; she knows it has to do with Taehyung and what happened today, but everything else escapes her. She shifts restlessly in her bed, trying to go back to sleep - but the damage is done, and she’s wide awake..

Even after the voices outside dwindle down one by one before disappearing altogether and the light under the door turns off, she still can’t sleep.

It’s after midnight when she checks her phone again, opening WhatsApp and checking for new messages. Apart from three messages from Jimin timed around the time they reached the house (Hey we got piri piri chicken! Okay Yoongi hyung just said you’re probably asleep. Good night :)), there’s nothing else.

She thinks for a second, then goes onto the Taehyung’s true loves group. The last message is a joke from Jimin that he’d cracked to try and cheer her up.

Dilara [00:09] Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around but you guys were really there for me so… thank you.

Jimin [00:15] No need to thank us but fine, you can buy us ice cream tomorrow.

Dilara [00:15] I can? Aren’t you both dieting?

Jungkook [00:16] We can give it up for one ice cream. And you can join us in the gym when we burn it off.

Dilara [00:17] Deal. And um

Jungkook [00:17] What?

Jungkook [00:18] Oh yeah. Taehyung was looking for you when we got back.

Dilara [00:19] Oh. Right. I was asleep.

Jimin [00:19] You’re not anymore.

Dilara [00:20] And?

Jimin [00:20] And he’s awake too.

Dilara can almost picture Jimin’s smirk as he dances around the topic. Fortunately, Jungkook comes to her rescue.

Jungkook [00:21] Yes but you have a race tomorrow, Dilara. You should sleep.

Dilara [00:21] I will. Thank you Jungkook.

Jungkook [00:22] You’re welcome. And while we’re on the topic of thank yous, I think Taehyung hyung is the one you should really be saying that to.

Oh. Of course. Dilara sighs as it finally clicks, what she’s been forgetting. She’s snapped at him, confessed her worries to him, dropped her defences and embraced him - but she hasn’t thanked him, not yet.

Now that she’s realised it, she knows she can’t sleep. She considers texting him, but she doesn’t know if that would seem too impersonal, especially after the emotional hug they shared. What does she do instead, though? Ask him to meet her outside? That feels like far too much pressure.

Jesus. Dilara climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen, silently opening the fridge and taking her first drink of water in hours. This is Taehyung, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen island. Nothing about him warrants this much overthinking. Pulling out her phone from her pajamas’ pocket, she texts him.

Dilara [00:30] Hey.

Tae [00:32] Hey.

Dilara [00:33] How’s your hand?

Tae [00:33] Hurting a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?

Dilara [00:34] I couldn’t. You should stop texting though, if your hand hurts.

Tae [00:35] I can type with my left hand. Don’t you have a race tomorrow?

Dilara [00:36] Yeah. I’ve raced with less sleep though. Why aren’t you asleep?

Tae [00:36] I’m in bed.

A familiar flutter erupts in her chest, and her toes curl on the wooden floor. Without warning, an image of a shirtless Taehyung in boxer shorts, glasses on, lying on his side with his phone in one hand appears in her mind. She’s willing to bet a thousand bucks that that’s how he looks right now, before she remembers that a lot of things could have changed in a year.

Dilara [00:37] That’s too bad. We’ll talk tomorrow then.

Tae [00:37] We can talk now too.

Dilara [00:38] Nah, it’s more of an in-person conversation.

Tae [00:38] You know we live in the same house, right?

Dilara bites her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading on her face. She starts walking towards her room, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stopping in front of her room, she leans against the closed door.

Dilara [00:39] I’m aware.

Tae [00:40] But no. You need to sleep.

He’s flirting. It’s been so long since Kim Taehyung has flirted with her this confidently that she’s forgotten how much of a blushing mess she becomes, being thankful only for the fact that it’s never visible on her face. She gazes absently at the closet door in front of her, trying to think of a response.

Dilara [00:41] Yeah, I do. I’ll probably need to sleep after the race tomorrow too, because it’s always so tiring.

Tae [00:42] You can sleep on the train to Amsterdam. It’s going to be a long trip.

Dilara [00:42] Probably. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company.

Tae [00:43] Seven of us not enough for you?

I really only need one. But she doesn’t say it. It’s far too risky.

Dilara [00:45] That's a lot of talk for someone who barely escaped getting in trouble today. Or who knows how much you would've regretted it?

Tae [00:45] I won't regret anything I do for you.

Dilara closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door, suddenly feeling warm. She wonders briefly if the conversation is venturing into unfamiliar territory - or, rather, an all-too familiar territory.

She stares at the closet door in front of ber, hoping for inspiration, when it suddenly opens to, once again, reveal none other than Taehyung himself, pulling on a white t-shirt as he steps out.

The combination of her surprise, his presence and the generous glimpse of lean, honey-coloured torso is enough to make her stumble and drop her phone. “Shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes and bending to pick it up. She looks up to see him frowning, knees bent as though about to help her up.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung glances between her and his door. “What were you doing outside my room?”

“I - that’s your room? I thought it was a closet,” she admits in slight embarrassment, feeling her heart rate slowly go back to normal.

He nods, looking amused. “You really couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Dilara tilts her head, twisting her mouth to hide her smile. “I thought we already discussed that.” She can’t stop looking at him, privately admiring how incredible he looks even in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, hair unstyled, face bare with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. I was right, she thinks, mildly victorious.

“We did. But now that you’re here…” He trails off pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows at her until she stifles a laugh. He grins, and her stomach does a backflip.

"I was just going to get back to bed," she tells him, and he simply nods. She doesn't move, though, and neither does he. His gaze is his usual intense one: unmoving, like a laser looking into her soul. She tries to hold it for as long as she can but when it becomes too much, she drops her gaze. "Can I see your hand?" she asks, mostly for something to say.

Wordlessly, he raises his right hand and she takes it. She can't really see anything; she brushes her fingers extremely lightly over his knuckles but he still hisses softly.

"Sorry," she mutters apologetically. "It's too dark here… can we go to the window?"

He follows her a few steps away to the end of the hallway, where the house splits into a T, one room on either side. There's a window on the wall, though, wide and tall, with a near full moon causing a silvery light to stream in.

Dilara picks up his hand again and it makes sense now why he flinched. His knuckles are still an angry red, with scratches on the third and fourth joints. Her fingers ghost over his hand, but she’s careful not to touch him. When she hears his sharp intake of breath, she pauses before bringing both their hands down, fingers lightly intertwined momentarily before separating.

"I still can't believe you," she murmurs, shaking her head, but the disapproving tone is gone.

"I'm good at surprising people," he replies. He leans his side against the window and folds his arms across his chest, careful to keep his injured hand on the outside.

"Not just you." She doesn't look away from him. "Jimin and Jungkook told me what Jaden said." Predictably, his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze but the rest of his face stays unmoving. “I knew he was a jerk, but… yeah, I guess I’m surprised by how far he went.”

Taehyung observes her for a moment. “You still think he didn’t deserve it?”

Dilara reaches for his hand again, pointedly looking at his bruised knuckles. Thanks for defending me, she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Can you even hold a mic with this hand? You’re performing in a few days,” she reminds him, referring to the charity concert in Amsterdam scheduled for the coming Friday - one she’ll be missing because of her race in Russia.

“Hm, let’s check.” Taehyung gently pulls away to pick up her hand, wrapping his injured hand around her wrist and showing her how his fingers easily meet.

“Is that how you hold your mic?”

He smirks and tugs, bringing ber hand right up to his face… right up to his mouth. “This is how I hold my mic.” There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her hand and she feels her heart race in anticipation. But after a moment, he lets go, smiling wider as though he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind.

Dilara wants to playfully smack him. Thanks for making me laugh. He’s flirting so blatantly, and she has to remind herself that amidst all the shit Jaden said, he did basically confirm to Taehyung that she’s not over him.

“Your fans will be very worried when they see you’ve been injured. I can almost see the hashtags on Twitter,” she continues, gesturing grandly. “Stay Strong Taehyung, or We support Taehyung and his gorgeous, injured, sexy hand.”

He laughs, and it suddenly feels warmer. “They will be worried,” he agrees, cocking his head, “but I’m sure even they’ll agree that it was worth it. You know, given that he’s been bothering you for weeks now, and today was just the finale.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Vicki told you,” she guesses, sighing when he nods. “Well… yeah. Like I said, I knew he was a jerk.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jinjja, Dilara,” he says, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh, really? So I was supposed to come to you and tell you that this guy I hooked up with suddenly won’t leave me alone?” She scoffs. “That would’ve gone well.”

He shrugs. “Why not? Whatever happened between us, it doesn’t matter if something is making you uncomfortable. And besides, it didn’t have to be me, you know.”

She barely hears his last sentence. Thanks for caring about me. “Fine. The next time a guy starts bothering me, I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fists ready,” he says wryly, bringing his thin fists to his face and blowing on them.

“Maybe I’ll actually get Jungkook to teach you how to punch by then.”

“I’d rather you teach me.”

It’s predictable but Dilara’s cheeks heat up anyway, and his face breaks into a gorgeous grin. She looks down at their feet, and realises they’ve sub-consciously moved closer to each other. The moment she thinks of it, the scent of lotion and faint cologne suddenly grows stronger, and she gets the urge to sink into his chest and spend the night curled up in his arms. The thought of waking up warm and cuddled makes her yawn, and she quickly covers it up.

“You really should sleep.” Taehyung reaches over and gently ruffles her bangs, his old way of playfully banter before doing something really soft, usually beginning with pulling her to him and hugging her while she jokingly protested.

It makes her heart ache, the slow realisation that she still cares so much about him, that there’s nothing that can take away from the once-in-a-life-time connection they found with each other.

She still needs to thank him. Dilara can’t say the words, though; it seems inadequate somehow, given the risk he took, the impulse to do something so unlike him. She reaches up and slowly brushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, touching the corner of his glasses.

They’re close enough now, enough that she won’t take him by surprise. She hopes she’s right when she brings her other hand up and gently holds the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, long hair.

Dilara gives Taehyung a moment to catch on, noting how he swallows and all traces of joking disappear, leaving only an almost childlike hope and vulnerability. Then, rising on her toes, she gently pulls his head down and presses her lips to his.

Like the time they reached their understanding of sorts in the kitchen, it takes him a moment to respond, almost as though he can’t quite believe this is real. Dilara waits until he kisses her back, tilting his head and leaning in, before opening her mouth. His lips part with a sigh and she wants to do the same - so familiar and addictive is his taste. His king hair tickles her cheek as his hands come up to hold her, gently and tentatively.

Taehyung’s lips are everything she remembers them being; soft, energetic, loving. It’s a slow, savouring kiss. With how unexpected it was, they simply take the time to reacquaint themselves. Dilara is glad, she thinks as they separate to catch their breath and she presses a last kiss to his lips before pulling away, for if it were anything more, she doesn't think she’d be able to stop herself.

Taehyung looks… overwhelmed. His lips are slightly swollen and he absently bites his lower lip, his eyes shining with ten times more hope and pleasant shock than the photoshoot earlier this week.

“Thanks,” she says softly, not specifying what for. Taking a step back and trying to ignore how her heart is zooming, she starts walking back to her room, still aware of him watching her go. Just when she reaches her door, she remembers something.

“Oh, and, uh…” This is awkward, and her heart thuds. Trying to be casual and shrug it off in the face of his motionless figure, she speaks once more. “You can… Dilara sounds a bit weird. Lara is fine.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanoasis #musicbingo23 #kvanity #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #wkcnet #bts v fanfic #bts v angst

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jmrothwell · 6 months

Note

"hold my hand" "absolutely not" "they'll think somethings wrong if you don't" *grabs hand and kisses cheek* / sweet tarts

“Do you need a job?”

Reggie startled ever so slightly, trying his best to hide it by sitting up from the lounging position he was in while reading his book. Once up he found an aggravated Carrie standing in the doorway of the studio.

“Are you talking to me?” He asked, looking around knowing full well he was the only one here. Everyone else had gotten pulled into various family holiday events. Even Luke and his mom had managed to reach a sort of compromise for the season.

“Is there anyone else here?” She said again before releasing a long exhale disguised as a groan, “Anyway, did you need a job or not?”

“A job” He couldn’t help repeating the question, one of his eyebrows rising against his better judgment.

“Ok, so it’s barely a job.” She said weight shifting as she adjusted her feet with her eye roll. Her gaze shifted away from him, examining the room around them, eyes lingering on the many photos Flynn and Julie had plastered across the wall. “I really just need someone to come with me when I go to my mom’s for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry what?” He really didn’t mean to blurt out the question as fast as he did. Still blinking away the shock of the words he was hearing. Couldn’t recall her ever mentioning her mom before, or anyone for that matter. Though if he had to judge based on the way Carrie’s face scrunched up and how she shifted her feet again she wasn’t very comfortable with the topic.

“My mom’s been trying to reconnect and make up for lost time.” She said, voice bordering on her peppy show tone.

“I don’t know.”

“It would be just for a week and she lives incredibly close to some decent skiing. So you could think of it more like a little winter vacation if you’d like.” Carrie said, her voice never straying far from that peppy ‘sales pitch’ tone which did not ease any unease he had at the idea.

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.” She quickly said, disbelief written all over her face in the short seconds before managing to school her expression again. “Look, me and my family are even paying for everything. All you have to do is show up.”

He chewed over the idea, also chewing the inside of his bottom lip not really buying this perfect vacation she was trying to sell him on. There definitely had to be something she wasn’t telling him. Why him? Why not any of her other friends?

On the other hand, it would be nice to have something to keep him out of his parents house that wouldn’t also have all his friends playing their usual ‘let’s help Reggie without him knowing it’ tactics. It might take them all a while to believe Carrie had randomly offered him what basically amounted to an all expenses paid ski trip out of nowhere. But weirder things had happened.

“All right, when’s this trip?” He asked, trying not to be floored by Carrie’s unexpectedly bright, if short lived, smile.

“We leave tomorrow.” She said digging her phone out of her purse and settling on the couch so close to him she‘d barely need to move to be in his lap. “Quick, give me your number so I can send you the details.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” He said fumbling for his phone, caught a little off guard by both her sudden proximity and the amount of shit he suddenly had to do before tomorrow.

He barely registered everything she said about texting her his address to coordinate with her driver. Far too focused on mentally making his packing list, hoping he had enough clean clothes. Didn’t even question her when she suddenly pulled him in for a series of selfies, the first half dozen inadequate because he didn’t look happy enough. He doubted he ever looked happy enough, certain she just gave up, and resorted to using whatever filter for whatever app she was sure to be posting it to.

The next day didn’t fare much better for his nerves. Pleasantly surprised when she did in fact show up at his place several hours before the sun would even dare to be up so they could get to the airport on time. Too tired to enjoy the fact he got to sit in the slightly roomier business class, falling asleep before the even finished taking off. It was a rare direct flight too, so he wouldn’t get another chance until the flight home.

Just as they passed security and into the throng of all the friends and family waiting, Carrie’s hand gripped his bicep tight pulling his attention to her as they walked.

“Ok so, before we get too far there is something you need to know.” She said in a sort of half whisper, trying to not be overheard but still trying to be heard over the noise all around them. “I may have lied about there not being a catch.”

His heart clenched, he knew it was too good to be true, but more than that he felt more than a little betrayed. Did she seriously wait til he couldn’t escape to tell him what basically amounted to his side of the deal? He didn’t get the chance to call her out though, as soon a woman Reggie could describe as overly sparkly was rushing toward them with a big smile.

“Carrie?” The woman said, throwing her arms around Carrie who had never looked so tense before.

“Aunt Debbie.” Carrie said through a forced grin, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“What nonsense.” Aunt Debbie said as she playfully slapped Carrie’s shoulder. “Of course we were going to pick you up, Richard’s keeping the car warm. Your mom would have come but she’s a little preoccupied.”

Aunt Debbie tried to do a little hand wave through the air, her vibrant nails looking more like talons than Reggie expected them to, clearly trying to dismiss or wave something away. The movement only seemed to make Carrie tense up more than she already was. Reggie didn’t get long to focus on that though as Aunt Debbie’s attention fell on him.

“Oh sorry, you must be..?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Aunt Debbie, this is Reggie.” Carrie said as Reggie extended his hand out to shake Debbie’s, all of the syllables he was going to use to greet her with however froze up in his throat as Carrie continued on. “My boyfriend I was telling you all about.”

“Ooooh well aren’t you handsome.” Debbie said, patting his, the sensation all he needed to know he wasn’t dreaming. “Well, we better hurry up before Rich gets too bored and does something foolish. Did you check anything?”

Debbie walked off after Carrie’s reassurances they only had carry-on’s. Reggie did not follow, forcing Carrie to double back for him, if she felt any guilt over the situation she had it hidden well under all the resigned exhaustion she wore.

“Your boyfriend?”

“It’s only for the week.”

“Carrie we’ve barely ever spoken to each other.” He said in lieu of saying how they could barely be called friends.

“Please,” she said, surprising them both, though she recovered faster than he did. “Like I said it’s only for the week. We don’t even have to get all lovey-dovey with the pet names or overt PDA.”

“But why do they need to think I”m your boyfriend?”

Carrie quickly looked over her shoulder to where Aunt Debbie was impatiently looking like she was waiting patiently. “I promise I’ll tell you later.”

He sighed, slowly resigning himself to the idea. His only other real options being telling everyone the truth and spending the next week uncomfortably awkward around strangers or trying to find some way to pay for a flight back home and leaving Carrie alone, by herself. “You owe me.”

She nodded as she painted on that winning showmanship smile of hers, “Of course, now hold my hand.”

“Absolutely not.” The words were out of his mouth faster than he intended, still too caught up in his own blindsided irritation. Her smile barely faltered, the slightest furrow of her brow.

“They’ll think somethings wrong if you don’t.”

He glanced toward Debbie who had definitely stopped trying to not look confused. He didn’t exactly trust his mouth at the moment, so he merely held out his hand towards Carrie. She grasped it in hers and pulled him down so she could quickly press a quick kiss to his cheek and whispering a quick “thank you” into his ear.

He swallowed hard, an attempt to both unclog his throat of all the wrong words and to clear his head of the memory of her lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. This was going to be a more complicated week than if he had just stayed home.

#jatp sweet tarts #reggie x carrie #I was like these will probably all be short fills...nearly 1500 words later #took a few story beats from Summer Wars but turned it into some sort of holiday rom com

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detective-giggles · 1 year

Text

All the Things We Tried to Forget

A double fill for @badthingshappenbingo “please don’t leave me” and @911bingo “You have to let me go. I need you to do that for me.” It’s been done for a while and I procrastinated a little on posting but I have to get it up since the 911 bingo master list is due tomorrow! This is the only break-up era reference I think I will ever make. Otherwise, it just didn’t happen. 🙃

Warnings: Tarlos is involved in a car accident, RIP Camaro 😔. Also- probably none of the rescue/medical is accurate- I got my medical degree from watching ER! 😅

@noxsoulmate, thank you for the beta!

💜💜💜💜

“Thank you, Carlos. Tonight was perfect.” TK tips his head back, resting it on the headrest, and turns towards Carlos, a sleepy smile on his face.

TK had been out of the hospital for three weeks and things have been good. He hadn’t been cleared for work yet, and Carlos knew he was going stir-crazy, even with the members of the 126 constantly dropping by to keep him company. He had finally been cleared for some activity, so they had just had their first official date night out, dinner and just a little dancing. He knows TK still tires easily and suggested they head home and continue their date night with the newest release on Netflix.

Carlos stops at a red light and reaches his hand out, grabbing TK’s and intertwining their fingers. He brings TK’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently as the light turns green and he accelerates into the intersection.

Carlos barely has time to register the headlights coming at him before he hears the unmistakable crunch of metal as the Camaro crumples and pain explodes in his temple and then… nothing.

***

Carlos lets out a pained groan as he slowly opens his eyes.

“Carlos? Baby, don’t move. I’ve already called 911. The guys are just a few minutes away; they’ll get us out.”

“Huh? The guys?” Carlos repeats dumbly. He shifts, gasping at the pain in his head and radiating through his neck and shoulder. It hurts to breathe and he tries not to panic. Immediately, he feels TK’s hands firmly but gently cradling his head, trying to keep him still.

“Don’t. Move,” TK repeats. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Head…” Carlos murmurs as his eyes slip shut. He vaguely wonders when and how TK managed to crawl over the console and into the backseat but knows it’s not important right now.

“I can hear the sirens, babe. Just a bit longer. Stay with me.”

“Are you-”

“I’m fine,” TK assures him. “Just relax. Stay calm for me.”

Carlos isn’t quite sure if he believes TK but he’s too tired and in too much pain to argue. He’s certain TK has blood on his hands and he’s not sure whose it is but he’s afraid to ask so he keeps his mouth shut. He thinks he can hear the sirens too, or maybe that’s just the ringing in his ears from his head hitting the window.

“What about the other driver?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?”

Carlos tries to nod, but TK is still holding his head steady.

“What, um, what happens now?”

TK sighs. “I’m pretty sure the Camaro’s totaled. And they’re going to have to cut the top off so they can get you out and onto a backboard.”

Carlos groans again. The lights of the fire engine illuminate the street as it draws closer but the flashing makes Carlos’ headache worse and disorients him. TK is rubbing his temples and murmuring reassurances, but he hurts and he just wants to sleep.

The fire truck screeches to a stop, and Carlos squeezes his eyes closed; he wishes they would shut the damn lights off. He can hear yelling, his name and TK’s, and he can vaguely hear Owen barking orders.

TK slides to the passenger side window. He’s animated but talking low, no doubt so Carlos can’t hear him.

“TK?”

“Hang on, baby; I’m still here.”

Owen passes some items through the window, and TK takes them and makes his way back to Carlos. “Okay, I know this is going to be a little uncomfortable…” The C-collar comes into view, and Carlos groans, but he allows TK to secure the collar around his neck.

TK leans in close and presses a kiss to Carlos’ curls. He flips something cloth and heavy – a turnout coat, Carlos thinks – over their heads to shield their faces. “Close your eyes,” he says. Carlos is slow at following the command, but he does, finally. He flinches as the machinery starts up; it’s loud, but TK is there, talking to him. He can’t actually make out what he’s saying, but his voice is soothing so he lets him talk.

It’s over faster than he expects and it’s only a few minutes until the turnout coat gets yanked away and he blinks at the sudden brightness of the streetlights. There’s a slight commotion, and Carlos is confused, so he does the one thing that will bring him comfort: he reaches for TK. TK takes Carlos’ hand in his and gives it a firm squeeze.

“TK, let’s go, man. We need you to move,” someone says. Paul, Carlos thinks.

TK tries to pull away and Carlos holds on with all the strength he can. “Please don’t leave me,” he begs.

“It’s just for a couple of minutes. I’m in the way, and they need to get you out.”

“No! Stay, please. I can’t do this again.”

They’re staring at him, concerned, and Carlos knows that’s not quite right but he’s not exactly sure how to fix it so he keeps talking. “I’m sorry… about the loft. We can talk about it. Just- please stay…”

“Carlos, you have to let me go. I need you to do that for me.” His voice is calm but TK looks like he’s about to cry as someone pulls him away, and his hand slips from Carlos’.

“TK!” he calls.

Judd’s face comes into view. “Hey, Carlos? TK’s gonna wait for you in the ambulance, alright? Now, Paul and I are gonna pull you out. We’ll get you into the same ambulance and then you can be with your boy, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Carlos agrees.

Strong hands are on him, pulling him from the wreckage and strapping him to the backboard. They lift the backboard onto the gurney, and Carlos is momentarily surprised at the gentleness. The firefighters step back and seamlessly Nancy and Tommy appear, taking their place.

They’re both talking to him, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He’s certain this is the worst headache he’s ever had in his life; he can feel every heartbeat throbbing in his temple. Nancy’s yelling at him, but he just needs to close his eyes for a second…

***

“Carlos?” TK.

Carlos groans softly. The grip on his hand gets tighter and he opens his eyes slowly, wincing under the fluorescent lights.

“Hey, baby,” TK whispers.

“Hi.”

“You’re in pain?” TK asks. Carlos nods in the affirmative, and TK reaches for the nurse call button.

“No, I’m okay. I-” Carlos looks around and tries to push himself up. “You’re here?” he asks as TK puts a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him lying down.

“I am,” TK confirms with a small laugh. “I am here. And okay. And so are you. Your parents are on their way.”

“I’m okay?” Carlos repeats.

TK nods. “You’re bruised up, but nothing’s broken. Some small lacerations from your head hitting the window. And you have a pretty bad concussion, but all things considered, you’re lucky. We’re lucky.”

“My- my parents don’t need to come all the way in for this?”

TK laughs again. “Try telling your mother that. I can’t keep her away. Although she did sound a little surprised that it was you in here and not me.”

The nurse comes in and TK steps out of the way while she examines Carlos, asking him questions and shining a light in his eyes. She seems pleased, assures them a doctor will be in shortly, and checks his IV before she leaves.

“Can’t we just go home?”

“Not tonight. But they’ll probably release you tomorrow.” TK is silent for a moment. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Carlos pauses. “Oh. Did I make a scene?”

“Kind of,” TK says.

“I’m sorry.” Carlos looks away and TK sighs.

“I don’t want you to apologize, Carlos. I just- I want to make sure we’re good. I’m not going to leave again. You know that, right? I’m done running. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good, there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with,” Carlos says, reaching for TK’s hand once again.

Taglist: @plaidbooks (If anyone wants to be added for Tarlos fics, let me know!)

#tarlos #911 ls fic #BTHB #911 bingo #car accidents

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the-oc-lass · 5 months

Text

Nimona OC - Charlotte Swiftheart/Corova: Christmas/Holiday Special

Hi! Am I a day late? Yes! Am I posting it anyway? Yes again!

I had more ideas for this, but honestly I think I'd rather post this much now than however long it would be until a full length thing was done.

I decided to call the holiday Midwinter, but honestly, it's basically Christmas with a different name. Anyway! This does fall into the AU I wrote for my Nimona OC, so those interested, it's linked below. Enjoy!

Original Post

Each winter in the kingdom is cold, but in the past, the city’s constant bustle and buzz kept the ground too warm for the snow to stick. But ever since the wall fell, things have been different. Things have changed. Including the snow. Nimona drags the four of them outside the wall after the first snow, and it’s as if Charlotte is a child again. She’d grabbed Ambrosius by the hand and they’d gone galavanting through the magical powder. Shortly after, an all out war of a snowball fight had broken out, with Ballister and Norshe on one team, Ambrosius and Charlotte on another, and Nimona deviously targeting all four of them. They were cold, tired, and a little sore by the end of the day, but it had all been worth it. They’d gone to Charlotte and Norshe’s apartment for hot cocoa, where Nimona had taken all of the mini marshmallows and claimed them for herself. It was a good day. Now, Charlotte wakes on the day of Midwinter, which has been a kingdom-wide holiday for hundreds of years. Even though she never had much growing up, she always found Midwinter beautiful and exciting. She rolls over to wake Norshe, but finds her fiancée gone from the bed, her spot cold. However, before she can worry too much, the door to their bedroom opens, and Norshe comes in with a tray of fresh pancakes with whipped cream and chocolate chips on top.

“I knew you’d be awake,” she says, smiling as she sets the tray on Charlotte’s bedside table. Charlotte smiles up at her.

“You know me well,” she says. Norshe hums, then cups Charlotte’s face in her hands and leans down.

“Merry Midwinter, lovely,” she says, before planting a kiss on Charlotte’s lips. Charlotte smiles into the kiss, then looks dreamily at her future wife as she pulls away.

“Merry Midwinter,” she says. Norshe eventually goes to get her own plate of pancakes and then they sit in bed and talk while they eat, discussing plans.

“Bal and Brosi invited us to spend the day with them and Nimona,” Charlotte says, sticking a bite of pancake in her mouth. Norshe hums and nods, sipping her coffee.

“We can do that. Just remember that we promised to have Midwinter dinner at the sanctuary with everyone tonight.”

“Right. I think Bal said they’d come to that too. And then we’re meeting here for presents?”

“We’ve got it all figured out, baby.” Charlotte smiles, then takes a sip of her hot chocolate (her preference over coffee). It’s going to be a good day.

“I’m not the only one concerned that we’re letting Nimona drive, am I?” Norshe asks. The other three of them chuckle a bit.

“No, you’re not. I trust her, don’t get me wrong, I just…Wouldn’t put it past her to drive a little bit crazy,” Ballister says, making a small gesture as he talks.

“We’re also assuming she’s driven before and will know what she’s doing,” Ambrosius adds. Charlotte nudges her brother’s side with her elbow.

“Hey, don’t forget, she’s been alive for a thousand years. I’m almost certain she’s driven before,” she says. Ballister makes a sound.

“She also can walk or fly, Char. Maybe she’s just been doing that for the past thousand years,” he says. Charlotte thinks about it for a moment, then points at him.

“Fair point.” Before they can get into the discussion any further, a car pulls up and lands in front of them, and Nimona rolls down the driver’s window and leans out.

“Well? Are you coming?” she asks. The four exchange some glances, and Ballister is the first to move. Charlotte quickly follows him, and their respective significant others trail behind. Charlotte finds herself in the front passenger seat beside Nimona, and Ballister, Ambrosius, and Norshe squeeze into the back. As Nimona lifts the car from the ground, she speaks in an announcer voice.

“Thank you for flying Air Nimona, this is your pilot speaking. We’ll be arriving at our destination when I say so,” she says. Charlotte turns toward her and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, Nim, where are you taking us?” she asks. Nimona gives her a sharky grin.

“You’ll see.” Right. That’s very reassuring. They talk idly amongst the five of them as they go on a relatively uneventful drive, and Charlotte can’t help but watch the landscape move by. It’s incredible. To think, all of this beauty was hidden just behind the wall, and for her entire life, she had no idea. After maybe half an hour, Nimona guides the car down, landing it just a little ways from some trees.

“Did we do something to make you mad? This looks like a murder spot,” Ambrosius says. Although Charlotte can’t think of anything that might’ve ticked Nimona off, she can’t help but agree with her brother’s observation. This definitely looks like the type of place you bring someone when you plan to kill them and dump the body. However, Nimona just blows a raspberry.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I have a surprise,” she says, before climbing out of the car. Charlotte glances at the back seat, and Ballister shrugs before opening his door. She turns and does the same, climbing out and stretching. She adjusts her scarf and earmuffs before turning to look at Nimona, who is impatiently tapping her foot. The group starts to head into the woods, but the shapeshifter quickly jumps in front of them and holds out her hands. “Wait! I need you to trust me and close your eyes.” Charlotte raises an eyebrow at her.

“All of us?” she asks. Nimona nods.

“Yeah. Just…Hold hands or something and I’ll guide you,” she says. Charlotte casts her skeptical gaze toward Ballister, who sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We’re all going to die,” he mutters. But when he drops his hand, he holds it out toward Nimona. “I’m going to trust you.” Nimona grins brightly, then looks at the rest of them. Ambrosius glances at Charlotte, who shrugs and offers him her hand, and he sighs and takes it before taking Ballister’s free one. When Charlotte glances at her fiancée, Norshe has her arms crossed and is looking at Nimona with a skeptical face. After a few moments, though, she uncrosses her arms to take Charlotte’s hand, pointing at Nimona.

“Trip us and I’m hiding the marshmallows until next winter,” she says. It’s clearly a threat, and one that she’ll hold herself to, but Nimona doesn’t seem bothered. She gleefully takes Ballister’s free hand.

“Let’s go!” she says. The four close their eyes and fall into a line as they start moving, keeping firm grips on each other’s hands.

“How long is it going to take to get to your surprise?” Ambrosius asks. Nimona hums.

“Not too long.” They continue on mostly in silence, and it doesn’t take long before they stop again. “Wait here for a second, Boss.” Snow crunches as Nimona runs away from them, and they all stay still.

“Are we just standing here with our eyes closed now?” Charlotte asks. Ballister hums affirmatively. “Right. Cool. Totally wonderful.” She starts to drum her fingers on the back of Ambrosius’s hand, listening closely. Suddenly, she hears the sound of something powering up, and her eyebrows wrinkle together.

“Okay! Go ahead!” As Nimona calls out, Charlotte finally opens her eyes again, and she hears herself and the others gasp softly. They’re standing near a frozen pond surrounded by trees, and the trees are adorned with bright, colorful lights and decorations. She looks over, searching for Nimona, and she finally spots the shapeshifter at the edge of the pond, arms crossed as she smiles at her handiwork.

“Nimona, this is incredible,” Ballister says, breathless as he continues to grip Ambrosius’s hand. Charlotte breaks away to move toward one of the trees, reaching forward to brush her hand over the snow covered needles of one branch.

“Is this why you kept disappearing this week?” she asks without looking away. Nimona makes a noise that suggests a shrug.

“This, and a little something else,” Nimona replies. Charlotte looks over at her, and the girl turns and shifts, vanishing into the trees for a moment before she returns with some boxes in her arms. She flies them over to the group and starts handing them out, and Charlotte raises an eyebrow when she’s handed the box.

“You know we aren’t exchanging gifts until later, right?” she asks. Nimona nods.

“Yep. But you’ll need these,” she says, pointing to the box in Charlotte’s hands. The thing is pretty heavy for its size, and she gives Nimona a skeptical look before shifting the box in her arms to open it. Inside, there’s a pair of white boots, but the odd thing is…There’s a blade attached to the bottom. Not a typical blade, but it’s the closest comparison she can make.

“Nimona?” She lifts her gaze.

“I got them from this town up north. They have a bunch of frozen stuff that they use these to move around on. The guy I got them from called them ice skates,” Nimona says. Charlotte looks back down at the “ice skates” and considers. There were a few times when she was a child where the ground was cold enough during the night for ice to form, and she recalls slipping on it early in the morning before it melted. Would blades really help? She’s not so sure.

“Do I want to know how you knew what sizes to get us?” Ambrosius asks. Nimona turns toward him, a finger held up.

“Do you know how much information about you there is online? Too much. Same with Boss. There’s even an old page about Chari from before the whole Swiftheart scandal,” she says. Charlotte glances over at Norshe.

“She just came up and asked me last week. Thought it was weird,” Norshe says, shrugging a bit.

“Hey, be glad I got any for you and Nemesis at all, Killjoy,” Nimona says, looking over at Norshe. Then, she turns back to Charlotte and grins. “Well, come on! Put them on so we can try them out!” Despite her better judgement, Charlotte complies.

Picture this: a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. Now imagine that, but five times worse. That’s currently what they look like.

“I’m going to hurt for days,” Charlotte groans from where she’s just fallen on her ass again. Nimona slides past her, currently in a form that she’s informed them is a penguin.

“Maybe you wouldn’t hurt if you stopped falling,” she says. Charlotte sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Well gosh, Nimona, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll take it into consideration,” she says sarcastically, carefully climbing back to her feet. Norshe wobbles past her, arms spread in an attempt to balance. “You doing okay, baby?” Norshe shushes her and flaps one hand.

“I have to focus,” she says, before catching the edge of her tongue between her teeth and looking down. She pushes her feet out in an arc, then moves them back in, and that helps push her forward. She lets out an excited victory noise, then repeats what she just did and speeds up a little.

“Oh good Gloreth!” Charlotte turns her head in time to see Ambrosius speeding toward her, clearly out of control.

“Brosi!” she yells, turning in time to hold out her arms. It doesn’t matter, in the end. She tries to catch him, but the collision knocks them both down, and both groan and lie there for a while. She can hear Nimona cackling somewhere nearby, and she sighs and shakes her head slightly. Finally, she grunts and pushes on his shoulder. “Alright, get up. Come on, off.” He groans and rolls off her, and they both sit up.

“I need a break,” he grumbles. She hums in agreement, and they both carefully crawl to their feet and stumble toward the edge of the frozen pond. There’s a log lying near the edge, and they sweep the snow off before settling on it and letting out a shared sigh.

“I’m going to be exhausted tonight,” Charlotte says, sagging into Ambrosius’s side. He leans into her too.

“I think we all are,” he says. She smiles a bit.

“At least Nimona’s having fun.” He nudges her side slightly, and she looks over at him.

“What, you’re not having fun getting beat up by ice?” he asks. She chuckles.

“No, I am. Not from the ice part, but…Well, you know. I like this. All of us being together. I don’t really care what we’re doing as long as we’re together.” He raises an eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes a bit, still smiling. “Okay, I don’t care what we’re doing most of the time.” He hums, and she looks back at where Norshe, Ballister, and Nimona are all skating.

“Come on, Boss!” Nimona calls, sliding past him in her usual form. Ballister tries to turn, but stumbles and almost falls, causing Ambrosius and Charlotte to chuckle. Norshe also laughs, and she almost falls because of it. “Careful, Killjoy! Don’t crack your head open!” Charlotte keeps watching, but a frown slowly forms on her face.

“When we lost her, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to keep going. When I thought of the future, I didn’t see things like this. It was all so…dark.” Ambrosius turns his head toward her, then reaches over to take her hand. She keeps watching the three on the ice. “I didn’t realize how much light she brought into my life until she disappeared. And I know I had you, and Bal, and Norshe, and everyone from the KB and sanctuary, but I just…” She doesn’t have the words to complete her thought. Ambrosius gives her hand a small squeeze.

“I know,” he says softly. “It wasn’t the same. She’s part of you, Char. A little…ish, sister. When you lost her…You were losing someone you loved. She was your family.” She looks up at him.

“So are you.” He smiles wryly.

“But she was there when I wasn’t.” Charlotte frowns softly.

“Ambrosius…”

“Hey, what matters is that she’s here now, right? We all are. We’re going to spend Midwinter together, and get all bruised from the ice, and it’s going to be the perfect day because we’re here together,” he says. She looks toward the ice again, and Ballister and Norshe are trying to support each other as they skate. Nimona is lying on the ice, watching them with a bored expression. After a moment, Charlotte smiles again and elbows Ambrosius’s side.

“Sap,” she says. He smiles back at her.

“It’s a family trait,” he says, elbowing her back. They laugh for a little bit, then look back at the ice. Ambrosius gets up first, stretching a bit before he turns and offers Charlotte his hand. “You want to go get our asses kicked by frozen water?” She tilts her head, still smiling at him. She takes his hand and he hoists her up.

“First one to fall buys lunch the next time we meet up,” she says, a challenge in her eyes. He looks back at her, rising to the challenge.

“You’re on.” Almost at the same time, they shove each other, and it sends them both stumbling sideways as they make their way toward the ice, laughing all the way.

(P.S. Yes, Nimona calls Norshe "Killjoy" like how she calls Ambrosius "Nemesis." Yes, there's a reason. No, you don't get to know what it is yet)

Lovely tagged people (hope you're all doing well! I have something in the works for you):

@ammonitetheseaserpent @perfectkittystranger @madlad06 @xxlunadrawsstuffxx @floxu

#nimona #nimona oc #nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona film #nimona netflix #original character #oc: charlotte swiftheart/corova #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona ambrosius #nimona ballister #nimona nimona #christmas fic #christmas fluff #my fic #holiday fic

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russilton · 2 years

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👀 - maybe about the next fic you plan to post? <3 Please!

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Now with me and planning things are always kinda theoretical, but in terms of what I think will be finished next? I’m up to the final section of my 3am no holds barred smut fic.

I think I mentioned it here once but I haven’t been able to share snippets so far cause this thing is pure, unadulterated filth. It started as a couple paragraphs I just really wanted to write but had no where to put them, and then evolved into its own fic. At a certain point I started using it as a kink check list to see how many I could mention or fold into one story, a bit like excising a demon from my soul. Anyway it’s at 7k and I only have one final kink to write that I have seen every Gewis smut writer mention but few of us commit to.

This fic will not be for everyone. Seriously I don’t think it will be for most, but the three people that have read it seem to love it, and they’re who I care most about.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

Snippet and a sneak peak at the theoretical tag list below the cut, because when we fuck around, we also find out.

The lips pressing into his are a balm of their own, the soft press and slide of Lewis’ mouth soothing over the burn in his gut. Despite the electric energy George must give off, Lewis doesn’t speed up, he simply backs George into the hallway wall so he’s trapped between it and his body. George can’t move, all he can do is gradually slow to follow Lewis' rhythm. When he’s got George to an invisible place he seems happy with, he pulls back, tattooed hands still framing George’s jaw like it’s made of glass.

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bits his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

Lewis is… well he’s big. Big enough to make George baulk when first confronted with his dick. Fooling around with other young drivers hadn’t left George the biggest frame of reference, and Lewis is anything but average. But Lewis is also gentle, and achingly thorough, and after the first time he’d gently inched into George, the younger man had seen stars. By the end of the night, George had known he was utterly ruined for anyone else.

George loves when Lewis takes him, soft or rough, in the comforting warmth of a bed, or when the older man hoists him up by his thighs and fucks him against the wall. George is unashamed to say he’s addicted to the intimacy of Lewis pressed home inside him. But at his size, even with all the lube and tenderness in the world, there’s a risk George will be limping in the morning.

It’s a risk they can’t have in their jobs. There can’t be any reason that George would hesitate to react, any pain or ache that would stop him moving, it could cause something as small as a poorly timed lap, or as big as a crash. There’s also more than just time in the car, Aleix and Angela work like champs to keep them on top of their game. George only has to explain to his poor trainer once why his form is off on a Tuesday before he decides against doing anything to make that happen again.

That means on race weeks, Lewis won’t fuck him.

George is not, counter to some accusations, such a slut he can’t go a week without sex. Nor does he usually have to, there’s plenty of ways they have found to be intimate that won’t have George sitting funny the next morning, and George loves every minute of it. He will happily drop to his knees for Lewis in their cramped motorhome shower, he welcomes Lewis slipping between his thighs to eat him out before they have to get up for the morning, or, as he had this week, excitedly squeeze his legs together so Lewis can fuck his thighs until the man is shuddering above him, cursing and reaching around so he can thumb George’s clit rough enough to make George cry out as he comes. George loves any time he can spend with his partner.

But it’s been a month, from getting the car, and themselves back in shape after the summer shut down, to the triple header. A month of Lewis kissing him softly and reminding him that they can’t when George settles into his lap. A month of Lewis grinding into the mattress as he fingers George to release. It's a small relief to know at least abstinence affects them both.

But now they have three weeks of freedom. George feels like he can’t wait a second longer.

#asks #anonymous #mark’s fic tag #ask games #tw: daddy kink #full wets

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vamossainz55 · 9 months

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Yeah, no doubt Charles gets his share of hate, in fact every driver does, more or less, I was just talking specifically about Carlos. I’d never fault Charles for what people do online, he’s not responsible for them. I do kinda wish ferrari would speak up and ask everyone to stop trying to create a rift between Charles and Carlos but that’s very unlikely to happen, in fact it might enrage people even more haha

It’s always, always the same type of people hating drivers, some of them even basically admit they find it fun to be mean which absolutely baffles me. To each their own I guess.

Carlos in his Mclaren era was a delight, that combination of his own decision to be more himself than he was before (like he said in some interview) and also being paired up with Lando who instantly connected with him worked really well. To me it seems like Carlos needs a much more lighthearted environment to thrive in it, and Ferrari are really far from that… like, being a Ferrari driver puts a certain label on you that you have to be more put together, since it’s a team with such history. Ferrari as a whole need to unclench, stop living off their past victories and truly move forward if they want to be the winning team again. Idk, that’s just how I see things, there’s too much focus on the past, on their legacy, and it’s hurting them more than helping

Anyway, the fact that Tifosi were totally behind Carlos from the moment the weekend started until the very end was really heartwarming ahhh I think the support from everyone was one of the factors why it all went so well for him because ngl, at times this year it seemed like he’d lost some confidence in himself. Hopefully I’m wrong or that it’s all resolved now if I’m not. If only the car was good enough to fight for wins 😭

I guess I’m in a rant mood as well haha, feel free to tell me to stop spamming you 🫶

waaah ! i hope you didnt take it any wrong way- didnt mean you specifically with the charles hate, its just something thats been a bit more conscious in my mind recently and i just wanted to let it out. but yeah, charles is the last person responsible of the hate ofc. i actually prefer ferrari saying nothing about it, i do think itll make matters worse and ultimately ferrari need to fix themselves first 😂.

but yes its usually the same type of people and sometimes its just so so embarrassing. like i get second hand embarrassment sometimes seeing some the things people post to hate on the driver, i just don’t understand how some of them can lack self awareness. ive also been blocked by some accounts on tumblr even though ive never said anything about their fav or interacted w them (infact i love their fav too) but maybe ita cause im a carlos account haha.

mclaren era was so so beautiful i miss it so dearly and i get saddened that he isnt there anymore but ultimately i do think ferrari was a good mood. even though it hurts and sucks ita good that carlos is outside of his comfort zone and that he needs to push his elbows out a little but i agree with all your points, ferrari does need to get off the highhorse theyre on (pun not intended 😂) and reflect as to why they arent performing and the type of environment they have. i do think theyre the team thats stuck in old ways, they need to innovate and think outside the box myb idk.

as for carlos this year and his confidence- i think last year really took a toll on him but hes much more confident in himself this year in terms of consistency. hes back to his old self and i think even though the car isnt performing as good hes still pushing the limits whilst being aware of when to stop. but if its the case where hes missing a bit of confidence still i really hope he finds it after monza. we all are really rooting for him. the car and where its at is a pity, but im hoping both charles and carlos just need this breather this season and in some miraculous way the car will catch up next year.

also do not apologize for the rant, i wrote a whole essay i think 😂. but im enjoying this so dont worry your little pretty head about it

#nik rambles #vamossainz55 answers #anon <3 #chismes con nik !

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momi1816 · 2 years

Text

pt.13:

in the posts of being broken hopefully this is the last one. first of all thank you for reading.

so about 2 years ago I had met my ex Kyler. (yes I'm putting his name because that douche does not deserve respect or privacy). but we met may 2020 on a dating app. right when everything was basically shut down but not. we hit it off so great right off the bat. called each other basically right when we matched. his profile showed he had a alt look, lots of tattoo, said he was a dad and a tattoo artist. immediately intrigued. but we had talked and decided to meet right away so meeting up with him everything just felt so comfortable and easy. ill admit we moved fast but everything just felt right. I knew his past, he knew mine and still didn't judge each other. I had an incident where one of my aunt's friends boyfriends was in relapse and tried moving my hand to a certain place. forcefully grabbing my hand. when telling Kyler it was an immediate reaction of protection so that just sealed the deed in a way. I wasn't until a couple months in dating and living together and playing house things switched. but I didn't see the flags at that point. there was a lot of instances of him driving my van and being out late at night. didn't think anything of it because of being head over heels. and then days he would drop me off at work or surprise me at work with different gifts. so I was tickled pink. he'd drive up and id have "that's him" written all over my face and expressed in my body language. but also him telling me he was a tattoo artist and said he was going to use my daughters iPad for work and buy her the newest and bigger one. yeah never happened. don't come for me.

things didn't start coming in clear till about august 2020. we had what was called a derecho, basically a land hurricane. I live in Iowa you can look it up, but I believe the winds got as high as 140mph. it was very pretty and cool to watch while in the salon. he was at home. I had a client in my chair and the electricity started to flicker. the midwest in me was like "ooooo do it again!". as well as I wanted to be at the front doors to watch if not go outside to play in the rain. but I had just finished the clipper part of the guys haircut and boom. electricity was gone. so him basically with a bowl cut, I used the pop socket of my phone with the flashlight on to finish the cut. and so it was done. the storm went on for about 45 mins. cars were being lifted up in the parking lot. people drove up closer to the building to seek shelter. you couldn't but see 6-8 ft out in front of you. it was nuts but beautiful. I called him to see how he was including the animals. he said our home was rocking and he didn't feel safe so he was going to drive to me. which my home to the salon is like 10 mins but the storm wasn't slowing down. there was a moment I opened the door to see everything. again midwest in me. the door flung open so hard I'm surprised in stayed on the hinges including the glass didn't break. all of us pulled the door shut and just watched. and not long I could see in coming. he parked like a complete dick. using 3 spots parking slanted. he got out the passenger door and explained he caused a dent in the driver door. my OCD was going nuts. so I ran out and fixed the parking as well as showed him I could get the driver door open. he then told me the story of how the giant dent happened which is not all that important. but going home like I said was pretty much a 10 mins drive. going to go get my daughter from daycare and going home took about 2 hours. the whole city and nearby cities lost power. power lines were down and broken. half of our tree population is gone. it was divesting and they city was about to go nuts. getting home Kyler had came to me telling me a tree had fell on his mom's house and he needed to go help so of course I told him to go. he got picked up somewhere I just remember him walking down the street. my place had no power for 5 days. some of the city was out for 2 weeks. but all my friends had came to my house because I was the only one with a gas stove so that entire week I fed everyone. we ate my fridge and their own. it was a fun time.

on day 5, my friends boyfriend and I were on the porch just talking about our relationships. I don't remember where she was but Kyler had walked up and I was so happy to see him. he had came to me with a proposition. he said one of his buddies had a generator and he seemed excited so then we could have power. the only thing was the guy wanted to do a trade for a TV supposedly. *** this relationship mad me very blind and I was groomed to follow orders and if I didn't I was the bad guy. he was a domestic abuser narcissistic douche who was also an addict on a cocktail of pills*** I had a tv in the living room which we were rarely in, so I had agreed and not even minute later the power turned on. and I guarantee that was a sign to be like nope back out, but I didn't listen and gave him the TV. I shouldn't have but I did no changing it. as time went on, he still didn't come back. he was very distant but I tried keeping my mind clear and happy. not over thinking until it was September and telling one of my coworkers the situation and she gave me the "oh hunny look" and of course I made excuses so she went on his Facebook and he was in a relationship... this one just one instance of him leaving and making a whole new life. he came back and asked to come home a month later he's done that every time. lying about the reason of leaving and it was another girl.

in October , him being back at my house, just friends. he was talking to another girl. I was hurt but didn't show it. I tried moving on. and one night I worked near where the girl lived and I had asked him if he needed a ride back to the house to get clothes since I was over there and he said no that he'd come soon. and he did. he grabbed clothes gave me a hug goodbye. grabbed his 1/2oz of weed and left. not but a 30 mins later he called saying they got pulled over and of course his dumbass put the weed in the same compartment as the registration and insurance info. and he had a warrant for his arrest. I never knew about that. apparently he left the halfway house a month early. but the phone call was just a lot of apologies and I love you. very much a call to get me wrapped around again and it worked. when I'm with someone I am very much a ride or die and will go to the ends of this god forsaken planet to make sure my man is happy. and him being in jail especially during covid I tried my best to do what I could. I called every bondsman to see about getting him out. I contact news stations on how the jail were not taking precautions or anything. I picked up hours so I could make more in tips so any cash tips I would go down to the jail to put them on his commissary. I was making sure he was definitely doing and eating good while in there. on days I could, three times, my daughter and I went around the building to whatever block he was on so he could see us just so it would make his day. I wrote a letter everyday so he had something to read and printed out pictures for him also. calling the prison he could have possibly went to get the status and calling his appointed lawyer. again, putting him on a pedestal. but he was in there until January. and he had purposed while being in there also.

but I'm just gonna sum up so there's not so much. he completely broke me and there were so many flags its unreal how long I stayed around. putting him on phone plans, buying phones apple watches shoes outfits anything and everything while finding out repeatedly other girls, more drugs, cheating, lying and so much distrust. money just given or taken without asking. opening and closing bank accounts. damage to my home, my car and my heart. until April 2021 I moved on to a new guy. great guy, fantastic even. Kyler had found out and he vowed to ruin any relationship I got into and so far he's made that happen. so breaking it off with the guy. because he had asked me to wait for him till he was ready and again still under his spell. then one day a girl showed up to my house asking where he was and I told her the truth. I told her who I was. the cat was entirely out of the bag and she was ready to fight him. he never came home that night till 4am. to which she had gone home. but he came home, now he's not a touchy person unless he did something wrong or wants something. and that morning he crawled in bed. spooning me very close, nestling his head in my neck. saying I love u and miss u. and all I said was Alyssa was very pretty and he asked who Alyssa was and all I said was anamosa.

he got out of that bed so quickly to call her and he was screaming calling me an obsessive ex and psycho and not to believe a word I said. I was tired of hearing it so I went out to confront him. not sure who hung on who but coming out he said I needed to fix it. I said no. to which he kicked a hole in the island and hit the lamp on the island so hard unfortunately i was in the line of fire. he did get in my face before going to the room withholding my car keys. I still have the recordings of that day just to be safe... but to speed forward. that day because of the situation I lost my job =, my car broke down and I became a broken purse even bigger than when I was 15 dealing with everything. not long after that day he went back with Alyssa and I didn't hear from him until July. again him coming back and with that my son was made...

I tried to include him, telling him everything when times were everything and he only went to the very last appointment. in January we tried to be together for about 2 weeks and with the love triangle we were in he had to go back to her because she was threatening her life and so taking him there we got in a bad tone car crash. guy ran a red light hitting his and my daughters side of the car spinning my car into another car. he got out of the car due to him being a felon with a gun and he had perks on him. when calling to check to see if he was okay, he did not ask how I was ,our son, or my daughter. all he asked is why I did that. blaming me for the crash... that along with other points should have been my final straw.... but coming to the last two weeks of the pregnancy, trying again, things see to rekindle he had repurposed and I told him not right now due to our past. but the day my waterbroke he wouldn't wake up until hitting his back to wake him up for us to go. he was rarely at the hospital. was not there for birth he was too worried about who knows what. he used my debit card and ebt card while being laid up. he brought I assume Alyssa into my house. I have a video doorbell. and telling him I know and him just calling me a psycho bitch for everything and it getting to the point my nurse heard our phone argument telling the day nurse what happened and making excuses to make sure he wouldn't physically hurt me. after that day he went ghost again till 6 weeks after birth to do a "checkup" which basically was to see if I had money. and since the hospital he has met my son 3 times.. I told him the last time hearing from him that I was not going to have an in and out father and haven't heard from him sense....

to contine on with my mom, because of Kyler, my mom wanted to put a conservationship over me, call DHS on me, degrades me still, wanted to get a rape kit done and to this day throws in my face how stupid I was when she will never get it. everything Is a competition to her. she will bring up her dad and be like "well least your dad didn't hit you" or with the Kyler situation tell me her relationship with my dad was a domestic violence relationship and that she gets it. she doesn't if she did she would judge so harshly. I have been in therapy a year now and its helped a little. finding new people through social media has helped. getting back into my art has also helped. and now this... so thank you for reading my story... all I ask is that please understand who I am and how I work but do not let this change your thinking of me. that girl 13 on to 6 months ago is dead and I'm in my villain stage... I'm back... from the dead my original self and boy it is freeing... far as with my mom once I pay off my place to her I will have the option to cut her out if need to be so she can stop throwing in my face that shell evict me just because she didn't get her way that day..

thank you for being here for my ted talk...

xoxo

momi <3

0 notes

siflshonen · 2 years

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The Bakugo Presentation 2.0

Sequencing My Hero Academia’s “Manga DNA”: A Breakdown of Katsuki Bakugo

Welcome to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 now with added sections and revisions based on the feedback of the Bakugo survey! If you have not taken the survey but would like to do so, please have at it! Just make sure you read the disclaimer at the start as your answers may be posted on the @baku-fessionals blog.

Link to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 Part 2

Link to the Bakugo presentation 1.0: Part 1 | Part 2

Link to the Kirishima presentation

Link to the Todoroki presentation

Link to the Deku presentation coming eventually

What you are about to read is a combination of self-guided research and absorption from fan discussions and other fans who have taught me so much. @rironomind @pikahlua @greenhappyseed @the-nysh and so many others, thanks so much! Again!

Warning: This is over 140 slides long and spread across multiple posts. I’ve put the rest under the cut because I love you all dearly and wish to spare you. Beware of My Hero Academia manga spoilers and My Hero Academia Vigilantes spoilers! I’m (almost) current and dangerous.

Katsuki Bakugo Overview

He’s the worst! He’s an asshole bully! He’s taken the current popular anime world by storm! He’s Katsuki Bakugo of Kohei Horikoshi’s My Hero Academia (MHA) and he inspires big opinions from all who know him. If you don’t know anything else about him besides his name and his face, don’t worry: he’ll probably make you hate him in the first episode!

But not for long, apparently. His fans (that includes me!) think he’s pretty great. He’s won the Japanese MHA character popularity poll seven times in a row (out of eight total polls) and the North American polls four times out of five. The image above is the fourth North American popularity poll results.

Bakugo is a jerkwad teenage boy, but apparently there’s something to him that attracts attention from the audience. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can offer a comprehensive overview on the major features of this character. Please be aware that my focus is primarily manga-specific! I’ve seen the anime and I think it’s fine and dandy, but for the sake of consistency we are going to view him from a manga-centered lens.

He’s My Hero, But He Doesn’t Have to Be Yours!

It’s true! If you’ve come here as someone who vehemently hates this character, I don’t care if I change your mind about him whatsoever. I don’t care if I influence you at all! This is meant to be informative in that it gives you, the reader, a lens into Bakugo as a character, concept, and pop culture-pseudo-it-boy. If you don’t like the character, then that’s great! You don’t like him! It’s valid! Move on with your life! I do not expect you to agree with everything I have compiled here, but I would love to hear and read your thoughts once you’re done digesting everything I’m about to throw your way.

At a glance, Bakugo sucks! He sucks so much! He’s the worst kind of smug, entitled asshole you probably went to school with or experienced in some form in your life. Or maybe you were this person at some point? Maybe just a little bit? Just a smidge? Maybe for a few qualities on this list? Like, one or two? Hm?

No? Well, all the better. It’s so great to know that some people really were born perfect. Thanks for deigning to interact with the rest of us plebs. Keep your crowns up, kings, queens, and mighty sovereigns.

One of the major drivers behind why people like certain characters is in how well they understand them. Not necessarily that they agree with them and their actions—just that they understand them. If you are (or were) any of the things I’ve used to describe Bakugo and can recognize it in yourself, you likely already relate to Bakugo on some level and see where his narrative leads. The MHA story rocks his shit from the very first chapter (especially once we get more context of his childhood and motives and what actually makes him tick) like in any stock “shonen bully gets told he ain’t hot shit” narrative, but also takes the time to give context to the world outside Bakugo’s control and how it influences him.

Context is really important. Detailed world building is really important.

So while the story takes the time to put Bakugo in his place (there’s an entire chapter called “Breaking Bakugo”), it also adds some layers of nuance to his situation. It’s important to note that the manga’s principal character and narrator, Izuku “Deku” Midoriya (y’know, the kid Bakugo bullied) is also a child with a limited point of view. He’s aware of some of this stuff, but clueless about the rest. Some of the “surprises” the story (and Bakugo!) offer aren’t actually twists, but things that Deku didn’t realize, know about, or think to tell the audience.

None of this information justifies Bakugo’s more unsavory actions, mind you. It simply offers depth to his motivations for acting in the way he does. Context is really important.

MHA as a Fictional Reflection of Modern Japan

Please keep in mind that this story is Japanese and not Canadian or from the US, so not all Western-centric thinking is going to apply to the manga’s modern-Japan-reflective reality.

I wouldn’t exactly call MHA biting sociopolitical commentary (c’mon, y’all, it’s a shonen manga and that’s what it wants to be!), but it isn’t toothless. Then again, I’m from the USA where we put just about anything on the news and say whatever we want all the time, so take that with a grain of salt.

While the slides don’t discuss this specifically, the MHA world is obsessed with Heroes as public figures. The MHA world is obsessed with their personal narratives and public presentation because Heroes are a commercialized commodity and public figure combined. Basically, the entire MHA Hero world is trying to frame its own reality as a comic book with “good guys” and “bad guys” even though real life doesn’t work that way in practice. The characters (especially the main Villain) are doing this, too, and not just as a meta-textual joke for the reader.

TLDR: the MHA world is one glutted with propaganda. Every Hero and Hero student lives and breathes it at some point in the story.

How does this tie into Bakugo specifically? One, Bakugo often refers to other characters as “extras/side characters/supporting cast.” It’s rude of him to do it, but he’s not wrong. Like, he’s not even wrong in a literal meta-textual sense. It’s very twisted. And two: this culture places a massive amount of pressure placed on not only established Heroes, but Hero hopefuls like the students at UA. I point this out because it may offer insight into some of Bakugo’s motives as I go deeper into this presentation—particularly since he’s thrown into the public eye as a celebrity victim by the end of the pilot chapter and the fallout of that affects his actions even into the Sports Festival.

MHA Is a Shonen Manga About Shonen Manga

Also, and perhaps more importantly, MHA is a shonen manga. It’s not a comic, it’s not a manhwa, and it’s not a bandes dessinée. While it includes elements from other media besides Japanese shonen manga (or anime), it is a Japanese shonen manga to its core. It embraces this fact. Kohei Horikoshi also embraces this fact. Masashi Kishimoto, mangaka of Naruto and a major influence on Horikoshi’s work, embraces this fact as well. Context is really important! Knowing your comics is important! I love deconstruction-reconstructions! I love pastiche!

So, yes, while MHA is a distorted reflection of real-world modern Japan, it is also a shonen manga about shonen manga. These two facts are almost inseparable from one another in regards to breaking down this series. To that end, you’ll notice I start color-coding words throughout these slides.

If a word is red, it’s about Japan, Japanese shonen manga, society, social expectations, the self as reflective of society, or the role of the protagonist.

If a word is blue, it’s about the West, North American comics, or deuteragonists. Why? Because in this discussion, discussion of the West is secondary! That’s the hope, anyway. I tried.

If a word is orange, it’s either a general header, highlight for color difference, or specifically about Bakugo.

If a word is teal-green, think of Deku for me, okay?

Oh, also? While most of what I’m about to say generally applies to the anime, I am primarily referencing the manga.

Bakugo’s Manga DNA: Deconstructing the Shonen Deuteragonist Rival and Protagonist Hero

MHA mangaka Kohei Horikoshi said near the start of the series that he wanted to make Bakugo “Vegeta-like”. And why not? Vegeta is among the most famous and iconic rival and late-series deuteragonist characters in the ‘biz! He’s a great template to draw forth inspiration from for a new deuteragonist character!

But what’s more interesting is how Bakugo explores and breaks down (and sometimes spoofs) the standard shonen protagonist role while being the series deuteragonist in actuality. (Mob Psycho 100’s Teruki Hanazawa does something similar within his own series. It’s likely not an accident that both characters, at times, look like blonde-and-foreign-eyed-delinquent Naruto specifically despite not being the main character. More on that later.)

Apparently, western MHA fandom social media semi-regularly gets into debates about whether or not Bakugo is a deuteragonist or not. Well, I’m here to tell you:

He is.

There can be multiple deuteragonists in a work.

Importance to a work does not necessarily correlate to how much one likes a character.

The fact that Bakugo is the deuteragonist does not negate the importance of the rest of the main cast.

Bakugo can fill the deuteragonist role while still filling, exploring, or impacting other roles.

But for this discussion, the more important thing to consider isn’t whether or not Bakugo is the deuteragonist, but rather the overlap of tropes and roles often assigned to him as they apply to the shonen genre! There’s a great many similar shonen deuteragonists throughout media history that I could pull from for compare and contrast exercises. Despite the similarities between these deuteragonist characters, there is always something new and different that can be done with the role depending on what combination of other roles a creator chooses.

I’m going to break down the roles and tropes relevant to Bakugo one at a time. But, in order to do so, I’m going to open the next section with this very charged statement: Bakugo’s Vegeta-analogous “Manga DNA” doesn’t exactly come directly from Vegeta.

Bakugo’s Deuteragonist Inspirations: Vegeta and Tetsuo Shima

If anyone reading this is going to INSIST Bakugo is “the Vegeta”, do me a personal favor and compare him to the older initial inspiration for his character type: Tetsuo Shima from Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira. And don’t just do it to indulge me, either. Do it because Horikoshi spoke about this at length in one of his interviews.

I’m not saying Bakugo isn’t also similar to Vegeta. What I am saying is that Bakugo’s influences, tropes, and general manga references involve a scope much larger than just Vegeta. Kinda like how Dragonball’s Cell was made from more than just one character’s DNA, you know?

Speaking of characters made from Son Goku’s DNA.

Embodying Victory: Son Goku’s Legacy of Heroism By Winning

Shortly after the MHA anime was first announced in Japan, Horikoshi spoke in an interview with Natalie Comics about what media he likes and what aspects of heroism he focuses on. Specifically, he mentioned Spider-Man and Dragonball’s Son Goku. While he never directly says “All Might is like Spider-Man and Goku combined”, he did point out that the two of them seem to embody the heroic aspects of “saving” and “winning” respectively. He wanted to make sure his manga did not limit the idea of what a hero should be, but rather explored the many different aspects of heroism that exist.

If you read the series, I hope I don’t have to spell out how the manga specifically references “saving” and “winning” in regards to things embodied by early-manga Deku and Bakugo, but in case I do, I’ve put a couple manga panels on the slides for your reference.

If you don’t read the series, here’s your explanation: Deku embodies the heroic aspect of “saving (others no matter what)” and Bakugo embodies the heroic aspect of “winning (the fight no matter how bad the odds are)”. (Of course, MHA has the two of them swap aspects at times, but they do it very intentionally and always with the other as their source of inspiration or motivation.) All Might, who has both, recognizes these “saving” and “winning” aspects in both of them. Ergo, Deku is “saving” Spider-Man while Bakugo is “winning” Goku.

If you aren’t familiar with Dragonball, the fact that Vegeta only wins against Goku once (and in-series it’s treated as a tie since he retreats offworld after Goku convinces Krillin not to kill his troll doll ass) and is humiliated, irked, or otherwise constantly waxing poetic about his continued losses to Goku for the rest of the series is a defining trait of his character and arc.

Bakugo continuously winning (with one notable exception at the beginning that very pointedly hinges on a technicality in Deku vs Kacchan 1!) against Deku completely flips any sort of Vegeta-Goku dynamic they have totally on its head.

To make it more complicated, Bakugo is usually completely distraught over his victories against Deku for one reason or another, so despite usually winning against Deku, he perceives it as some sort of loss or greater failing regarding himself. Given that, one could say that Bakugo is the “winning Goku” of the dynamic in reality, but in Bakugo’s own head he feels he is the “losing Vegeta”. Meanwhile, much of the real-world audience (and the MHA public) perceives Bakugo’s shitty attitude as the “Vegeta (who should lose)” but Deku perceives him as the “Goku (who always wins because he’s amazing)”. It’s a paradox. Have fun chewing on it.

Dead Dove Do Not Eat: Victory Over the Self

But why is it understood Bakugo always wins? Why is this a notable and understood feature of the character? Well, it’s written by his head in his introductory anime nameplate.

Characters in Japanese works often have meaningful names. In fiction, they often function as labels of what a character is like or signals to the reader exactly what their arc is about. While a character’s name can be given to them ironically, Bakugo’s is not.

Baku: bomb; Go: powerful/large. The reasoning behind his family name “Bakugo” (large explosion/huge boom/big bomb) isn’t that deep. Bakugo is a boy who blows stuff up. Shocker.

His given name “Katsuki” is the real point of interest. Katsu: victory; Ki: self. “Victorious self”. Or “Selfish victory”. On its face, it’s a comically blunt name for a guy initially introduced to us as obsessed with being the best to the point of self-detriment. But that’s not the only—or most appropriate—interpretation of his name.

His name is best interpreted as “victory (over the) self”. This has the double meaning of “get the victory at all costs, even if it includes destroying yourself”, which is Bakugo’s stated early-series belief, as well as “win against yourself”.

Japanese given names (in real life) often draw from the names of the parents. Bakugo’s father is named Masaru (which means victory—I’m not going to get into the weeds about why it’s pronounced differently) and his mother is named Mitsuki. If you put the last character of Mitsuki’s name on the back of Masaru’s, you get “Katsuki”. Also, to draw from real life even more: the names a child is given in Eastern cultures can also signify wishes of the parents for the child or even expectations placed upon them. In other words, even Bakugo’s name alludes to a potential obligation he carries by dint of being given a name at all.

For the purposes of this discussion, the concept of “self” in Bakugo’s name can also be “the self as molded by the society in which one participates.” The name Katsuki “victory over the (self as molded by society)” Bakugo is yet another clue that he is a character on a journey of self-improvement. Because, while many of his personal social obstacles concern his relationships with others, he is also grappling with how he relates to himself. Bakugo’s constant enemy is public expectations and opinion, but his true nemesis is himself.

Bakugo’s Backstory: The Tragedy of Self-Loathing

If how I framed Bakugo’s outsider-imposed and self-perceived “Goku/Vegeta” complex earlier in this writeup didn’t make sense to you, just interpret it as a shonen-flavored way of saying that he has a superiority-inferiority complex.

Bakugo’s backstory is not melodramatic like Sasuke’s or Vegeta’s. It is not a twisted and horrible accident like Shigaraki’s. It is not full of self-harm and murder like Toga’s. It is not flashy or cool in any way. Instead, it is utterly grounded in real-life pressures of the everyday social realities of modern Japan. In fact, even when Bakugo tried very hard to tailor his own “backstory” by ensuring he was the only student from Aldera Middle to make it into UA High, he has never denied the fact that, aside from his quirk, talents, and strengths associated with them, he is stunningly average. Actually, that’s the very thing he won’t deny but hates to admit: he is just like everybody else. It’s just that in Bakugo’s mind, there is no middle ground between “main character of this damn manga” and “extra”.

Bakugo hates himself and he makes it clear early in the series. In my opinion, the fan translations do the best job of showing this one aspect of his character as they aren’t afraid of using phrases like “a useless piece of shit like you (while clearly showing Bakugo’s own face at his most pathetic as the visual so we know he’s really thinking about his own miserable self-worth)” while the official translations limit that sort of language and keep it vague. All Might and Aizawa also point this out, albeit indirectly and through the angle of Bakugo’s fragile ego.

A teen boy bully who hates himself is pretty mundane. For some readers, Bakugo’s mundanity is a weakness of how he was written. For his fans, this is one of his greatest points of appeal.

MHA makes it a priority to openly explore Bakugo’s self-loathing using a lens specific to modern Eastern cultures. I’ll talk about it more later, but it’s best I establish this line of conversation here. The isolated, granular details of Bakugo’s character culminate in making him an uncomfortably real figure for a lot of readers rather than just, like, a generic shonen rival antihero-type.

Bakugo is also drowning in the double-standard imposed by the expectations placed on him for his talent and the reality of what he actually values.

My Antihero Academia

For those that say Bakugo isn’t exactly heroic: I agree. He’s an antihero. He’s also a trickster hero, but let’s break this one step at a time.

An antihero is a character who does heroic things for unheroic reasons. In other words, an antihero is a figure that does whatever the hell they want and finds success in it for whatever reason. Or, to use more MHA-relevant language, an antihero is a character who does “selfless” things for selfish reasons. MHA goes out of its way to point out that all of these descriptions are subjective and dependent upon the status quo.

For example, Deku’s “selfless” urges to save anyone he perceives as in need of help are born from the selfish desire to act as he sees fit regardless of what the victim of the situation feels or wants. Meanwhile, Bakugo’s “selfish” desire to win everything on his own selflessly takes the pressure off anyone else to put forth any effort in a dangerous situation at all. (And yes, both of these things are part of what screwed over All Might and the social situation in the first place.)

The MHA story as a whole throws ambiguity on what constitutes a “Hero (occupation and literary role)”, “Villain (societal designation and literary role)”, “victim”, or “extra” and by doing so is a story made, mainly, with a cast of morally ambiguous characters. “Goodness” is usually defined by how socially accepted something is rather than any true moral or spiritual failing or success on the characters’ parts. “Hero” is someone sanctioned by the existing social orders and power to do as they see fit. “Villain” is whoever the existing social orders deem as bad. And, in MHA’s modern-Japan-analagous world, “bad” is often “nonconforming”. So while I believe Bakugo–and many of the shonen rival deuteragonists before him—should be classified as an antihero, the story casts shade on what is and isn’t heroic/unheroic/selfless/selfish with the intention of making these roles harder to define.

Oh, and also? The main protagonist of a shonen does not have to be defined as a hero. They can be, and commonly are, antiheroes.

Bakugo as an Antihero Shonen Protagonist: Pastiche Costuming

Oh, beloved summer costume. Only you could make it look this good even as your fans make fun of you for it, Bakugo.

It’s “edgy”. It’s cringey. It’s got massive grenades and lots of black and scary things that a teen boy would think is cool and flashy but look absolutely stupid to the rest of us (and a little bit homosexual to those of us in the West). And yet he pulls it off! Hats off to Horikoshi-sensei for making a character with enough on-page charisma to do that. I absolutely love his costume for all of the things I’ve outlined about it, but also because it screamed “HELLO I AM TRYHARD EDGY ANTIHERO SHONEN PROTAGONIST!” from the moment I saw it. It’s so overblown that the “edgy” part of it rubs off and instead just makes me think, “cute! Little immature baby high school kid!”

MHA is a Shueisha/Shonen Jump property, so references to works like One Piece, Naruto, BLEACH, Yu-gi-oh, and the like are all fair game for Horikoshi to make. Horikoshi even dressed Bakugo up like Luffy in a little extra comic! Look!

Also, I’d like to point out that Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece (by mangaka Eichiro Oda’s own admission) is intentionally meant to be like Dragonball’s Son Goku. This is part of a larger feedback loop of “shonen protagonists are like THIS!” that has existed for decades.

I also bring before you Ichigo Kurosaki from BLEACH (arguably the best-dressed shonen protagonist in the history of the genre—JoJo fans, I am ready and willing to listen to your argument to the contrary) on this slide mostly because I love him rather than because of his costuming, but he’ll become more relevant later. (The hair. The glare. The need to maintain his reputation…)

Devilman’s Enduring Influence

Do you know the impact of Go Nagai’s Devilman on the shonen genre? No? Well, you might know the next series I’m going to bring up, so it’s fine. I don’t think Horikoshi was necessarily thinking of Devilman when he designed Bakugo’s mask, but I know he was thinking of what’s on the next slide, which was definitely influenced by Devilman in the inspirational zeitgeist if not directly.

Do you know the plot of Devilman and how it might reflect on the plot and characters of MHA? How it’s about a boy who is “chosen for his pure heart” to wield a great power that is also a curse (and also is a whole other presence living in his body) and is linked to humanity changing into beings with strange bodies and powers and how that causes an upheaval in society that ultimately ends with the world being destroyed? And how at the end everyone realizes their folly because the Devilmen are human beings who have been denied their right to exist because they are different? What? That sounds like any given shonen? Well! Looks like you might understand how influential Devilman is.

…Or, wait, no? You don’t? Well, don’t worry about it. The original Devilman is, respectfully, the worst manga I have ever read. I’ll go to bat for Devilman: Crybaby, though.

Naruto Lives On in the Zeitgeist

If you don’t know Devilman, you probably do know Naruto. And Boruto. In the crosstalk interview I’ve referenced, Naruto’s mangaka Masashi Kishimoto admits he views MHA as Naruto’s successor of sorts. I can’t speak definitively, but based on Horikoshi’s reaction to the statement as well as his direction with his manga after that point, he embraced alluding to his predecessors with aplomb. (Also, wow, he sounds so much like Deku about it all!)

It’s About the Look: The Influences in the Rest of the Cast

So, yes. Bakugo’s breakdown of the shonen protagonist role (despite not being cast in that role) is tied up in the look of it. His costume is intentionally chosen. It is purposeful. Bakugo is not unique in this—many MHA Heroes and Hero hopefuls intentionally draw from existing figures—and not just because Horikoshi likes references (though he sure does!) but because the characters want to evoke recognition from the in-story public (and the readers) about who they are and what they do. For example, Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead is an “underground hero” who is out of the public eye. He’s a ninja. (In the crosstalk interview, Horikoshi admits he didn’t initially realize the similarities between Aizawa and Kakashi but acknowledges they are undeniable.) That’s the power of good branding, baby.

Perhaps more pointed are All Might’s visual signifiers. While Toshinori is Japanese, his Hero persona is modeled after, y’know, a Western superhero. (He and his in-story retirement can be interpreted as an interesting take on American military occupation leaving Japan. Particularly in that All Might—the West-coded figure—didn’t solve crime. He merely suppressed it and upheld what was an otherwise unsustainable system while said system continued to form around him. Is this offensive? I leave that to you. This topic is not today’s discussion!)

Some Heroes, like Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko (not pictured), draw on figures from folk tales (she’s the rabbit making mochi on the moon) or mythology. Oboro Shirakumo/Loud Cloud on the top right is obviously emulating Son Goku, but specifically younger Goku and the character’s Journey to the West-inspired roots. For the purposes of this discussion, Shirakumo is splitting the difference between shonen manga, classic literature, and folk tales in his choice of inspiration. Speaking as a fan of Dragonball (and Journey to the West in concept), the fact that the character who strove to follow in those footsteps is dead is deeply upsetting. And that’s just from me making the associations in my mind based on what I know of the source material he references! That’s a separate emotional response from the absolute roller coaster Aizawa’s backstory regarding his death took me on in the Vigilantes spin-off!

All of the supplemental manga information supplies specific taste and media background on me, your presenter, but it is also a detailed example of how much the manga-savvy audience may be influenced by the characters’ choices of inspiration regarding their Heroic (or social) presentation. Much like Bakugo’s costume, the entire MHA series intentionally draws from other sources. While it’s not explicitly stated, the characters likely know about these other manga, too. These figures are part of their cultural zeitgeist! Think of it like the characters themselves are making literary allusions from other comics, graphic novels, and pop culture phenomena.

Anyway, back to Shirakumo as Goku/the Monkey King: since so much of the shonen genre—particularly in the protagonist role—is tied up in Son Goku specifically, one could argue that Bakugo’s shonen-protagonist-specific costuming choice is signaling something to the audience in a similar way as Shirakumo’s.

I know it does for me—and this includes references to other shonen staples besides Goku.

A Brief Primer on Shonen Manga and World War II

Unlike Akira Fudo in Devilman, Astro/Atom of Astro Boy is not “possessed by a devil”. Instead, he’s a robot boy who is powered by a nuclear core. Put simply: at any point in the series the main character could choose to blow everybody up. He doesn’t, but the portrayal of shonen power being double-edged is pretty much a genre requirement since then. Going back to Dragonball—the Super Sayan/Sayajin form was initially an ambivalent-to-dark power. It wasn’t until the Cell Saga that this portrayal was hand-waved (and even then, Gohan still had a personality change when he achieved the second form of it.)

Admittedly, having background knowledge and personal connection to Astro Boy is specific to me rather than the MHA audience as a whole, but I bring it up because Astro Boy is just as—if not more—influential within the shonen genre and the Japanese conscience than Devilman, which also blatantly references war and nuclear devastation in its finale.

Anyway, this association of shonen power and nuclear power in MHA isn’t subtle. Deku is called a bomb because of his power at one point. Bakugo blows stuff up with his sweat. He wears grenades on his hands. His initial all-or-nothing stance on “winning” meaning everything doesn’t just remind me of the pressures of modern academia and success on today’s children and how it warps their psyche and values. It reminds me of World War II and postwar nationalist thinking rooted in fear—for any nation—which, for this discussion, is in turn echoed in modern Japan’s academic pressures. Failure is not an option.

That may not be what Horikoshi was thinking as he was writing the character or the series, but it’s something always lurking in the background for those familiar with the shonen genre. It’s a concept and theme that is just as much a part of shonen “manga DNA” as Akira or Dragonball.

I bring all of this up because, as much as I love a good shonen series, they have (and in my opinion, should be aware of) a dark core that is, in the modern day, still shaped by the fallout of World War II. Bakugo’s hero costume, with all of its black in addition to the red and orange, really does suggest the uncomfortable reality of what a classic shonen protagonist might be like in the real world. Bakugo is dangerous, powerful, maladjusted, and unpleasant—which is a direct and honest reflection of what a shonen protagonist would actually be like in modern society. And yet Bakugo the character plays the role in this way on purpose—because that is the expectation placed on him even if at the beginning of the series he doesn’t yet realize how and why that is. Bakugo initially doesn’t realize what he is asking to inherit with his chosen shonen protagonist antihero role much like Deku doesn’t realize what sort of obligation he has received alongside All Might’s power.

THAT is an angle of exploration one can sink teeth into. It’s not always outright stated, but it is alluded to in how many of the characters—including All Might, Deku, and Bakugo talk about power. And yes, the MHA world makes reference to a great war that the younger generations cannot and do not remember but are aware of from the inherited grief of their older generation. Even when it isn’t discussed explicitly or made into a plot point, the shadow of World War II and the rememberance of the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is inseparable from the work.

You know how I said most readers likely wouldn’t have a strong tie to Astro Boy? Well, Godzilla is another personification of great power (nuclear power) and the ambiguous nature of it. Obviously, this association was made within MHA and put forth into the world even if not through the lens of Astro Boy.

Presenting Bakusatsuo: King Explosion Murder… of kaiju! We love him, we fear him, and we think he’s a huge asshole. Can’t imagine a world without him.

Presenting: Mothku! Friend to the children and sometimes nemesis, sometimes, um, friend of Bakusatsuo. You know the discussions about how Godzilla and Mothra are the king and queen of kaiju, yes?

Why is it significant that both Bakugo and Deku draw from a specific mix of Eastern and Western influence?

Winner Take All: Furyo Shonen and Western Envy

The Allies won the war. Postwar Japan had to swallow it. A lot of modern Japanese youth think the West, particularly the USA and the English language, is pretty cool nowadays, but the postwar fallout persists. A good example is the introduction of certain beauty standards—like wider eyes and a more pronounced “Western” profile—throughout the East. But things like attitude, values, and self-presentation also factor into what is considered Western versus traditional. Enter: Furyo shonen—or Japanese delinquents.

Furyo shonen, or delinquent boys, are part of a subculture that was particularly common in the real world from the 1950s through 1990s. The subculture’s original “look”, the pompadour hair and (when not in non-compliant school uniform) Hawaiian shirts, was inspired by US GIs who hung around in the country after World War II and were based there during the Korean War. They definitely solidified the stereotype of Americans as loud, rude, insensitive, and also as “winners”.

I’m not the right person to talk in-depth about the complicated relationship that Japan (or any other country) has with Westernization, particularly by the US, but just know it exists, okay? The point is, delinquents, or “Yankees” (y’know, like Yankee Doodle, or the term people from the US uses to refer to people from the northeastern part of the nation) became a counterculture by emulating the swagger and abrasive individuality of these GIs. Eventually, the delinquent “look” came to be anything that flew in the face of the conventional. Tattoos and dramatically shaved or dyed hair are common looks. Usually, delinquents either fall out of the subculture and assimilate into society or they get picked up by the Yakuza. (Check out the Kirishima presentation for more about this.)

But delinquents have a totally different reputation when it comes to shonen anime and manga of the 1970s-1990s. They range from genuinely goodhearted guys with rough and socially frowned-upon exteriors to legitimate antiheroes who do acts of good for selfish reasons… usually before learning the power of friendship and community and all that stuff and turning into the first category of the trope. Or dropping the delinquent act altogether.

But, looking at this shonen trope from a distance, the furyo shonen waffles between the most iconic type of shonen hero as well as the most common type of shonen antihero. Akira’s Tetsuo Shima (early in the series) and Shotaro Kaneda are both iconic examples of the antihero delinquent deuteragonist and protagonist respectively. BLEACH’s Ichigo Kurosaki is a delinquent boy hero and, much like Bakugo, he is intentionally putting on the airs of being a delinquent for the benefit of his “image”.

Specifically, Bakugo is going for the “delinquent with a perfect attendance record” trope. I’ll admit that when I first watched the English dub of the anime, I didn’t immediately pick up on the fact that he is leaning into this trope as hard as he possibly can because strange hair colors are normal in MHA, his speech pattern isn’t nearly as contrived in English as it is in Japanese, his middle school teacher doesn’t hate him, and he’s such a little goody-two-shoes rule-follower outside of his mean personality. Even glancing the manga’s way, though, it hit me like a ton of bricks that he is a delinquent. There’s nothing else Bakugo could be even if he wasn’t so utterly transparent about it. Personally, whenever I watch Bakugo ham it up as a delinquent, I see a kid wearing a Halloween costume in my mind. I find this self-aware overcompensating hilarious once I get over the secondhand embarrassment.

The furyo shonen protagonist was outdated even in 2014 at MHA’s time of publication, so by extrapolation it would have been extremely out of fashion in MHA’s setting of 200 years into the fictional future. This is pointed out indirectly: Eijiro Kirishima’s Hero persona Red Riot is inspired by delinquent Hero Crimson Riot, whom Kirishima and Midnight both refer to as old. The delinquent thing is vintage in universe. Bakugo’s chosen day-to-day persona is vintage. It’s like seeing a modern real-life teen boy become super obsessed with The Outsiders or gangster movies to the point he decided to make it a major part of his identity. (I talk more about this throughout my Kirishima presentation.)

However, while Bakugo’s delinquent fashion is somewhat performative, there’s an element of truth to the underlying sentiment.

The most important thing to understand about Bakugo’s self-presentation as a delinquent boy is that the original subculture draws from disenfranchised Japanese youth putting on the nonconformist airs of Westerners—Westerners that won the war and colonized postwar Japan and therefore forced the nation into treating them as their, well, “victorious betters”.

To the victor goes the spoils. The winner of a war gets to write the narrative however they like. And in doing so, they make themselves a hero regardless of what the opposition might say. So, yes, Bakugo’s early-series “might makes right” mentality (and the similar real-world mentality born from Japanese academic performance rather than might as physical strength) comes from somewhere specific. And while “that comes from somewhere in real life” is true of all characters in any work that hold this mentality, the interesting thing is that the source of Bakugo’s attitude isn’t far removed from the influences of origin present in MHA’s “manga DNA”. The direct line between the Allies as ‘the heroes” because they won the war and wrote the narrative remains intact and intentional to Bakugo as a character through the direct ties modern history has to shonen manga as a genre.

Oh, and also?

The Tragedy of Self-Loathing Returns

The flipside of Bakugo being praised for his quirk and “shallow things”, as his mother puts it, is that these statements come with the unstated-but-implied flipside of “The ONLY good thing about you is your quirk and ability to win.” I find that interesting when held up to a kid who is doing his damnedest to come off as an individualistically minded hero with specifically Western-inspired affectations in the face of modern collectivist Japan. He is trying to be the “obnoxious, selfish, nonconformist Western winner” despite being raised in a society that envies and usually rejects the “obnoxious, selfish, nonconformist Western winner” because he doesn’t think he can be anything else.

This level of reality and history to Bakugo’s self-loathing and intentionally chosen presentation makes him uncomfortably real for some readers. Please see the Kirishima presentation if you’d like to follow this line of thought in more detail.

Bakugo as an Antihero Shonen Protagonist: Delinquent Archetype

I’ve talked a lot about World War II and Westernization as it relates to a meta-textual narrative. But don’t take that to mean Bakugo is directly mulling over that slice of history in the story. Initially, he’s a child who is naive to the greater implications of the larger historic and social factors that influence him. Instead, Bakugo follows his chosen archetypes using the logic of a kid who reads a lot of hero narratives, particularly shonen ones, and is trying to make himself into one of them.

Which, even with his naivete, still pits him—an individualistically-minded kid intentionally donning the Japanese stereotypes of Western affectations—against a society analogous to modern collectivist Japan. It’s a step removed from “this is about World War II”, but the line between MHA and the bigger conversation about all of shonen manga’s influences is still present.

Just because Bakugo isn’t actively aware of the past as it impacts his present doesn’t mean it isn’t impacting him. Just because Bakugo isn’t actively aware of something doesn’t mean that the audience is likewise unaware.

In this way, Bakugo’s chosen self-portrayal as a shonen delinquent is a deliberate way to show that he is, in all senses at the beginning and then later in appearance only, the most genre-savvy, on-the-nose antihero (by the definitions of what his modern-Japan-analogous world considers antiheroic) he could possibly be.

Best Jeanist Hates Your Look: Rejection of Identity and Personhood

For your reference, the Best Jeanist Award is real-world a Japanese fashion award. Meaning Best Jeanist the Hero isn’t just a fashion designer on the side. He is the pinnacle of style and appearance for celebrities and Hero society. He puts a very fine point on rejecting every nonconformist thing about Bakugo and he hates it! He cannot endure this! Bakugo is a boy who blows stuff up with his sweat! Intentions aside, HE CANNOT SURVIVE IN THIS BOX PEOPLE WANT TO PUT HIM INTO. NOT BY FORCE. NOT LIKE THIS.

But BJ does manage to put Bakugo in a pair of designer jeans that actually sit at his waistline for a chapter, so there’s that, too. BJ also smooths down his hair and gives him a side part (like the one class president Tenya Iida sports) which is emblematic of “obedient conformist polished good son Japanese youth”. And that’s cute.

I’m going to tell you an open secret: Bakugo is an insecure little boy who doesn’t totally know who he is but is desperate to figure it out. It’s another description that is true of most teen boys—particularly bullies—across cultures, but I think it’s an underrated one.

Why? Because Bakugo’s identity struggle is in part a result of his keen awareness that the spoken-about ideals of his Hero society and the ones it values in truth are not the same. Hero society talks a great deal about the value of saving others in need of help, but whenever a victim is also nonconforming to societal standars in any way (Toga, Spinner, Twice, Shigaraki, La Brava) or make a mistake and go against society for any level of infraction (Gentle Criminal, The Crawler/Koichi), they are deemed a Villain in perpetuity. Hero society wants their paragons to talk the talk of saving, but in practice they want them to crush all perceived nonconforming individuals. Their world is entirely concerned with the status quo. Bakugo’s schtick of “putting on airs” like a delinquent and leaning into his hyper-aggressive tendencies are his way of expressing what his society has signaled to him as the correct way for a Hero to be.

Bakugo is very, very aware that the concept of Hero/Villain is not synonymous with good/evil. How does Deku fit into this? Well, the fact that Bakugo always thought Deku, even when quirkless, was better than him is telling. Despite all of society signaling to Bakugo that Deku is worthless because of his lack of power, Bakugo’s doubts were still strong enough to motivate him to bully or outright avoid Deku.

Remember Deku’s internal monologue in the first chapter about needing just one person to believe in him? Yeah, that one person already exists. His name is Bakugo and he was a fucking asshole about it.

Bringing Old School Shonen to the Modern Age

This is abstract meta-talk rather than something I can back up in the work or from Horikoshi’s interviews, but I don’t think the interpretation of Bakugo as an embodiment of the classic genre learning how to interact in the pressures of a different age is an unfounded or unique one among genre fans. MHA explores the idea of people acting as symbols more than once (Shigaraki as a symbol of fear, Bakugo as Deku’s personal symbol of victory, etc) so it’s not out of the question to think of his story as an allegory of change for the things he represents (those things being “shonen as a monolith” and the “base state” of MHA society—and perhaps modern Japan—primarily.)

And even if one doesn’t agree with the interpretation of Bakugo as representative of something old becoming something new again, the impactful real-world social factors impacting the manga’s themes are certainly updated from the ones that impacted classic shonen.

Repurposing Wartime Devastation into Social Obligation

Classic shonen manga draws from Japan’s lasting national memory of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as the Westernization of the postwar period. I’ve established that. But the newest generation of Japan isn’t so consciously affected by this history. Theirs is a new world with different (but related) pressures and sources of grief. So, if MHA is a shonen that draws on the history of the genre but with a new and more contemporary spin, what takes the place of the bombs?

During the manga’s War Arc, Bakugo refers to Deku’s One for All—which is basically a quirk bioweapon even by the MHA world standards—as a “cursed power.” Contextually, he seems to be thinking more of the obligations placed upon the quirk holder rather than, you know, the duality of nuclear power as shonen are wont to do, but the implications overlap significantly. This is interesting because, much like World War II cast the greatest shadow over the genre post-Astro Boy, the modern challenges affecting Japan as a whole and therefore weighing on the social consciousness are the complications that arise from peacetime. In a general sense, these are social obligations, the double-standards they impose, and the resulting oppressive and unjust status quo that arises from these conditions.

Everyone in the manga, Villains and Heroes included, are locked in a battle between preserving the social order, destroying the social order completely, or changing the social order in ways that benefit some but not others. I could talk about how Star and Stripe (hello, United States flag) butting into a Japan-centric conflict fits into this (my brief opinion: it’s a little tasteless), but that’s a larger discussion. This is meant to focus on Bakugo’s character, role in the story, and impact on the modern shonen genre.

Let’s take a step back into modern day Japanese societal conventions and cultural norms... in part 2!

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed.

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #frosty's dark!fics

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Unbreakable Bond

(A/N): This is based on this post and this tiktok

Summary: A big age gap between Aaron's children doesn't have to mean that they are unable to form a strong bond

Warnings: Mentions of Haley's death and failed relationships

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________________

His life took turns Aaron never expected. It’s not the “Oh, mh, well that was unexpected”-type of turns, I talk about the “God played Cards Against Humanity with angels and decided to make it happen for someone”-type. But looking back he would not want to change a thing.

After Haley and Beth he was convinced that God, the Universe, something out there shared the opinion that romantic love isn’t the right thing for him and Aaron accepted that fact. Even more when he and Jack went into witness protection. I mean, when you are worried about the life of your family being in danger because of a stalker, you don’t think about the beautiful neighbor, who lives next door, right? Right?

Well, without going into too much detail, Hotch did think about her and she about him and vice versa. Everything went good until Aaron received the message that the team found the stalker and that it was safe to come back. He decided to come clean to his girlfriend. They talked about the possibility of moving back to Quantico.

In the end they decided in favor of the move, the final argument was the surprising announcement of her being pregnant. Hotch wants to raise their youngest where his and Jack’s roots are located. But he decides against taking a position at the BAU, instead taking a desk job in order to be more at home. He also has the opportunity to work from home after little (Y/N) was born and continues to do so until she is old enough to go to Kindergarten. Even then he takes two days the week where he stays home. Aaron learned from his decisions and mistakes he made in the past and wants to live up to them and be a better father and husband than before.

And Hotch keeps it to this day, six years later. It’s (Y/N)’s first day of school, while Jack just graduated high school and goes off to college in a few weeks. Even though they have an age gap from twelve and a half years, their parents are sure there are no other siblings with such a strong bond.

Ever since his baby sister’s birth Jack is her biggest supporter, protector and friend. Her first word was his name, though it was more of a “ACK!”, but that’s the best nickname he ever got. As soon as (Y/N) was old enough to comprehend the concept of movies, he introduced her to Star Wars. Since then lightsaber wars out of cardboard pipes are not uncommon. Last Halloween they even dressed up as Chewbakka and Han Solo. You get three guesses on who was who.

“JACK!” (Y/N) runs into her big brother’s room with an excited expression on her face. “Daddy promised to buy me a real lightsaber after I read ten books! With lights and sounds and all! Isn’t that cool?” Jack smiles. Aaron did a similar thing with him. For a certain amount of books he got a reward they discussed beforehand. This way he felt motivated to read and improved writing and reading skills.

“This is awesome. I think that means we have to go book shopping together, what do you think?” (Y/N) is not only the cool kid that has an older brother, she is also the cool kid, whose older brother has a drivers license, a car and a part time job. She nods with big eyes, speechless, because the offer sounds like heaven to her. Getting books and one on one time with Jack after he was really busy with school for weeks? This has to be heaven.

“Ok, then you put your outside clothes on and I’ll tell Dad about our plan.” At that the little girl rushes to her room, not wanting to waste any more time. Jack makes his way down to the kitchen, where Aaron wipes the table from lunch down.

“Dad, I take (Y/N) to this bookstore in DC and we’ll probably go eat ice cream after that. Is that alright?” Hotch looks up at his son. It still feels like yesterday as he told Haley that Gideon is a big no as a baby name. Now he is all grown up and just a few weeks away from the next big chapter in his life.

“Of course, just let me get my wall-” Jack cuts him off. “No need, I want to use this as a kind of goodbye thing. At least until Thanksgiving.” Aaron knows what he means. It’s his last day before he goes off to college and just a couple more until the first classes begin. The family still hasn’t told their youngest exactly what’s going on. Else she would refuse to go to school and go on with her day, insisting on using all the time they have until Jack drives off.

Two hours later the siblings leave the bookstore, both of them having a bag in their hands. Of course Jack's heavier, but both he and the cashier assured (Y/N) that they lift the same amount of weight.

“Uncle Spence will be excited when I tell him that I read Harry Potter, he told me so many good things about it”, the girl gushes. Jack nods, indicating that he is listening. Of course they also picked books that are not that advanced. Still, no sister of his shall grow up without knowing the beauty of the wizarding world. Also, secretly he is hoping for her to turn out as nerdy as he is so they get more things to talk about. His next step is superheroes, especially the Marvel ones.

They converse until they get to an ice cream parlor and order both their usuals. “Do you think you are ready for me to tell you something important?” The older one asks after they sit down at a table. (Y/N) nods, confusion taking over her face.

“Uhm, you know how I graduated from high school? I’m done with school, but I want to get a degree, but for that I have to go to college. It’s pretty far away so I can’t come home for a few months. But I’m back home when Thanksgiving is and also for Christmas.” It doesn’t matter what Jack says, a sad frown has formed on the little one’s face. “Oh. And after Christmas, will you leave again?” He nods and explains when he is off from college and when not.

“We can always skype and write letters. How does that sound? And when you get your first phone, we can even text.” That (Y/N) lights up a bit. For her first year of school she got a stationary set and is eager to use it to this day.

“I’m going to miss you so much”, she says hugging her big brother. Jack pats her back. “I’ll miss you, too.”

The goodbye the next day is a heartfelt matter. Everybody cries, especially (Y/N). She can’t fathom a scenario where her brother isn’t there for her all the time.

The following weeks are also hard for the family. The youngest refuses to sleep alone for the first three days after Jack’s leave. She is more closed off and mainly just does her school work or reads the books he bought for her. By the time Thanksgiving is only away for another two weeks, (Y/N) has read through all of them at least two times.

Her father already ordered the lightsaber he promised her. Unfortunately shipping takes several months, so the little girl still has to wait patiently for her reward to arrive. In the meantime she works on getting the next and she is already pretty close to the comic book collection she wants.

“Sweetheart, can you set the table, please? Your Mom will be here soon from grocery shopping and she will need help getting them from the car into the house”, Hotch calls for his daughter while stirring in a pot.

The little girl nods, putting her stationary set and pens aside to do as her father asked. She is in the middle of answering her brother’s last letter, telling him that she is now the one that usually has to read aloud for the class because of her advanced skill for a first grader.

Just as she sets the last piece of silverware down the doorbell rings. “Sweetie, can you please open it? This should be your mother.” Happily (Y/N) runs up and turns the door knob. Over the last few months she hit a small growing spurt and is finally tall enough to reach it without standing on her tippy toes.

“Mo-” She nearly chokes on her own saliva. The one at the door is definitely not her mother. “JACK!” (Y/N) runs up to him and jumps onto his leg. “Hey Princess. I thought now that you read your books, we need to hold the most amazing lightsaber fight in history.” With a mischievous smile he pulls two from his back, giving one to his baby sister.

It is the most epic fight in history between an elementary schooler and a college boy. They can only be stopped by their parents announcing that it is a tie between both of them and that they have to sit down, else the food gets cold.

The following weeks mostly consist of (Y/N)’s joyous laughs and cuddling with her big brother. She even insists on him sleeping with her in her much smaller bed. On his last night before going back to college, the little girl turns to him in the middle of watching her favorite movie in the living room.

“Do you promise not to forget me when you are away? Because I alway think about you and tell my friends so much about you. I told them you are a hero, my hero, just like Daddy. They wanna meet you because of that.” Jack has to hold back tears at her statement.

“I also think of you so much. All of my friends at college are pretty jealous of me having such a sweet baby sister. Maybe one time you can visit me and I can introduce you to them.” The thought of that makes (Y/N) smile and is a little consolation to the thought of her brother leaving again.

Aaron watches the interaction going down, happy to see the strong bond between his children, despite their age gap. This is nothing like he and Sean were and that is a relief for him and the worries he had in the beginning. It is a sign that he did do some things right as a father.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#aaron hotch x child!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #jack hotchner #jack hotchner x sister!reader #jack hotchner x reader #x daughter!reader #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotch #x child!reader

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile. “Thank you.”

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.” You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.” For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.” You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

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midgardianweasley · 3 years

Text

Build-a-bear adventures

Build-a-bear adventures.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A top trained assassin, her girlfriend, and a build-a-bear workshop, what better way to spend a day off.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Agonisingly fluffy.

I was planning on posting angst, but, decided on a fluff instead<33

“But babe. Babe. Babe.” You poked your girlfriend, fully aware that with every prod, you were only contributing to the headache worthy eye rolls she had been giving you for the past hour. You were joking, of course you were, she knew that, but she also knew that it was possible you were about to be single in 0.2 of a second if you didn’t stop poking her.

With a sarcastic smile and a deep breath, she turned her head towards you, momentarily stopping your movements as you returned a sickeningly sweet smile back.

“Yes?��

“I don’t think you understand.”

“I do understand.”

“This is life or death.” You spoke with a poker face, a weak attempt to try and make your point valid.

“I think that may be exaggerating just a little bit honey.” She chuckled lightly at your tone and the way you moved in your spot on the sofa, now having your legs crossed in front of you, hands enthusiastically moving in front of you.

“No. No, see, you don’t understand! We need to do this!”

“Is my unconditional love not enough?”

“No.”

“Ouch.” She dramatically placed her hand on her chest, a smirk plastered onto her face as she watched you rile yourself up with every sentence.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that, your unconditional love is more than enough, and while I unconditionally love you too, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a necessity.”

“Like the ones from the jungle book?”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back as the assassin teased you.

“Baby, please!” You moved once again, now clambering onto her lap with your hands interlocked behind her neck, your faces mere inches away from hers. Her hands immediately went to your waist to steady you, pure energy coursed through your veins as you tried to convince Natasha to go ahead with your idea and she wasn’t certain you wouldn’t fall off of you if she didn’t hold you down.

“You seriously want to?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Instead of cuddling in bed with movies?” Her eyebrows raised in question, not faltering as she watched you pretend to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard on your chin.

“Yes.” You smiled, your inner child shining through.

Knowing she wasn’t going to win, she sighed gently, running a hand through your hair and giving you a quick kiss on your temple before tapping your thighs to signal for you to stand up.

“Alright. Get ready and we’ll go.”

“Really?” You squealed, clapping your hands together as you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“Really. Now hurry and get your shoes on, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

She watched with nothing but adoration as you whizzed off to get ready to leave, swearing that she’s never seen you move so quickly in her life. Despite her playful protest, she walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up her car keys, swinging them around her pointer finger as she walked over to the doorway of the compound living room.

‘I can’t believe I'm doing this.’ She thought.

Although she’ll deny it to anyone that asks, she’s absolutely whipped for you.

“I’m ready!” Your voice called out, encouraging Natasha to shrug her leather jacket on and walk towards her smiling girlfriend, taking her hand as they walked out together with content smiles on their faces.

‘Let’s do this.’

_______________________

It didn’t take long to arrive at your destination, your eyes immediately drew themselves to the store windows filled with stuffed bears in a variety of different outfits, some bears were dressed up to fit a theme, some bears were characters from loved movies, some were just bears in dungarees.

That’s right. You’ve managed to bring a trained assassin to a build-a-bear workshop. Why?

To get matching bears.

You looked towards Natasha, a huge grin on your face, only faltering slightly as you were met with her hands and forehead on the drivers wheel. You tugged on her sleeve, ignoring her disagreement, her head not leaving the wheel, but turned to face you.

“Stop being silly, c’mon, you’re looking forward to it! I know you are!”

“Babe. We’re parked outside of a teddy store.”

“Exactly! It’s fun, you’re excited, I'm excited, let’s go!”

You didn’t hesitate to open your car door, jumping out of the car and shutting the door behind you, the redhead not far behind you as she once again took your hand, reminding you how lucky you are that she loves you. Your response was a simple kiss on her cheek, a small blush following shortly afterwards.

“You’re cute.” You pinched her cheek.

“Yeah yeah, let’s go get our bears.”

_______________________

“So, that’s both of your bears stuffed, do you guys want to put voice boxes in them?” The kind staff member asked the pair of you.

You glanced towards Natasha, silently asking if she’d like one or not. She gave you a brief smile before looking back at the woman helping you with your bears.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She winked at you before following the woman over to another station within the store. There were rows and rows of different shapes and coloured voice boxes to choose from.

You had the option of choosing a pre-recorded sound, like animal sounds or a bunch of different ‘i love you.’ in different voices. You didn’t mind what voice you had, honestly, you would’ve been content with an ‘i love you’ from Elsa at this point. However, you saw your girlfriend make a beeline for the ones that you record your own message into.

“You’re gonna do your own one?” You asked, moving over to stand beside her.

“Nope. I’m making one for yours.” She said proudly, holding two of the small items in her hand, holding it out for you to take one. You couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken at her words. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done with someone else, and to think she wasn’t even that eager to come in the first place. You knew she’d have fun.

Taking the small blue speaker from her hand, you were instructed to press the button on the back of the plastic, hold it down to speak, and release it when you were finished, but it can only be a short message. The both of you tucked your bears under your arm, bringing the box to your mouth and cupping it so that it would come out loud and clear, and so the other couldn’t hear what you were saying.

Once your messages were done, you handed each other the speaker to place in the paw that had a ‘press me’ sign sewed into it. The woman ensured it was inserted correctly before taking them elsewhere to be sewn up, leaving you both to look at the racks of tiny clothes hung on the wall.

It was almost as difficult as choosing clothes for yourself, there were too many options, and every single one was adorable. How did literal children do this?

“Please tell me you can’t decide on an outfit either.” The Russian spoke from beside you, her gaze focused on the fabrics, styles and patterns in front of you.

“It’s easier trying to take a pop tart off of the demi-god at home than trying to pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for a stuffed animal. What the hell?” Your arms gestured to the wall in front of you, exasperated as you tried to decide whether you wanted the blue jeans or black.”

“Hi guys, here are your bears, just letting you know, there’s also some dresses over there if you want to check them out.” The woman smiled, watching as you and Natasha shared a glance of horror.

The two of you were gonna be here for a while.

______________________

Finally, you and Nat had dressed both your bears. You chose a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket for yours, and Natasha had chosen a Y/F/O. It appeared as though each of you had made ‘mini me’s’ of the other, and they seemed pretty damn accurate too.

After successfully creating and dressing your bears, it was time to name them, pay, and then you could both go home and relax. You had no idea building a bear could be so exhausting.

Both you and Natasha had to pick a name. You thought it over, whereas Nat had just rushed right in, choosing to call her bear ‘honey.’, the nickname she always reserved for you. Gripping your bear tightly, you observed the birth certificate being printed out, the name, the owner’s name and the date clearly written in bold, black letters. You could’ve sworn you saw Natasha’s eyes light up when she was handed the sheet of paper.

“What about you, miss?” The woman asked, ready to type in whatever name you gave her. Glancing behind you quickly, you caught the eye of your girlfriend behind you, immediately knowing what to call it.

“Snoopy, please.”

You heard one loud and short laugh erupt from Natasha’s lips, her hand shot to cover her mouth, not intending to be so disruptive when she heard what you had called it.

‘Snoopy’ is the name of a cartoon character, which was probably what people would think you named the bear after. In reality, it wasn’t that at all.

When you first met the team, you were informed of what everyone’s roles were and how they contributed to the group. There were supersoldiers, scientists, a god, all different kinds of people, including the incredibly attractive spy. When you went on your first mission, she had to hack into a computer to retrieve some stolen data, but took her time to also look at some other things they had on there too, just to kill time.

The first words you said to her on that mission that wasn’t to do with what direction you were running in, was ‘Alright, hold off Snoopy, you can do that in your spare time, hurry up.’, and at first she was annoyed with the nickname, claiming she wasn’t snooping, nor does she ever ‘snoop’, but she soon took it in her stride. It was still a running joke between the pair of you 2 years down the line, and you never let her forget it.

“Nice name, babe.” She coughed, unable to fully settle down from her laughing fit.

“Why, thank you! Yours isn’t so bad yourself.” You spoke as you blew her a kiss that she grabbed in thin air and pretended to shove into her jean pocket, earning a small shake of the head before you took your printed certificate and went to purchase the bears.

_______________________

Once you got back to the compound, the both of you were completely shattered, unable to keep your eyes open to watch some TV before bed. Eager to get some sleep, the two of you just ended up changing into your pyjamas, following your shared night routine before collapsing onto your bed.

You lay beside her, still able to smell her perfume after so many hours, the scent making your eyelids feel like rocks. Grabbing your bear, you put it in between you, Natasha doing the same thing, before snuggling up close together under the covers. She reached over to put some fallen hair behind your ear, smiling gently at you as she did so, the gesture lazily returned.

“Thank you for suggesting today, baby. I really enjoyed myself.” She whispered, a murmur of agreement following her words.

“Thank you for taking us Natty, I had fun.” You mumbled with closed eyes, sleep quickly taking over.

“Get some sleep, my love.”

You nodded once before responding. “G’night Nat.”

“Goodnight baby.”

And that was you, out like a light.

Natasha reached over to give you a kiss on the forehead as her final goodnight, not realised that she’d leant on the teddy in the process, only noticing when she heard your voice in a non sleepy state.

“I’m madly in love with you, Romanoff.” She heard you laugh, followed by an excited “I’m done!”, obviously you forgot to let go of the button after you recorded the initial message, but it had made it even more special. She couldn’t help but adore you with every bone in her body.

You weren’t awake now, but when you were, she hoped to see your reaction when you listened to her message in your bear, the words spoken in Russian, but you’d heard them before, so you’d definitely know what it meant.

“Moye serdtse tvoye, lyubov' moya.” (My heart is yours, my love.)

She was right.

She’s absolutely whipped.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching @wandaromanova @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol @xxromanoffxx

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

carolina (spencer reid/reader

Title: Carolina

Request: no, but it was written for @spencerreidbingo

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut/angst, with a tiny bit of fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (praise kink, mild-innocence kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (male & female), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/cream pie, grinding/petting, hairpulling, breathplay, multiple orgasms, possessive kink, orgasm denial), partying, drinking, swearing, large age gap (between two consenting adults), professor/student, post prison!reid, quick mentions of drinks being drugged (but not actually happening) (if I missed anything, please let me know)

Word Count: 9,064

Summary: Spencer thinks his peer is innocent. But little does he not, she’s not as innocent as he thinks.

A/N: it’s based on carolina by harry styles, bc im a sucker for a good harry song. This was written for @spencerreidbingo (i’ll have a separate post with more about that). this takes up the breathplay square on my card (pictured below). This is also the first time im writing a blowjob scene, so im really sorry if it’s not good. i also didn’t have a beta for this, so im kinda blindly posting this. and, lastly, this is a lot longer than i intended. i didn’t mean for it to get this long… it’s just a bunch of words my brain wouldn’t stop saying until i wrote it... i seriously hope you all enjoy this. thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

~*~* THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT!! *~*~

{***}{***}{***}

I kept my eyes low as I stepped into the lecture hall 5 minutes before anyone else. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard, so his back was facing the room.

“Uh, hello,” I spoked, stepping closer to his desk. He jumped slightly and dropped his chalk at the sound of my voice. I would have expected him to know students would be showing up earlier, considering it was the start of a new semester. And, I honestly would have assumed he was told a new student was coming. That’s not my job.

“Oh, sorry,” he turned around to face me. I smiled softly, watching

as he bent down to pick up the chalk. I cocked my head to the side, watching his backside as he stood back up. He pushed his hair away from his face. “You must be the new transfer,” he asked, resting the chalk on his desk, beside a pile of pens.

“Yep. That’s me…” I smiled, looking up at his face, keeping myself from further checking him out. I quickly offered my hand and gave him my name. “I know I’m early. I figured I’d get the syllabus from you now instead of after class,” I nodded as I adjusted my grip on my bag. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face and then down my body, and that moment felt like an eternity. I shouldn’t be mad or frustrated with him. I basically did the same thing to him moments ago.

I cleared my throat to get his attention once again. “The, uh… The syllabus?” I asked as my smile faltered slightly. He looked at me before looking at the pile of papers on his desk before quickly moving.

“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered as he began shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. “Um, here you are,” he looked back up at me as he handed me a small packet. I looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the teacher.

“Perfect, thank you,” I spoke, my words kind of lingering because he never actually gave me his name.

“Right, sorry, Spencer. Spencer Reid. I won’t be a drill sergeant about the whole Mr., Dr., Professor. You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. I held back my laughter and the wildly inappropriate joke that I wanted to make.

“Well, Professor Reid,” I smiled as I looked down at my watch, “I better go find a seat before your class starts. I can’t wait to be in your class,” I looked up at him before turning to find a spot. When I sat down, Spencer looked at me with a smile, before going back to writing on the chalkboard.

I quickly and quietly pulled out my books and pens as the other people in the class filed in and took their seats. Spencer quickly finished writing on the board before turning around to greet the class. And, even as he spoke to the class, and looked around at each of the other students, his eyes always landed on me, lingering for a moment before going elsewhere.

{***}{***}{***}

Five months. Five months into being in Spencer Reid’s class, and I have been suffering. I’m not a new student anymore. But the only friendship I’ve made is with my fucking professor, and there’s a certain level of tension between us. That tension was probably thanks to him staring at me during lectures, and me teasing him while he taught. It wasn’t too bothersome, but I definitely wanted something to happen. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think anything will happen.

So, can someone please tell me why I invited Spencer over to help me study for a test? It’s a stupid question too, that I already figured out the answer to… I even finished studying for the day, and I’m going to a stupid party. Maybe I could get him to go with… And maybe, just maybe, something could happen.

I nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. It’s not that I forgot he was coming over. It’s that I was so wrapped up in doing my makeup and forgot what time it was. My mascara almost smudged when I jumped back. Thank God it didn’t smudge too terribly.

I grabbed my shirt off the counter and threw it on (not bothering to zip it), before running to the front door. I smoothed out my skirt before pulling the door open. And, there stood Spencer.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he looked down at me and smiled. Although, his smile didn’t stay for too long when he saw what I was wearing. He wasn’t disappointed though, no. He was… He clearly liked what he saw, I’ll just put it that way.

“Oh! Thanks for coming over, but I actually figured it out. I should’ve called you,” I looked up at Spencer as he stepped into my apartment. I struggled to zip the back of my blouse as I walked towards my room. I looked back over my shoulder and noted that Spencer was, indeed, still following me. “Can you zip me up,” I stopped in my tracks before giving up on zipping my blouse. It was a black crop top that paired well with the pale pink tennis skirt.

“Where… Where exactly are you going tonight? It’s a, uh, it’s a school night,” he asked as he lifted his hands. The cool metal of the zipper pressed against my back, causing a shiver to go through my spine.

“Uh, there’s this party,” I answered, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom, “Thought I’d go,” I looked at him in the mirror. Spencer looked around the bathroom, at the messy mess I had made on my counter. Different pallets of makeup and tools were strewn about, a varying amount of hair care products tossed here and there. It honestly looked like a bathroom of a pageant queen, and not a 20-something-year-old. In my defense, I had to dress to impress someone here in this stupid university.

“Is that, uh… Is that smart?” Spencer asked, leaning against the door jamb. I looked up at him as I put on some luxurious red lipstick. I smiled as I looked at him.

“I think it is,” I laughed as I picked up something else and turned to look at him, “You wanna come? I wasn’t invited,” I smiled wickedly as I looked at him. His face paled two shades as he looked at me. “Oh, c’mon, Professor, no one will know us there, and I can assure you, no one will even see us,” I looked up at him as I readjusted his tie. He looked down at me before swallowing roughly.

“I don-”

“I do need a designated driver,” I spoke before cutting him off. I walked past him and towards my room. Part of me wondered what he was thinking as I so rudely rushed past him, or cut him off, or whatever I was doing. I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wondered if they consisted of “The mouth on that girl,” or, “I should punish her for the way she’s acting,” or, my personal favorite, “I should put that mouth to good use,”

“How old are you again?” Spencer asked once I sat down on my bed. I looked up at him as I slipped my shoes on.

“22,” I smiled and stood up, “Why, is that important?” I smiled as I grabbed my coat and purse.

“Couldn’t remember,” he lied. We both knew he was lying. He even knew that too. Freaking walking computer is what he is. There's no way he conveniently forgot how old I was. “Are you going to be out late?”

“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad or anything?” I laughed, leading him back to the front door of the house. “I don’t plan on being out too late. I know there’s class tomorrow,” I shrugged as I walked towards his car.

We both stayed silent as he drove with the directions I was quietly giving him. I was pleasantly happy that we were both quiet, but what I hated was the sudden awkward sexual tension that was between us. If he didn’t have this… domineering personality over me there probably wouldn’t be this tension between us.

“Are you going to come with me?” I looked up at him as I unbuckled. He glanced over at me with slight disappointment in his eye. I felt a little bad, but I really wanted to go to this party, I wasn’t going to let my professor’s disappointment stop me. “Please,” I whispered. He sighed before unbuckling himself. I had to force myself to not verbally giggle with excitement before slipping out of the car. Spencer looked down at me as I twisted my hips to swish my skirt. I smiled as I entertained myself. I'm sure if I wasn't watching my skirt, I would have been staring at him, giving myself away.

“Steps,” Spencer muttered as we got closer to the porch. I looked up at him before looking towards the small staircase. I looked up at Spencer with a smile. He glanced back down at me, a worried crease in his brow. I looked down at my skirt and smoothed it out. I looked at the door as we stood close to it, I contemplated knocking.

“So, you weren’t invited to this party?” Spencer asked, looking down at me. His voice stopped me from knocking. Instead, I looked up at him and smiled back up at him. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from me. My smile grew playful as I looked back at the door, raising my fist to knock on it. “No answer?” he asked, still waiting for my answer.

“Oh, please, Professor Reid, I can get into the hottest parties in LA without an invitation,” I smiled at him. That was a little bit of an over-exaggeration. Most college parties I could get into. But not LA parties. Someday though…

The door swung open, and we were instantly met with loud music blaring through a speaker somewhere in the house. People’s voices and chatter carried all throughout the house, coming through the various rooms and clusters around. “Are you coming in to babysit me? Or, are you going to go back to your car to read the science of the mathematical phenomenon,” I looked up at him, offering my hand to him. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a real book or not, but I wouldn’t put it past Spencer to read.

“I’m not babysitting you,” he corrected as he looked down at me with a disappointed look in his eye. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

“Are you going to come in and watch me drink and party and have fun, Professor… Or, are you going to go back to your car and read your silly little book,” I looked down at my hand, silently telling him to take my hand and come in with me.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s exactly in the rules for a professor to party, let alone drink, with their students,” Spencer spoke before looking down at my hand. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him.

“Fine then… Suit yourself,” I turned around and basically skipped into the house, leaving the door open for him. I made my way towards the loud kitchen and grabbed for a cup and bottle of whatever booze was nearby. I blindly grabbed for a bottle of Grey Goose and dumped it into the cup, no mixer, no chaser.

“First off,” Spencer’s voice came from beside me. I looked up at him and took a long sip of vodka. “You shouldn’t be taking drinks from people at a party,” he spoke, taking the cup from me. I looked up at him, then the bottle and a new cup. I was only a little annoyed that he took my drink.

“I… I’m young. I’m not dumb,” I grabbed a new cup and poured more vodka. I looked up at him and offered him a sip. “I know not to drink something given to me by someone I don’t know.” I scoffed before taking another long sip. I cringed a bit at how strong it was.

“Even then someone could slip something into a drink! Even if you did know them!” Spencer exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to turn and look at us. I dropped my shoulders as I looked up at him.

“If you look around, Spencer, you’re the only person that I know. So unless you’re the one slipping something into my drink… And, as an FBI agent… I don’t think you would,” I cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You have more to say,” I added before taking a sip of my drink.

"And, secondly, you're not as innocent as I had originally thought you were," he watched as I brought the cup of straight vodka to my lips. He looked rather unamused with my talent for drinking straight vodka.

"You thought I was innocent?" I asked, nearly sputtering the liquid with my laughter. "Please! I've never been innocent in my entire life!" I shouted over the music. He raised an eyebrow at my statement, and suddenly I had the greatest idea in the world. "But maybe, just for you, I'll be a good girl," I smiled before drinking the rest of my drink in one go. Spencer looked down at me, his lips pressed into a fine as he stared down at me. Ohh, that definitely awoken something in him. I bit back my smile with my offer. Innocent… He thinks I’m innocent. Ha! I honestly don’t remember the last time I was innocent. And, honestly, just for him… I’d be an innocent, good, little girl for Spencer Reid any day, every day even. “I can be your good, innocent little girl,” I smiled at him and cocked my head.

"I don't… I don't think that'd be… appropriate," he spoke, his words very quiet. We both knew that even though it was inappropriate, we both wanted it. We both knew what we wanted to.

I glanced at him before pouring more drink for myself. "You should learn to pace yourself," he stated and changed the subject. He nervously looked at the bottle of vodka and then around the room at all the other people drinking. Or, he was just looking for a drink that wasn’t booze. Did he actually want to keep me safe, or was I just overreading him?

"It's a college party, Professor! I'm not going to pace myself!" I shouted just to get his attention back to me. His head shot back down to me. The level of concern on his face only made me feel a little bad, mostly because he was concerned for me. But, he should know… This is a college party. “Do you want some?” I asked, offering my drink to him again. I held it up to him, close to his lips. His face twisted up as soon as the scent of pure vodka hit his nose.

“No, no thanks,” he held up at hand to block the cup from his face. I pouted before bringing it to my lips. “Do you usually come to parties,” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Part of me wondered if he wanted to continue that question with “Like this?” But, I was too busy keeping my eyes on his face, rather than looking around the room like he was. Although, I’m sure he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings. I’ve never been too worried about it, I probably should… But hey, you only live once. Going to college parties with your 38-year-old professor, and drinking straight vodka, and not really caring about your surroundings proves my point of YOLO.

“If I don’t have class or anything to study for… Yep,” I looked up at him with a sneaky smile. The joke with that was his particular class had a test coming up soon, and I should be studying for it. He knew that too because he just announced the test this morning. Although, he did come to my home, to help me with said test. “But, I wouldn't show up to his class hungover. It’d disappoint him too much. And, he’d care too much about me to even focus on the rest of the class,” I spoke, answering the questions he was thinking. It’s not like I’ve shown up to classes hungover before. Granted, I’ve never shown up to his class drunk or hungover. Mostly because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and only him. Anyone and everyone else can go blow themselves.

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled and stepped closer to him.

“How do I know what?” I cocked my head to my shoulder. I already knew what he meant by his question, but… I think teasing him and messing with him is fun. And, he knew that too.

“How do you know that you’d disappoint him?” he looked down at me, pressing his chin to his chest to get a better look at me. His hands were away from me, even though I really wanted his hands anywhere on me. I looked over at my hand and the cup I held before bringing it to my lips. I took a long sip, trying to finish the contents in one go. I tossed the cup over my shoulder and looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Because being hungover, with the slight possibility of still being drunk, would totally disappoint him… And I would hate to disappoint him.” I whispered and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me with something in his eyes, and I loved the way he looked at me. “I told you, Professor, I’d be a good girl for you,” I cocked my head to my shoulder and smiled, “And only for you,”

“You’re drunk,” he pointed out an obvious fake statement. So, I cackled and shook my head.

“I had one drink,” I scoffed and waved off my in the air, “Most definitely not enough to get me drunk,” I flattened his tie out before gripping it tightly, “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” I smiled before dropping my hand from his tie, “So, why would I show up to your class… Hungover…? I know you’d care… And I know it’d disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do to you,”

Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. He quickly looked between me and the room, then back at me, then around the room. I faked a yawn before looking away from him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay, Professor?” I smoothed out his jacket before turning and leaving him alone in the kitchen. I smiled as I skipped away from him, my skirt swishing with my movement. I secretly hoped he’d follow me. But, a quick glance over my shoulder told me he was still in the kitchen.

However, when I finished my business and left the bathroom, Spencer was leaning against the wall right beside the door. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Follow me,” he muttered, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the various halls and past multiple groups of people. I giggled the harder his grasp grew on me and the faster he moved. I’m happy people were too busy with themselves to notice a 30-something-year-old man was dragging a 20-something-year-old girl down the hall, to which I can assume was one of the only open bedrooms. Fuck… I hope it's a bedroom.

He was a man on a mission. Not letting anyone get in his way. The smile that grew on my lips was pure excitement. I couldn’t help it. I’m sure we’re both getting what we wanted… I hope.

I let out an excited yelp when he shoved me into, exactly what I thought, an empty bedroom. I’m surprised he knew that there’d be an empty room. Most of them are occupied, with couples (or more) doing exactly what I hope we’re about to do. Which was fuck each other.

Spencer slammed the door shut, and quickly locked it before pushing me against it. I looked up at him and giggled like a fucking kid in a candy store. Again, I couldn’t help it.

Spencer was quiet, which led me to be quiet. The air in between us quickly grew hot and tense and thick. I really wanted this to move faster, but I wanted him to be the one in charge. I was willing to let this be slow and let him be in charge. So, when he grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head, I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer’s voice was low and deep as he moved close to me. There was little to no space between us. Which left little to the imagination, for me anyway.

I looked up at him, with the biggest doe eyes I could muster, silently telling him that I wanted the most, in the entire world, was to be on my knees, with his hand tangled in my hair, and his cock down my throat, or to be fucked so hard that I won’t be able to sit properly for several days. But, I couldn’t be that blunt. You gotta play up to that moment before you get it. I’m sure in the end though, I’ll get both things.

I swallowed roughly, trying to think of what to say, because, like I said, I can’t just be blunt yet. So, when I opened my mouth and words just came out, I was pleasantly surprised with what was said. “You’re old enough to be my father, Professor,” I smiled at him as he pinned me against the door. He pressed his hips against mine to keep me against the surface. I could feel a large bulge against my inner thigh, causing me to shiver. “Does that mean I get to call you daddy,” I whispered as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He is the one who said I could call him whatever I wanted… And he did just ask me what I wanted, and I guess I wanted to call him ‘Daddy’. There was no guessing about him.

Okay, he wasn't exactly old enough to be my father. But he was a lot older than me. Most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with men 15 years older than them… and most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with their professor… I just wanted an excuse to call him 'Daddy'. And he knew that too. So, if we gave each other an excuse for that to happen, then that was all I needed.

I dropped my head to my shoulder to allow him to attack the space on my neck. He dragged his nose across my jawbone before stilling. His lips were just over my neck. As his breathing got heavier, it tickled across my skin.

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Spencer hummed as he dropped my hands and stepped away from me. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. I missed having his body pressed against mine, and he knew that.

I looked at him as I brought my hands to his belt. "I thought you said this wasn't appropriate, Daddy," I whispered as I quickly undid the belt buckle, without looking. I almost couldn’t move fast enough to unbutton and zip his pants. If he wanted me to stop, he would have stopped me by now. “Can I?” I looked up at him, a plea in my eyes.

"You've changed my mind," he muttered, watching me with such close intent, “God, please keep going,” he spoke like if I did stop now he’d probably die. I looked up at him as I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as my fingers brushed against his cock. A small smile grew on my lips.

“Didn’t take much convincing,” I smiled as my fingers wrapped around him. A small groan fell from his lips as I looked up at him. When I pulled my hand away from him not even a moment later, he looked down at me with an alarmed expression on his face. I quickly spat on my palm before sticking my hand down his pants. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I whispered as I slowly stroked up and down his length. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

“I’ve wanted this since you stepped foot in my classroom,” his voice was low and gravely as he spoke. My breathing picked up a little bit as I looked up at him.

Okay… Maybe he did know how long I’ve wanted this. Because I also wanted this the second I stepped into his lecture hall. I wanted his cock in my hands and his hand around my throat. It only took-what, five months for this? I’ll make it worth the wait.

“Does that feel good,” I whispered, carefully picking up speed and adding the slightest bit of pressure in my grip. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed roughly and nodded. I smiled before pulling my hand away from him, again. I slowly lowered to my knees and kept my eyes on his face.

Spencer looked down at him as he gently pushed his fingers through my hair. His fingers gripping hard on my roots before pulling hard. I smiled before very slowly pulling down his slacks and boxers in one go. I was only a little bit intimidated by his size, but the excitement I felt went straight to my core.

I took a deep breath and swallowed roughly before looking up at him. My mouth fell open, and my tongue stuck out, silently telling him that it was okay. Although I don’t really know why I was telling him that it was okay, we both knew what we wanted, and it was only going to take me doing one thing.

I made eye contact with him as I ran my tongue on the side of his cock. Our eye contact didn’t last long, mostly because he let out a moan and dropped his head back. I smiled as I licked across his tip. A sweet and salty taste was on my tongue.

My jaw fell slack as I carefully took his length into my mouth. I closed my lips around him before slowly bobbing my head, with my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. I wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth. And wrapped my free arm around his leg for support.

The sounds of his moans and grunts filled the mostly quiet room. Music, although muffled through the walls and door, could still be heard from outside of our own world behind the door and four walls.

“You were right,” he struggled to speak through groans, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought,” Spencer's hand had a rough hold in my hair as he held me against him. His cock was penetrating my throat, and breathing was beginning to get difficult. My eyes grew wet and tears grew in the corners of my eyes.

“You’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if my makeup started smudging and I looked like an adolescent raccoon. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he struggled to let out a coo, before moving his hips closer to my face.

Everything about this moment, his hand in my hair, the sounds he was making, the way he smelled, being here… Was intoxicating. I’d give anything to be in this moment again. And I’d give anything to get this moment sooner.

My knees would hate me in the morning, I just know it. I could already sense the dreaded carpet burn before he even started. But, in all honesty, it’d be worth it. Walking into class tomorrow morning, with bruises and day-old wounds on my knees, just to see his expression.

As I began to pick up pace, the sounds Spencer was making started to become more urgent, easily telling me he was close. But, before he could finish, I pulled away from him, crashing into the wall to get away from his grasp. He looked down at me with a mild frustration on his face. I smiled before wiping my chin clean of spit.

“I guess chivalry is dead. Whatever happened to ladies first?” I asked, my voice a rasp from how raw my throat was. I looked up at him, feeling a certain level of sass grow in my smile. Spencer quickly tucked himself back into his pants before grabbing my hand.

“Come on, on your feet,” he muttered as he pulled me back up to a standing position. I nearly toppled over into him if he didn’t hold me upright. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Bed… Now?” I whispered, my tone showing how urgent I was. It’s not that I wanted this over with, it's that I wanted everything to happen to me all at once, and I wanted it to last for a long time.

Spencer nodded before cupping my face in his hands. He was harsh when he pressed his lips to mine, like his life depended on it, if he did kiss me now the world would end. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started guiding me towards the bed. And when the edge of the bed hit the back of my legs, he pushed me back onto it. I quickly moved so my head was resting on the pillows. Spencer was quick to take his cardigan off and be over me.

“You’re not going to fail me, are you,” I joked as he quickly started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. He lifted his head and looked down at me with confusion on his face. “If I’m a bad fuck,”

“If you ask that again, or bring up class while we’re doing this… Then yes,” he muttered as he looked at me. I laughed as I pushed my fingers through his hair.

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed as I pulled him down to kiss him, again. One of his hands landed on top of my breast, carefully kneading it, causing me to moan into his mouth.

His hand slowly drifted away from my chest. I pressed my head into the pillow and looked up at him with a smirk. He carefully dragged his fingers up from my chest to the base of my neck, causing me to let out a shaky gasp. I wanted fingers and a hand around my neck, carefully cutting off my airway just right. Suddenly, I never wanted something so badly in my life. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he looked down at me like he knew what I was about to say.

“Do it… I fucking dare you,” I muttered, placing both my hands around his wrist. My nose twitched as I stared at him. “I said fucking do it,” I spat, pushing his hand down more onto my neck. My words slowly got cut off as the pressure in his hand and fingers tightened around my neck. A moan struggled to escape me, but did eventually fall from my lips. He seemed pretty happy with that.

“Is that good,” his voice was a growl. I looked at him and moaned.

“Harder,” I begged, my voice growing raspier the more I spoke. He smirked before allowing his grip to tighten. His other hand was still sitting on top of my hips, and I could tell where he wanted to put it. I’d be a dirty, rotten liar if I didn’t want his hand up my skirt. In fact, I’d love it if he did more than just his hand.

Spencer swallowed roughly before finally sneaking a hand up my skirt and resting it on my underwear. My grip around his wrist got tighter as he pushed past my underwear and past my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as another moan was strangled in my throat.

“You’re so wet,” he purred as he slowly moved a finger around my clit. I looked up at him, as I struggled to swallow roughly. A dark smirk grew on his lips as he watched me struggle for a moment. “Does that feel good,” he asked, mildly mocking me from earlier. His movements picked up speed just a little bit, and my body reacted, well tried to react.

“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me. His pupils were so blown I could nearly see my reflection in them. “Another thing you were right about,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into my entrance, and curled it just right. My vision slowly blurred before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Another moan struggled to escape my throat as Spencer added a second finger.

My body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and hit his wrist a few times, telling him that I desperately needed to breathe. When I reopened my eyes, I looked up at him a moment before he removed his hand from my neck. Worry and concern flashed in his eyes as I breathed. Air burned like fire in my lungs as I took a deep breath. As I exhaled a loud moan followed behind, easily telling Spencer and I that I had reached my first orgasm of the night. I just hope there will be more...

“You did such a good job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he looked down at me. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks. He carefully withdrew his hand from between my legs and held them up to his face. He looked at them for a moment before placing them in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. I took a shaky breath and nodded.

He very sloppily pressed his lips to mine, then on the corner of my lips, and down my jaw, and neck. With one quick movement, a loud rip filled the room, as he tore my shirt off my body. I looked up at him with shock in my eyes. To be fair, that shirt was flimsy, to begin with. I was more worried about leaving my chest so exposed as we left the party.

“Oh, I’ll give you my sweater,” Spencer muttered before attacking my neck and then down to my collarbones, and over my breasts. I gasped as he wrapped his lips around a nipple.

“Mmm, Daddy,” I whimpered as I shifted under him. I brought my hands back up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hairs on his neck. When he sensed that I was growing restless (even though he just started), he quickly left wet kisses down the rest of my body

“I like the way that sounds coming from your mouth,” he whispered once he was in between my legs. I looked down at him just as he looked up at me. “Good on your end for wearing such a short skirt,” he smiled before pressing his lips to my inner thigh. A shaky breath tumbled from my lips as I looked at him. “Makes for easier access,” he added before going higher up on my leg.

“You’re not going fast enough,” I whined as he just kept kissing, or licking, or rubbing my inner thighs. It was honestly getting annoying. I kind of felt bad for him. Considering I’ve already cum once, and I got him close but didn’t let him finish.

“I’m not going fast enough?” Spencer looked up at me. I shot him a scowl as I shifted slightly on the bed. Spencer looked back down the apex of my legs before looping two fingers around the band of my underwear. As soon as I lifted my hips, he pulled my underwear off my body and chucked them to the ground beside the bed. “How’s this for fast enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before licking between my folds. A breath of air got caught in my lungs as my hands found their way to his hair, my fingers getting knotted up in his roots.

“Mhm, Spencer,” I gasped, rolling my hips up at him. He hummed, sending vibrations straight to my core. My legs wrapped around him, my heels digging into his back as my own back arched.

“Ohh, Daddy, please don’t stop,” I cried, pressing my head into the pillow beneath my head. My fingers pulled hard on his hair, pulling him closer to me. He hummed again as he pushed two fingers back into my entrance. My grip in his hair tightened, and I could feel my grip wanting to loosen.

My breathing picked up as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. And all I could say was his name, and the suddenly loved nickname I had for him. He seemed to appreciate my reaction too, because he worked faster. Messy and wet sounds, mixed with my breathy moans and calls of his name filled the room, and my end was near.

“Fuck,” I shouted as I finally came undone. I could sense if I didn’t pull him away, he’d keep going, and going till I couldn’t take it anymore. And, honestly, that sounds great, but I think that’s for next time. I wanted him in me now. “Spencer, Spencer,” I cried as I tried to pull his head away, but failed so hard.

“Nuh huh,” he hummed, looking up at me. I took a deep breath and pressed my head into the pillow beneath me and threw an arm over my face. “Please, Spencer,” I cried as I bucked my hips at him, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, Daddy,” I moaned. He was going faster than before and was clearly trying to work me to the end faster too. It was hard to breathe, and speak because my words would just get stuck in my throat.

Although, when I did cum, again, for the third time tonight, Spencer did move away from my legs. He knelt between them, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. My body was shaking lightly as I tried to come down from my high.

“Please,” I whispered, lifting a hand up, trying to reach for his tie. He looked down at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke. I could feel my voice becoming a little whiney. Spencer moved so he was hovering over me, his fingers gently brushing hair away from my face.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he whispered cupping my face in his hand. I looked up at his face, admiring his lips, and eyes, and nose, and the way his lips had a sheen from when he licked them clean and whatever was leftover from when he was eating me out.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I begged, begged. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine for a moment. He sat up away from me to remove his sweater and shirt. My head was spinning from excitement, I didn’t even notice that he was totally undressed.

Spencer was back between my legs, looking down at me like I truly belonged right here. Or, like I was his to fuck with. Either way it was a good feeling.

“Ready?” He asked, his voice so low that I could hardly hear it over the bass of the loud music. I rapidly nodded my head, worried my answer was the wrong one. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted this. Needed. I needed this.

Spencer hovered over me before putting an opened mouth kiss on my lips. I could hardly breathe as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit and entrance. I could feel a moan getting caught in the middle of my throat, my body not being about to handle anymore teasing. Until, he very slowly pushed into me.

“Oh, good girl,” he repeated. Those two words, constantly coming off his tongue. Making me feel good. The praise that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, that I longed for. Part of me wondered if he knew I wanted it. “Has someone not been taking care of you?” he asked, looking down at me. I stared at him, not trusting my own voice. My mind was too distracted with the way I felt, light and airy but at the same time full. So I shook my head.

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered and kept shaking my head. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled before moving his hips. It took him a moment to get a perfect rhythm. He lips attached to different spots on my neck, leaving hickies in his wake.

“Spencer,” I whispered as I moved my head closer to my shoulder to let him have more space.

“You feel so good,” he grunted as he moved his hips so he was deeper in me, “You feel so good, and you’re all mine,” he pressed his forehead to mine as he wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer up to him. My breathing got deep, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, closer to my face.

“Oh, be quiet,” I whispered before putting my lips on his. He smiled before passing his tongue between my lips. A moan fell from my lips, which he seemed to enjoy… Considering it was probably just music to his ears.

“I’ll only be quiet if you keep making those little noises,” he muttered against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled again as I knotted my fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

“Faster,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes on him. Spencer laughed lightly as he picked up the speed. My hips bucked with his, meeting at the right points. “Please,” I whimpered as I threw my head back more into the pillow. He pulled his arm away from my back and brought his hand between our legs, where we met.

“It’s okay, Little Girl,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to the side of my face. I let out a shaky breah and arched my body into his. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. I almost wasn’t sure if it was fair that my professor was better in bed than other men my age. He was more experienced, to be fair. “You can finish, it’s okay,” he kept his voice low. It almost sounded like he was giving me permission.

I nodded my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “Mmm, Spencer,” I moaned, loudy, as my walls fluttered around him and my release came. And a few moments later, Spencer thrusted deep into me with a grunt, filling me with his essence. His body collapsed on top of me whence he finished.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. My limbs were sore and shaking slightly from the rough movements. Spencer laughed lightly, agreeing with my statement. “We can’t sleep here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling above us. I wished we could just sleep here, mostly because I was exhausted after everything we did.

“I know,” Spencer replied as he slowly moved off and away from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re messy now,” he muttered as he basically tumbled off the bed. I quickly sat up, just to make sure he was okay. Although I was happy he was okay, I quickly regretted moving as fast as I did.

“Your sweater,” I mumbled, reaching out towards where his sweater was lying. He looked down at it before picking it up to hand to me. He also grabbed a fistful of tissues and moved to between my legs, again. “Just give me your boxers,” I looked at him as he wiped the insides of my thighs clean. He looked back up at me, still cleaning my legs.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he spoke as he tossed the dirty tissues to the trash. He grabbed his slacks and boxers, tossing me his boxers. I slipped them on under my skirt, and then slipped his sweater on.

“I’d hope so,” I whispered as I stood up. My body wobbled for a second, nearly falling over, before I caught my balance. Spencer looked back at me, looking at how fucked I looked. I mean, I probably looked about the same as him.

“I’d given you a ride home either way,” he said as he redressed. I looked at him with confusion on my face. Either way? So even if we hadn’t had sex, he would have given me a ride. I asked him and he said yes. So I would hope he’d given me a ride, even if we didn’t fuck.

Once we were both ready to leave this stupid party, that I didn’t even enjoy (well, I did, I was just in a different world), or was even invited to, we walked out. It was as easy as pie. And, since no one really knew either of us were here, I won’t be known as the girl who fucked the professor.

The drive home was quiet. Like, even quieter than the drive here. He didn’t even have the music playing. I wondered if it was my fault, if he was regretting what we had done. If I had known he’d be so regretful, I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck him. But, I guess its too late now.

When I looked out the window, I realized we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked down at my attire and looked back at Spencer.

“Thanks… Thanks for the ride… And thanks for the sweater. I’ll be sure to give it back to you… Eventually,” I looked up at Spencer as I pulled the door open to leave.

“See you Thursday,” he nodded at me. I looked at him before slamming the door shut. I scoffed before turning to walk up to my home. I couldn’t want to sleep.

{***}{***}{***}

Two weeks. Two weeks since Spencer and I fucked. Okay, not too bad. I don’t regret it, and I’m not afraid to say that. However, I think he might be regretting it. Considering he’d been nothing but ignoring me since the night of the par-Well, I wouldn’t say ignoring me since then. He did fuck me in his office the following Thursday. But, it’s still been two weeks since he last said anything to me. Fuck, I’ve never been so mad.

“Good morning, Professor Reid,” I looked at him as I skipped into his lecture hall. I heard his words begin to greet me back, but fail when he saw what I was wearing. “Best get to my seat. Excited for today’s lesson,” I readjusted the cardigan that hung off my shoulders before turning to go to my seat.

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walked away from him. Or, was he staring at my ass. Most likely my ass. It was my ass he was staring at. I was wearing a fairly short skirt, so that’s on me. But, I’d do anything to get his attention today. And it would appear I have gotten it.

His lesson wasn’t actually anything important. It was just revision for the test coming up soon. But, it was obvious he had other things on his mind, and I was very clearly one of them. It was honestly a little distracting if I’m going to be honest.

So, I was happy when he called the end of class 5 minutes early. Although that excitement was gone the second he called my name to the front to talk. I looked at the ground as I stood by his desk, waiting for the very last person to leave so Spencer and I could have our moment alone.

“What are you doing wearing that?” Spencer asked as soon as it was just us. I tried to ignore the fact that he was trying to take the sweater off me, and made my shoulders drop.

“What? This old thing?” I asked, pulling the cardigan that he let me wear around my body. I looked back at him and smiled. He was not smiling. “You gave it to me,” I scoffed, letting him take it off me without a fight. I watched as he folded it over the back of the chair before turning to face me.

“I gave it to you so your,” his words began to get jumbled up as he gestured to my boobs, “So you weren’t exposed in front of any-”

“So no one would see what belonged to you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. Spencer looked down at me, a flabbergasted look on his face. I smiled and cocked my head to my shoulder.

“I… I never said that,” Spencer shook his head.

“Yeah, but you thought it,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Spencer looked down at me. I could tell that he was trying to be the one in charge, kinda like how he was the other night. But it was so, so clear that he couldn’t be in charge. That he wouldn’t be in charge now. That this was just embarrassing to him. Maybe that’s just how our dynamic would work. Out in public, I was the loud one, the one who made everyone think that I was in charge in the bedroom. And, Spencer, in public, was the quiet, shy, nervous one, who was clearly submissive in bed. But in actuality, he was telling me what to do, when and when I can’t cum.

“Why were you wearing that?” he asked again, his voice pulling me from my very dirty thoughts. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Because you were ignoring me! I needed to get your attention somehow! And then I remembered I still had that,” I smiled at him. I wished I still had his sweater on, because it was actually quite cozy and warm. The look he gave me made me drop my shoulders, suddenly feeling ashamed about the current situation. So, I stared at him, feeling annoyed. More annoyed than I have over the last two weeks. “Do you regret it?” I finally asked, not really knowing if he’d be mad with my question.

“Pardon me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “It’s not that I regret it-”

“So you do,” I looked back up at him and dropped my shoulders again. Before Spencer got the chance to say anything, I cut him off, “Oh please, you loved shoving your tongue, and cock, down my throat,” I scoffed before looking at him. The expression on his face flinched slightly as he looked back at me from behind the desk. “I get to… I get to be your good, little girl, your princess for, what, a week? A day? 12 hours? Whenever the fuck you want... And I’m supposed to go back to normal life the next day? And… And pretend that nothing happened!” I stared at him and shook my head. Spencer looked over at the door and back at me. “Thinking it’ll never happen again!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, honest. But I was starting to get angry. He made me feel something like I belonged to someone. And now I don’t feel like that.

“Will you stop talking for a second,” he muttered before stepping away from me and his desk. He walked over to the door and shut it. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he walked back over to me. “I never said you had to pretend as if nothing happened. And I never said that I regret it,” he spoke in a harsh whisper. I looked at him with mild irritation on my face.

“It sure fucking felt like it,” I spat at him.

“You’re all I think about… Christ, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that. I never said you had to forget everything… Because I’ve been having a hard time forgetting it myself.” He looked up at me. I almost refused to look at him, but his voice was so soft that I had to look at him. “I never expected you to forget,” he added.

“Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen,” I stared at him before swallowing roughly, “You made me feel like I was wanted, that I belonged somewhere, with someone,” I spoke as I stepped closer to him. It was only a little bit closer to him, not as much as I wanted. But he stepped closer to me, making it so we were the closest we had been all day, in one large step. "You remind me of home," I added in a whisper. Spencer smiled and cocked his head to his shoulder.

“You do belong somewhere,” he whispered, resting his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, feeling my heart pick up speed, and butterflies appear in my tummy. “And that somewhere is with me,” he brought at hand to my cheek, allowing his thumb to rest on my lower lip. I looked up at him before he pressed his lips to mine.

I was honestly expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what. But I liked what he said, it made me feel really good. Like, I belonged with him, and nothing could change that.

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @thebluetint

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

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Prologue (OHTY)

Open Heart: Third Year Rewrite

Book: Open Heart, Book 3 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1K Premise: A new year, a new relationship, and a new Edenbrook. Will everything go as smoothly as they had planned?

Author’s Note: That summary sucks but this is my OHTY rewrite. I plan to make it dramatic. And angsty af. Here we go! Hope you like it.

Prologue: His Beloved

Caroline's eyes roamed the cavernous space, taking in the upgrades with something akin to wonder. Even from afar, he could see that sparkle in her eyes, the curiosity that was ever present whenever she beheld his newest innovation. It was enough to inspire anyone to conquer the world itself.

Now more than ever, something burned in his stomach: The urge to hold her. The despair and rage at being unable to.

As the seconds ticked by, his wife remained silent, nodding and humming here and there. Her soft, expressive brown eyes fell on the new kiosk at the reception desk and she quietly chuckled. A delicate, gloved hand hovered over the gleaming surface, almost as if she was afraid to touch it.

“These are the same ones I suggested for the Princeton tech lab.”

With the words, came a memory, unfurling before Leland's mind like a heavy mist. Their last trip to Paris, gazing at the Eiffel Tower from the patio of a small but elegant café. Caroline's hand in his from across the table as they talked about the Princeton project, her smile far more beautiful than the whole city in Springtime.

“You thought of everything, my love.” Her eyes met his with such sadness, he was certain she remembered too.

“We will be the prime research facility on the East Coast by the time we're done with the renovations,” he told her, willing her to understand he was doing everything to remedy their situation.

At this, her smile turned genuine, shining with pride. “You're going to help so many people.”

Leland almost scoffed. He didn't give a damn about other people.

Before he could blurt out the bitter words, however, Arthur, his driver, approached with a single nod at Caroline. She sighed, returning her gaze to Leland.

“I must go if I am to board the train on time.”

“If you miss it, you can always just take the jet. It's much faster and comfortable anyway.”

Her soft laugh was the best thing he'd heard all day.

“You know me, my love. I will enjoy the view of the countryside any opportunity I get.” And this time, when she paused, there was undeniable misery in the way her eyes shone. “Plus, you know I'm a nostalgic old woman. Train travel will always have a special place in my heart.”

They had met on a train for the first time many years ago.

The words hurt more than the prospect of not seeing his wife for months. They had mutually decided that time in the serene seaside town of York would be beneficial for her. Rather, Caroline, unable to bear their forced distance much longer without breaking down into tears, decided this was the best temporary solution.

“Shall I wait outside?” Arthur asked politely.

With a start, Caroline seemed to wake from a reverie. “I'll be right out, Arthur.”

After the driver disappeared through the glass doors, Caroline turned to Leland, her body almost quivering with the restraint of keeping its distance. Instead of the customary kiss and hug goodbye, they simply gazed at one another, Caroline with palpable despair, Leland with renewed determination.

“Goodbye, my love,” she murmured, the sound almost lost in the hubbub of the atrium.

Leland heard it, though, as loud and final as the clashing of iron bells.

“Goodbye, Caroline.”

Before long, she turned on her heel and walked out the doors with as much dignity as a broken heart allowed.

Leland, meanwhile, remained fixed to the spot, watching her go. The pain of his own suffering was muted by the fierce rush of conviction. The determination to find a cure was the last tether holding him to sanity.

Before he could move or even think about anything else, a note of delighted laughter echoed nearby. His eyes fell on a couple, traversing through the atrium hand in hand. The lively brunette gazed up at the tall and seemingly brooding man, her eyes sparkling with adoration. When the man finally submitted to her teasing , it was clear that he, too, was completely besotted by her.

“... not a hospital. More like an Apple store,” she was saying.

“What the hell is an Apple store?”

“Oh, that's right. You're a sworn Android user, I forgot.”

Ethan Ramsey rolled his eyes.

“They're phones, Lilac. The rivalry between the two is absurd when people use them equally to waste their lives away.”

This time, it was Lilac Allende who rolled her eyes, but not without a loving smile. “You're such a senior citizen sometimes.”

Ethan halted his steps at that proclamation, tugging at their joined hands and pulling her close to him. Lilac's small cry of surprise melted into one of knowing amusement under the intensity of his roguish smile. Without much preamble, he leaned in and whispered something that made her both blush and nod, impressed.

“You're an incorrigible flirt, Ethan Ramsey,” she tried to admonish, but the effect was tarnished by how pleased she sounded.

Ethan, undeterred, murmured something else into her ear. With a very serious expression, he pulled back to look into her face. There was no humor left in their expressions as they gazed at one another, only pure longing and affection. Then, he held the tip of her chin in gentle fingers, like the most delicate of songbirds, leaned in and kissed her.

Leland glanced away, unwilling to accept there could be love and affection in the world. Teeth clenched, his eyes returned to the couple before he could avoid it. It was almost as if they were flaunting their romance for everyone, including Leland, to see.

They couldn't do anything for Caroline and now they taunted him.

The bitter burn of jealousy and rage pumped through his veins like a poison with every beat of his heart.

That the two doctors could touch and love so unabashedly was…unacceptable.

“Have a good day,” Lilac whispered to her beloved before moving away.

Their hands were still clasped and Ethan seemed unable to let her go. He tugged her again and Lilac looked at him curiously. The man looked on the verge of saying something, his throat working in the small pause. Then, appearing to change his mind, he kissed her forehead instead.

Ethan Ramsey didn't have to say a goddamn thing for Leland to know. Leland had looked at his Caroline the same way before uttering the three words.

Love.

Ethan was in love with her.

The solution struck Leland with such intensity that he remained immobile. It was so simple, he felt like a fool for not having thought of it before. At last, he knew of a surefire way to secure Caroline's cure.

“Sir?” His assistant, Parker, enquired when Leland silently beckoned.

“Have Ethan Ramsey meet me in my office this afternoon,” he commanded simply. “Make it clear the meeting is not optional.”

***

Author’s Note: The following chapters will be longer! I won’t have a posting schedule. I think I’ll just post these bad boys as they’re ready. Approximately weekly? Thank you so much for reading this far!

As a side note, this will be Ethan x MC centric. I will try to include other characters but I can’t promise you much. Also, I’ve kept some things from the original mess that is book 3, but the overall plot will differ. (Hey crazy idea but if any of my mutuals wants to write for other characters, hit me up?)

Chapter 1 coming soon!

*Tagging in a reblog*

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #My writing

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andreafmn · 3 years

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I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it. She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac. I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm. Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

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