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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

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Eddie and Max get out of the hospital at the same time. Eddie's scars are tender. It hurts to move sometimes. But he's got ointment, and pain pills, he'll be fine.

Max can see, not super well, but it improves a little every week. Her arms are mostly healed, she still has slings for when they ache. Her legs are healed, technically, the bones anyway. But she's got braces and isn't supposed to walk on them yet. She can stand on them for a couple minutes off and on to stretch them. But she goes to physical therapy multiple times a week.

Her mom had been rightly worried and upset and freaked out, because they couldn't afford a van for her wheelchair. And yeah she can get out of her wheelchair if she needs too, but its easier on her body if she can just, roll in and out of a vehicle.

So eddie tells her mom he can drive her around. All they need is a ramp for his van. He already had straps in the back to secure things, they use them on Gareth's drum set. The relief on Max's mothers face and the way she hugs him genlty is... too much. He just smiles and looks away, nodding when she thanks him again.

He drives her to therapy twice and decides that her trailer needs a ramp too. A good one. He can't help lift Max's chair, so he just has to watch Max's mom struggle to get her up the stairs.

So he goes home and starts drawing. He can see it in his head, the way he wants it, bigger than it probably needs to be, but he wants the slope to be low impact, because once her arms get strong enough to move herself, he wants her to able to do that. He just... doesn't know how he's gonna manage to DO all this.

But he goes to the hardware store one day, with Wayne, because Wayne knows things, about everything. And Wayne helps him pick out the wood, they estimate the numbers and then buy a little more, just in case. And they load it up, and drop it by Max's house. And the next day, Wayne goes to work, and so does Eddie.

He ties his hair back, shoves himself into a pair of Wayne's old cover alls, and walks slowly over to Max's, she doesn't have therapy today, or the next two. Eddie doesn't think he can get it done by then, but he's gonna fucking get it started if it kills him. He pops a pain pill into his mouth, takes a swig from the water he'd brought with him, takes a look at the drawing he'd made, and gets to work.

Max rolls onto her small porch steps about an hour into Eddie's work, he's been measuring and cutting and just separating things into piles. She says his name softly and he looks up, squinting, he's covered in sweat. And his body fucking hurts. He wipes at his forehead with his arm and limps over to Max. She's holding out a new glass of water.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is ...tight. Like she knows exactly what he's doing. Eddie chugs the water and hands her back the empty glass.

"What? You don't like suprises?" He huffs, smiles with the tease. She smiles back, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He rests his hand gently on her knee, gives it a squeeze, then heads back to where he was,

"Go inside. I can't keep an eye you when I'm working and if you roll off that teeny tiny porch you're mom'll kill me." She snorts, but does as he says. A few minutes later Eddie hears the door slap shut again, and looks up to see another glass of water sitting on the porch. He shouts a thank you, and keeps working.

It only takes another hour before he almost has a breakdown. His skin hurts, he's hot, his hands are shaking. He's downed three more glasses of water. His last thank you had been so strangled that Max had just looked at him and then disappeared into the house.

He's sitting on the porch steps now, hands shaking in his lap, tears falling down his face. He can't take another pill yet. He's got two hours. He takes a few very deep breathes, about to steel himself and get back to work, his hands are on his knees, about to push himself up, when he hears the car.

He looks up, and Steve's car is parking at his house. His hands fall from his knees. But its not just Steve in the car, Nancy and Robin are there too. All of them in old looking jeans, and ratty looking shirts.

Robin's are covered in paint. Eddie's breathing goes shakey as Steve pats Robin's shoulder and points at Eddie. Robin nods and heads for him, doing a weird little run, Eddie can't help but smile. Steve and Nancy are grabbing things from Steve's trunk, Eddie doesn't see what things, before Robin is filling his vision, dropping to her knees in front of him looking concerned as her hands gently cradle his face.

"Hey you. You okay? Max said you might need some help." Robin breaths it out like a sigh, like she'd been holding in her worry. Eddie bites his lip to stop it from trembling anymore and nods. She nods back with a smile.

"Okay cool. Well, help is here. Help being, Steve and Nancy." She nods to them.

"And I'm gonna sit with you until you're feeling a bit better okay? Then you can jump back in." Steve clears his throat aggressively as he walks past her at that. Robin's face scrunches.

"Maybe." She tells Eddie. Steve was ... was he mad? He wasn't looking at Eddie, just helping Nancy get the tools they'd need out of the box they brought. Eddie had some tools, but just for one person. Robin rubs his knee gently and squishes in next to him on the stairs.

"So you got baby sitting duty?" He asks her, his side pressing into her as almost all the fight to stay upright leaves his body. She's steady beside him, holds him up easily, her hand curling around his bicep for extra support.

"Well, Nancy and Steve thought it was probably best that I don't handle tools. So yeah, but hey, babysitting you's not so bad. I mean you're a GREAT conversationalist." Robin smiles brightly at him, watches him try to smile back and then grimace.

"You okay?" Her voice is concerned now, and that apparently draws Steve's attention. He's at Eddie side in the time it takes for Eddie to nod, his face still scrunched in pain. Steve kneels, looks up at him.

"Where are your pills?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head.

"Hour an a half." Eddie grunts out. Steve's head falls and then it's shaking, he sighs, and fuck, he sounds disappointed. And he's glaring at Eddie when he finally looks back up.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Doing this by yourself, with no one here but Max to help you if you got hurt. Did you think about that?" Steve's voice gets louder as he talks.

"Steve." Robin's voice, a warning.

"No. Robin. This is... you could've gotten hurt Eddie." He huffs it, his voice is full of frustration, and anger. Eddie just stares at the ground, tries to breathe around the lump in his throat.

"I know I fucked up alright? Can we spare the lecture?" He grits, his voice is wobbly. Steve doesn't hear it, just huffs again and stands, Eddie sees his hands hit his hips and braces for whatever he's gonna say next.

"What was Max supposed to do if you got hurt? Huh? She can't help you dude! And Wayne's at work! You're all alone out here, when you shouldn't even be out here in the first place!" Steve is openly yelling now, both Nancy and Robin saying his name as Eddie's shoulders shake. Eddie clears his throat roughly, pushing the tight feeling away so he can speak. He shoves himself to his feet with a wince, pain shooting through his body.

"You think I dont know that? I know how fucking alone I am. Thank you. Steve." His hand clenches at the pain in his side, a whimper rips out of his throat, tears burn his eyes and fall. Steve looks startled, then concerned, reaches out to steady him, Eddie slaps his hand away, hard.

"Don't fuckin touch me." He growls, wipes at his eyes with shakey hands and starts walking to his trailer. His foot hits a dip in the ground and he stumbles, Robin catches him, just enough to keep him on his feet. She lets go immediately as he shrugs her touch off gently, and keeps walking.

"FUCK!" he yells it, to no one really, just built up frustration clawing its way out of him. He stomps, carefully, up his own trailer steps, and lets the door slam shut behind him.

Max's trailer door squeaks open, and the three of them turn to see her looking at Steve.

"That was harsh. I told you to come help him, not fucking yell at him and make it worse." The look in her eyes could cut glass. Steve droops under her scrutiny, his hands moving to cover his face.

"Fuck. I know." He groans. He looks up, and over to Robin.

"What's wrong with me?" He sighs, his head hanging again. Robin gives him a sympathetic smile, walks closer, rubs at his arm.

"You care about him. And you were mad. And when you're upset you get...." she trails off, thinking.

"Bitchy." Nancy supplies, moving to his other side, her hand on his shoulder as he glares at her.

"What? You do. Eddie was trying to do something nice. Something amazing, actually, for Max." Steve glares harder, she holds her finger up, silencening whatever he was about to interupt her with.

"And yes he went about it the wrong way. He obviously should have called for help." Robin chimes in, squeezing his arm.

"But no one said he was a genius. He's just trying to help." Nancy finishes, moving her hand over his shoulder soothingly.

"I know that. But he can't... he can't just help others to point that he hurts himself!" Steve flails a little, both Robin and Nancy leaning away from him, out of his flail range. They share a look though. And Max snorts behind him. He wips around to look at her.

"What? What was that for?" He asks, his tone, to his dismay, bitchy.

"Did you hear what just came out of your mouth? Have you met yourself?" She asks, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. She glares at him until he deflates. He sighs. Squints against the sun as he looks up at the sky.

"I need to go apologize." He says. All three girls nod.

"Yep." Nancy says, pressing her lips together so she doesn't smile.

"Definitely. 100% yeah." Robin squeezes his arm again, gives him an encouraging nod.

"If you don't. I'm throwing myself down these steps and telling my mom you left me unsupervised." Max says, her voice flat. Steve's eyes widen, and then he gives her a look.

"Jesus. Alright. I was already going. No need for threats." He calls the last part over his shoulder as he makes his way to Eddie's trailer. He bounces up the steps gingerly and knocks.

"Come in." Eddie's voice calls. Steve opens the door, the living room is empty. He walks down to Eddie's room and his heart sinks. Eddie has one arm pulled up inside his coveralls, it's bent at an interesting angle, he's sitting in the edge of his bed, his face is wet with tears. He flinches a little when he sees it's Steve standing there and that hurts Steve too. He moves closer, just one step and then Eddie chokes out,

"I'm stuck." And Steve moves fast. He kneels in front of Eddie, trying to look at the situation, his arm is caught in the sleeve, his elbow shoved into it tightly, he moves Eddie's wrist and Eddie flinches again.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, keeping his voice quiet. Eddie nods, bites his lip. The sleeve is pressing hard into Eddie's arm, right where one of his scars is. Steve winces in sympathy.

"How attached are you to these?" He tugs on the front of the coveralls, Eddie looks at him.

"I'm not. They're Wayne's old pair." He says, his voice tight from the pain.

"Okay good." Steve says as he slides his pocket knife out, flicks it open, and cuts the sleeve in one fluid motion. Eddie's arm drops free, another whimper falls out of him at the release.

Steve cradles Eddie's arm, holds it gently as Eddie catches his breath. His fingers squeeze Eddie's wrist and he opens his eyes. Looks at Steve.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Steve says, not letting go of Eddie's wrist. Eddie blinks at him. Stares. Then shakes his head.

"Don't be. I fucked up. You were right. I shouldn't have been out there by myself." Eddie frowns, wipes at his wet face. Steve shakes his head then, pushing himself up onto his knees, his back straightening, moving him closer to Eddie's face.

"No. Don't do that. It wasn't your fault. Okay? I shouldn't have yelled. You were trying to help Max. And I just... I didn't wanna find you hurt. Again." Steve looks at Eddie, really looks at him, tries to convey what he means without having to say it. Eddie's eyes are wide, and a little glassy from crying, but Steve sees it, the moment realization hits him.

"Okay. I won't do it again." Eddie nods, moves his wrist in Steve's hand so he can curl his fingers around Steve's wrist.

"Thank you. Just call us. We'll help you. Okay? And Eddie?" Steve swallows, stands and lifts Eddie to his feet, Eddie blinks at him owlishly.

"You're not alone. I'm sorry if we made you feel that way." Steve whispers it, feels his throat burn as Eddie starts crying again. He wipes at his face and shakes his head, looks at Steve with some strange frown smile combo.

"No I know. I just... it's always just been me. And Wayne. Ya know?" He says, holding onto Steve as he sways, dizzy. Steve holds onto him right back.

"Yeah. Well... not anymore." Steve shrugs, smiles, and then tugs Eddie out of his room. They get him another pain pill, Steve rubs some ointment onto the scar on his arm, and then they go back outside.

Nancy is cutting wood while Robin measures and marks. Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's hand until he has him sitting on the porch steps. Max hands him another glass of water.

"You're drinking me out of house and home Munson." She teases, he stares her down as he chugs the water, holds the glass back out to her and wiggles it with a shit eating grin.

"Unbelievable. Sending the girl in the wheelchair to do your errands." She sighs, but smiles when Eddie hops up and gets the door for her, follows her inside to help. He pops back a minute later and hands Steve a peice of paper. It has his plans for the ramp on it.

"This is sort of what I was aiming for." He shrugs, watches Steve look over the paper.

"You did this?" He asks, looking back up at Eddie. Eddie nods, wraps his arms around himself, feeling self-conscious under Steve's gaze.

"What? What's wrong with it?" He asks when Steve says nothing.

"What? Oh no, sorry, nothing's wrong. It's just super detailed." Steve smiles, shakes his head, hands the paper to Robin and Nancy.

"Yeah well, I wanted it done right." Eddie shrugs, Nancy makes a weird moaning sound behind them, both of them look to see her looking down at the paper in her hands, lovingly. She looks back up at Eddie.

"Finally! Someone else detail oriented. I'm making copies of this." She sounds genuine as she waves the paper, smiling at Eddie. He flushes red and moves to sit on the steps again. When his hands stop shaking he helps Robin with the measurements.

She measures, he measures, Nancy and Steve cut.

It takes them two days. But they get it done. The ramp wraps around the side of the trailer, where Max's mom always parks. He bought some plywood as well, to put down on the ground, so Max's wheels wouldn't sink.

The first time she pushes Max down the ramp she nearly cries as she throws herself at Eddie. Hugs him tight and then apologizes when he huffs in pain. Max grabs his hand, looks up at him with her bright blue eyes, and kisses his arm. Just a little peck, smooching the bats on his skin. But he gets it. That's all she needs to do. He knows she's grateful.

Steve shows up at Eddie's trailer the day after they finish the ramp. His eyes are wild and he looks like he's been shoving his hands into his hair for a couple of hours. Eddie gets half way through asking what's wrong and then Steve is kissing him. They almost fall into the trailer with the force of it. Steve catches them, rights them, but doesn't let go of Eddie, just lets out a breathy,

"Sorry sorry." As he keeps them steady. Eddie just smiles dumbly at him. Wayne stands from the couch, clears his throat awkwardly and pats Eddie on the shoulder as he leaves, says,

"Told you them coveralls was lucky boy." He winks as he passes them. Eddie's laughter filling the trailer behind him as Steve's face goes crimson and he drops his head on Eddie's shoulder with a dramatic groan.

#eddie munson #max mayfield #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie blurb #fates Endless Inkwell #fei #my writing #my fic #mine

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leclerc-s · 5 months

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big reputations - part six

series masterlist // previous // next

sabrinacarpenter posted new stories

pre-qatar dinner and this dude looks way too fucking happy. is there an off switch or something? cars go vroom! little brother won a race or something? it's like a big deal 3x world champion or whatever jokes aside i'm literally crying?? who knew i would be crying over some silly little men in silly little cars??

alex albon ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED YESTERDAY??

max verstappen i kissed daniel, so what?? george russell THAT'S NOT WHAT WE SAW BITCH!!

oscar piastri clearly you were all drunk. i saw max kiss daniel and charles. charles said it was glorious.

charles leclerc it was, i went to my hotel room and i questioned everything. pierre gasly FUCKER YOU KNOW WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT

daniel ricciardo is it suddenly not okay for me to kiss max??

yuki tsunoda HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US RICCIARDO!! THIS IS SO FUCKED! THIS IS FUCKING BETRAYAL YOU FUCKING FUCK! YOU DICKHEAD!

esteban ocon is this why max knocked liam out the other day??

max verstappen i didn't knock him out, i simply helped him rest his eyes for a bit. he seemed tired.

alex albon I KNOW WHAT I FUCKING SAW YESTERDAY!!

oscar piastri i think you guys are cra

oscar piastri so these are the famous f1 drivers oscah and sharl cannot shut up about. nice to meet y'all!

logan sargeant oscar? you okay buddy?

max verstappen sabrina, dear god, give oscar his phone back.

oscar piastri KISS MY ASS VERSTAPPEN. I WILL DECK YOU max verstappen when you can reach me, sure. oscar piastri SOMEONE GRAB ME A FUCKING FORK!! max verstappen yup, still can't stand you. oscar piastri OH FUCK YOU SID!

oscar piastri i apologize for her, she isn't house trained.

charles leclercDID YOU JUST CALL ME A BITCH PIASTRI?? YOU'RE FUCKING NEXT!!

charles leclerc added one person

sabrina carpenter now, did you guys seen pierre kiss yuki?

pierre gasly what?

charles leclerc i swear i saw k-mag and and nico kiss

sabrina carpenter oh, you guys are allowed to say nico? i thought that was off limits because of lewis. #ripbrocedes

daniel ricciardo lewis isn't here.

carlos sainz jesus do you people have to talk so fucking much??

sabrina carpenter HEY, I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU MR. SAINZ!

carlos sainz who is that? why are they yelling at me?

sabrina carpenter JUST BECAUSE I WASN'T AROUND FOR SPA DOESN'T MEAN I WILL NOT DEFEND MY LITTLE BROTHER OSCAR!

oscar piastri let it go sabrina

sabrina carpenter I'LL LET IT GO WHEN DANIEL LET'S THE CHARLES THING GO!!

carlos sainz what's the charles thing?

max verstappen nothing daniel ricciardo nothing charles leclerc nothing oscar piastri nothing sabrina carpenter nothing

yuki tsunoda STOP CHANGING THE FUCKING SUBJECT! DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO ARE YOU OR ARE YOU FUCKING NOT DATING DAPHNE FUCKING JONES??

daniel ricciardo i plead the fifth

george russell that's a yes to me

alex albon THEY WERE FUCKING MAKING OUT AT THE BAR!! OF COURSE THEY'RE DATING!!

sabrina carpenter no, that was daniel and max. i don't know what you people saw. clearly the tension from when they were teammates got to be too much and now they're acting on their feelings. i really thought it was going to be a lestappen endgame.

oscar piastri okay, you need to get off of f1 twitter seriously.

sabrina carpenter well how else am i supposed to learn f1 lore? and it's not just twitter, tiktok has been very helpful.

george russell just how much time is she spending on f1 twitter and tiktok?

sabrina carpenter "i'm here to fight, i'm here to win, i'm not just going to wave him bye because he's max verstappen in a red bull."

sabrina carpenter "what am i now? i'm heavily depressed." sabrina carpenter "suck my balls mate." sabrina carpenter "nothing just an inchident."

oscar piastri yeah, she's gonna be doing that for a while

sabrina carpenter "bwoah!" sabrina carpenter "james, it's valtteri, fuck you." sabrina carpenter "ALL THE TIME YOU HAVE TO LEAVE A SPACE!"

sabrina carpenter okay, i'm done now. i think oscar was right when he said i needed to step away from f1 twitter and tiktok

oscar piastri you think? i have been receiving an f1 quote from you at least 8 times a day.

logan sargeant free my man oscar, he shouldn't be suffering this way

sabrina carpenter logan sargeant you're next on my list

max verstappen CONGRATS YOU IDIOTS, YOU FUCKED UP!

daphne jones you know, i can see that now, but it's so hilarious knowing the other drivers are losing their mind.

daniel ricciardo the only reason we haven't told them is because you have some stupid plan to get daphne to sing about it at a show.

max verstappen MY PLAN IS A GOOD ONE! TAKE THAT BACK BITCHIARRDO!

oscar piastri what actually is the plan??

sabrina carpenter you know that line in karma, where it's like, "karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me?"

oscar piastri yeah?

charles leclerc max wants daphne to change the lyrics to something like "karma is the guy on the track coming straight home to me?"

max verstappen why is that better than what i had?

sabrina carpenter his was "karma is the guy in the alpha tauri coming straight home to me."

oscar piastri DO BOTH!

max verstappen she can't because someone took daniel out of the season

oscar piastri I APOLOGIZED WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME??

daniel ricciardo MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN IT WASN'T HIS FAULT! LEAVE HIM ALONE

charles leclerc wow we really are like a family.

sabrina carpenter max has been promoted to brother-in-law because the entire internet seems convinced that he's fucking charles

daphne jones do you have no filter?

sabrina carpenter i wrote a song called nonsense that's a euphemism for sex. what do you think?

oscar piastri i'm talkin' all around clock. i'm talkin' hope nobody knocks. i'm talkin' opposite of soft. i'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts. you gotta keep up with me. i got some young energy. i caught the L-O-V-E. how do you do this to me?

max verstappen you just know the lyrics to the song?

oscar piastri i googled them.

sabrina carpenter FAKE FAN!!

oscar piastri i never said i was a fan. i just tolerate you.

charles leclerc i can't stand either of you

daniel ricciardo peak older sibling behavior

taglist: @glow-ish @agustdpeach @msolbesg @spilled-coffee-cup @1nt3rnetgf @six-call @smol-scream @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! yeah, i don't know what this became towards the end. i saw one tiktok and i spiraled towards the end, i'm also a bit sleep deprived. i apologize in advance for this. you can't convince me sabrina carpenter isn't a menace to society, i bet she is.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #big reputations series #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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starlitmark · 1 year

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Summary: Jongho has to be the best papa bear and husband out there. Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader Tropes: parent au Genre: fluff, slice of life Rating: G Warnings: mentions of childbirth, mentions of lactation/breastfeeding Word Count: 555 Note: Enjoy the brainrot… there’s likely more coming…

Listen to: say you won’t let go by James Arthur || lifetime by Justin Bieber || imagine by Ben Platt || butterflies (ft. Fletcher) by MAX

Special tags: @hwasrie @yoongurt @thelargefrye

“She won’t break, you know.” You chuckle.

“She’s so… tiny.” Jongho replies, not taking his eyes off your newborn daughter.

She’s hardly a week old, and Jongho has kept his eyes on her nearly the entire time. When he asked you to marry him, he committed to never falling in love with another girl. The moment he laid eyes on your daughter, that promise was broken. He looks at her like she is the most precious thing in this universe. You can’t blame him for that. She absolutely is.

Jongho looks away for just a moment to look up at you from his place on the couch. His eyes are sparkling, and the way he smiles makes your heart melt and soar simultaneously. The look he gives you makes you feel like the most special person on the planet.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” You chuckle, sitting down beside him.

“Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You gave me her. You exist in my life. I’m yours, and I couldn’t ask to be anything more than that.”

You go to reply, but your daughter starts to shift slightly in your husband’s arms. She makes a slight noise that’s hardly there. Jongho returns his attention to her. He sits back against the couch entirely and shifts her tiny body to rest against his chest, head resting against his shoulder. He shuts his eyes, hoping to get a few minutes of sleep while she rests.

You smile at the small interaction. Jongho looks exhausted, you probably do too, but he looks absolutely gorgeous right now in your eyes. He fits his role as a father so well, and you wouldn’t want to experience this with anyone else in the world, even if you could. He pats her back lightly, lulling her back to sleep. He can feel your eyes on him, though, and peeks one open to look at you. It takes mere moments for him to fully open his eyes again and turn his face toward you.

“What?” You ask again.

“You look beautiful.” He states simply.

You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but try to cover your reaction with a humorless chuckle, “Sure, Jongho, I’m sure. I haven’t been able to shower in a few days, my hair looks like a bird’s nest, I have stains on my shirt from feeding and just lactating and-“

“You’re always beautiful.”

You blush slightly at his comment, “S-shut up, give me her. I’ll need to feed her soon.”

“Ten more minutes?” He asks with a slight pout.

“I’ll burst if I go ten more minutes. You get five.” You smile.

Jongho makes a face that you immediately know how to read. You lean over, and just as you’re about to kiss his cheek, he turns and gently pecks your lips. He giggled at your slightly shocked face.

“You go rest a little. You deserve to relax. I’ll bring her to you in five minutes, as promised.”

You nod with a quiet thank you. You start making your way to the nursery. You might as well be in your rocking chair just in case you fall asleep.

“Babe.” Jongho calls; you turn to face him, “I love you so much. Thank you.”

You smile sweetly, “I love you too. You’re already an amazing papa bear.”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List strikethrough = unable to tag: @jaehunnyy @brattybunfornct @roseforseonghwa @spiderrenjunfics @umbralhelwolf @ericssmile @honeyhuii @tarutarumilk

#ateez fluff #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jongho fanfic #jongho x reader #jongho fluff

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sombersynth · 2 years

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Steddie Fanfiction Masterlist Rec

I've been reading steddie fics for a solid four days now, and I wanted to share my favorites with you all! Some of these are still being updated. I hope you enjoy!

Too Hot, Too Greedy by nikol_eyes, 8 k, mature. “King Harrington.” Eddie smirked, grabbing Steve’s hand and bending low once again, and if he’d had any more time to react Steve was sure he would’ve snatched his hand away on reflex. Instead, he felt the soft brush of Eddie’s lips against his skin, heard the raucous laughter that erupted from both Eddie and Robin, and felt his skin raise another few degrees in temperature.

There's a Clock in my Head (is it Wrong? Is it Right?) by Cloverspies, 15 k, teen. Ronance as well. In the relentless, revealing light of early morning, Robin took one look at Steve's dazed expression and said, "Oh my God. Holy shit. Did you—?" Steve stared at her. A moment later, a bright grin spread across his face. "Did you?"

Feel this Burning, Love of Mine by Judasofsuburbia, 15 k, explicit. Vecna is defeated. Steve Harrington stays in the hospital to be with Eddie Munson, despite everyone's confusion, including his own. After Eddie gets released, he has his first night terrors and immediately calls Steve for help. How can Steve resist?

Understood by Dykealert, 21 k, explicit. “You say you crave connection with people and then push us away when we try.” “Yeah, I guess I do.” Eddie hits rock bottom. Steve’s there too.

I Know The End (The End is Here) by Thrynn_Star, 24 k, mature. “Well if it isn’t Eddie Munson,” Steve drawls, swinging his car keys round his finger, offering Eddie a wink, “Bit early to be picking a movie. I haven’t even unlocked the door yet.” Eddie shuts the passenger side door of his own van, hoping he looks as confident as he tries to sound. “Not here for a movie, Harrington. Here for a job, if you’re still offering?" // Set after Vecna's demise (and written before Season 4 Vol.2 is released), Hawkins seems eager to move on, and eager to leave Eddie Munson behind. But when he gets a job at Family Video, Eddie discovers that with the help of some unlikely friendships, he can move on as well. And maybe, just maybe, he can be happy too.

We Survived (Together) by Plistommy, 1.7 k, explicit. ”I can’t lose you. Not you.” Steve confessed and Eddie swore his heart skipped a beat and soon, he was leaning down to catch Steve’s hungry mouth once more. He dropped his keys to the floor and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, careful not to hurt the other while Steve kept roaming his hands on his chest. ”Bedroom.” Was all Eddie said before he started to push Steve.

Steady As He Goes by Anonymous, 37 k, explicit. Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

Look After You by Stedieon, 32 k, explicit. He remembered screaming. He could excuse it as panic, the threat of the unknown piling on top of everything he’d already bore witness to over the past days. But really, Steve’s grim smile and 'no complaints' echoed in his head, and Eddie couldn’t help but feel like this should have been expected.

Ain't It a Gentle Sound by prettydizzeed, 10 k, explicit. So. There’d be no, like, veneer to it, sex with Steve; if Steve hurt him, it’d be with the transparent acknowledgment that that was the point, that Eddie wanted him to, no layers of setup or characterization to give any distance. Which is honestly so fucking vulnerable, in a way that’s hard to think about sometimes, but fuck if it doesn’t make Eddie’s toes curl.

So It Was Thought by SpiritedKaway, 35 k, mature. Eddie Munson was supposed to meet his end in a heroic death, Max was supposed to live, and they were supposed to defeat Vecna once and for all. He had played his heart out, and he was ready. He wouldn't run. Not this time. But when he woke up, and Eddie couldn't help but feel like he hadn't woken up in the afterlife. He should be dead. He was supposed to be dead. So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought. But Eddie — lives.

Anything Goes in the Winnebago by ChronicRabbit, 6 k, explicit. “Harrington’s got her. Don’tcha, Big boy?” That’s what Eddie had said to him with that huge shit-eating grin he always seemed to flash after one of his cheeky little jokes. Because it was a joke. There was no reason for Steve’s heart to thud in his chest like it was trying escape the prison of his ribs. He was so fucked.

The Edification of Steve Harrington by ChronicRabbit, 28 k, explicit. It had been two and a half months since the end of Spring Break. Eddie had been cleared of all charges, The Byers were back in Hawkins like they’d never left, Vecna was dead and gone, and everything was back to normal; or rather as back to normal as Hawkins could get. Unfortunately for one Steve Harrington, his new normal seemed to be not only his inability to get a date, but also his newfound proclivity towards staring at Eddie Munson’s mouth while he dramatically narrated during a five hour Hellfire session, or counting the freckles on the bridge of his nose, or memorizing the patterns in his honey coloured eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The Affliction of the Feeling by Nondz, 27 k, explicit. “Hold on,” Robin interrupts. “Hold on, is this— are you, like. Do you know what masochism is?” “I know like I act like it sometimes, Robin, but I’m not actually fucking twelve,” Steve says. OR: Eddie has a black hanky in his back pocket.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steveddie #steveddie fic #my fic recs

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f1-stuff · 5 months

Note

sex 👁️👄👁️ competition 👁️👄👁️

Pls tell us more

Ask and you shall receive 🫡 Have the first 700 words... -> WIP game

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault.

It starts because of a question he poses during the drivers' parade in Spain, a group of them waiting to be interviewed as the float makes its slow procession around the circuit.

They’re in the middle of a conversation about how Pierre and Esteban can’t seem to get along lately, their competitiveness reaching new volatile heights, when Alex says, “Do you reckon they fight over who’s better in bed?”

“Probably,” Logan snickers beside him.

“They’ve definitely argued over who’s got a bigger dick,” Lando adds.

For some reason, everyone looks at Charles.

“What? You think I know?”

“You’re friends with them,” Alex says, then adds, “Kind of.” Because he knows stuff with Esteban is complicated.

“Did they ever fight over the same girl?” Lando asks, nudging him. “Like, when you were kids?”

“I don’t know!” Charles insists, huffing.

“My guess is Pierre. For better in bed, I mean.” And then, they all hum, like they’re in agreement.

Charles rolls his eyes, glancing around for Pierre as if the conversation will manifest him. He’s still at the other end of the float, waiting for Esteban to finish his interview in front of him. Charles smirks, betting he’s pissed off even about that.

“Okay, who’s better in bed: Max or Checo?”

“Max,” Oscar and Logan say in unison, then fist bump each other.

“I am saying Checo,” Charles speaks up, feeling bad for the guy. “This conversation is very stupid.”

“No, no, you could be right,” Lando chips in. “Max is really impatient, but Checo could have the whole passionate Latin lover thing going on.”

“That’s racist. I think.”

“Shut up.”

“Magnussen or Hulkenberg?” Alex chips in.

“Well, K Mag has one more kid than Hulk,” Logan says, as if this is evidence to be weighed.

“Does that mean he’s better or worse?” Lando mutters, smirking.

“Lewis or George?”

“Lewis, are you kidding? Have you seen the chicks he’s gone out with?”

“Point.”

“Charles,” Alex says, getting his attention, a devilish smirk on his face. “You or Carlos?”

Charles laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. “Mate, come on.”

“What? Look at him, he’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“I reckon it’s Carlos-” Lando starts, then gets shoved for it.

“Yeah, you would say that,” Oscar teases. “He’s, like- your hero.”

Then, while Lando sputters about how, ‘I meant ‘cause he’s older,’ Alex says, “Carlos had the same girlfriend for like six years. I doubt he’s actually that good, ya know? Reckon he’s probably got complacent.”

“Oh, big word. Have you gotten ‘complacent,’ Alex?” Logan asks, nudging him. Alex gives a good-natured eye roll.

“‘Kay, fine. That’s probably fair...”

Someone sweeps up behind Charles, and he can immediately identify who it is from the duel hands that squeeze the side of his neck and his bicep, along with the scent of a familiar cologne. (Charles doesn’t really want to examine the fact that he can recognize his teammate by his cologne...)

“What are we laughing about?” Carlos asks, crowding up against Charles, who makes space for him in their circle.

“Who’s better than their teammate in bed,” Lando offers, reaching out to clasp hands with Carlos in greeting. “We were just debating you or Charles.”

Carlos makes an inquisitive noise, his gaze sliding to Charles, who gazes back stubbornly.

“Obviously, I am better-” Carlos starts, overly cocky, inspiring Charles to huff in indignation.

“This is obvious?”

“Well, I-”

“‘I,’” Charles interjects. “The only obvious thing is that, of course, you would think you are better. Just like I will think I am the best. We are not good judges.”

“Okay, then what do you suggest, my friend?” Carlos asks, a competitive arch to his brow that’s accompanied by an amused tilt to his lips. “Who should be the judge?”

“Oh, God,” Alex groans, laughing at them. “We shouldn’t have talked about it with them both here. Now, they’re gonna argue about it.”

“Charles,” Carlos says, ignoring the others. “What do you suggest?”

Charles feels overly warm all of a sudden, rubbing his clammy palms against his jeans, as Carlos regards him with all of his single-minded focus.

“A competition,” he says. Before he can stop himself.

#suffice to say that this quickly becomes homoerotic lmao #WIP tag game #rpf #charlos #anon #ask #sex competition AU

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 6 months

Text

The One I've Been Waiting For {Part 04 of 13}

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Older!reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: Billy Hargrove is just one of the many students you're supposed to help. The last thing you expect from your interaction is that he'll start flirtt with you... Much less that Billy would stir up feelings you'd rather keep hidden. Despite the mutual sentiments that soon enough start to grow, there are a lot of reasons for whatever it is to be left alone, and one of them is your age...

<- Previous part (03)

Next Part (05) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

A/N: In this story, reader is 5 years older than Billy, who's 18.

•••

The Heart and the Mind

Billy's mind is a chaotic place. But this time is for a whole different reason. It's been a while since he got together with a girl, and he doesn't even miss it. He did think about it more than a few times, but every time he considers it... All he can think about is her.

“Billy!” Max suddenly yells, snapping him out of his thoughts. With an angry face, he glances at her.

“What the hell, shitface?”

“What's wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird?” Max asks, and he rolls his eyes, focusing on the road.

“I'm normal.” Shrugging his shoulders, Billy checks his face through the review mirror. There's nothing wrong with him.

“No, you're not. You're more stupid than usual. And less angry.” She goes on, and Billy runs a hand through his head before hanging an arm on the open window. “It looks like you have something in your head.”

“Max, shut the hell up.” He mutters, taking a deep breath. “Care about your own business and leave me alone.”

“Fine, whatever.” She mumbles.

He was just about to lash out at her again when he remembers what (Y/N) said. Billy was never too fond of Max, and he doesn't want her to be one more thing he has to care about. But they were both forced into each other's lives, and she also has to deal with Neil. Of course, she doesn't see the worst side of him, since she's Susan's daughter. But part of Billy, a tiny little part is happy she's not the one being beaten up. Thinking about it now, imagining Neil hitting Max, makes him angry. Furious.

“What about that shitty boyfriend you have?” He asks, eyes on the road.

“What about him?”

“Damn it, Maxine. Is he treating you ok? Because if he ever does anything I'll have to end his miserable life.” He's finally at the Elementary School, stopping the car. “We're family now, it doesn't matter how we feel about it, so if anyone screws up with you, it's my business too.”

“You're going crazy.” She mumbles before opening the door.

“Maybe I am.” He whispers to himself, ignoring how she pushes the door close.

Driving fast, he makes his way to Hawking High School for more endless hours of bullshit. Billy can't take this anymore, not here at least. He was never into school, but back in Cali, at least he was home, in a place he loved. But here, he has nothing.

Nothing but a girl stuck in his head. A girl whose smile is burned in his memory, that he plays back all the time. Billy acts like he doesn't have a heart, but (Y/N) certainly makes him feel as if it's beating again. Maybe for the first time in his life.

—————

You've been quite off the whole morning, not paying attention to anything. Lucky for you, today's class is just about the presentations of last month's projects, and since your group was the first one, you had the privilege of sitting in the back and letting your mind float away from this place.

The thing you don't want to think about is the only thing you think about. Or better said, the person.

Billy has been going through your mind on a daily basis, ever since you last met him when you went to the quarry. You did cross paths with him at school, and he was nice, asking how your day was. With kind eyes and a beautiful smile.

And now, the man has been constantly in your head. Night and day, even though you've been struggling not to. And you like thinking about him. You even miss him, looking down at you with those blue eyes.

“(Y/N),” Tanya calls, and you snap out of your thoughts, noticing that the class is over. “Where are you? You didn't even pay attention to the project's presentation.”

“Yeah, I...” Gathering your stuff, you follow Tanya outside. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nevermind, Tany. It's stupid.”

“Well–”

“How is my beautiful girlfriend doing?” The voice is quickly followed by a sudden hug. Liam has one arm around Tanya and the other around your shoulders. He kisses her before placing a kiss on your cheek. “And my beautiful bestie?” You wrinkle your noise at his word and the high pitched voice he usually uses.

“Your bestie has a boy in her head.” Tanya singsongs, and you roll your eyes. “I have to go to the restroom. Be right back.” Kissing Liam again, she waves at you and walks away.

“So you finally met someone you're interested in?” Liam asks as you move to one of the wooden benches set near the walls.

“Let's sit there.”

The wind is stronger than earlier today, making the tree's branches bend over. The campus is beautiful, and as you sit down, pulling your legs up, you watch as people come and go. The exposed skin of your shoulders makes you feel cold, but you ignore it. You like it here, it's far better than the one in Indianapolis. There's more nature, and the campus is full of trees and bushes, and even a garden on the East side. Things move slower here in Hawkings, but you like it.

“So? Who's this guy?”

“Liam, I need a guy's opinion on something.” Crossing your legs, you turn towards him.

“Bring it on.”

“How would you feel if Tanya was older than you?”

Liam furrows his eyebrows, getting a thoughtful expression for a while. He seems quite surprised by your question. “Well, if was still Tanya, I'd fall for her anyway.” He says, nodding to himself. “I mean, the dynamic would be different. Let's say that by her age she could have children or even an ex-husband. And the years of experience would probably make a gap in between us and if we're from different generations we'd like different things but–”

“Children and ex-husband?” You cut him off, not able to follow up with whatever he's saying.

“Yeah. The probabilities are that she'd at least have one past long-term relationship.”

Closing your eyes for a few seconds to gather your thoughts, you take a deep breath. “Liam, let me rephrase that. What if Tanya was, let's say... Five years older than you?” That's way too specific. “Would you still like her? Or even consider dating her?”

Liam gives you a look, raising one eyebrow. “Here I am, analyzing every aspect and challenge of a relationship with an age gap and you were speaking about five years?” You silently nod. “That's not even a gap. That's just a couple of years, no big deal.”

“It's just that... When the guy is older everyone finds it hot.” You start, looking down at your hands. You shouldn't even be talking about this, since Billy Hargrove isn't even a possibility. But this is just something you need to know, something you need someone else's opinion on. And Liam, being a guy, gives you a better perspective. “But when it's the other way around... People find it weird.”

“(Y/N), age is just a number.” He's still speaking when Tanya comes back, sitting next to him. “Correction. After eighteen, age is just a number. You're both adults and it doesn't matter what people say, only what you feel. And you don't even look your age, people wouldn't even spot the age difference.”

“What makes you think I'm talking about me?” You're quick to defend yourself, stuttering a little.

“Because you were way too specific for this to be a hypothetical situation or about someone else.” Liam exchanges a look with Tanya, who smiles.

“You know you don't have to hide things from us.” She says, reaching out a hand, which you hold. “We're here to help and support you. And if something happens between you and Billy we'll be happy for–”

“Nothing will happen.” Cutting her off, you sigh. “I just needed Liam's opinion on it. I was curious, that's all.”

“Look, the only problem I see with you getting into a relationship with Billy is his reputation.” Tanya starts, and Liam nods. They don't have much contact with Billy, but, like everyone who lives in Hawkins, they heard about him. “He's a bad boy, gets all the girls he wants, and throws them away when he's done. You're not into that kind of thing.”

“You're a hopeless romantic,” Liam adds.

“Exactly. So be careful.”

“I will.” You whisper, running a hand through your hair.

After another class, Tanya drives you to Hawkins High School where you attend this girl, Clarissa. A quick rain came and passed during the time you were with her in the classroom. But by the time you're done, the sun is trying to win over the thick, grey clouds taking over.

You're walking through the halls next to Clarissa, chatting. She's kind, and despite not being that good at Biology, you can see she's trying her best. “I'm way too nervous for this test. I need at least a C.”

“You'll do fine. I can make you a quiz if you want, to help you go over the topics again.” You offer as you move outside, the cold wind making you shiver.

“That would be amazing, thanks!” She cheers, giving you a quick hug before waving and heading to her car.

You go to the public phones since you need Tanya to pick you up. But after calling twice, you're almost giving up.

“Hey.” The sound makes you turn around, putting the phone back in place. Billy smiles, and you can't help but do the same.

“Hi.” You shyly say. “How have you been?” Talking to Billy is different now. You have ideas in your head, ideas you know you shouldn't have. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Basketball game.”

“Did your team win?”

“Of course.”

“That's great.” Taking the phone again, you try calling one more time. But she doesn't answer. “Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, it's just–” Putting the phone back, you start walking, bracing yourself. “–Tanya was supposed to come for me but her telephone must be broken again.”

“Here,” Billy says, and when you look at him, you find the guy taking off his jacket.

“No, you don't have to–” He's already handing it over to you. “I'm alright, really.”

He doesn't say anything, and when it takes too long for you to move, Billy puts the jacket around your shoulders. You're immediately surrounded by warmth, and also his scent. It's familiar now, even though you don't spend too much time around him. But it makes you feel... Odd. In a good way.

“Thanks.” You whisper, stepping back and clearing your throat. “I gotta go now. Before the rain catches me.” With a little wave, you start walking again.

But Billy is quick to grab your arm, gently. “Do you really think I'll let you walk home with a storm coming?” As if to make his point clear, a distant thunder echoes.

“Billy...” You don't want to go with him. Being around Billy is dangerous, it brings out feelings you don't understand. Feelings you don't want to think about.

“(Y/N), C'mon. It's just a ride home.” The grip on your arm slips until he's holding your hand. It sends some kind of wave through your arm, like electricity.

You're moving before you notice, following him.

“Hey, Billy boy!” Someone shouts, and you give the guy a quick look before going for the passenger door. “Saturday at my place! It's gonna be wild, don't forget.”

“I won't.” He answers as you get inside, putting the seatbelt on. Billy is quick to settle down, turning the ignition. “Party on Saturday. Wanna come?”

“I can't. My group will come to my place to work on some papers.”

“Is it true or you just don't wanna go out with me?” Billy hits the street, and you struggle to deal with the anxiety. But it doesn't take much until you notice the... Normal speed. A lot different from last time.

“It's true.” You simply say, feeling yourself relaxing.

“So... Does that means you'd go out with me some other time?” Billy glances at you, and you feel your cheeks blushing.

You're supposed to say no immediately, make it clear this is just a ride home. That you're just... Friends. But why didn't the words come out? It would be so much easier... “Billy, you know we-”

“Mhmm, the age thing.” He cuts you off, a smirk in his voice. “Why don't you do the most simple thing?”

“Which is?”

“Ask if I care about it.” He's already staring when you look at him.

“Eyes on the road.” You warn him, and he smiles before complying. It's getting hard to deal with all this. Billy doesn't get out of your head, and you were hoping whatever this is, it would fade away. That time would help. But here you are again, with him, and all the walls separating between you are crumbling down... And you like it. You want to take them all down. But you are a thinker, and you're scared. None of the guys you were interested in before made you feel this way. But why now? Why Billy?

You just want to get home and stay the hell away from him and all the feelings he causes.

“Alright, Princess.” He sighs.

“Don't call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, do you?” You burst out, almost involuntary. Your heart and mind are at war, and both want to win.

Billy smiles, slowing down for the red light until he stops completely. Then, he looks at you, those blue eyes almost hypnotizing you. They're powerful... Or are you the one who's too weak?

“You're the only girl I ever met that I really want to know.” He says, voice low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “So no. I don't give a damn about your age, Princess.”

You're frozen, still looking at him when someone blasts the horn, and you snap out, seeing that the light is green. “Some other time then... Maybe.” You whisper, clearing your throat and running a hand through your hair.

Your heart is beating fast, cheerful to know how he feels about it. But your mind... It tells you otherwise.

@aunicornmademedoit @alexa4040 @goth-cowgirl-03 @nyctophilic0vitnir @minispice-1

#stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic

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deku-verde · 2 years

Note

hiya my fellow mutual <3 happy birthday ! sending virtual hugs and forehead kisses !

for a random word request … how about boba ?

thank you tay! this was a really great prompt and even tho it's been super delayed I hope you like what I ended up doing with it 🥰

#bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #my art #poots #this dumb thing is based off of a quick convo i had with my partner #i was like 'i need a comic idea for the word boba'#and he was like 'oh you mean like the-'#and i thought i would finish his sentence for him #but when i said 'beverage' he said 'bounty hunter'#and we stared at each other like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️#anyways im glad i finally came back to finish the roughs for this its just been sitting in my drafts for so long #i decided at 1am i will not sleep until i get it done for good #hopefully i can get on a better production sched soon and balance my bkdk projects better with my other ones #i need to go to sleep #k max you can shut up now #zzzzzzzz

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ellie-24 · 1 year

Text

Maybe one day

Summary: You've been Elvis Presley's personal assistant for a few months. After the truth about the Colonel comes out you're there to comfort him.

Basically the scene from the movie and it's aftermath, you can imagine Austin!Elvis or real Elvis, whatever you prefer, though it's definitely Big Daddy Elvis coded.

Word count: ~3.9 k

Warnings: cursing, medical themes, pills, syringes, addiction, the colonel

................................................................................

The hours before the last performance at the International Hotel of this season were horrendous. Everybody was stressed out to the max, doing their best and working to the best of their abilities. You barely saw Elvis that day, sprinting from one place to another, carrying costumes and boxes and whatnot around and made more phone calls than you could count. You went looking for him when a stagehand required his presence for a sound test. When you finally saw him you immediately ran up to him. Despite him being your employer and only having known each other for a few months, the two of you had become good friends. In your first week of working for him he actually tried to sleep with you, but you quickly realised that this was just the way he was around women. After a long conversation with him about keeping your relationship purely professional, you were able to laugh about it. He now often asked you to spend the evenings with him when he didn't want to be alone and needed someone to just talk to. You really enjoyed his company as you often got to see the sensitive side of him and you knew that he trusted you.

Just as you wanted to open your mouth to tell him that he was needed onstage, you were interrupted by Jerry, who sounded rather upset.

He started talking about the Colonel and the international tour. You ears perked up at this. Your tried to keep up with them as they almost raced through the corridor. Maybe Jerry had figured something out. That would be great, Elvis would finally get what he has wanted for a long time you thought, a smile forming on your face. Yet, what you actually heard from him shook you to the core and made you question everything. Gone was the hope you felt a few seconds ago.

He told you that the Colonel was nothing but a swindler, an illegal immigrant with no real name or passport and debts as high as the Empire State Building. He told you that this was the reason he always found excuse after excuse to stay within the USA. You didn’t even have the time to question how he knew this or to register the full gravitas of this betrayal, because you suddenly felt a large body collapsing against yours. Your ears started to ring, everybody around you was now shouting and screaming. When you hit the floor you realized Elvis had passed out and fell against you, knocking you both down to the floor. Your ears were still ringing from the shock, or the shouting, you didn’t know, and you felt his heavy body on top of yours. Then somebody lifted him off of you and put his head into a bucket of ice water, wanting him to wake up again.

The loud ringing in your ears finally stopped after a few seconds and you pulled him out of the water, putting his head on your lap. You felt the icy cold water seep through the fabric of your pants onto your thighs but you didn’t care. "Elvis!" you nearly screamed, panic filling your voice. His eyes slowly opened and his unfocused gaze turned to you. "Elvis, oh my god, can you hear me?" you asked, wiping the wet hair from his forehead. His eyes fell shut again and he quietly whimpered. "Somebody call an ambulance!"

"Dr. Nick is already on his way!" somebody shouted. You couldn’t even make out who it was in this chaos.

"What if it’s something serious? What if he has a stroke or something!" you yelled at no one in particular. You were scared shitless and lightly slapped his deathly pale cheek, urging him to open his eyes again. "Elvis!" you called out his name over and over again.

"Doctor Nick will know what it is!" another voice shouted and you looked over to them, utter incomprehension written all over your face.

Elvis’ eyes then started to flutter and incoherently mumbled something.

He was completely out of it. Your hands, still on his soft cheeks, slowly and gently caressed the now clammy skin. "Elvis, this is Y/N. Can your hear me?"

"Y/N?" he asked, his eyes still unfocused. His hand wildly moved around, seemingly searching something. You quickly reached out for it and gasped when you felt him take it in an almost bruising grip. "I’m here." you whispered, feeling helpless.

You tried to ignore the pain as he held onto your hand like a lifeline, still stroking his cheek and looking into his eyes. They slowly focused more and more on your face and you saw a bit of color coming back to his face. And although he was slowly coming back to life you were still far from relieved. It could still be something serious. Your whole body began shake uncontrollably from the adrenaline, your hand trapped in his death grip being your only unmoving body part.

When you heard the Colonel’s voice in the distance you felt cold chills running down your spine. You weren’t able to think straight and he was the very reason Elvis was probably laying in your lap right now. Though you always had a very sketchy feeling about the Colonel, you refused to believe that there wasn’t some sort of explanation for this whole mess. He couldn’t have lied to everyone all this time and sabotaged Elvis’ career. You just didn't want it to be true, for Elvis' sake. He was already so vulnerable as it is.

"The most important thing is, that this man gets up on that stage tonight!" he yelled and you couldn’t believe your ears, convinced that you heard him wrong.

"Y/N." Elvis muttered. You ran a hand over his wide chest and gently shushed him.

"Colonel! He needs to go to the hospital. He can’t possibly perform tonight!" you shouted.

"Now, I wonder what the papers would say then! It’s bad PR! He will do his show!"

"Look at him!" you were screaming by now.

"You better shut up now stupid girl, or I’ll have you fired right now! Dr. Nick, what can you do?" he hissed, pointing his cane at you.

You sat back with a shocked look on your face and tears pricking your eyes, feeling confused, defeated and angry with yourself. You tried to talk again, shout or scream if necessary, but no sound would leave your mouth. You were completely frozen to the spot, the shock taking over completely. You had no further time to think about that when you saw Elvis looking up to you with worried eyes and whispering your name again. He wasn’t back completely, but had a rough grasp of the situation. He clutched your hand even tighter.

"Elvis, I’m sorry. It’s going to be alright." you whispered with a lump in your throat. You leaned down and kissed his forehead when Dr. Nick started injecting something with a syringe.

About an hour later you sat in his dressing room and watched him through the mirror, striding around like a caged animal. He was more or less himself again. Yet, you had a more than doubtful look on your face.

"Stop that, Y/N." he warned carefully, pointing a finger at you.

"...You don’t have to do this. If you’re not feeling up to it then that’s okay."

"Y/N it’s not okay. I’m Elvis Presley. The fans... expect something from me. I-I can't let them down. I won’t- I can’t cancel the show…. Also, I feel much better now." he argued weakly.

"Ah, yes." you nodded, not believing a word. He gave you another warning look. "And what about the 'Colonel'?" you asked with a bit of a provocative tone. You felt extremely tense, ready to snap at any given moment.

"The little shit. I don’t fucking know Y/N!" he yelled angrily. He was angry at the Colonel, or whoever he really was, and at himself. He felt betrayed and hurt and incredibly naive and stupid. He hated the way this old shit talked to you. He hated that you had seen him like this. He hated the way he was letting out his anger on you right now. Sweet you, who only wanted to help and gently held him in your arms about an hour ago. He wanted you to leave the dressing room before he said something he regretted.

"Y/N, w-will you just go and check if everything and e-everyone is ready?" he asked in a strained voice.

You hesitantly looked at him, swallowed back tears for the second time that day and nodded. Without another word you left the dressing room and he ran a hand over his face. With a scream he smashed a glass from the table against the wall.

What you witnessed later that evening would permanently burn itself into your mind. The way Elvis was practically pleading for help onstage and fired his year long manager and trusted friend in a blind, though justifiable, rage. The way he just stormed off and left a horrified audience and confused staff behind.

Fueled by Elvis' anger you made your way over to the Colonel. "Are you proud of yourself?" you asked. "You really are the worst! I hope you enjoy your retirement!" you spat and turned on your heel to follow Elvis upstairs.

You opened the door to his apartement and saw him pressing his burning face against cold glass window of his suite. He was apathetic, not even acknowledging you storming into his suite. You went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for him and tried to ignore the open pill bottle next to the sink with some of its content strewn all over the counter. You didn’t want to know how many of them he had just swallowed. You fumbled around in the cupboards, your shaking hands nearly dropping everything.

He pressed his face even closer to the glass, his breath nearly fogging his view. Putting up his hands as well he whispered "Y/N...Have you ever wondered what it would be like to just… fly?"

"What? Did you say something?" you asked hastily, not hearing him over all the clinking and clanking you caused.

"Nothing."

You slowly approached him with a worried look on your face, not wanting to scare him. Handing him the glass you whispered "Here. Drink something."

"...What is going on down there?" he asked after downing the glass.

You took the glass from him to fetch some more. "I don’t really know, I almost immediately ran after you." you shrugged and raised your eyebrows. "A lot of confusion and dismay."

"I hope that old bastard is shitting his pants right now. I don’t want to see his fucking face ever again. Stupid fucker." he cursed, downing his second glass you had just pressed into his hands.

"I still can’t believe it. He lied to you for years and years. I refused to believe it when Jerry told us. It must have been even harder for you, he’s been part of your life for so long..."

"I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier."

"...He’s a seller. Through and through. Not only selling his merchandise but also himself. He’s good at what he does, there's no denying that. I kinda fell for that trick as well Elvis. Everybody did."

"When he shouted at you… I don’t know, but that was the last straw for me. It made me so angry. Still does."

You raised your eyebrows again. "Though he was always weird I really thought he wanted the best for your career. More importantly the best for you. But when he refused to take you to a hospital… I swear I could have slapped him across the face." you huffed.

He couldn’t hold back a small smile at the mental image. His tranquilizing pills started their effect as well, making him feel more relaxed. Yet, his face quickly transformed into a worried frown when he saw your face contort in anger. He had never seen you like this.

"It was just so ... I don't know. How he forced you to play the show. And Dr. Nick... I’m sorry I didn’t prevent it. I was stuck. I should have done more!" you ran a hand over your face.

"Sweetheart… Colonel is an intimidating man. When he wants something, he gets it." he said, putting his hands on your arms. "And I’m actually used to… this. This isn’t the first time something like this happened..."

You were shocked. You had been around for a few months now, but still rather new at all this. "...He really thinks that your body belongs to him doesn’t he. Its so dehumanizing! Like… where is the dignity in this? He’s using you... like one of his damn circus animals!" You wildly flung your arms around.

He let out a humorless laugh. "I discovered that there isn’t much dignity for superstars like me…"

You looked at him, chewing on your thumb, not knowing what to say.

In a softer voice he continued "...Sometimes I do feel like... I don’t belong to myself… Sometimes I don’t even know... who I am."

"...What do you mean?" you asked, collecting yourself.

He sat down at the piano. "See, there’s uh Elvis Presley the superstar, the entertainer. A-And then.. there’s little ol’ me…" he shrugged with another humorless laugh. "B-But everyone only cares about one of them. It’s impossible to live up to an image people have..."

"Well." you hesitantly started. "I think I’ve met both of them in our short time together... and I definitely prefer little ol’ you." you said with a smile. He just stared at you in wonder, no one has ever told him this. And although this was something he knew about you deep inside, it was nice to hear you say it out loud.

"But you have to stop seeing 'Elvis Presley' as this… thing you can’t control. Being 'Elvis Presley' is part of you."

"Sometimes I just wonder why me? Sometimes… I just don’t want to be 'Elvis Presley'... It’s too much."

You nodded sympathetically. "... I understand that. I guess. You should be able to take a break if you need it." you furrowed your brows. "But I think you are who you are for a reason… and... you are enough, if you are wondering about that. For me at least." you finished while running a hand over his back, standing next to him now.

He turned his head away from you, hiding his face. "...Why are you here anyway? I-I didn’t ask you to come up. Y-you never come around on your own."

At first you didn’t know what to say. "Elvis, I know that I work for you… but still...we’re friends aren’t we?"

He hesitantly nodded.

You smiled. "...Friends help each other. Listen to each other. Comfort each other... I... felt like you needed all these things right now."

A rather long silence followed until he whispered "I do." so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it. He slowly turned his head and pressed his face against your middle. You were a bit taken aback but slowly put your arms around him from above, shushing him. He took it as a sign that this was okay and quickly put his arms around your waist. He held you to him even more tightly when he felt you stroke his hair.

"Elvis, you made the right decision. We'll take care of everything else tomorrow.

He shivered a little and you settled into a comfortable silence.

"...I’m glad you’re here with me Y/N." he eventually whispered.

"I’m glad to be here for you." you answered truthfully.

After a while you felt his arms around you begin to loosen. When you looked down at his face you saw that his eyes fell shut again and again and he struggled to keep them open.

"Hey. You want to go to bed now? The day is catching up with you I think. It was more than exhausting. You should get some rest." The pills he took a few minutes ago surely were catching up with him as well, but you didn’t mention that.

He shook his head and tightened his grip around you again.

"...Elvis, you should rest. You can’t sleep like this. Come on." You slowly untangled yourself from him and he looked up to you with a longing in his eyes you didn’t quite understand.

"Don’t go." he said softly. You had your doubts, thinking about the purely professional relationship you two had. In reality there was no denying that there was some form of deeper affection between you and him for some time now, but you refused to act on it. Yet, after seeing that he couldn’t be alone with himself right now, you nodded.

"I won’t." You took his hand. "But you should go to bed. I can sit with you until you fall asleep, alright?"

He nodded and rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

"But first let's get you out of this jumpsuit alright?" you said as you helped him stand.

He still had his eyes closed, but raised an appreciative eyebrow.

"Don't get any funny thoughts, Presley." you joked, trying to calm your nerves.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Y/N." he slurred after he plopped down on the edge of his bed with a grunt. "Dammit my head." he mumbled and pressed his hand against his sweaty forehead. You sighed and retrieved his robe that you ironed earlier that day and a wet washcloth from the bathroom. Then you made your way back to him and started to carefully unzip his jumpsuit, revealing his hairy, wide chest and his round stomach. His eyes remained closed and his head swayed lightly back and forth as if he would fall asleep any second. You pulled his arms out as well and lowered the fabric down to his hip. You hesitated and looked at the ceiling.

"...You can look, Y/N. Nothing special to see anyway." he mumbled sleepily.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden insecurity "...It's not the honorable thing to look. Has no one ever told you that?"

He smirked. "The hero always takes a little peek, Y/N. Has no one ever told you that?" he mimicked your tone.

"So, I'm a hero now?"

"Sure thing sweetheart. You're the uh Shazam to my Captain Marvel Jr."

You laughed. "And you're a crazy man-child."

"Now hold on... who's blushing and avoiding their eyes here like a teenager? Not me, dearest Y/N." he said with a playful sigh.

You rolled your eyes and helped him wriggle out of the jumpsuit with a "Touché". Then you put his robe around him and supported his back when you saw he wasn't able to keep himself upright anymore. You quickly fluffed out his pillow with one hand and guided him backwards.

"Here you go big boy. Lay down for me." you whispered and grabbed the washcloth. Carefully, as not to startle him, you ran it over his burning cheeks and forehead, making him groan.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

He just hummed.

You raised your eyebrows and gently moved the wet cloth down his neck towards his chest and stomach, his breathing pick up under your hand. You felt your cheeks heating up again at the feeling of the soft and plush skin under your hand and tried to finish your task as quick as possible. Though it was actually rather... nice to touch him like that. When you brushed over his nipple he let out a hiss and you tried surpress the ache in your lower belly. He might not think of himself as attractive anymore but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the absolute beauty of a man in front of you. You slowly pressed your legs together, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy this, sweetheart." he smiled, but in his eyes you saw the same self-conciousness you did when you pulled down his jumpsuit minutes ago.

Damn. "Maybe I am." you shrugged. "Who knows?"

"...Y/N, don't do that." he said, suddenly very serious.

"Do what?"

"... Just don't. Can't have that tonight."

You put a hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of his sideburns.

"Elvis, what is it?"

He longingly looked into your eyes.

"You know, Y/N."

Of course you knew. He already made many attempts to win you over. To make you change your mind about the status of the relationship the two of you had. His constant flirting with you that he sometimes disguised as playful joking or banter. And as much as you'd like to give in you didn't want to risk your job. That's why you had to defuse the situation you were in currently as quickly as possible. It became rather risky right now.

"...Elvis, you're tired. The day was... emotionally and physically... draining for you... Y-you don't know what you're saying."

He reached up and absentmindedly played with a strand of your hair. "I do." he whispered.

You ran a and over your face with a sigh. "Elvis-" you began.

"I understand, Y/N." he interrupted and lowered his hand again. Maybe one day, he thought as he watched your eyes fill with guilt.

After a few seconds of heavy silence you stood up to bring the washcloth back to the bathroom.

"Y/N?" he asked, a bit alarmed.

"I'll be back in a second."

After splashing some cold water in your face and taking a few deep breaths in the bathroom you returned to him again. You were surprised to find him still awake, watching you intently. You hugged yourself and awkwardly stood in front of him.

He looked at you with a silent question in his eyes. You closed your eyes and tried to find the willpower to leave the suite. But you quickly realised this was a battle you just wouldn't win and sat down next to him with your back flat against the headboard. You looked straight ahead, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

He slowly turned over to his side with a grunt and looked up to you. "C-Can I-" he started the question, eyeing your thighs.

It took you a moment to understand what he wanted to do. "Yes." you eventually whispered.

He then put his head into your lap, almost the same way it had been a few hours ago. He let out a sigh of relief, grabbed one of your hands and put it onto his head, making his request unmistakably clear. You smiled and began to gently caress his hair. He slowly put his arms around you in a tight embrace and carefully nuzzled his face against your stomach.

"...I-I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier today. I-I didn't mean it... you know how I get."

"Forvigen and forgotten already, Elvis."

"Good." he mumbled and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t believe how content and safe he felt with you, the voices in his mind finally a lot more quiet. "Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who truly cares about me." he murmured, already half asleep. It didn’t take long until you heard quiet snores from him, but even in his sleep he wouldn’t let go of you.

...............................................................................

#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis movie #austin butler #austin butler elvis #big daddy elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #ellie writes

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1-800-whatwouldbillydo · 1 year

Text

Billy & the Kids

Also on ao3

Long story short, Steve’s been surviving on zero sleep and five cups of coffee a day, so Billy decides to take a load off by suggesting that he can watch the kids. Steve drops them off at the pool, and Billy learns that the shit birds’ summer break has been... hazardous to say the least. He sees an opportunity to connect with them, recalling the bag of pool toys he saw in the supply room. Plus, the kids get to have some normal fun. No monsters. For Billy, too, because Neil is going to be at a meeting until 10 p.m. Knowing his old man, he’ll be back three hours later.

He assures Steve they’ll come back in one piece, and Steve gives him a tired but knowing smile. “I know.”

It’s a strange feeling, to hear that someone actually trusts him. Not just anyone; Steve.

The day goes by smoothly, except for Mike refusing to put on sunscreen. Max ends up chasing him and squirting him with the stuff, which solves that problem efficiently. That’s something Billy would do. She’s got the better side of him, too. He’d forgotten there was another, sillier side to him until Steve brought it to the surface.

Dustin brought his mother’s floral shower cap instead of an actual swim cap, a misunderstanding that will live rent-free in Billy’s mind for the rest of his life. Lucas and Will were the only ones who thought to bring goggles. Max goes into the pool first, followed by the boys. To his delight, they walk, not run.

El lags behind, and he approaches her with a friendly albeit concerned smile. “What’s up, Hopper Junior?”

Staring holes into the ground, she replies quietly, “I don’t know how to swim.”

“I can teach you-”

“No! I want to join my friends. I don’t want them to see me differently.”

Billy frowns at that. “They’re your friends. They shouldn’t judge you for shi- stuff. How about floaties? They help you... well... float.”

El turns pale, and she shakes her head so hard he’s worried it’ll snap clean off her neck.

“Uh... alright... what else... Oh! You see that red and white thingy over there?” He points to the other side of the pool, and she follows his finger. “Looks a bit like a big donut?”

She nods.

“Heather! Could ya pass me that lifebuoy?”

“You know what, Billy, the day you use the magic word to ask me for a favor, is the day hell will probably freeze over,” his co-worker yells into her prized megaphone.

If she said to him the only reasons she wanted this job were for that and her “throne”, he’d believe her.

“JUST- get it. Please.”

Heather gasps dramatically, kicking her feet in the air. “Does hell feel any colder?”

“You tell me. You’re way closer,” he says, mock shuddering.

She climbs down with one hand (the other is too busy flipping him the bird). “You suck,” she informs him, tossing the "donut" in his direction.

“And you swallow.” He catches it, flashing her a triumphant grin.

“No, that’s you.”

“Billy?”

Oh fuck. The kid. “Whatever you heard, don’t tell your parents.”

“My dad curses, too.” Her little face grows oddly serious, and she adds, “I won’t tell.”

He ruffles her curls. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to use this donut.”

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

Turns out time does fly when you’re having fun. The kids listened to him. No one ever listens to him.

When the sun starts to set, they dry off, and Heather tells him to go ahead, she’ll close up this time.

He drops Lucas off first, then Dustin, then Mike. Nancy’s waiting for her brother when Billy pulls into the Wheelers’ new driveway. She looks happier now that Karen’s out of the picture.

“Hey, Billy. Was Michael well-behaved?”

“Mike! It’s Mike!”

Billy smirks. Since he and Nancy had started to become friends, he’d learned she could be quite mischievous. “Michael wasn’t a total demon.”

“M-I-K-E!”

“Too bad you’re not sleepy enough to shut up,” Nancy says, giggling.

“UGH!” Mike stomps into the house, dripping water all over the floor.

“I’m going to murder you, you little shit stain!”

Billy chuckles to himself as he gets back into his car, where Max is asleep on El’s shoulder, and Will is yawning.

The next stop is the Byers.

Joyce opens the door after the first knock, and the aroma of pie hits him.

Has he eaten since breakfast? Shit.

Will waves to him sleepily, and El hugs him, then whispers something to Joyce before going into the house.

“I can’t thank you enough. El says everyone had a great time. Would you like to come in? I have pie.”

Now, he doesn’t know Joyce much yet, but from what he gathers, she’s not one to take no for an answer. He’s too tired and hungry to turn her offer down, even if his suspicions are still ever-present.

He follows her inside, where she puts a blanket over his shoulders and pulls out a chair for him.

‘’Do you like apple?” Her eyes aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be.

Billy hates how that only makes him more anxious. He clears his suddenly scratchy throat. “’S fine.” His mother used to bake all the time when she was happy. During those last few months, she stopped smiling, stopped doing what she loved, and she would leave for a couple of hours. But she’d always come back, mostly in the morning. Until she didn’t. That’s just what living with Neil Hargrove did to you. Apple was her favorite. His, too.

“I’ll fix you some tea, too.”

“Mrs. Byers, you don’t have to-”

“Nonsense. I want to.” She sets a big slice in front of him, accompanied by a fork and knife. “Call me Joyce. I insist.”

“Thank you, Mrs- Joyce.”

“Dig in, it’s no good cold,” she says, smiling at him. Her eyes never travel to his chest. No, she maintains eye contact. Like she sees right through him.

He starts eating, all too happy to oblige.

“You’re really good with the kids, you know. Especially with El. You were sweet to her. She doesn’t have... great memories of the water, but you helped her make happy ones.”

Billy swallows convinced some crust is caught in his throat as his eyes begin to tingle. “I... helped?”

“I see why that Harrington boy likes you so much.”

He blushes up to the tips of his ears, stuffing more pie into his mouth.

“Nearly midnight. How about that.”

Fucking fuck. Just like that, his dream bubble deflates. His eyes sting again. I don’t wanna go back there. But worse will be waiting the longer I put it off.

“Billy? You’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. And honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Drive safe.” She sends him off with a long hug, pie, and tea for the road.

“Thank you, Joyce.”

“Good night, Billy.”

Karen had told him the same thing. Drive safe.

Joyce wasn’t Karen. Wasn’t his mother, either.

Both bring an odd comfort to him.

His stomach is full and warm, not leaving much room for doubt. He drives the speed limit this time, thinking about his day. His mother, wherever she was, did she know he was happy?

That he had fun? No tears were shed. He made people laugh.

Today was a good day.

I want more good days.

***

//✍️Tagslist open//

@flashwaves @thebussynotes @shieldofiron @thatgirlwithasquid @jad3w1ngs @usaqaix @hargrove-mayfields @thecrabnebula @talesfrom-theupsidedown @emeraldwitches @robthegoodfellow @magellan-88 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @spaceboxkitty @ashyyboyy @harringrovsonsworld @martyreasemymind @awkwardgravity1 @fizzigigsimmer @captainrexshusband @atomrose @billyhargr-a-ve @anarcha-queer-horror @skyesayshi @hgrve @angelshiba @jaethecreator @thissortofsorcery @suometar

#billy hargrove #tw mention of karen wheeler #implied child abuse #mention of neil #joyce byers #mike wheeler #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #el hopper #my writing #ao3 #nancy wheeler #heather holloway #billy & el

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Zandvoort (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Somewhere in the dead of night, in a small town in Europe, Taehyung and Dilara succumb to their feelings.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 13.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, heartbreak, mentions of minor (as in not very major) assault, masturbation, kissing, fingering, nipple play, blowjobs, oral sex, sex, rough sex, implication of injury (consensual)

A/N: This may be the last Taehyung fic for a bit so enjoy! Not going to say much else, but hope you guys like it. It starts a couple of days after So Many Signs.

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

Listen to: “every other freckle” by alt-j

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

There’s no Dutch Grand Prix this year. It’s disappointing for everyone in Red Bull, especially since Max was a sure shot winner, just like every year. In a move to seemingly placate everyone, a shoot has been scheduled in the Zandvoort circuit in the week between the Portuguese and Russian races to ensure that even if they aren’t racing in the Netherlands, they’re at least getting photographed there.

Dilara wakes up on Tuesday, feeling like a gentle monster that’s been slumbering for years and has finally awoken. She reaches for her phone on the nightstand to see three phone calls she’s slept through, and the local time to be a respectable half past nine. The curtains she made sure to open last night allow nice, soft rays of sunlight to stream in while giving her a peek of some clear blue Netherlands sky.

She stretches and bends her legs again, when she feels something sticky between her thighs. Eyes widening in horror and mind instantly doing some math, she shoves a hand down to her bare thighs under her oversized t-shirt and brings it back out, frowning. No blood. She rubs her thighs together once more, slowly, and like a light that’s been switched on, the dream comes back with a movie-like clarity.

Dilara sighs and drops her head back down on her pillow. Even a momentary recall of it makes her core throb. Before she knows it, her hand travels down her body again and into her underwear this time, another sigh escaping her lips when she dips two fingers to nudge her clit, already swollen and soaking. She shuts her eyes, grudgingly allowing more moments of the dream to come forward: Taehyung’s mouth on her neck, his hands on her breasts, his cock stretching her out…

She starts moving her fingers faster, forcing herself to keep her moans as quiet as possible until she feels herself nearing that sweet, sweet high. She grabs the pillow and gasps when she feels it, arching her back and dropping her head when the orgasm takes rein, a breathless whisper of a name falling from her mouth.

Truthfully, Dilara isn’t all that surprised. Annoyed, yes, but ever since she kissed him three days ago, all she’s been able to think about is how much more she knows is there but can’t get. Strictly speaking, she’s quite sure she can if she asks, but no matter how sexually frustrated she is, she knows it’s a line she can’t cross right now.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, so she washes up and heads to the kitchen, hoping that the presence of other people might help her forget. There isn’t a soul there, though, so she heads outside to the private stretch of beach and, with an enviable view of the North Sea on Zandvoort beach, she stretches. By the time she returns inside half an hour later, Seokjin, Yoongi and Jungkook are bustling around the kitchen. An incredible aroma of ramen fills the room and her stomach immediately rumbles.

“Pork belly?” Yoongi asks by way of greeting, brandishing a large slice of pink meat between a pair of metallic tongs.

“Uh, no, thank you,” she answers, taken a little off guard. “I’ll just have cereal.” Dilara intends to do just that but when Jungkook arrives to sit next to her at the table with a humongous serving of mouth-watering ramen, she’s forced to abandon her sad little breakfast and dives for his bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

While he’s initially rather generous, eventually he starts getting annoyed, whining for her to go get her own, elbowing her out of the way while she mutters at him not to be such a baby.

“Suga hyung will make more,” he insists, eyes wide and pained as he tries to wrestle a tiny piece of pork from between her chopsticks. “Get your - ugh, you’re strong - go get your own bowl -”

“I can’t,” she implores again, trying to avoid his giant arms and dip the meat in the soup. “I have a race this weekend, I can’t eat red meat - Jesus, Jungkook, are you serious?”

“It’s mine, and you’ve already had half of -”

“I had two bites, JK, don’t exaggerate -”

“You did not have -”

“What are we having?” Taehyung’s voice comes out from nowhere just when a hand appears from in between them. The familiar scent of lotion, a freshly laundered shirt and sleep overwhelms her and Dilara drops her chopsticks, the piece of pork falling into the bowl with a tiny splash. Jungkook takes this opportunity to snatch the bowl and bolt to the other side of the table, but not before Taehyung manages to snag the aforementioned piece of meat and pop it into his mouth.

“Gwaenchanha?” he asks her nonchalantly as he swallows. She nods and averts her eyes, not trusting herself to speak, and hoping he can’t tell how her heart is now racing faster than her car. Her dream featuring a naked Taehyung doing unspeakable things to her flits through her mind again and she automatically squeezes her legs together, wondering when on earth she became this pathetic about her ex-boyfriend.

It’s been like this for a while, unfortunately, ever since the kiss. The day after, which was race day, felt more exciting than it had in a long time. Dilara had also managed her first win of the year and the second of her career, and while she’d been hugged by every member of the Red Bull team and, later, all other members of BTS, Taehyung was the only one she realised she’d been looking for.

Dilara and the team had celebrated into the late hours of Sunday, followed by a couple of hours of sleep in total before she and the group had to wake up for their early morning flight to Paris, and then a train to Amsterdam. It was exhausting, to say the least, and since she was made to travel separately to Paris in order to not be photographed with the group, she’d hoped for some sleep on the flight, only to be thwarted by not one but two crying babies.

The train ride, albeit with BTS, was bumpy as shit for some reason and the only sleep she’d managed to get was a half an hour nap with her head on Seokjin’s shoulder, the only member other than Yoongi who managed to sit still for longer than five minutes.

The entire time, though, a good fifty percent of her attention remained fixated on Taehyung sitting opposite her, how they caught each other sneaking glances before immediately turning away, how he offered to share the last remaining brownie with her, how when she woke up, she spotted him staring at his phone and started wondering if his lockscreen was still a picture of her.

Now, when Dilara watches him saunter into the kitchen and peer over Jin’s shoulder at a pot on the stove, she can’t help but think about how nice their kiss was, how familiar and comforting it felt. It was tentative, hesitant - neither of them were sure of what was happening. But the underlying passion was there, she knows it was. It’s insane; she hasn’t been this physically attracted to him in months, where it feels like a world of pleasure is just out of her reach.

“Lara, your phone is ringing.”

The name falls so effortlessly from his lips that it takes her a moment to understand why her heart is zooming. She walks up to the kitchen island in a trance, looking anywhere but at him. Out of the other three inhabitants of the room, only Yoongi seems to have picked up on it, if his amused frown at Taehyung is anything to go by.

Hurriedly, she picks up her phone to see Max’s name flash. “Guten tag. What’s up?”

“What time are you reaching the circuit?”

“Um…” Dilara turns to look at a clock. “In about an hour?” She avoids Taehyung’s eyes. “You?”

“An hour?”

“Yeah, this house isn’t that close to the circuit. Why?”

“Still. An hour? Are you a racing driver or what?” he asks scathingly.

“Fuck you, Verstappen. I need longer to get ready,” she snaps, rolling her eyes when he grunts his approval. “Why are you in such a hurry anyway?”

“I’m not in a hurry,” he disagrees, and she can hear voices in the background. “I just don’t want to be the only one there. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“That’s… generous. Why?”

Max is quiet for a moment. “Because I need to avoid a meeting in Amsterdam?”

There it is. “And you’re hoping that if you show up with me, you can claim you have work and ditch.”

“I knew you’d understand. I’ll buy you a coffee, too. See you in forty-five.” The line goes dead.

Slowly placing her phone down, Dilara sighs. “Well, looks like I’m driving down to Amsterdam later today. Anyone want to come with me?”

“We have to work today,” mumbles Jungkook forlornly, looking up with his huge doe eyes.

“We can go after,” suggests Hoseok, who’s also joined them. “Or tomorrow - Namjoon is going tomorrow,” he adds, pointing at the leader who’s trailing inside behind him.

“What?” Namjoon shakes his bangs out of his eyes, bleary-eyed. “Yeah, I’m going tomorrow. Kaya’s coming back from Brussels so I’ll probably stay the night at her place.”

“Kaya?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise. “Bring her here!”

“Maybe the day after.”

“Yeah, they haven’t seen each other in months,” reminds Seokjin, grinning. “She won’t want to hang out with us tomorrow.”

“Wait, hang on, do I finally get to meet the famous Kaya?” Dilara asks, looking up at Namjoon, who shrugs.

“Depends. Can you stay back till Thursday?”

She deflates. “Unfortunately, my job gets in the way of that,” she mutters. “Guess I’ll just have to come down to Amsterdam by myself someday and meet her.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Dilara leaves soon after that, taking a quick shower and waving to the guys, all of whom are awake now and in the kitchen, prowling around like hungry animals when they see her go.

It’s a long day of pure F1 PR, filming crazy sketches and doing a bunch of interviews with the AlphaTauri guys. By the end of it, after their detour into Amsterdam when Max drops her close to the house, the sky is already overcast. It’s nearly five pm when she reaches, frowning when she notices a crowd of people in the sandy backyard that extends further into the beach itself. She walks towards it, getting an inkling of what’s going on when she inches closer to hear a lot of laughter and chatter - in Korean.

Dilara stops some distance behind who she now identifies as BTS staff, around ten people behind a bunch of cameras to see the group. They’re dressed in colourful beachwear, playing what looks like some warped version of football with a beachball along with, for some reason, tennis balls also being flung and caught in the air. All the boys are shrieking and tripping over themselves before collapsing into laughter every ten seconds.

She gives up instantly on figuring out the rules - the ludicrousness and the language both prevent her from doing so - but when Namjoon kicks the ball through the air with force and Taehyung lunges for it only to fall and take Jimin and Hoseok down with him, even she can’t control her laughter.

She stifles it immediately but a couple of staff members do end up spotting her. On the other side of the camera, Jungkook catches her eye and grins and when Seokjin yells at him to pay attention, she slinks away, still taken off guard at seeing Run BTS being filmed live.

Since this means the house is empty, Dilara opts for a nap in the quiet and sleeps like the dead, waking up only when the sky is dark and she hears voices in the house. The members are back - or at least Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon are in the kitchen. Taking this as her cue (and the gigantic lunch she had today), she goes to the home gym for a workout, emerging no less than two hours later, adequately sweaty and full of adrenaline.

She takes the long way round to the house; down by the beach with only the white suds visible where the waves crash on the sand. The sound is the most soothing one she’s heard in ages; before she knows it, she has halted on the spot, feeling the salty breeze on her cool skin and thanking the fact that it hasn’t rained today at all. She doesn’t open her eyes until she hears footsteps; turning to her right, she spots Jeon Jungkook jogging towards her, a headband holding his messy hair back.

“Lara!” he calls gleefully, giggling when she gives him a look. “What? Taehyung hyung’s calling you that, you know.”

“I do know,” she says shortly, trying not to let on how her heart skips a beat. “I told him he could. When you punch my ex for me, you can call me Lara, too.”

He grins. “Does Taehyung hyung count?”

“I’ll give you a hundred pounds to punch Tae in the face.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a forcefully suppressed smile. “You’re calling him ‘Tae’ too, I see.”

Cheeks feeling hot, she kicks some sand at him. “Shut up. It’s a force of habit.” When all he does is laugh, Dilara looks around at the lone volleyball net just for something to distract him. “What the hell were you guys playing anyway? I mean, that was for Run, right?”

He nods. “We had to kick the big ball to the other team and in between the rally, the person who caught the most tennis balls got extra points, but only if they caught it from the other team.”

“What if they caught it from their own?”

He considers it for a moment. “Then it’s points for the team.”

“But why would you throw it to the other team at all, then?”

“Because if they miss, you get a point.”

Dilara stares at him. “Are you sure about this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I wasn’t even sure about this while we were filming. By the end of it, Namjoon hyung was just trying not to injure anyone while me and Jimin were seeing how many times we could make Jin hyung trip.”

“He’s so lucky to have you.”

“He is. No one else compliments his cooking like I do.”

“By eating it.”

“That’s right.”

Dilara chuckles. “He does cook well. As someone who can’t cook to save her life, I can appreciate it,” she says generously. Catching his raised eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. “Do not tell me that Tae and I make so much sense together. I must have heard it, like, fifty times.”

“You do, though,” agrees Jungkook anyway, sounding somewhat relieved that he isn’t the first one to think it. “For example, I’m sure you would’ve been just as frus- pissed off with today’s game as he was. Although you would’ve been better at it,” he amends.

“I’m sure I would have. In fact, I might just be better than you,” she provokes, smirking when he grins.

“I dare you.” Reaching for the portable shed a few feet away, he retrieves the beachball. “It’s just the two of us so we have to stick to this.” He throws the ball to her and she catches it easily.

“Alright, then. Let’s see if I can figure out this ridiculous game.”

They move to opposite sides of the net and start kicking and knocking the ball over, but it becomes apparent fairly quickly that they can’t give a shit about the rules; they’re just rallying to see who drops the balls first, their common competitiveness emerging with gusto.

It’s not long before they’re joined by other people, though. About fifteen minutes into their make-believe volleyball, Dilara hears a familiar tinkling laugh and turns to see Jimin and Taehyung arrive, looking amused yet unsurprised at what they’re doing. She can empathise: she and Jungkook must look ridiculous, sweaty in workout gear, running around barefoot on the beach at night and tossing around a beachball like they’re in the Olympics.

Taehyung asks something in Korean and Jungkook nods, grinning.

“Where are the tennis balls?” Jimin asks, still laughing.

“There.” Jungkook points at the shed. “Oh, now we can play in teams!”

“Fine.” Dilara turns to Jimin and Taehyung. “JK’s better than me for now so whoever sucks more between you two can join him.”

“Oh, that’s Taehyung,” says Jimin automatically, clapping his shoulder before skipping over to her. She grins and gives him a high-five as she watches Taehyung saunter over to Jungkook, hands in the pockets of his tracks, face smooth and unimpressed.

“Okay, so it’s tall people against the rest,” declares Jungkook, making Taehyung laugh - and Dilara’s stomach does a backflip. They restart the game; if Dilara thought that the game between her and Jungkook was mindless, this one is on a whole new level. It’s hard enough to understand even the basics of this random game without the darkness making it harder to see and the lack of a referee to make impartial decisions. There’s a lot of insane running around and shrieks, mostly from Jimin, while Taehyung just stands around looking gorgeous and amused at how Jungkook and Dilara don’t let a single point go without arguing it to death.

“Go, go, get it!” Jimin yells as a tennis ball bounces and rolls away into the darkness behind them and she sees Taehyung already running towards it. Not fully sure why, she runs, too, the sand making it harder - but she’s determined to stay in front of Taehyung.

The makeshift volleyball court is no longer visible by the time the fluorescent green tennis ball comes to a stop. Dilara trips in the sand at the same time Taehyung lunges for the ball, and they tumble to the ground together. Desperate not to let him get at the ball, she pushes him down and straddles him.

Barely a second passes before her lips are on his and they’re snogging on Zandvoort beach, nothing but the night surrounding them. She threads her fingers through his hair, long and thick, shivering slightly when she feels his hands slowly run down her sides, his touch light and floaty. A cool breeze blows and his hands grab her hips, making her sigh involuntarily into his mouth, just before he flips them over.

Dilara gasps as she’s slammed into the soft sand and opens her eyes to see Taehyung hovering over her where he’s situated between her legs, gaze on her mouth as he bites his lower lip. Then, to her horror, he gets to his feet in one swift motion and winks at her, smirking as he shows off the tennis ball in his hand before running away.

By the time she reaches the backyard, it looks like the game is over. There’s some chatter, some in English and some in Korean, about the possibility of rain and sand on everyone’s clothes. Dilara can’t bring herself to pay attention; all she can concentrate on right now is how her heart is racing, how winded she feels, and how just the knowledge that Kim Taehyung is a few feet away is making her abdomen burn in a way it hasn’t in months.

Dilara can feel him looking at her, but for the sake of her own sanity and self-respect, she resists the urge to return his gaze. Her lips are still tingling when she steps into the shower and rinses the sand off her hair, watching the granules wash down her body and into the drain.

The last time she and Taehyung were in a shower together was… last December, in Italy. He’d snuck up behind her while she washed her hair and had silently begun soaping her while she got hot and bothered all by herself, finally having to whisper to him to please, please put her out of her agony.

She knew he enjoyed it, watching the effect he had on her, seeing how long it took her to succumb to him and beg him to make her feel good. It aroused him to no end, the feeling of being that desired. As for her, all it took was Taehyung.

It takes all her inner strength to resist fingering herself in the shower. Just before she’s about to step out, she turns the settings down so the water immediately changes in temperature from warm and steamy to lukewarm to positively chilly. It takes care of her problem for the time being, so she gets dressed and heads out to the kitchen.

Dilara runs her fingers through her wet hair, rummaging through the cabinets for some dinner, but mostly just to distract herself. She retrieves a box of cereal, contemplating.

“That’s your dinner?”

Like the chopsticks this morning, the box slips out of her hand in shock, spilling bits of cornflakes on the counter. “Christ, don’t - don’t sneak up on me like that,” she mutters, hating how her pulse has been on high alert all day.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “I walked into the kitchen. I’m standing, like, five feet away from you,” he points out, annoyingly correct.

The fact that he’s affecting her this much even from five feet away isn’t lost on Dilara, and it only gets worse when he casually walks up behind her to reach for a bottle of water and the smell of his lotion and shampoo engulfs her.

“Fucking hell,” she whispers, putting a hand to her forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“M-hm.” Dilara turns around to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I’m great. What about you?”

Taehyung smirks, and she knows all pretence is dropped. “Not bad. Did you have fun? At the game?”

“So much fun. Jungkook’s really good.” She pauses, waiting for him to slowly nod. “You’re not bad either.”

“Thanks. What time is your flight tomorrow?” This time, the playfulness dims slightly and she’s suddenly transported back to last year, to every time they had to leave each other.

“Um, six pm.”

“So you need to leave around… three?”

“Two… just to be safe.” Dilara fights a smile at his automatic pout which he immediately tries to hide. “Right after the shoot.”

Taehyung nods, not looking at her. “And, uh… Max is going with you, right?”

She gives him a look. “You know I travel all the time, right? I can take care of myself.”

His head snaps up. “What? No, of course, I - I know. I know you can,” he repeats, eyes softening slightly. “Just… you know, I’m concerned. As a - as a friend.”

“As a friend,” repeats Dilara, eyes widening, grinning when he chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re worried about me as a friend?”

“Okay, a little more than a friend,” he concedes, stepping closer and dropping his gaze to her mouth. The inadvertent admission makes her heart pound, becoming harder when he brings a hand up to her hair and grips a wet strand near her neck with two fingers. A bead of water squeezes out and lands on her thin t-shirt, just above her breast, immediately soaking through.

It’s slower but fully, unabashedly mutual this time, how they gravitate towards each other and their mouths meet. It’s more frantic, however, with their hands grabbing at each other - but it only lasts about five seconds until they’re interrupted once again.

“Should we have ramen?” Jungkook announces his arrival with an important question. “I can make some.”

Taehyung clears his throat as he steps away from Dilara, running a hand through his wet hair and looking appropriately frustrated. She gives him a warning look before turning to Jungkook, who’s now peering into the rice cooker.

“Um… yeah, sounds good. Is it just us?” she asks, suddenly realising that she hasn’t seen the other four in hours.

“Hoseok hyung and Suga hyung went out for drinks,” explains Jimin, also appearing and smelling overwhelmingly of citrus, “and Namjoon hyung and Jin hyung went to Amsterdam so they’ll be late.”

“Kaya’s back?”

“No, she’s coming tomorrow. If she was here I don’t think Jin hyung would’ve gone…”

“Yeah, even he knows not to interrupt them after three months…”

The conversation continues as the smell of ramen fills the kitchen. Midway during the meal, Jimin gets a call from Hoseok, claiming that he and Yoongi are drunk and need a ride back. Dilara volunteers immediately, only to get drowned out by all three scoffing before she can even get all the words out.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the middle of the night. It’s not safe for you to go by yourself,” says Taehyung calmly, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s literally ten o’clock,” she points out, ignoring the sudden whoosh in her stomach.

“Still late,” agrees Jungkook. “Just because you walked back this late on Saturday night doesn’t mean it’s always -”

“Wait - Saturday night?” Taehyung frowns. “When were you -”

“It’s not important,” she interrupts quickly, standing up and walking over to the bowl of keys on top of the fridge. It doesn’t seem important to tell him that the only way she could unwind from the whole Jaden incident was to go play FIFA with Charles and Lando at their hotel.

“I’m the only one out of us that hasn’t had anything to drink,” she reminds them. “And if it’s really bothering you that much, you can come with me, JK,” she offers, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him up.

“Good idea,” pipes Jimin from his seat, not even pretending to get up. “I think both Hobi hyung and Suga hyung will have forgotten their English when they’re this drunk anyway.”

“Cool. We’ll see you in a bit,” she tells them, meeting Taehyung’s smooth, cold stare before the door closes behind her.

It doesn’t take too long to find them once Jungkook puts them on speaker, despite the screaming and giggling instructions from Yoongi and Hoseok respectively in Korean, just as Jimin predicted. The entire trip takes about an hour; by the time they get back to the house, Namjoon and Seokjin are back as well, both looking tired after a night out.

Jimin takes charge of Hoseok, in hysterics the whole time, while Namjoon volunteers for Yoongi, rolling his eyes. Seokjin follows them, cackling with Jungkook who’s holding up a camera and filming them. To no surprise of hers, Taehyung hangs back, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Hoseok and Suga have been very nice to me,” she explains after a few seconds. “I figured I could give them a ride.”

“You snuck out on Saturday night?” he asks, but doesn’t sound annoyed, just mildly exasperated.

“I didn’t sneak out, I went out,” she corrects him. “And, yeah. I went to hang out with Lando and Charles for a bit. In case you don’t remember, it was a pretty stressful night.” She stops a couple of feet away from him.

“Still not safe,” he murmurs, and she notices his fingers twitch at his sides.

“No,” she agrees. “Why? Were you worried about me? As a friend?”

Taehyung laughs self-consciously and lowers his head before meeting her eyes. “Little more than a friend,” he repeats.

The unexpected emotion in his voice catches Dilara off guard. She suspects their kiss on Saturday started it all, but kissing him on the beach today might have opened the floodgates to the heaps of unresolved feelings between them - starting with the most primal ones.

There’s no point thinking about it now, though, especially not when the house is bustling with drunk, unpredictable people who, as she remembers from Monterey last year, seem to have a thing for calling out PDA. Right on cue, Namjoon and Jimin appear and the moment’s gone, and eventually she mutters a goodnight and heads back into her room to pack for her flight to Sochi tomorrow. It’s not the best way to leave, she reflects as she zips up her suitcase, wondering if she’ll have to resort to her fingers and vibrator for the rest of the week.

Sleep is harder to come by than expected, especially when her mind seems stuck on one Kim Taehyung in bed elsewhere in the house, possibly in nothing but pajama bottoms and messy hair, mindlessly scrolling through his phone with long fingers that are capable of so much more.

Dilara’s mind goes back to Saturday again, how they’d managed to sneak in a few moments of privacy because they’d bumped into each other in the middle of the night. It’s too much to hope for such a coincidence to occur again but given how sleep is evading her anyway, she climbs out of bed to at least take a sleeping pill, if nothing else.

She’s at the kitchen island, a half-full bottle of water in front of her, with no idea what the time is - she’s guessing late.

“Did you drink all that?”

“Jesus!” Dilara whispers loudly, clutching her chest as she spots a tall figure come up behind her. “What are you - waiting for me?” When all she hears is a quiet snicker, she huffs. “For fuck’s sake, Tae, stop doing that.”

She half-expects him to say doing what, but instead he’s silent for a moment. Then, she hears his voice right at her shoulder.

“Say that again.” Taehyung’s voice is soft, and Dilara shivers. Slowly, he places his hands on either side of her, his chest just brushing her back.

“Stop doing that?” she ventures, hearing her own breath hitch.

He shakes his head, his long hair grazing the side of her face. “No,” he says softly, lowering his head so she can feel his breath on her shoulder. “Say my name.”

Dilara closes her eyes, her hands curling into fists where they’re gripping the granite. The familiar scent of lotion and something that’s just so Taehyung is overwhelming to the point where her knees feel weak even with no physical contact, and she finds herself succumbing to her impulses, just like she had two years ago.

Cornered between him and the kitchen island, she leans back into his chest and feels him stiffen behind me. “Tae.” It comes out almost like a plea.

Taehyung lowers his head again onto her shoulder, his warm breath against the side of her neck. He softly presses his lips to her skin, in the hollow between her collarbone and her shoulder. He trails his kisses slowly upwards, warm and open-mouthed, until he reaches her earlobe. Grazing his teeth against the soft skin, he sighs.

“Your skin tastes like silk, you know,” he whispers, brushing her hair away, long fingers lingering on her shoulder. Dilara tilts her head to give him better access and he pulls at her earlobe with his teeth, making her gasp. “I’d almost forgotten…”

He tugs the collar of her thin t-shirt away slightly, kisses becoming more fervent now. It’s like he’s revelling in torturing her, taking his time and ignoring how she’s breathing slow and deep.

As he sucks a mark above her collarbone, his left hand moves from her shoulder down to her chest and he pauses before gently squeezing her breast. Dilara gasps at the sensation and without thinking about it, she moves her hand up to cover his, encouraging him to go on. He hardens behind her, his erection resting firm against the small of her back. His lips don’t leave her neck as he moves his hand down and up her t-shirt, cupping her bra-covered breast.

“You’ll tell me to stop?” Taehyung asks, lips against the shell of her ear. He sounds breathless, raw - like he’s just about holding himself back with all his restraint.

Dilara nods, sinking back further into him. “Please don’t stop, Tae,” she whispers faintly, and at the sound of his name, his mouth finally finds hers. She snakes her arm around his neck to hold him in place, kissing him back with everything she’s got, pressing her tongue to his, tasting him, addicted to his flavour. His hips buckle slightly and she’s pressed up against the kitchen island and he yanks the cup of her bra down with a hiss before his fingers find her hard, erect nipple.

She moans into his mouth as he pinches it between his fingers, twisting it until she pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath. Her head resting back against his shoulders, she can feel his lips trail down her jaw eagerly before he finally drops his other hand from the counter and places it on her hip, gripping it and holding her pelvis against his.

Dilara reaches behind her to palm the tent in his pajamas and he groans softly, his left hand now moving across her chest and pulling the other cup down, too, massaging her breast. His right hand snakes down her hips and directly to between her legs, palming her suddenly. She whimpers out loud and he immediately pinches her nipple in warning.

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice deep and tight and velvety all at once. “Someone might hear you. What if they come out to see what I’m doing to you?” The way his erection twitches against her back, she can tell the prospect turns him on just as much as it does her.

“What if they see your fingers inside me?” Dilara prompts softly, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Let them see… I don’t care.”

With a quiet growl against her neck, Taehyung squeezes her core again and this time she bites down on her lip to keep from moaning out loud. “I can feel you soaking through your shorts, love,” he murmurs, pushing two fingers against her clothed clit. “How wet have you been getting for me all night?”

“So fucking wet…” Dilara answers in defeat, wanting more than anything to feel him inside her. “You’ve got me so fucking wet, Tae… please don’t make me wait any longer, baby…”

“You’re going to kill me, Lara,” he groans, slipping his hand straight into her underwear and into her dripping cunt, two fingers entering her straight away. She gasps and moves to fall forward but he holds her against him, and she can feel him watching her, watching her face as she comes unravelled. His thumb moves up to find her clit, swollen and pulsing for his touch. It takes everything in her to not cry out loud as his fingers move faster, slipping a third finger inside of her and stretching me out.

“Tae, I’m so close,” she whispers, and he moves his other hand from under her shirt to wrap around her waist and hold her steady. “Oh, God, I’m so close… don’t stop…”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Lara…” Taehyung murmurs against her temple, his fingers speeding up now. Her knees tremble as her orgasm washes over me, and his fingers slow down slightly to help her ride it out. She sinks back against him, her breath still coming out ragged as she vaguely registers how sub-standard her own fingers have been this whole time.

Taehyung’s lips brush against her cheek as he retrieves his hand and Dilara turns around on the spot, immediately capturing his lips in hers, kissing him like she hasn’t in ages. His arms are tight around her, holding her to him as they let their impulses take over.

She reaches for the waistband of his pajamas and tugs them down before getting down on her knees, ignoring the sudden chill of the tile floor on her bare knees. Pulling his pajamas and boxers down slightly, she helps him slip his erection out, the tip already glistening with precum, making her silently groan at the sight.

Grasping him firmly and stroking him once, Dilara bites her lips when his breath hitches and his hands snap forward to grasp the kitchen counter. She reaches out with her tongue first, taking just his tip in her mouth before pulling away and spreading the precum down his shaft to lubricate it. Taehyung lets out another guttural groan, looking unbelievably beautiful from where she’s looking up at him, his neck long with two veins popping as he struggles to stay quiet. She has to consciously look away and back down at him, stroking him once more before taking him in her mouth. She takes him in as much as she can, running her lips along his length slowly as she holds his thigh with her other hand for support.

One of his hands reaches for her head and he buries his fingers in her hair, groaning softly when she moans around him. Mouth still on him, Dilara trains her eyes up to look at him and immediately freezes, an image tugging at her mind that makes her stomach drop. No. No. No, not now, please. But it’s too late; the image is there and she knows she only has seconds before her mind takes over and the moment is ruined. She pulls away and drops his cock from her hand, registering vaguely how he looks down at her.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse, but the concern sounds genuine.

Dilara stands up and meets his eyes for a moment, and she thinks he can tell what’s on her mind because the passion in his expression starts to fade. Without thinking about it, she reaches up and kisses him, opening her mouth and pressing her body against his, silently begging him to make her forget. Taehyung takes a moment to catch on before he pulls her to him, brushing her hair back and devouring her, letting his hands run down her side and to her arse, squeezing it and pressing her pelvis to his as thunder roars outside.

Her core is starting to throb again; clutching his shirt and pulling him even closer, she nips at his bottom lip before she turns them around and starts walking backwards. Her back touches the door and he pushes it open, not breaking contact with each other for even a moment. Taking off her own t-shirt, she ignores his quiet groan and tugs on the bottom of his to make him take it off, before pushing him back down on the bed just as the rain starts pouring.

“Oof,” he groans softly, but makes no move to get up. “Where are you going?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows; with his tousled blond hair, bare torso and visible erection in his boxers, he looks like the ultimate wet dream.

Dilara strides over to her suitcase anyway, unzipping it to retrieve her toiletry kit perched on top, rummaging to find what she was looking for. Making her way back to Taehyung, she wordlessly tosses the condom packet on the bed before climbing on top of him.

She scrapes her fingernails down his torso, hearing him hiss and feeling his hand squeeze her arse. Rolling her hips forward, the friction of his bulge against her core is almost too much to bear, but she forces herself to rally. She moves down from his lips briefly down to his jaw, to his collarbones and the middle of his chest before shuffling lower and tugging his pajamas and boxers down his legs and tossing them on the floor.

“Lara, you don’t have to -” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse, a tight combination of desire and apprehension, but he’s cut off when she grasps him again and his words are replaced by a groan. His eyes find hers just before they flutter shut, and she can tell he knows that this is bigger than him, bigger than his preference for dominance; this is a challenge she cannot back down from.

This time when Dilara takes him in her mouth, she doesn’t hold back. She’s wet and sloppy, her tongue swirling around his head and touching the tip to the back of her throat. She knows it’s how he likes it and his raspy moans are enough to assure her that she hasn’t forgotten. It’s something else to see Taehyung in the throes of passion; he’s beautiful in the most ethereal way possible and Dilara is determined not to let a pathetic memory that isn’t even hers deprive her of it, because if there’s one thing she isn’t wired to do, it’s lose.

“Fuck, I’m -”

Taehyung’s fingers tangle around her hair and he clutches at it. His hips buckle at the last moment and he spills into her mouth with a drawn out groan, and just the sound of it makes her stomach flip. Dilara swallows and releases him, leaving him semi-erect and straddling him again to see him breathlessly opening his eyes to look up at her.

It’s almost as though he’s seeing someone else… or someone after a long time. She lowers her head to kiss him and he responds at once, running his hands up her sides and down her hips and thighs, grabbing at the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. She breaks away momentarily to sit up halfway and unhook her bra, barely tossing it aside before he rises to kiss her with a low growl. He slips one hand under the fabric of her shorts and squeezes her arse before spanking it.

Dilara gasps into his mouth and the next thing she knows, Taehyung’s flipped them over again just like he had at the beach a million years ago. In the momentary brightness from a crack of lightning, she sees his eyes dark and full of lust, his expression almost feral. The heat between her legs becomes unbearable as she pictures the things he’s about to do, as he cups the side of her face and tilts it up so he can suck a harsh mark right above her collarbone. She can’t help but moan out loud, especially when she feels his naked chest against hers and her soaked core against his pelvic bone.

Mouth still at her neck, Taehyung brings one hand to her breast, massaging it and running his fingers over the hardened peak of her nipple. She bites down on her lip to keep from being too loud but it’s so hard when he’s teasing her like this; without thinking, she brings her own hand up to do what he won’t when he grabs it reflexively and pins it to the pillow next to her head.

Taking care to meet her gaze, he moves his lips down her neck and chest, agonizingly slow before he finally reaches her nipple. He brushes his tongue over it and lets his teeth graze it until she squirms and blurts out, whimpering, “God, please, Tae!”

Dilara feels him groan against her skin. “I love hearing you beg,” he mutters, before finally taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Her back arches and she moans again, louder when his other hand squeezes her hip. He eventually lets it go, kissing every inch of her sternum with wet, open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the waistband of her shorts. Straightening up, he pulls them down along with her underwear in one swift movement, exposing her to the cool night and making her shiver in anticipation.

Taehyung groans as he lowers himself to come between her legs, holding her thighs apart as he views her dripping pussy for the first time in nearly a year. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, a note of victory in his voice. He presses a kiss to her left knee before trailing his lips up her inner thigh, sucking small marks into the skin and taking his own sweet time until he finally, finally reaches her core. She knows what’s coming; how he’s going to drag this out until she’s a writhing, screaming mess, begging for him to make her cum.

“So eager,” he observes, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from her arousal. Dilara can feel his breath on her and her toes curl on the bed, her hands clutch at the sheets. Taehyung kisses her outer lips and she whimpers again, but he barely seems to hear her. “God, I’ve missed how you taste,” he murmurs wistfully before running his tongue up her slit. She moans and drops her head back on her pillow as he, now unleashed, continues his assault on her pussy.

Taehyung’s down there for what feels like forever, alternating between her clit and her core, using his lips, his tongue and his fingers to take her all the way to the edge before just bringing her back. “Tae, I wanna cum,” she cries eventually, pulling at his blond hair between her legs and running her foot down his bare back. “Fuck, Tae, you feel so good, I wanna cum, baby, please…”

Coming up slightly to suck on her clit again while one of his hands pumps two fingers in and out of her, Taehyung hums into her, and she hopes it’s a sign of agreement. The heat is bordering on painful now but she’s finally nearing her high and it’s so close - and then it washes over her and she shudders in an earth-shattering orgasm. He patiently lets her ride it out, slowing his lips but not detaching completely, helping her along until she’s in danger of being overstimulated.

“Tae…”

She says his name and he crawls up, mouth and chin slick with her juices. Taehyung kisses her, his naked body completely covering hers as the rain continues to pour outside. Their hands are everywhere and Dilara can feel his erection come back, stiff against her hip.

She knows Taehyung can go on for hours if he wants, changing positions, alternating between being on top and the bottom, going from gentle to ravaging depending on the mood. Dilara doesn’t know how long ago he fingered her in the kitchen - it feels like a lifetime away. Here, alone with him in the most raw, primal form as her hands shamelessly roam all over his torso, nails digging into his back as he sucks another mark above her breast, she’s lost all sense of time and space.

“Where’s the condom?” he whispers, lips right under her ear, voice so deep and calm that at first she isn’t even sure what he’s said. “Lara,” he says, slightly louder this time, nipping at her earlobe to get her attention. “Where’s the condom, jagiya?”

“It’s, um -” Dilara can’t form the words, so she reaches out with her right hand and pats the bed, hoping to feel the cold, metallic packet.

“Got it.” Taehyung’s body disappears from on top of her and she opens her eyes to see him sit up with the blue packet in his hand. He rips it open and massages his length once before slipping on the condom. Dilara doesn’t know how much more her body can handle but she knows she wants this, so bad.

“God, I can’t get enough of you, Lara,” he half-whines, bending to kiss her again as one hand snakes down her front between her legs to cup her. Her swollen clit brushes against his palm and she moans into his mouth, pulling away to catch her breath.

“I - I need -” But Dilara can’t find the words, even less so when Taehyung bites his lip above her, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and absolute, unbridled desire. He bends to kiss her passionately before gripping her hip and flipping her over.

Taehyung stifles a low groan before pressing a kiss to her arse cheek, kneading the flesh before spanking it again. The suddenness of it makes her gasp and she clenches her walls just as he dips a finger into her folds.

Dilara muffles her groan into the pillow but Taehyung does no such thing, muttering "Fuck" as he moves his fingers up to her clit, already sore. His other hand runs up her body soothingly, coming under her to gently cup her breast and massage it until she’s soaking again.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

She whimpers at Taehyung's classic question during sex, his power play, his insurance and her consent. He whispers it into her ear, lips brushing the silver ring piercing her helix and his chest pressed against her back, both damp and sweaty by now.

"I want you to fuck me, Tae," she murmurs, partly out of breath, knowing how much he'll love hearing that. "Please, please fuck me, baby…"

Taehyung’s fingers disappear abruptly and she whines into the pillow. A moment later she feels another hard spank on her arse cheek before he gently strokes the stinging area, groaning softly. Dilara pictures him stroking himself before she feels him grab her hips with both hands and raise it an inch off the bed.

“Spread your legs,” he commands softly, and the low, deep voice makes her shiver. She obeys and opens wider as far as her legs will allow her to, just before he slams into her. This time, she can’t bother stifling the sound of her moan and it doesn’t even seem as though Taehyung cares; his low, throaty grunts only get her wetter as he pounds into her and she props herself up on her forearms, vaguely aware of how her long hair is tangled down her shoulders and over her face.

“You’re so - God, you’re so… so fucking tight,” he murmurs, squeezing her arse as his rhythm increases. Taehyung’s big, probably the biggest she’s been with and even though she’s never expressly told him that, she’s sure he’s aware for every single time they’ve ever fucked since Japan, he finds a way to remind her. She whimpers as he stretches out her walls almost painfully, her arms giving out eventually so her front falls against the pillow.

Dilara feels him pull out and she wants to protest but she doesn’t think she can ever speak again. She feels his warm hand stroke her arm before he turns her around onto her back. Bending down to press a sweet kiss to her lips, Taehyung brushes her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “Sure you can keep going?” he asks quietly, his other hand resting on her hip.

Dilara can’t imagine saying no. Pulling him down to kiss him again, she nods frantically. “Yeah,” she whispers, catching her breath, “yeah, I want…”

Taehyung’s beautiful mouth curves into a smile and morphs into an expression of ecstasy as he sinks into her again. They groan together as he bottoms out, his balls brushing against her skin as he goes deep into her. She wraps her legs around his waist as he rolls his hips into hers, and she knows she’s close; she has about a minute, tops, before she comes undone once again tonight.

“Harder, Tae…” Dilara gasps as he complies immediately, fucking her with all his strength. Her walls clench automatically and he groans loudly.

“Fuck, Lara, you’re gonna make me come so hard, baby…”

Her back arches and her sounds grow louder. She clutches at his shoulders, sinking her nails into the lean muscle. “Don’t stop, Tae, don’t stop…”

“You’re doing so well, Lara…” Taehyung’s grunts are louder now, mixing with her whimpers. “Fuck, Lara, I want to… fuck, I love you, I love you so much -” He lifts her right leg up and pushes her thigh into her chest, hitting her g-spot so sweetly that she knows she only has seconds. He goes faster now, apparently unaware of what he’s doing, what he’s saying…

“Tae, I’m -” Dilara’s words are cut off by an explosion again and she shudders, feeling every last speck of energy leave her. This orgasm lasts a bit longer; Taehyung slows down slightly and presses an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed neck. Dilara falls back against the covers, thoroughly exhausted and when she nudges his hip with her foot, he takes it as permission to resume.

“Lara, I’m close,” he mutters, thrusting into her once again before rapidly speeding up. He lifts his torso up to give himself more support and continues before finally groaning deep inside her. A couple more thrusts later, he drops his head onto her shoulder, turning slowly to kiss the side of her neck.

Taehyung’s weight feels so familiar, so comforting, so protective. Dilara brings her hand to the back of his head, exhaling silently at his low hum of contentment. He looks up then, face inches above hers. It’s overwhelming, this feeling. It’s just them; there’s absolutely nobody else in this moment, in this private, intimate moment.

Dilara’s mind is still hazy and all she can focus on is Taehyung, his gaze, his large, soft eyes. She moves her hand slightly to finger the long, blond locks at the base of his neck, thick and damp, just as he lowers his head to kiss her once more.

It’s a short yet passionate kiss and when they pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers for a moment. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, almost shyly, as he lifts his head up.

Dilara nods, a little self-conscious with the way he’s looking at her. “Um, I need to…” She glances in the direction she’s talking about and her heart flutters at the hint of a smile playing on his lips. Taehyung nods and pulls out of her slowly before rolling off onto his side. She clambers off the bed awkwardly, trying not to wince when she brings her legs together.

Noticing the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, she decides against it, at the last moment opting to take the rumpled sheet off the bed and wrap it around her as she heads to the bathroom. She turns around to look at him before shutting the door to see him sitting up against the headboard, completely naked, watching her leave. When he notices her turn, he tilts his head back and smirks, making her stomach flip.

During her routine post-sex bathroom break, Dilara can’t help but finally acknowledge how much pain she’s in already - and how sore she’s sure to be tomorrow. Dully, she counts the number of hours she has left before she needs to get into the car again. It’s the wee hours of Wednesday by now, surely; that gives her a little over forty-eight hours to recover - which doesn’t seem impossible. When she stands up and faces the mirror, her silhouette is enough to tell her that her hair is tangled and messy beyond repair which means she has no recourse but to wash and condition it before the shoot tomorrow.

Sighing, Dilara picks up the sheet and loosely wraps it around herself before opening the door to see Taehyung sitting on the edge of the bed, just his pajamas on, elbow resting on his thigh as he scrolls though his phone. When he hears her, he looks up and a shy smile spreads across his face as he stands up to walk over to her. The rain has stopped and the sky has lightened marginally; it must be nearly dawn, she realises.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping a decent couple of feet away from her. Despite the intense, long-lasting sex, the thought of his honey-coloured torso within arm’s reach does things to her. She forces herself to look up at his face, and her heart stutters. She remembers then that he’s asked her something.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah.” Dilara shrugs awkwardly. “It’s just… you know. It’s been a while.” She bites her lip, trying to suppress a small smile. “You haven’t changed. Still got the stamina of an athlete.”

Taehyung grins. “Thanks. You haven’t changed either. Flexible as always,” he adds, winking when she rolls her eyes. He looks incredible; in the faint light from the window, his face is illuminated in a silvery blue glow. Draped in nothing but a sheet she’s clutching to her chest, she suddenly feels very small in front of him.

“Is your hand okay?”

He glances at the back of his right hand, his knuckles still an angry red. “A lot better. I tried to use this one as less as possible.”

“You messed up my hair,” she chides softly, nudging his shoulder.

Taehyung shrugs, reaching up to smooth her hair. “You still look beautiful. And it didn’t seem like you were complaining,” he adds after a moment, smirking slightly. “Or is that what all the noise was?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Shit, I’m sure everyone heard us,” she groans, falling against the doorframe before straightening up.

“Maybe,” he says, sounding rather indifferent. He takes a small step closer. “I don’t really care.”

Dilara says nothing to that, knowing he’s just being honest. There are some things that would embarrass most people, but Taehyung genuinely does not care about them. Being loud during sex is one. She wonders if confessions during sex is another. His gaze is too intense, too adoring for her to believe he said it in the heat of the moment. He meant it, she’s sure, and while there’s a part of her that’s ecstatic, there’s also the part that’s more wary than ever, for she isn’t sure she can give him what he wants this time.

He’s close enough now that the kiss is no surprise. It’s soft and gentle - the complete opposite of what just transpired on the bed. He raises one hand to lightly rest on the side of her face, but otherwise they stay where they are. His lips mould so perfectly with hers; there’s none of that hesitance that was present the night she kissed him in Portugal. It’s comfortable and familiar, to the point where she can’t fathom how she went so long without it, and worse, how she can continue without it.

They break apart mutually. Taehyung drops his hand and swallows. “Do you want me to stay?” he asks hesitantly.

Dilara can tell now that this has been on his mind since the moment they were done. Evidently he wasn’t able to decide if she’d want him to stay or leave and he presumably didn’t want to pressure her either way, which was why he got half-dressed. She also appreciates that he asked her if she wants him to stay and not if she wants him to leave, knowing it’s harder to answer the latter than the former.

She bites her lip, continuing to meet his gaze. “I’m not ready,” she admits finally.

Taehyung nods, looking as though he’d expected this. He brushes her cheekbone with his injured knuckle before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She tries not to lean into it too much and resists the urge to turn her head and kiss him back. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lara,” he murmurs, stepping back. “Sleep well.”

Dilara nods as he steps further back and slips on his t-shirt before ruffling his hair. Giving her a small, reassuring smile, Taehyung exits her room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

—

Dilara limps into the kitchen the next morning, hoping to be completely invisible. She doesn't make eye contact with anyone, fortunately sidling in in the middle of a joke being told in Korean. Jimin, who's the one doing the narrating, seamlessly greets her mid-sentence before delving back into his story. She isn’t even sure who else is in the room; it's only some of them… but Taehyung is definitely one of them.

She bustles around as quietly as she can, procuring milk and cereal. When she turns around to retrieve a bowl, she sees Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung in the room, all laughing at whatever story Jimin is relaying. She hears her name then and it takes her a second to realise Jungkook is speaking to her because he automatically starts off in Korean.

"Huh?"

"Sorry - are you okay?" Jungkook frowns, looking concerned.

Dilara smooths down her hair as a reflex. "Yeah… why wouldn't I be?"

"You're limping," he points out innocently and she instantly wants to die. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Dilara almost chokes. "No, it's just… uh, period cramps," she lies, knowing that it's a topic uncomfortable enough that Jungkook won't probe.

Predictably, Jungkook goes red. "Oh, you can - I mean, I have -" He stutters, looking around at his older members desperately. "... Ibuprofen," he mutters eventually.

"Thanks, Jungkook." She hopes the topic dies there but unfortunately, she catches Hoseok frowning as well. "What?"

"It looks like an injury," he states, tilting his head. "You were opening up your hips just now," he says and she realises in horror that he's right. "Did you go to the gym yesterday?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It's possible I could've… yeah, maybe." Dilara deliberately doesn't look in Taehyung’s direction, mostly because she’s quite sure what he looks like. Pride and concern would be the top expressions, mixed with just a bit of wariness at the questioning.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows in an expression that indicates he believes her, but it’s taking him a hell of an effort to do so. Her eyes finally go to Taehyung, who’s sitting cross legged on the floor, fiddling with what looks like one of Jungkook’s action figures. His mouth twitches for a moment before it goes blank.

“Namjoon hyung,” he calls, interrupting Hoseok who was surely about to ask another question. “What time do we have to be at the location?”

“A couple of hours, actually. Jimin and Jungkook - you two need to go live before that,” he reminds them. This is followed by Jimin whining in Korean and additional chatter, successfully taking the attention away from Dilara as she’s left alone to finish her breakfast. Namjoon must have told them all to get ready, for they mill around the kitchen and eventually start trudging inside one by one.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Dilara washes her bowl and spoon when Taehyung joins her. “I can do that,” he says softly, holding up a dry cloth and taking the bowl from her. She lets him, watching as he dries it and stacks it inside the cabinet.

“Thanks.”

He gives her a small smile that holds far more than it should. She’s reminded of his inadvertent confession last night, how he’d said it loud and clear, and averts her gaze.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, lightly touching the small of her back. It sounds different from the way Jungkook asked her.

Dilara nods. “It’s not too bad. I’ll be fine,” she adds. “Are you okay?” she asks after a moment, part playfully.

“Me? I’ll be fine,” he says seriously. He touches a wavy strand of hair that’s fallen out of her makeshift bun. “Do you need to wash your hair?”

“Wash, detangle, brush,” she informs him, giving him a look. “It’s going to be a pain.”

“Mhm. Does that mean you regret it?” he asks, his voice a bit smaller. “Last night?”

Anyone with half a brain cell could tell he isn’t asking about her hair. Dilara considers it, images of last night flashing through her mind. Every touch had been electric and their spark had gone nowhere. Despite everything, he elicited feelings of pleasure and ecstasy like no one else ever could, and still made her feel like she was the only person in the world after it.

“No,” she admits, a bit hesitant. “I don’t.” A moment passes where she doesn’t look at him. “What about you? Do you regret it?”

Taehyung exhales softly. “A little bit.”

Dilara’s heart drops. Swallowing, she looks up at him, wondering why, after everything, he would… He returns her gaze with the same smooth, impassive expression. It takes her another moment of observing his face before her own relaxes, and she smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Taehyung winces and grabs his arm, laughing as she walks away in a huff. “What? You know my answer,” he calls after her, still chuckling when she doesn’t respond. “I’ll see you at the shoot?”

“Shut up, Kim,” comes her voice from inside, just before she shuts her bedroom door behind her.

The shoot is located close to the house; yet, they still only make it in the nick of time. Dilara, who had been requested to travel separately so as to not attract attention by arriving with BTS, is already at the location, getting a coffee with Max.

“Someone looks happier,” comments Max, gesturing towards the group as they trundle in.

Dilara follows his gaze, predictably landing straight on Taehyung, looking unreadable as ever, with half his face hidden behind gigantic sunglasses. “Does he look happier?” she asks, frowning.

“Well, he looks less depressed than he has since September.”

It’s true; she watches as he saunters in, hands in his pockets, and surveying the location coolly. Then he takes off his sunglasses and squints slightly before looking right at Dilara, and his face breaks into a smile. Dilara averts her gaze immediately, suppressing a smile of her own, and ends up facing Max.

“Ah,” he says deliberately after a moment. “I see.”

“Don’t,” she warns him.

“We’ve really come a long way from the fashion show, huh.”

“Max.”

“No more of that responsibility to get you nice and drunk so you can forget,” he remembers fondly.

“Shut up.”

“Not when you have all the privacy to rekindle that Suzuka romance - not to mention do whatever you -”

“Max Emilian Verstappen!” Dilara exclaims, loud enough that a few people turn to look at her while Max guffaws into his coffee cup. “Are you done?” she hisses. “This is a work setting. There are professionals here - can we save the teasing for the long-ass flight to Sochi?”

Max waits patiently for her to finish. “You have a hickey the size of a rock on your neck.” With that, he waves to her and walks away.

Predictably, Dilara’s first stop from there is hair and make-up, determined to have the incriminating mark covered up before anyone else sees it, especially one of the guys. She doesn’t believe Taehyung would tell them about last night - bragging has never been his style - but with the embarrassing questioning this morning and the hickey? It would be obvious as hell and Dilara doesn’t think she can take Jimin’s reaction to it today.

Thankfully, there’s no one in there. She snags a bottle of concealer and does a rather shoddy job of covering up the hickey, but she doesn’t care. It’s better than the looks the make-up artists are sure to give each other and she’s just thankful that none of the other hickeys on her body are in visible places.

Fortunately, no one else spots the hickey. The shoot commences, everyone in AlphaTauri sporting gear and posing around cars and bikes and other equipment. Dilara is so relieved at the normalcy that even being the only person in a sports bra in the chilly weather, while the others pose in jackets and t-shirts, can’t dampen her mood.

By the end of it, an old familiar feeling starts creeping back, a disappointment she later identifies as not wanting to leave. BTS aren’t flying to Russia with her and Max and while that had seemed like the highlight of the calendar back in August, it feels like the dark spot in the improving relationship between her and Taehyung.

He feels it, too, she knows. He approaches her when she’s at the food cart, longingly looking at the tray of doughnuts and resisting the urge to scarf one down.

“They won’t kill you,” comes Taehyung’s voice, and he stops next to her. “The blueberry one is the best.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You’ve had it?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “It looks like it would be the best. Besides, you like blueberry, no?”

“Yeah, but…” She sighs. “It’s way too much sugar. Is there such a thing as a sugar-free doughnut?”

“Yes, it’s called sadness.”

Dilara laughs, biting her lip and looking up at him. Fuck, he looks incredible. “Split one?”

Taehyung frowns, considering it, before looking out at where the stylists are. “As long as they don’t rat me out.”

“To who? Your staff?”

“No, Namjoon hyung.”

She stifles another laugh, her gaze going straight to where Namjoon is sitting on the grass with Jungkook and - to her mild surprise - Max.

“So? You want to split it? We’ll have to be smart about it, though.”

Dilara looks back up at him, contemplating. His eyes twinkle, and she fights a smile. Reaching over, she grabs the doughnut and breaks it into rough halves while Taehyung grabs a couple of napkins. Like school kids sharing a secret, they turn their backs on the shoot and, silently acquiescing, they start walking away.

Start, being the operative word. Before they’ve taken maybe five steps, two stylists come bounding up to them. “Oh, Tae, they need you for another shot,” says the one with the blue tips in her hair. Before Dilara can register the Tae, her eyes drop to his hands and her eyes widen. “You said you couldn’t eat sugar!” she exclaims, lunging for it as Tae moves it out of her reach, grinning.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Dilara interrupts. She ignores Taehyung’s frown as the girl looks at her, as though she’s just noticed he’s not alone.

“Oh, it’s Rhiannon. Like the song?” she prompts.

“Yeah, I know Fleetwood Mac. Listen, Rhiannon, do you mind -”

“Oh, look, they’re calling you again,” she says loudly, turning back to Taehyung and pointing over his shoulder to the photographer.

“I’ll take that.” Seokjin’s hand appears out of nowhere and grabs Taehyung’s doughnut, making him groan, but the director calls out his name this time so he has no choice but to leave. As Seokjin swallows the doughnut whole before sauntering away, Dilara feels a pit of rage in her stomach.

“Are you going to eat that?”

She jumps, turning around to see Min Yoongi behind her, looking irritatingly knowing. “Where did you come from?” she demands, clutching at her chest. “Oh, you brought Jimin, too,” she notes, as the younger member comes into view, grinning, in her opinion, for no reason at all.

Suddenly conscious of how annoyed she must be looking, Dilara makes an excuse and hurries away, taking care to stay away from all members for the rest of the shoot. It’s just as well, she thinks, for she doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea - least of all, herself.

It’s the reason she goes back to her changing room alone at the end of the shoot, considering simply texting Taehyung goodbye. A verbal goodbye could be too much and would very much be in the wrong idea category, not to mention would haunt her for the rest of the weekend, a time when her focus should be nothing but the race. Her suitcases are already in the car, as is Max, who’s begun texting her to hurry up.

Dilara is packing up her bag when a sound, once again, almost makes her jump. When she spots the speaker in the corner of the trailer, she relaxes, guessing it must just be one of the microphones causing a disturbance.

“... really good shots,” comes a male voice, crackling through the speaker. “Campaign’s going to look epic.”

“Great for your resume,” replies another, a girl this time. “Although it’s greatest for whoever shot this guy,” she adds.

Someone else whistles and there’s some snickering. “That would be me,” says a second guy. “He’s fantastic - it’s the least direction I’ve ever had to give talent. He’s a dream to work with.”

“Who are we talking about?” This voice is familiar. Rhiannon. Like the song?

“The dude in the red jacket.”

Dilara pauses, for there was only one dreamy dude in the red jacket - and she’d spent the night with him. It’s clear that one of the microphones has been accidentally left switched on and if she can hear everything in her trailer, the group can definitely hear it in their much larger trailer. She pauses to listen, already amused as she pictures Taehyung’s bashful smile as the others tease him.

“Oh, yeah. I checked out his Instagram,” says Rhiannon. “Some really aesthetic shit. Whoever’s taking pictures of him has the easiest job in the world.”

“Hey!”

“No, I’m just saying. He looks unreal. Whether it’s his girlfriend or whoever - she kind of hit a jackpot. Wait, Jack - what are you doing?”

“Checking out who this lucky person might be,” answers Jack, presumably. “There’s no way someone who looks like that is single.”

Something creeps through Dilara’s stomach, a feeling of foreboding. This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to.

“Knew it. Jennie Kim. Dating BTS V,” says Jack after a moment.

“Rumoured to be dating him,” pipes up someone else. “And the article is six months old.”

“So? Seems pretty plausible to me. I mean… look at her.” Jack exhales. “She looks like a natural. Damn, do you know who’s representing her?”

“Wait - Jennie Kim,” says one of the girls. “Says here she’s - oh, man, I knew I’d seen her somewhere. She’s brand ambassador for Chanel.”

There’s some noise as everyone presumably looks at a picture. The self-preserving part of Dilara tells her to leave, now, but her feet stay rooted to the ground.

“Makes sense,” confirms Rhiannon. “Jesus Christ, they’d make some gorgeous babies.”

“Jumping the gun a bit?” The first guy says. “It’s a rumour from a million years ago. Personally, I think he has a thing for Komyshan?”

“Dilara Komyshan? From today? Really?”

“Yeah, he kept looking over at her. Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“Dilara’s hot,” says the second girl. “She drives cars, dude.”

“Nothing is wrong with her!” Rhiannon exclaims. “She’s my favourite driver. I’ve been rooting for her all season - I screamed all over Twitter on Sunday when she won in Portugal. She’s just…”

There’s a snicker. “This should be good.”

“She’s more… real. Natural.” Rhiannon audibly hesitates. “And he’s…”

There’s a few seconds when no one can come up with an unoffensive word, while everyone including Dilara knows exactly what Rhiannon means.

“K-pop,” finishes Jack, sounding somewhat apologetic. “They’re kind of a different league,” he adds.

“A Jennie Kim kind of league. Do you know if your friend - what’s his face -” Someone clicks their fingers. “Damien. Do you know if he’s still on contract with Chanel?”

“Doubt it. That was a year ago. I can still check, though…”

Dilara can’t hear anything else. There’s a roaring in her ears and her chest feels as though it’s about to constrict, cutting off all air supply. It’s too much, too many words, too many truthful, honest words that have lived in her mind for the better part of a year… words that haven’t ceased to be true, no matter how desperate she’s been to repress them.

Her eyes land on the speaker again and she knows she has to leave immediately because if she can hear everything in her trailer… Taehyung can definitely hear everything in his much larger trailer.

The car is just outside the gate. Dilara hurries as fast as her feet will take her, her chest painfully heavy with humiliation and shame. Last night had felt like stepping back into a time machine to a less complicated time; there was doubt and hesitation, but the passion made up for it. Now, it fills her with disgust, the memory of it, how openly and fervently she’d given herself to him, how after everything, she’d still let herself be that vulnerable before him.

Dilara is surprised to hear herself sniffle but less so when she hears footsteps behind her. She doesn’t bother turning around; it doesn’t matter who it is, even if it is Taehyung, even if he is coming back to explain himself once again, like every other -

“Lara -”

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, yanking her hand out of his. Her anger wavers for a moment when she sees his face change, first from apology to confusion, and then to shock. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting her to react this way. “Just - just leave me alone,” she says tightly. She turns to leave, not trusting herself to speak any longer.

“Lara, no.” Taehyung stops her, shuffling to stand in front of her. Over his shoulder, she spots the car that’s supposed to take her to the airport. “No, no , no…” He searches her face frantically, the fear spreading across his beautiful features.

Dilara says nothing. It’s too much, everything she’s heard, everything she's starting to remember. Max’s words come back: We’ve come a long way from the fashion show. The fashion show, where she’d thrown up in the bathroom at the sight of him, cried tears of frustration to Max and done everything in her power to avoid Taehyung.

“Lara, please. You - you can’t listen to them. You can’t possibly believe what they’re saying -“

“Oh, my God,” she whispers, dropping her head in her hands. “Oh, God, what have I done?” She takes a shaky step back, her stomach churning painfully. “We had sex - oh, my God!”

“Baby, listen to me -“

“Do not call me that,” she interrupts him. “Why should I listen to you? Huh? So you can fucking charm your way into my life again?” she demands, pushing him back. “You just - you just look pretty and say the right things and I just… forget everything you did?” Because that’s exactly what I did.

“No! God, Lara - they’re strangers!” Taehyung exclaims desperately. “They have no idea what they’re talking about! They don’t know us! Come on, please - please don’t let them ruin everything. Please.”

“They didn’t ruin everything,” she snarls, turning to walk past him when he stops her again.

“I love you,” he blurts, and Dilara freezes. “I - I love you, Lara. I do, so much,” he repeats, his voice trembling. It’s not an accident this time. “We’ve made it so far, baby,” he says urgently, pulling her closer by the arms. “Please don’t do this.”

Dilara swallows, her heart hurting. Taehyung looks… he looks anguished. Somewhere, she knows how he feels, the thought of every single shaky piece they’ve built up crashing down around them again. A part of her wants to agree with him, just to have those moments back; the laughing and the flirting and the feel of his naked body against hers.

But she can’t. It would be tainted, and she would spend every minute second-guessing herself, reliving those awful weeks she’d spent comparing herself to another woman, imagining all the things she’d probably done wrong to deserve this. She meets his gaze again, wishing she could go back to this morning again.

“Lara?”

He loves her. That much she believes. But it’s nowhere near enough right now.

Dilara sniffs and pulls out of his grip, gentler this time. “I - I need to go to Russia. My flight is in a couple of hours.”

“What about -“

“I don’t know. I have no idea, Taehyung,” she says quietly. “I think…” Dilara sighs as she realises it’s finally the time to do what she’s been considering for a while now. “I need space. We need space.”

Taehyung swallows. “Just space?” he asks, and even through the hurt, she can hear the skepticism in his tone.

“Yeah, I - I can’t be around you. For a while,” she adds when his face drops. “You know I’ll see you in Tuscany anyway,” she says in a low voice.

He nods silently, biting his lip.

Dilara exhales shakily and hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. “It’s just too hard, Tae. This… this might be a good thing,” she says, taking a step backwards.

Taehyung looks at the ground, seeming resigned. “Fly safe,” he says hoarsely.

She nods and starts to turn away, when he speaks again.

“Can I -” He sniffs, still looking beautiful in his sadness. He’s a dream. “Can I call you?”

Dilara wishes he wasn’t making her say this. Stay strong, Komyshan.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

—

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