#noticing it i don’t remember my little sisters graduation

[keeplcving]

art deco.

(young president!coriolanus x young!f!plinth!reader)

summary: the president takes notice of Sejanus’ much younger sister, at one of his galas, and cannot let her go.

cw: plinth!reader, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, sejanus lives (and is still friends with coryo), age-gap (coryo is 28, reader is are 18), strabo is a shitty father, sweet!coryo (but only to you), heavy smut, creampie, soft sex, pet names (little one, little dove, darling, etc), cuddling, lmk if i missed anything!

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the Presidential Mansion, a stark contrast to the still-setting sun outside. Your arm is tightly linked with your brother, Sejanus’ arm, as you make your way to the table. You don’t know anyone at this event, not really.

You’re far too young, the next youngest people at the gala are brother’s age, and even still, Sej is 10 years older than you. It makes you feel queasy, knowing most of these men in attendance are nearly old enough to be your father, and they are all staring at you.

Staring at you like you’re a fine piece of meat, and they’re starving for a taste.

You sit down next to your brother, and quickly survey the other guests seated at your table. Clemensia Dovecoat, Festus Creed, Livia Cardew, Persephone Price. All your brother’s age, no one younger. You want to shrink back into your seat, become invisible.

You have no idea why your brother invited you to attend this Gala with him, but you have a feeling it was not with the purest intentions. As you graduated from the Academy, both your parents and your brother were pushing for you to find a suitor, to further better the Plinth name. Frankly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn, you were far more worried about being successful at the University to find a husband.

“Hello.” A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice breaks you from your reverie. Coriolanus Snow, or should I say President Snow, you think. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was a very attractive man. Having been very young when your brother began bringing him around to your family’s manor, you only had some vague memories of Coriolanus, however, he has been a close friend to Sejanus, so he’s been around your vicinity for years.

I wouldn’t mind marrying him, your thoughts betray every fiber of your being, who you are. You are an independent woman, you don’t need a man, you need to do well at the University, and score a job. Not fawn over the President of Panem. Oh well, you think, he wouldn’t want anything to do with someone as young as me.

“Hello, Coriolanus.” Your brother greets him warmly, then lightly touching your arm, “I don’t know if you remember my sister, Y/N, but I’ve invited her as my guest tonight.”

“Hello, Mister President.” You say, wanting to roll your eyes at the pomposity of the statement you just spoke. You quickly scanned Coriolanus, and you were not disappointed. Blonde hair slicked back, beautiful blue eyes, a tight crimson suit that perfectly accented the muscular frame you were sure was underneath it.

“No need for the formalities, Ms. Plinth, just call me Coryo.” He responds, giving you (and your body) a quick glance in return. You want to blush at his actions, but you restrain yourself.

“Then call me Y/N, Coryo, Ms. Plinth is much too formal for me.” You bite back, cracking him a smile. He returns it, before turning to your brother.

“Mind if I borrow your sister for a dance, Sej?” He asks your brother, missing the wicked glare that Livia sends you. You’re not sure why she’s upset with you. You knew the President was a single man, which was a rarity in the politicians in Panem. But, you’re no where near his age range. He wouldn’t want you like that, right? He would want someone like Livia, perfect and his age.

“Of course not, thank you for being so kind to her. She’s a little overwhelmed with the gala, as is to be expected. She’s never been to one this formal before.” Sejanus tells Coryo, and you smile weakly, standing up, wobbling slightly in the heels that were a little too high for you.

Coriolanus rounds the table, grasping your hand lightly in his much larger one, leading you to the dance floor in the center of the room. He circles his arms around your waist easily, and you reach up to circle yours around his neck. He begins swaying you gently in time with the music before opening his mouth to speak.

“I don’t remember Sejanus mentioning that he had such a beautiful sister.” He whispers to you, leaning his head down so you could hear his words. He was well over a half a foot taller than you, even with you in your heels. That thought was dizzying.

You blush in response to his words, ducking your head. But you don’t stay that way for any more than a moment, as he brings two of his fingers under your chin, before lifting your chin up, to meet his gaze. “I mean it, dove. You’re simply stunning.”

The flattery was almost too sickly sweet, but you relished in it. “Thank you, Coryo.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, you had never been in a situation like this. Sure, the boys from the Academy thought you were pretty, but they were nothing compared to the President of Panem.

“You are very welcome, darling. Tell me, how old are you? I cannot remember your dear brother ever mentioning your age.” There it is, you thoughts begin ruining the moment, he will no longer be interested in you once he finds out you are so young.

“I just turned eighteen, I am set to become a student at the University in the fall.” You look into his eyes, expecting to see something, a wavering of interest, anything. But instead, you see nothing.

“I see.” Is all he says, continuing to sway to the music, holding you. His grip tightens lightly, as more people make their way to the dance floor, like he doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, some other man. Like anyone would dare attempt to snatch you away from the President of all people.

“I was expecting you to be a bit older,” He continues, giving you another look, throughly analyzing every part of your body, “Especially when Strabo mentioned to me a potential love match in his darling daughter.”

It’s like a bomb has gone off, shattering your world around you. Of course he wasn’t really interested in you, foolish girl, you think. It was set up, so you could finally find the suitable husband your father had been discussing since it had been deemed socially acceptable to do so.

“A potential… what?” You spat out, not harshly, just in surprise. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Love match, darling. But, you may be just a bit too young for me.” He tells you, shattering your heart just a bit. You knew he was too old for you, no matter the attraction you felt for him. Not to mention that your father was simply trying to better the position of the family name by attempting to marrying you off to him.

You weren’t sure what to feel. You wanted Coriolanus, in ways a woman of your social standing shouldn’t. Especially given the age difference that was present between the two of you, however, there was no denying his pure masculine beauty. There was still that thought in the back of your mind that by engaging yourself with Coriolanus, you would be pleasing your father and his wishes for you. In this moment, you knew everything you felt about Coryo would override the disdain you had for pleasing your father.

“I’m not too young.” You almost whine back at him, a light pout forming on your lips as you stare into his impossibly blue eyes. You didn’t want him to see you as too young, you wanted him to see you as just another woman. Who cares that he was nearly ten years older than you?

“Is that so, princess?” He chastises you jokingly, before continuing, “You said you were eighteen, right?” He waits for you to nod, then resumes, “Well, do the arithmetic, little one. If I am twenty eight, and you are eighteen, that leaves us with a ten year difference.”

“I don’t care about that Coryo.” You find yourself frustrated. You wanted him, especially after all of the praise he had given you. Right now, in this moment, the ten years between the two of you didn’t matter. “I find myself rather attracted to you.” You tell him, honestly.

“Is that so, little one?” He asks, smirking at your words. He knew he could mold you into the perfect little wife, so young, so innocent still, unlike the women his age, who already knew what they wanted and simply wanted him for the money and glory that came along with marrying the President.

“Yes, please. I want you. My father was right, about the potential love match. Please, don’t leave me to marry some other man that isn’t twice the man that you are. I know I am young, but that doesn’t matter. I’m old enough to know what I want. Please, Coryo.”

You beg him, not sure exactly why you wanted him so bad. You had just really met him after all. But he was so attractive, so powerful. Something about him enticed you, and you didn’t want to let it go before anything could even potentially happen, before you could see where it progressed between the two of you.

“If you’re so sure, little one. However, this is a conversation we should have somewhere more private, away from prying eyes.” He tells you, raising your hopes ever so slightly. He wasn’t outwardly telling you no, and that you were absolutely too young for him.

Silently, he seizes swaying instead turning you so that you are pressed tightly to his side, one arm firmly grasped around your back, the other arm falling to his side as he led you out the doors to the ballroom, further into the Mansion, and into what you could only assume was his bedroom, gently closing and locking the door behind him, not unnoticed by you.

He is silent for a moment, before speaking, “You mentioned other men. You are going to be mine, little dove. No other men matter to you. I’ve been aware of your age this whole night, and your father and I have been discussing this chance meeting between us for some time now.”

You want to feel disappointed, or disgusted. Your father and Coriolanus, going behind your back, planning your future without a say from you. Planning when you would meet, when would be the right time. You had so many thoughts swirling in your head, it was overwhelming.

“How. Long.” You spat out at him, visibly upset. You wanted him, sure. But if he had been going behind your back, and truly knew of you well before you knew of him, you weren’t as sure. It felt almost predatory, knowing you were barely legal.

“Just over a year, darling.” His words made you want to vomit. Before you were legal. Your father, planning a marriage to a man ten years your senior, when you weren’t even legally able to be married, or have intercourse. You started to sway on your feet, feeling faint. You couldn’t believe it.

Coriolanus reached out a strong arm, steadying you, before grasping your hand and pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed. With you sitting, and he standing, the height difference became even more pronounced. You had to crane your neck to meet his eyes, even when you did not want to.

“A year.” You started, thinking for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “My father has been meeting with you for a year, to discuss marriage. When I wasn’t even legal!” You yelled at him from your seated position, not feeling stable enough to attempt standing.

“I know it’s wrong, little one. And I am sorry. I only learned of you not being eighteen last night. This entire time, up until last night, I thought you were already eighteen, or older. Your father never mentioned your exact birthday, only that you were of marriage age.”

Your rage for Coriolanus dissipated, the only anger that remained was for your father. You couldn’t take it out on Coryo, who didn’t know you were underage for most of the planning, not until it didn’t matter. He was just as innocent as you.

“It’s alright.” You kept your statement concise, not sure what else to say, without bursting out into tears. You could already feel them welling in your eyes, and you begged them not to fall.

The tears didn’t do unnoticed by Coriolanus, who looks taken aback at the thought of you crying. “Don’t cry, little one. It’s alright, I assure you. I am going to give you some space, and some time alone. You are to wait here, however. I am not forcing you, but I would prefer we continue this conversation when you are ready.”

He leans down, and presses a small kiss against the crown of your head gently before making his way toward the door, grabbing the knob.

“Wait,” You start, tears starting to fall at the thought of him leaving you alone. “Stay, please.” You beg.

“Sweetheart, I can’t. I need to give you space to think. I don’t want to force this upon you.” He tells you honestly, turning the knob.

“But why?” You state, petulant like a child. The child that you still practically are. “Just stay here, with me. I’ve already made up my mind.” You say, standing back up onto your feet, making the few steps to the door, grasping his upper arm gently.

“I can’t.” He says simply, not moving. He looks almost conflicted on right or wrong in this moment. Your lip begins to wobble, as you think about him leaving you.

“But why, Coryo? I already made up my mind. My father may have hid the truth about my age from you, but I want you. Please.” You plead with him, willing him to stay in this room with you.

“I’m way too old for you, my love.” Coriolanus stops turning the knob, though. Standing, waiting for you to speak again. He had to at least partially hear you out, and he wanted to know your rationale.

“And what if I don’t care if you are far too old for me?” It was your last feeble attempt at getting him to stay. If he wanted to stay, it was up to him now. You weren’t going to plead with him, he was a grown man.

“I can see how much you would prefer it if I stay.” He says with a sigh, pulling you into his arms, his warm embrace surrounding you with a feeling you had never acted upon before.

“Coryo,” You whisper, “I want you. I want you so bad.” His eyes widen in surprise at your words, confused on what exactly you meant by wanting him.

“What do you mean, little one?” He doesn’t get the chance to do anything but whisper back that sentence before you were leaning up on your tiptoes, and your lips pressed against his, hard. He doesn’t fight you, quickly kissing back.

He adjusts you so that your back is up against the door, and your fronts are pressed together tightly, without breaking the kiss. He runs his hand along the curves of your waist, before bringing his hands to cup your ass lightly. You let out a gasp, and he uses that to his advantage and slips his tongue into your mouth, tongues tangling.

He then drops his hands to below your knees, sweeping you into his arms, and carrying you back to the bed. He disconnects the kiss, with a whine falling from your lips, lightly setting you down on the bed.

“Are you sure, little dove? I can stop if you aren’t sure.” You appreciated his concern in this moment, but all you wanted was him. You vocalized that to him, and he smiled. He pulled you, so that your feet were dangling off the edge of the bed, where he was still standing. Getting down on his knees at your feet, he gently unbuckled the heel, and removed it from your foot, one foot at a time. As he removed the shoe, he ran a hand over the soft skin, before pressing a kiss to the sole of your foot.

He kissed his way up your legs, up to your thighs, being met with the skirt of your dress. He flipped the skirt up, over your hips, and met your eyes again as his hands made their way to the edge of your underwear.

“Still alright, little one?” He asked, thumbs in the band of the underwear, waiting for permission to pull them down. You nodded at him, with a weak grin. Coriolanus smiled back at you, before pulling the panties down your legs, over your ankles.

He spread your legs, so that your wet heat was visible to him. He grinned, before leaning down and licking a teasing stripe up your pussy, You moaned lewdly, legs closing around his head, locking him in place. He continued his broad licks, eventually moving to circle your clit until you were twitching. He stuck his tongue inside of your hole a few times, and that was enough. You gushed around his tongue, quickly becoming overstimulated and pushing his head away.

As he brought his head out from between your thighs, you noticed his face was covered in your juices, and you laughed. He cracked a smile at you, allowing you to breathe for a few moments together. He gently helped you to your feet, to your confusion for a moment, until he spun you so that he could unzip your dress.

Once you were fully bared to him, dress gently placed on a chair in the corner, he began to undress for you. The suit jacket first, then the button up, revealing his pale yet well formed chest that had you licking your lips in anticipation. His shoes were toed off, and socks removed too. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly before removing his slacks and boxers, cock springing up, very obviously hard, the tip nearly purple as he looked at you.

You felt intimidated. You were a virgin, and his cock was so long, and so thick. You knew it was going to hurt, and you hoped he wouldn’t let it hurt you too bad.

“Coryo,” You whispered, “I’m a virgin.” He stopped, and looked you directly in the eyes.

“That’s alright, little one. I’ll be careful, so so gentle. I promise.” He tells you earnestly, and you smile at him, nodding. You trusted him, he had never lied to you before, not willingly.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, before climbing on top of you, his strong forearms next to your head. He grabbed his cock, positioning it with your hole, before gently beginning to push in.

You flinched at the intrusion, body wincing at the pain from his cock splitting you open. Tears sprung back into your eyes, and he stopped pushing in, giving you a moment to adjust. He kissed you, making out lightly for a moment.

“You can keep going.” You said, breaking the kiss. You hissed as he kept pushing, but eventually, he was fully sheathed inside of you, and the sting had dulled down to a pressure inside of you. You looked down, and you could see a faint outline of his cock on your stomach and you smirked.

“Look, darling.” You directed him to where you were looking and he smirked back at you.

“Look at you, little one. Your body is taking me so beautifully.” He responded beginning slow, thrusts in and out, keeping tempo.

“Please, Coryo. More!” You begged him, and he began thrusting faster, pressing into a spot inside of you that made you see stars. You moaned loudly at that feeling, his cock slamming into it every time he thrust back in. You couldn’t stop letting out little noises of pleasure, it felt too good. He let out little grunts too, praising you for taking him so well, being such a good little girl.

“Rub your clit for me, darling.” He directed you, breathing becoming heavier, thrusts more erratic. You could tell he was close, but you wanted to orgasm with him. You rubbed your clit harshly, moaning, and tightening around his cock.

“I’m so close!” You cried out, circling faster as he continued to pound in and out of you.

“As am I, little one.” He grunted back. “Come for me, darling. I’ll come for you.”

You allowed yourself to come, soaking his cock with his juices, and he spurted deep inside of you. He groaned as he pulled out, immediately missing the tight warmth of your cunt.

“You did fantastic, love.” He tells you, falling nearly on top of you, worn from the excursion. You gently scratch his scalp with your fingers, soothing him.

“I should be telling you that,” You laugh, continuing to massage his head.

“You are mine now, darling.” He grunts, completely blissed out, resting his head on your chest. “Age does not matter to me, little one.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “I am to be yours, forever.”

“Mine.” He agrees. You don’t say anything back, basking in the afterglow. After tonight, you know that your future plans have shifted, and you couldn’t find it in you to care. You still had that independent woman in you, but now, with a powerful man by your side. You’d found yourself a wonderful man in the President of Panem, and you didn’t plan on letting him go.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :)

#coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n

[rose-pearls]

Dawn

Summary: Dawn is Hangman's little sister and has been called back to Top Gun but when she sees her ex, Rooster, back she drags Bob into a fake relationship.

Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

Your brother Hangman had always been quite the character even when he was small and that didn’t change trough the years. But unlike with the others he was always the sweetest brother to you but also the most protective which made it difficult to find someone. 

The both of you started in the Navy and followed each other footsteps to Top Gun where you had to prove to everyone that you were even a little bit as good as your older brother, of course you managed it and graduated with flying colors. Your call sign was Dawn because you always managed to be early and still be cheerful trough everything unlike your brother.

You had been invited back to Top Gun for a secret mission, which was exciting but also worrying, you knew that your brother was also called back so they must be bringing back the best aviators.

The Hard Deck had always been a safe space for you with Penny making sure that no creepy guys would get aways with hitting on girls. Now it was once again full of people in uniform and civilians. I can already hear my brother playing pool with Coyote because of all the noise they are making.

“Well, if it isn’t Dawn.”, I smirk at my brother, and he sends me an identical smirk back.

“If it isn’t Bagman.”, my brother scoffs before grinning and taking me into his arms.

“Good to see you princess.”, I squeeze him a bit tighter before letting go and saying hello to Coyote.

Before we can say anything else I hear my brother’s voice ringing trough the room.

“Well, if it isn’t Phoenix, and here I thought we were special Dawn.”, I roll my eyes at my brother’s antics and Phoenix seems to think the same.

“Gentleman this here is Bagman.”, Phoenix has two men behind her that I don’t recognize but they must be good if Phoenix stays with them.

“Hangman.”, how he manages to keep smirking like that will always be a mystery to me but that is my brother.

“Whatever.”, the two boys behind Phoenix tell their callsign and I remember hearing about the duo and their incredible fast timing. 

“Who is he?”, we all turn to look at a blond with glasses who is suddenly looking like a scared animal.

“Where did you come from?”, if there was someone with no tact it would be Hangman.

“Oh – I’ve been here the whole time.”, he seems nervous to talk and I feel the need to go and reassure him.

“The man’s a stealth pilot.”, Coyote chuckles at Hangman’s joke and I just roll my eyes at the two idiots.

“I’m a Weapon System Officer actually.”, poor thing just stepped into my brother’s net, and he doesn’t know it.

“With no sense of humor.”

“Leave him alone.”, my brother seems surprised by my interference but lets it slide with a roll of his eyes.

“What do they call you?”, Bob seems surprised at my question but quickly answers.

“Bob.”

“No, your callsign”, I hear Coyote say.

“Bob.”, Hangman laughs, and I just smile at the man in front of me.

“Bob Floyd? You’re my new back seater? From Lemoore?”, I let Phoenix discover her new back seater before going to get a drink.

Penny quickly gives me a beer and after thanking her I hear loud voices from the pool table and as I get back, I see what the noise is all about, Rooster. The man had always been something and my brother always hated it for whatever reason. Rooster and I had started dating during our Top Gun training and it all fell apart when he learned who pulled his papers. He didn’t want to talk anymore and was all the time by himself not wanting to communicate and then swiftly ended things like nothing had ever happened between us.

I take a deep breath before going towards the group were Hangman and Rooster seemed to be in a stand-off. As I approach, I see Rooster noticing me and I start to feel uncomfortable with the attention. 

“Dawn how are you?”, I know what my brother said to him, like twins with the same mind.

“I’m good, very good, in fact too good to be true.”, I smirk and hear my brother laughing hard behind me, Phoenix has a grin on her face and Bob just looks confused.

“You look better since the last time we saw each other.”, I try to not let my emotion get the best of me but somehow this guy always managed to bring back everything up.

“Yeah, well I had help moving on.”, why the hell did I just say that? My brother also looks at me with a puzzled gaze and I try to figure out what to do next.

“Really, who?”, Rooster seems tense, and I feel satisfied that he seems angry that I found someone.

“Bob.”, my brother spits out the beer he was drinking while the rest looks in shock. Rooster looks confused and Bob looks like a scared animal once again.

“Who is Bob?”, I smirk at Rooster before going next to Bob and sending him a pleading look. Bob seems tense but his eyes soften as he probably sees the desperation in my eyes.

“That would be me.”, I had to say the guy had balls, he was looking Rooster straight in the eyes and wasn’t backing down.

“Well, I’m happy for you?”, it sounded more like a question, but I just whispered a thank you and put my head on Bob’s shoulder.

“You are dating him?!”, trust my brother for the dramatic ending as he screams trough the bar. Bob suddenly looks scarred, and I just put my hand on his arm.

“Yes, and verry happily so if you could just get over your ego that would help.”, Hangman has a sour look on his face but at my pleading eyes he grumbles under his breath before looking at Bob with a menacing look.

“You hurt her your dead!”, Bob nods quickly and I let out a soft laugh.

“Well, now that the introductions are done Bob and I have to talk really quickly.”, everyone starts to whistle as I drag Bob except Hangman who looks disgusted and Rooster who looks moody.

“Please use protection!”, my brother screams trough the bar and I feel everyone’s eyes on us.

“Don’t worry we already do.”, I look at Bob surprised but he just tugs me to the door with a gob smacked Hangman behind us.

We arrive on the patio and I’m a bit scared for the conversation to come, as I have dragged this poor man in this situation.

“So, want to talk about it?”, the kind smile he sends me reassures me and I start telling him what happened between Rooster and me.

“If I understand everything, you want to show him that you are good and that he doesn’t affect you at all when in reality it does.”, my cheeks grow red as I nod, and Bob let’s out a sigh.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to drag you into this I just panicked and then all of that happened.”, Bob nods softly before looking at me.

“What do you want to do?”, I’m surprised at the question and look at him wondering.

“I mean you clearly want to prove something and I’m apparently your only option.”, I laugh at that, and a cute grin appears on Bob’s face showing off his dimples.

“I don’t want to ask too much but we could pretend to be seeing each other for a week or two and then dramatically break up?”, Bob once again nods before looking at me with a soft look in his eyes.

“Let’s do that.”, I’m surprised at his answer and quickly ask him if, he’s sure.

“You seem hurt, and I want to help you out whichever way I can.”, I feel my heart melt at the words.

“But we should probably set up a few rules.”, if I didn’t like this man already I would, this guy was the definition of a gentleman.

We spend over an hour talking about the rules and the conversation quickly faded into conversations about our lives and careers. I didn’t want to leave but I knew that I had to be in form if I wanted to impress our trainer tomorrow, so I bid Bob goodbye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, thank you again.”, I suddenly feel shy, and Bob just sends me a large grin.

“See ya tomorrow and don’t worry I agreed to it.”, I nod and with a surge of confidence I kiss his cheek and see the WSO growing red.

“Goodnight Bob”, I don’t let him answer before leaving the parking lot not hearing a soft whisper in the wind.

“Goodnight Dawn.”

Should I take this a series?

#top gun movie #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #bob top gun #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #jake hangman seresin

[multiplefandomwritings]

blue

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

warnings: hurting, brief mention of depression, toxicity, no happy ending  

summary: blue is the color of waves, water and the ocean, and Max and you are both drowning.

notes: feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests!

disclaimer: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 5.6k

you are an ocean

a wild and wide ocean

and here i am

falling in

drowning in the depths

of who you really are

2023, late summer

You have not seen him in person for almost a year. You sit on a bench by the beach, where you have met in the best and worst times of your lives. The sand under is feet is softly crunching as he walks over to you. You know it is him by the way he walks. It is strange how the brain remembers, you think before he comes to a halt next to you. “Hey”, he says softly and sits down next to you. A couple of years ago he would have pulled you in a hug, a couple of months ago he would have pulled you in for a kiss. Today, he does neither. Above you, the sky is greyish blue, before you the ocean is dark blue. The sky is grey today - It is a stormy but beautiful day. Waves are crashing onto the shore; seagulls are squawking in the distance and neither of you says anything.

“It might rain later today”, you say, simply because you don’t know what else to say. He just nods. “How are you?”, you try again a few minutes later. “I am okay.” You shoot him a look and he lets out a dry chuckle. “No, really. I think I am truly okay this time. I am working on myself, who knows, in a few months I might even be more than okay.” You smile, and it is genuine. “I would love that for you”, you tell him, and you mean it. It hasn’t felt like this with him since quite some time, maybe, if you think about it, it never felt like that with him.

“How are you?” You sigh. “I think this is the first time I have felt like this in a long time.” “Like what?”, he asks you. “I cannot get over you, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever will. I don’t know if I want to at all. But, in the last months, for the first time since I have met you, I stopped missing your presence in my life.”

He swallows hard. “That is a good thing, I guess.” “For you at least”, he thinks to himself. “I love that for you”, he says, and he hopes he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels. You just smile, so he thinks maybe you haven’t noticed. You sit there in silence; it is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just exists, its everchanging, and all the same to him. His mind drifts to different times.

2015, summer

You are barely out of high school. It is the first summer after your graduation, you feel wild and free and happy. He is only barely older than you, not more than a year. You had met him at your graduation party, where he celebrated his younger sister. However, he didn’t pay much attention to her that day, rather talked to you the entire night. For him, it was love at the first sight, for you as well. He had asked for your number, and then for a date, and here you are.

Today, a slight wind is blowing, ruffling through your hair. It is summer, but the air is chilly and the sky not as blue as it is supposed be during these months. He cannot stop watching as you walk through the sand, your shoes in your hands and your hair all over the place. You turn around and look at him. He should feel caught, but he doesn’t. You watch him and under your gaze he shivers a bit. Then, you smile and his heart fills.

The sound of crashing waves fills the air, and for a moment you close your eyes. When you open them and look at him, you cannot help but notice the glimmer. His blue eyes are littered with little darker droplets, and they look like the waves in front of you. The two of you share a connection that feels magical, as if you've known each other for much longer than just a few weeks.

You walk over to a bench and sit down to watch the ocean. He feels like he is invincible, his life is better than good. He is an amazing race driver, the people call him a prodigy, and here he is, with a beautiful girl in his arms. His blue eyes stare at you while you look at the ocean, the waves slowly crashing onto the shore. He thinks he loves you. He doesn’t think he has ever felt this sure about something before.

2016, spring

Life is complicated, he is jet setting around the world, and you are studying at a university overseas. Your love is simple, though. Both of you are committed to make it work, and it does, somehow. Both of you are very young as well and your relationship is still new as well. But you want to see where it goes with the two of you. You talk almost every day, he sends you postcards from all around the world – you keep all of them in a box, they are your most prized possessions. You watch his races whenever you can, even though it means waking up in the middle of the night. He flies out to you whenever he can, you rarely visit him enough. He wants to protect you from the media, at least for now.

2016, early fall

“I cannot do this anymore!” you tell him. It is half a year later, and the honeymoon phase seems to be over. You never see him anymore, and when you see him, it doesn’t feel the same anymore. He is different now, more famous and people are drawn to him like a magnet. And he doesn’t tell them to stay away, even when he is with you. They draw him in just like he used to draw you in. He goes on so many parties, he changes, he is not the person you used to know.

The two of you fight more, and because you are still so very young, you don’t know how to communicate in your anger. You fight and you hurt each other, then you make up. It is draining, and you find yourself at the same point every other week. So, you decide to break up with him when you visit him the next time. And you do, and he doesn’t really say anything, he just listens and then lets you go. Your eyes beg him to keep you from going, to stop you from leaving, but he does neither and so you are leaving.

In between Christmas 2016 and the first days of 2017

The two of you are caught in a dangerous circle. Christmas is the time to reconcile and to forgive, so you text him “Merry Christmas” and it seems like he has waited for that opportunity. He asks how you are, and if you would be home for the vacation. You tell him that you are feeling okay, and that you are home. You tell him that you don’t think that meeting is a good idea. He does agree, in the end.

However, the city both of your families live in isn’t that big after all, so running into each other is almost inevitable. It is only half bad when both of you are Christmas shopping with your mothers. You exchange a few courtesies, some longing glances, and unsure smiles, and then you are off into different directions.

It is dangerous however, when the two of you meet on one of the dance floors of the clubs. There, alcohol is involved and your silent longing for each other crashes over you like waves whenever the two of you are drinking. Before you count to three, the two of you are making out in the bathroom of some club, consumed by love, hope, and desire. It happens more than once, and you feel terrible after every time. Yet you feel hopeful that you might be able to make it work, somehow.

By the end of the holidays, you need to go back abroad, and he needs to go back to racing, and you haven’t talked about what happened over the holidays. It might be better this way, but it kills a part of you. You know that he isn’t good for you, you know that this will end in a heartbreak, but you cannot stop thinking about him. He still texts every once in a while and you call him when you are drunk. He tells you that he loves you and you slur the same on the phone, but neither of you make the decision to get back together.

2017, spring

“I hope someday I will make it out of here”, you say and look at the ocean, “I hope one day I can forget everything I think I know about love, even if that means forgetting us, forgetting you.” The two of you are just about to begin the second decade of your life, you feel like you are on top of the world, like you can achieve everything. At the same time, a simple heartbreak feels like the end of the world. Or maybe it wasn’t a simple heartbreak, maybe this thing with Max was more.

It’s a warm spring day, you wear a light blue dress that gently moves with the wind. You look like an ethereal being, Max thinks, when you stand a few meters away from him, your lower calves are being caressed by the water. He wishes that was him touching you like that.  

You make a promise that day you would stay away each other for good. No more late-night calls when you were drunk, no more texting, even if it just to ask how the other person is doing. You want to treat each other like one would treat an addiction – by going into cold withdrawal. Both of you know that it wasn’t going to be easy, but none of you would have thought that it was going to be this hard.

2018, early in the year

A year later you agreed that you belonged together. It was quiet confession whispered into the darkness of a hotel room somewhere on this planet, and it felt like the two of you were the only people in the whole wide world. You had gone back to one another, relapsing despite both knowing that it would possibly end in disaster. But right now, it doesn’t feel like a disaster, it feels like the beginning of something beautiful. Together you can conquer the world, together you will manage to cross every ocean.

Your skin shines almost blue under the fluorescent light of the big city, the sheets white and clean and innocent. You are asleep and he holds you close to his chest, and it feels like this will last forever. At least he hopes so, he really does. The cityscape outside the window twinkles with bright lights, casting a vibrant glow into the room as you sleep peacefully in his arms. He holds you gently, feeling the rise and fall of your breath against his chest. In this moment, time stands still, and he allows himself to bask in the sheer bliss of your presence.

As the morning sun begins to filter through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden hue, he watches you stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, and a soft smile graces your lips as you meet his gaze. His eyes seem bluer than ever before under the soft light of this cold morning. Amidst the chaos of tangled sheets and limbs, he whispers to you, reaffirming his commitment to you. He kisses you with all he has in the hopes that this is enough to keep you with him, for now at least.

2018, winter

You smile at him, tears shimmering in your eyes. They don’t fall yet; they just get caught in your eyelashes. You are once again trapped in the same cycle of fighting and making up once that has brought you to your knees before. On top of that, you are struggling with yourself and him being away all the time. Your cold fingers are wrapped around the to go cup of some coffee place. You take a deep, shaking breath.

“Some days I just hate myself so much, that it almost paralyses me”, you say, a pained expression written across your face. He pulls you against his chest, where you take another shaking breath before you start to cry quietly. “Don’t hate yourself”, he tells you, “You are better than everyone else.”

Your quiet cries turn into sobs at his words. When you free yourself out of his grasp, you look at him and he is scared by how empty your eyes are. “I feel so, so terribly that I have even fooled you to think more of me than I am truly.” He shakes his head. “Stop!”, he tries to tell you, but it is like he is talking to a wall. “I cannot lose you”, he begs and now you shake your head. “I am sorry, but I am no good for you like this. I am in pain, and I need to heal. I need to heal for myself and not by relying on you.”

He gets a bit angry now, you can feel it. “But that is what a relationship is for, to rely on each other and help each other as much as possible!” You scoff. “It should be, but how is that supposed to work, Max? You are never here!” “You know that is not a fair argument, I have no other choice! But you on the other hand, you could come with me all the time, if you weren’t so –“, he stops himself. You take a step back to get a bit of distance between you and him. “If I wasn’t so what, Max? Stubborn? Selfish?” He rolls his eyes. “Now you are just putting words into my mouth! I don’t know what I was going to say!”

You scoff again. “Do you think I am stupid?” “No, but I think that you are selfish because you don’t want to come with me even though you have the time! I think that you are picking a fight over nothing right now because you don’t like the way your life is right now! And I think that you are overreacting, and that you are not really feeling that terrible!” He is really angry now, his eyes cold and his cheeks red. Your expression is almost blank. “Are you done?” He nods. “Good, because we are done!” You turn around and leave.

2019, spring

You haven’t heard from him for a few months. From his Instagram you can tell that he is out partying a lot. It can mean that he is over you, or that he is drinking his sorrows away. You find that it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. You have made new friends, and you found a job that makes you happy. You would claim to be over him, but you that would be a lie. You keep busy and occupy and don’t think about him as much anymore, what makes it all a bit easier.

Today, you arrive at home later than usual after an evening at the bar with your new colleagues. There is one of them you particularly like, he is really kind and even walked you home. You almost asked him to come up with him, but it is too early for that, you tell yourself. Closing the door to your apartment behind you, you take off your shoes when someone rings the doorbell.

You open, almost entirely sure it will be your colleague. When you look up, your gaze meets his blue eyes, and you almost close the door in his face. Only almost. He looks terrible, tired, and exhausted. “What do you want?” “Please,” he murmurs. “Please, let me love you.” His eyes search yours for any kind of answer, lips quivering. You don’t know what to say. He stands in front of your door and in all those years you have never seen him looking so lost.

“My life only makes sense when I am with you. When you are not there, I don’t know what to do with myself.” You let him and that night both while his wounds heal with every touch, every kiss you share, your wounds rip open with every caress and yet it feels exactly right.

2019, early summer

After that night you don’t talk to each other for a few months. One day, you run into each other at the market when you are out with your colleague, who is your boyfriend now. Max feels nauseous when he sees how happy you are with another man by your side. He wants to leave, but then you see him and like you want to rub your happiness into his face, you walk over to him. He plasters a fake smile onto his face and greets you.

“Max, meet John, my boyfriend!” John shakes his hand, seemingly excited. “Babe, you never told me that you knew the infamous Max Verstappen!” Max smiles again, it is crooked and doesn’t reach his eyes. “We used to date, actually!” You giggle, it is a bit shrill and so not like you, Max thinks. “That was a long time ago! Anyway, it was nice to see you again, Max!”

2019, fall

Neither of you know why, but the two of you get into contact again after that run-in. You tell each other about your lives and your struggles and confine in each other once again. You meet up for dinner occasionally, and you never tell John that you are meeting Max. You tell yourself it is because you don’t want to start an argument, but the truth is that you know that this is more than a simple dinner between friends.

Today is one of these days. John thinks you are out with your girlfriends, but you are sitting in the booth of some fancy restaurant. Until now, everything had gone smoothly. But now, you give Max a disappointed look. “What do you have against him?”, you sigh. Max had just made fun of John. He is silent for a minute, seemingly finding the right words. “He has everything I will never have”. You don’t have an answer for that, so you wipe your mouth with the blue napkin. Strangely enough, it has the same color as the dress you are wearing. Afterwards you fold it on your plate, neatly. “I think I have to go.”

“Yeah, of course”, he scoffs, “You always do that.” “Do what?” “You keep me close; you make me crawl back to you when you are alone. And then, when you have me at that spot, you find someone else to give your love to. And here I am once again, spilling my feelings to you, and you leave.” Now it’s your time to scoff. “This is the problem; you give me tiny pieces like this and call it spilling your feelings.” He stays silent. “You are just angry that I moved on before you did.” You get up and carelessly throw a few bills on the table. Then, you leave without another word.

He thinks that he has every right to be angry, because just a few months ago you had told that you had to find yourself before you anything else. But maybe you were just too kind to tell him that you had to find yourself without him. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, when he knows that this is all that matters. What he doesn’t know is that you never truly moved on. You were with John because he distracted you from Max, and he made you feel like you were worthy of love. But all you wanted was for Max and you to be together again.

2019, summer

It is a warm summer night where he lives. The days are so long now that the sky doesn’t turn dark at night, rather it is colored in a deep shade of blue. The phone rings and disturbs the comfortable silence of his balcony. He puts his glass of wine down, and when he sees your name on the screen, his finger lingers above the “decline” button for a while. Then, he decides to pick up.

“Yes?” “I am sorry”, you slur, “I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs. “You have a boyfriend, no?” He can hear that you take a shaky breath, and he knows that he has said the wrong thing. “He left me here by myself. I am alone and scared and I am sorry I called you, but I really didn’t know who else to call”, you say, and he can hear that you must be crying. “Where are you?”, he asks and gathers his things, “I will come and get you.” “Thank you”, you tell him, “Please drive safely.” He wants to hang up, but you say another sentence that makes him stop in his tracks for a second. “And Max? I might have a boyfriend, but he isn’t you. And he will never be you.”

When he finds you, you sit on a bench, bottle of water in your hand. The fresh air and the liquid have sobered you up. You look miserable, but he still thinks that you are beautiful in a strange sense. Your hair is pulled up into a messy bun and your sparkly blue dress clings to you. You carry your shoes in your hand when you get into the car. “Thank you”, you say, voice quiet. “Do you want me to take you to your place, or”, he takes a deep breath, “do you want to come to mine?” You don’t hesitate when you answer him, and it makes him regret the offer less. “Yours, if you really don’t mind.”

He does not mind, obviously. He could never mind you, really. You might broke his heart before, you might were going to do again, but he doesn’t care. He would do it all again for you, the heartbreak, the pain, if it meant another chance, another chapter written together with you. “About what I said before I hung up – “, you start, and he interrupts you. “No need to explain”, he says, “No hard feelings-“ “I mean it”, you say and his heart jumps in his chest. “You mean the world to me, Max. You always have and I think you always will.”

When you arrive at his place, you barely make it out of the car before his lips are on yours and you are once again drowning. He makes love to you that night for a long time, and afterwards you fall asleep in his arms. He tells you that he loves you, and you tell him that you love him. For one night, everything is okay and good. You both indulge in the notion of what is, what could have been, what might be. The next morning, you leave before he wakes up.

2019, fall

A few weeks later, he shows up at your door in the middle of the night. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I came here”, he says, and you let him into your apartment and into your arms without thinking twice. “I feel like I am drowning”, he tells you and you cannot help it, but your heart breaks a bit. “Everyone tells me I should be so happy, I am achieving what so few have achieved before me, but I couldn’t care less. All I want is to be worthy of your love, all I want is for you to love me. I want to be with you, I want to be what you deserve.” “Oh Max”, you say and rake your fingers through his hair. His head is resting in your lap, he holds onto you like you are his lifeline. “You are more than I will ever deserve.”

“And Max?”, you take a shaking breath, “You do not need to long for my love, you already have it all.” He sits up now, looking at you with his blue eyes. Currently, there is a storm of emotions present in them, and you want to look away, but his gaze holds you hostage. He gently leans forward and places a kiss to your slightly parted lips. Your body reacts on instinct, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

2020, summer

You are happy, truly. Max and you are better together than you have ever been before. All is well and all is good. Being with him doesn’t hurt like it used to, it heals you. Both of you have become better people, better partners, you are both trying hard, and it works. Sometimes, people deserve a few more chances than just two, you think as you watch Max walking towards the water.

You are spending a calm weekend in a house by the beach. The ocean is blue, the sky is even bluer, not a single cloud is visible. You think of all the good memories you have made with him, and it seems like you never had bad phases. You know that is far from the truth, but right now it feels like all the pain and hurt was worth it, because it all worked out in the end.

Max disrupts your trail of thought when he sits down next to you. “Hello, my love”, he says, and you smile up to him. You sit up to take a better look at him, bathing in his present. “I found something down there by the water, wanna see?” You nod, and he pulls out a little box. You are confused for a moment, until he opens it, and a beautiful ring is inside. “Oh my god, Max!”, you breathe out. “When I saw you for the first time, it was like I was walking into the ocean. The water was only gently caressing up my calves, but I wanted to dive in further and further. That night you were wearing a blue dress and you drew me in like the tidal waves. Every day I spent with you, I am falling in love more and more. You are beautiful and strong and powerful like the ocean, and I want to spend my forever with you. Do you want to marry me?”

2021, summer

It has been almost a year since he had asked you to marry you. For the remainder of 2020 everything had been better than well, but around the New Year, the two of you seemed to have taken the wrong path once again. You fell back into old habits, you fought more. Now, it is summer once again and this time, he decides that he cannot do it anymore. He tells you that you have become too much for him, that you are drowning him and that he cannot take it anymore. You don’t argue, you are happy that it is over. You leave him and move away, somewhere closer to the ocean.

2021, winter

It is a cold day. He sits by the usual spot on the beach by the water, two cups of hot coffee in his hands. You walk up behind him, sitting down next to him. “I am sorry I am late”, you say and acknowledges your apology with a nod. He holds a cup in your direction, you reach for it with blue gloves covering your hands.

“You look tired, exhausted”, he notices, and you chuckle. “Because I am!”, you answer, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Because the last months were rough. Because getting over you was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” “It doesn’t have to be like that”, he says – it slips before he can stop himself. He knows saying that isn’t really fair, after all he had been the one to end it this time. You shake your head, and he can tell that you are annoyed.

“Coming here was a mistake”, you say, “We need to stay apart, we cannot keep coming back to each other!” He wants to protest, but he knows that you are right. “I am sorry I asked you to meet.” You nod, grab your back and get ready to leave. Before you make your way home, you pull out a little box out of your pocket. “I still need to give this back to you”, you say and hand him the ring and then you leave.

When you are gone, he feels empty and angry. He regrets breaking up with you every day, but he is too proud to admit that to you or anyone else. He loves you so much that some days it feels like it is killing him. But he cannot do anything about it. He is too proud and too stubborn to crawl back to you, and his rational mind knows that it would ultimately end in another heartbreak.

2023, late summer

Now, a couple of years later he almost says out loud that you should’ve really stayed away then. It would have spared both of you a lot of heartbreak. But it would have also robbed you of many great moments together, moments were he felt like life was perfect and that he would never find a love like this again. But then, he thinks that he will never find a love like this again regardless. You are all he ever wanted, and all he ever needed. He cannot explain while he simply wasn’t able to keep you with him, while the two of you kept on slipping away, only to find your way back to each other after some time.

He thinks that maybe the two of you are like the ocean and the beach and the tidal waves. You are pulled towards each other by a strong force, but you also seem to never be able to stay with each other. He catches himself thinking that he wants to turn back time, but to what moment exactly?

The danger that he would find myself in one of the bad moments is way too likely. He thinks that instead it is for the best that he just accepts that this is and should be a final goodbye. That doesn’t mean that he won´t think about you every single day for the rest of his life, he doesn’t mean that he will ever get over you, but it means that he is okay with losing you now. It is for the best for him, and for you. And all he ever wanted and all he ever will want, is the best for you, even though that might not always have been obvious.

2022, early summer

You decide to give each other one last chance and he is determined to make sure that neither of you will regret it this time. You are hopeful, you are certain that the two of you could make it work, especially after your last chance even included engagement. He gives you back the ring in the very first week after you decide to get back together, so you are once again engaged. He carries you on his hands, and you try everything to give your all for each other. He wants to make it work; he wants all the best for you. He treats you like a queen; he buys you present and supports you the best he can. He does everything in his power to make you happy and be the partner you deserve.

The end of 2022

It does work for a good while. But somehow, neither of you can abstain of some old habits. You know each other too well, and that makes hurting each other a lot easier. Too easy if you think about it. You know it shouldn’t be this easy to hurt each other, but maybe you finally need to see the truth for what it is: the two of you might be made for each other, but maybe that is why it didn’t work. Amidst the perfection, there is boredom and the longing for more, which neither of you can explain. But it makes you challenge the relationship and each other.

2023, late summer

“Promise me, that we will wait for each other”, you murmur in the crook of his neck when you are saying goodbye to each other. “I promise”, he says and gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. You free yourself from the hug, but he feels like you have just freed yourself from him, from them. He knows this is goodbye, no matter how much he doesn’t want this to happen. It is better for him, he tells himself, but it doesn’t work. It is better for you; he tells himself and somehow that works. He knows he must let you go for good, so that you have the chance to find a life, a purpose, besides this.

You walk away through the sand and before you are gone forever, he has to say a few more words. “Wait for me, will you?” You turn around to look at him one last time. You smile, but he can see that you hold back a few tears. “As promised”, you say and nod. Then you turn away and leave. He is left behind, looking at the ocean. Violent waves are crashing onto the shore and that doesn’t reflect his feelings. He is sad, but he is at peace as well. He stays five minutes longer and then he leaves as well.

#formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #formula one #max verstappen fanfic

[talaok]

Steve can’t know(Chapter I)

Summary:Steve is your overly-protective older brother that is very opposed to you frequenting the wrong crowd, and especially to you dating Eddie Munson.Still, when you meet each other one day at lunch,it seems there is very little he can do to stop the inevitable.

Chapter summary:You meet Eddie for the first time while having lunch in the cafeteria with Steve and Dustin

Content warning:none

Chapter II   Chapter III   Chapter IV  Chapter V    Chapter VI   Chapter VII     Chapter VIII    

The room was dark and all you could see was the tree in front of your window and its leaves moving with the wind. Fuck, today was gonna be a cold one, maybe it would be better if you just skipped school today, I mean, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Just as that idea had crossed your mind the door slammed right open “Y/N!What are you doing?!”Steve shouted entering the room. He was basically ready to go, probably because he got up every day at about five just to make sure his appearance was “impeccable for the ladies”. “What” you mumbled from under the covers “what do you mean what? We are gonna be late! Get your ass up”

School this time of year was especially boring, all the tests were already done and now all you had to do was to sit in class pretending not to already know what the teacher was explaining. The hours went by excruciatingly slow and all you wanted to do was run the fuck out but you couldn't do that to Steve. As much as you liked to taunt him you loved your big bro and he really cared about you and your future, that to him had everything to do with how you graduated from high school.

Lunchtime came around eventually and you made your way to the cafeteria through the crowds of sweaty and gross teens. The line for the food wasn't long so you quickly took a slice of pizza and made your way toward steve's table. As you sat Dustin, who was next to your brother greeted you with an overly enthusiastic wave and immediately started rambling about what he had learned in chemistry. "Oh, hey Eddie!" you heard Dustin shout"Come sit with us!" "dude! What are you doing?" you heard Steve whisper, and In a matter of seconds, you found yourself sitting next to a stranger, a very interesting-looking one, for that matter.

"How is it going Henderson! They changed my lunchtime so I guess I'm going to sit with you now...and you Herrington" he said looking at your brother"...and you"He said turning his attention to you. As soon as he got one look at you his whole face changed, he cleared his throat and you noticed his eyes scanning your face, with particular attention to your lips. He bit his bottom lip" I don't think we have met sweetheart, because I'm sure I would remember such a beautiful creature if I'd have seen one. I'm Eddie" he introduced himself reaching out his hand "And you are?" he asked, his voice deeper than before. You took his hand to shake it but as soon as you did, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it looking at you straight in the eyes. You felt your cheeks redden, and just as you were about to answer his question Steve cut you off "Her name is Y/N and she is my sister so take your hands off of her before I make you Munson" You looked at Steve who was staring at Eddie with a deadly look in his eyes and while a part of you wanted to punch him right there and then you got where he was coming from and decided not to do anything. You turned to Eddie again," Sorry, he's just protective he isn't actually gonna hurt you" you tried reassuring him while giving your brother a dirty look"Don't worry Harrington, I wouldn't dare come between you and your family" Eddie explained with what seemed like an almost too serious tone, and just when you had started believing him he turned to you and subtly gave you a wink

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #smut #steve and dustin #dustin henderson

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 5 (HS)

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?

— all chapters of LYCAN —

Author's note: Here is a little update on my life. Mentally. I've been struggling with the death of my father and his absence in my life. In February, I'll be going into clinical rotation, and I find it very unfair that he won't get to see me achieve my goals. We've been studying cancer in class, and I always get this knot in my throat that has forced me to hide in the bathroom and cry my eyes out for the rest of the period. Surely, it has been almost FOUR years since his departure, but I miss him terribly, but my mom says it's all right and I can grieve for however long I want to.If you have lost someone in your life. I just want to say that I am very sorry and that I understand what you're going through and that you are not alone. 

Without further do. There is the chapter enjoy!

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warnings: mentions of abuse physical and mental.

words: 1.3K

She feared her father ever since she was a little girl. He was a scary man. Everything from the tone of his voice or the way that his face would contort when he was angry. Y/N had never been able to relate to the memories that most people had of their fathers. He frightened her to the core.

He sat up straight with his back resting against the headboard of the hospital. He looked just like the day she had left. His hair was long and still looked very scruffy. She was surprised to see him, so healthy. She had expected to find him attached to all different types of machines and probably on a ventilator, but he wasn’t. He looked very healthy to her.

”Who called you” were the first words out of his mouth. She could sense the contempt in his voice. She closed the door behind her and walked toward the feet of his bed.

"Your sister” She distastefully said as she took her coat off and purse and placed them on the chair for visitors. Her aunt wasn't the best person to hear from. Y/N had begged her aunt for years to allowed her to move in with her and her family. She never cared to see her crying or frantically running around in town trying to meet the demands of her father. “Said you were dying”.

“That’s why you are here? Because I am dying?” He laughed heartlessly, “let me just safe you some time. You aren’t mentioned in my will. You’ll get nothing. Goodbye”.

“I don’t want anything” Y/N crossed her arms across her chest and took a few more steps away from him. She felt like yelling. She felt like crying. His comment had made her blood boil. She looked out the window and noticed the same woods that had scared her the night before. They suddenly didn’t seem like a bad place to escape to.  “There is not much to give either” She giggled, referring to the large amounts of money that her father had wasted away in booze.

Y/N’s father no longer worked. He had been laid off after he had been caught very drunk during office hours. When Y/N’s mom had passed away, she had left a sum of money designated only with the purpose of helping to educated their daughter. Money that her father had used to get drunk.

“What? You now think you are better than us because you studied in some big, fancy college and live outside of town?” Robert laughed, “You are still the same useless and good for nothing girl that left this town. I am surprised that you haven’t been laid off. I thought you were here for money”.

“You think I want to be here?” Y/N asked him as she looked outside, purposely standing the farthest away from her father. Just in case, he decided to run up to her.

“You think I want to have you here?” He asked back. She was used to it. Y/N was accustomed to being put down by her father. She was used to his derogatory comments and wasn’t surprised.

“You think I want to drop everything that I have built for myself just to come see you?” She spat as her eyes finally met with his. “You have managed to pushed away anyone that has ever cared for you. I am the last person that you have left, and I hate it” Y/N cried, “I just thought that you didn’t want to die alone. But I guess you do”

Y/N grabbed her coat and yanked it on without saying a single word to Robert. It was obviously a big mistake to come see him. She regretted ever getting on the bus and picking up the phone that day. She grabbed her pursed and just as she was about to turn to leave. She noticed a man standing in the woods, staring up at her. She couldn’t tell who he was or recognized him because of the distance.

“Yeah. Go! Run away! That’s the only good thing you are good at! Just make sure this time to stay away!” He yelled as she shut the door behind him.

“Goodbye” She said to Robert and left the room without turning back once. However, she always had a slight amount of hope that her father would stop her from leaving and would apologize. Y/N sat down in the waiting room. She didn’t have the heart to leave him. She wasn’t him. But even though, Y/N could tell that he was watching her, she wasn’t fearful.

Y/N could see from the corner of her eye the nurses whispering and stealing glances. She could tell that they were speaking about her.  She settled down on the most comfortable and convenient chair in the room. She pulled her laptop out and indulged herself in work. Y/N waited outside for the majority of the day, and she would also get periodically updated by the doctors

She left the hospital around five in the afternoon. Y/N was starving and even though the coffees from the cafeteria were decent, she felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. She threw her bag in the car, and waited a bit to digest her emotions before getting on the road.

“Long day?” A raspy and manly voice startled her.

“You could say that” It was Harry walking towards her with a big toothy smile. He was wearing the same outfit as in the morning, but had changed into construction boots and his clothes were now dirty, “What are you doing here?” She asked him. She crossed her arms and took a step away from him. She was intimidated by his heavy and intense stare.  Y/N found him incredibly attractive. He was definitely out of her league, yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling of wanting to be close to him.

“The hospital is getting a new wing, and we were just looking over some constructions blueprints” He explained, he had been solving problems all day long. Harry was exhausted and couldn’t wait for the end. “How is Robert?”

“Fine” Y/N dryly responded, Harry could tell that his question had bothered her.

“Where are you heading now?”

“I was planning on having dinner with the Brown’s, but I guess it’s too early” She looked down at her phone. It was five-fifteen, which only meant that Mrs. Brown’s shift still haven’t ended.

“Wonderful. That’s means you have some time to kill. Let’s go get some coffee and a walk” He leaned off the car and started to walk towards his car.

“What?” She laughed lightly, “We don’t even know each other that well! I am not getting in a car with you!”

“But I am the mayor of the town. How bad can I be? People elected me” He pointed out with his lips slightly curved upwards as he walked back to her.

“So?” She crossed her arms, “You aren’t my mayor” Harry laughed and very intrigued where the conversation was heading.

“Ouch. That one hurt” He pressed his hand to his heart and winced dramatically. Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “Come on! I promise you won’t regret it”. He stretched out his hand out for her to take. 

She looked at him and then back to his stretched out hand. Every fiber in her, screamed to her to get back into her car. She didn't know anything about him! They had met less than twenty-four hours ago. He could be a creep. However, Y/N always played by the book. She never did anything outside of her comfort zone. 

Y/N always did what was right. 

TAGLIST: @harryssky1, @jerseygirlinca, @daphnesutton

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[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 1: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Luca Bruno/The Guardian

Word count: 3,325

Written by raelee / Posted May 13

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“I missed you,” he murmured into my ear, arms wrapped tightly around my body. This is how it always went. He never wanted to let me go after we hadn’t seen each other for weeks.

“Y/N.”

“I missed you more,” I whispered into his arm, giving it a soft kiss.

“Not possible,” he squeezes me, a giggle escaping both me and him.

“Y/N.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Mm, I should be getting up now so that Lando doesn’t see that I didn’t sleep in my room.” My words contradict my actions as I snuggle back into his arms.

“No,” he whines, then sighs. “I wish we could just tell him.”

“You know how that would go, Charles. He’s way too overprotective of me, and it would mess with your friendship.”

“My relationship with you matters more than my friendship with Lando.”

I sit up in the bed, his arms loosely falling around me. He watches as my feet press against the hotel carpet, rising to put my clothes back on.

“Y/N.”

“Hey,” his voice is tender as I pull my shirt over my head.

“Yeah?” I search for my keys.

“I love you.”

I pause. I really wish he would stop telling me that. He tells me that he loves me, he tells me that he cares about me, he tells me that he wants to be with him, but he knows that I can’t fully commit to him.

My hand snatches the keys from the dresser. “I’m not coming to the race next weekend. Good luck, Charles.”

The hotel room door slams shut behind me.

“Y/N!” I snap out of my thoughts to see my co-worker, Kylie, looking at me, an expectant look on her face.

“Uh, yeah?”

“I was trying to get your attention for like five minutes,” she responds, exasperated, then her face transforms into one of concern. “Is everything okay?”

Sometimes that happens. Sometimes I zone out, imagining what happened and what could’ve been. I wonder if I told Lando about my relationship with his rival, would he really have cared as much as I thought he would’ve? If I stayed in bed with Charles that morning, would I have called him three weeks later when I got the positive test back?

“Um, yeah,” I nod, noticing that she’s still not convinced, so I decide to tell her one of my other concerns. “Ada just has a bad diaper rash.”

“Oh no,” she pouts, then remembers our activity from the prior night, “How did my two favorite girls enjoy the park last night?”

“They always love it there,” I grin, the twins’ happy screeches playing through my head. “What were you trying to get my attention about?”

“Oh, the owner is coming in on Friday so Franny wants us to start making sure that everything looks good.”

I roll my eyes. This isn’t my favorite job that I’ve ever had- in fact, my favorite job was when I had time off between my A levels and college and I was able to travel with Lando to some of the Grand Prixs, acting as his little sister and private assistant. I loved being able to travel and see all of the different countries and cultures with my closest sibling.

But, this job pays the bills, and that’s what I need right now with me and two babies to feed, rent and supplies to pay for, and my college fees. I can find something that I love more once I graduate and get my degree in journalism.

“Sounds good.”

~

“Hi, how were they?” I ask the babysitter as I close the apartment’s front door behind me.

“They were great, as always,” Cheyenne looks up from her textbook, giving me a braces-filled smile. Everyone thought I was crazy for hiring Cheyenne to look after my two month old babies when I had to return to work and school- she was fourteen years old at the time and only had experience babysitting her cousin’s nine year old daughter.

But I didn’t have a lot of options. I moved to my current city for university, my friends have classes or work when I would have needed them to babysit, and I don’t really want help from my family by chance they notice the resemblance between my daughters and a certain Ferrari driver.

And when I saw the way that Cheyenne looked at the girls with pure adoration, I knew she was the perfect person to look after them.

“Do you need any help?” I ask, noticing that she’s working on her English homework.

“I don’t think so, we’re just learning about citations right now,” she makes a dramatic face and I giggle. “I should be heading home, though. They went to bed closer to eight.”

She makes her way out of the apartment and I close the door behind her, slipping off my shoes. I open the door to the room that the girls share, seeing them tucked into their little beds. Ada’s chocolate brown curls rest softly on her polka dot pillow, long eyelashes complimenting her button nose and closed walnut-colored eyes. The matching polka dot duvet is pulled up to her chin and her body lays completely still under it, like she’s a board.

My body awakes to the feeling of falling into clouds, velvet wrapped tightly around my naked form. My arm flings to the side of the nightstand that holds my phone charger, ready to grab the device to check my notifications.

Instead, it hits human skin. A face, actually. The face- well, I guess the person- groans in response.

I roll over, expecting to see a stranger, someone who I just shared the night with, so we can maybe go for one more round, exchange pleasant goodbyes, and be on our way to never seeing each other again.

But I recognize who I’m laying next to.

Charles Leclerc. Driver for Scuderia Ferrari. Number 16. Someone who my brother has been racing against since their younger years, the competition sometimes getting just as heavy as their friendship.

Lucy, on the other hand, is sprawled across her bed, one little arm up and across her pillow and the other arm hanging off the side of the bed. Her straight honey blonde hair- God knows where she got that from- drapes across the pillow, hiding the unicorns beneath. Her jaw drops, making her face look even rounder than it usually looks, and her eyes are clenched tight, keeping those beautiful hazel eyes out of view.

I expect some sort of reaction from him. Maybe a look of shock, horror, distress, regret, anything besides the one that I see. A smile spreads across his face once we make eye contact and he buries the side of his head deeper into his pillow.

“Good morning,” he greets me.

“Charles,” I whisper-shout in utter shock. I don’t know why I’m whispering in the first place- this just feels like something you have to whisper about.

His smile fades and is replaced by a look of concern. “What?”

“What happened last night?”

“We had sex,” he states like it was obvious, “Really, really good sex.”

“Oh God,” I put my hands over my face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching out to remove one of my hands from my face, holding it in his own hand.

It’s crazy to me how similar yet different they are at the same time. They grew in my belly at the same time, they were born on the same date, they share the same last name. But beside that, they both prefer vanilla over chocolate, Encanto over Frozen, cats over dogs.

“This can’t happen again,” I respond, stepping out of the bed and hurrying around the room. I want to get out of this room before Charles and I have sex again- that morning glow really suits him.

“Why not?”

I turn to him in disbelief, seeing him sitting up in the bed and leaning back on his hands. He stares at me with an oblivious look on his face, like he really doesn’t understand what’s wrong with that question.

But while Lucy’s my out-spoken wild child who’s not afraid to tell you how it is and what her true thoughts are, Ada’s very shy and compassionate, keeping her thoughts to herself. I’ve caught Lucy on the playground before, her little body in front of Ada’s little body, protecting her from the older toddlers that wanted to play with the exact same bucket and shovel that Ada was playing with.

“Why not?” I repeat, watching him nod. “Because you race against my brother, Charles.”

“So?” He scoffs. “Lando’s a big boy, he can deal with it.”

I sigh, shaking my head as I finish getting dressed. “Just- I just- no, I’m sorry, Charles.”

At the sight of Ada shifting under the covers, I quietly close the door, heading towards the kitchen. I throw together a quick sandwich, pulling my textbook and laptop out and sitting down at the kitchen table to finish some homework while eating. I hope to be sleeping before 2 A.M. tonight, but knowing the amount of coursework that I have to do and the fact that I haven’t prepared the girls bags for daycare tomorrow, I doubt that’ll happen.

I’m two pages into a five page essay when my phone rings with an incoming FaceTime call from my younger sister, Flo. I don’t talk to my family a lot anymore. When I told them about the pregnancy, they, understandably, reacted with disappointment and rage because of my age and the father being out of the picture. And when they found out that I was having twins, it worsened.

My parents are begrudgingly supportive now, and my siblings have been more supportive than them from the start, but I’m still stand-offish with them out of resentment of how they first reacted. When I first told my family about the pregnancy, I refused to tell them who the father is, and I still do every time they ask- which my parents ask often.

It’s hard because Lando and I used to be so close. We’re the closest in age, so we had a lot of the same friends and similar interests growing up. When I first refused to tell them about the father, he begged me to just let him know, and that he wouldn’t tell anybody else. And when I moved for university while pregnant, he pleaded with me to just let him financially support me. I refused both offers, and slowly limited our phone calls from every night to once a month.

It’s just difficult to hear his voice. I know he wants the best for me, and I know he wants me to stop pushing the family away, but if I reveal who the father of my daughters is that’ll change everything.

“Hi,” I answer the FaceTime call before it times out.

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of potato chips. “What are you doing?”

“Just studying. What about you?”

She starts explaining a recent fight she had with her boyfriend to me, and I try to be an active listener, but I can’t help but yawn towards the end of it, the exhaustion from the long day getting to me.

Luckily, she laughs. “Is my story really that boring?”

“Sorry, Flo, it was super busy at the restaurant today,” I apologize.

She finishes her story and I provide her some sisterly advice- break up with him.

“I know, you’re probably right,” she exhales, “How are my nieces?”

“They’re good. Their new favorite thing is running really fast,” I laugh, the images of their tiny legs carrying them from one end of the apartment towards the other, then back again, flashing through my mind.

She lets out a cooing noise at the thought, then we’re left in silence. She clears her throat, a tell tale sign that she’s about to start a hard conversation.

“So, Lando is racing at Silverstone in a couple of weeks,” she begins.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I respond nonchalantly, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart.

“The whole family is planning on being there.”

“Good for you.”

“Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Will you be at Silverstone? To support Lando,” she questions.

“Oh, uh, I think I have exams the week after, so I’ll probably need to spend that time studying,” I lie, my stomach squeezing. I hate lying to them, but I don’t know any other way to get out of this. We haven’t gone to one of Lando’s races as a whole family in a couple of years- so I expect that getting out of this one is going to be really difficult.

“I already checked your school’s calendar and it’s weeks before your exams. Come on, why don’t you want to go with us?” She asks softly, hurt soaking into her voice.

I don’t respond, blinking back the tears. It tears me apart to have such a poor relationship with my family. We used to be so close, but I know my daughters emotions and well-being is my priority.

“Just- please? Lando wanted to ask you himself but he said the last time he called you didn’t pick up and then you didn’t return his call. And the time before that, you talked to him for five minutes before ending the call. He wants to see you, Y/N, he wants to see you and Lucy and Ada,” she pleads.

I wipe the tears from under my eyes, trying to appear as subtle as possible. Flo’s face drops, obviously catching the action.

“Fine,” my voice is barely audible. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“He’ll really enjoy that, Y/N. We’ve missed you,” she encourages.

“I have to get back to my homework,” I respond, pushing down the way my chest tingles at her words.

“Okay. Love you, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

~

I must not have been as drunk as I thought I was that night that I had sex with Charles. Every time I’ve had sex with a guy since that night, that’s all I’m comparing it to.

His grip wasn’t as gentle as Charles’ grip, he didn’t speak as lovingly as Charles did, he avoided eye contact with me the whole time while Charles made sure to stare right into my eyes.

Maybe that’s why, when I joined Lando a few races later, I ended up standing outside of Charles’ hotel room door at midnight. I had subtly asked Alex Albon for it earlier, knowing that if this night went how it’s been going the previous couple of weeks, I would need it.

And here I am. Knocking on Charles Leclerc’s hotel room door two nights before a Grand Prix, interrupting his much needed sleep.

“Y/N?” He opens the door, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Um, not really,” I bite my lip, wobbling from my heels to my toes nervously.

He notices, stepping aside and motioning with his arm for me to step inside. “Come on in.”

I step inside the room, taking note of how large and luxurious it looks in the dim light of the nightstand’s lamp.

“This is your room?” I gawk. “Shit, my room’s got a bed, mini fridge, TV, and that’s it.”

He chuckles at that, closing the door and taking a step closer to me. “Did you just come to my hotel room to look at the size?”

I bite my tongue to keep from saying the dirty joke that’s in my mind.

“No. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away,” he leans against the wall, green eyes studying me.

I’ve never spent that much time with Charles before, at least not one-on-one. Sure, we’ve gone to a few clubs together with a couple of the other drivers, and Lando will let me play video games with Charles, Alex, and George once in a while. But I’ve never stood across the room from Charles Leclerc, our eyes burning into one another, waiting for the other one to physically move across the room to get closer.

“That thing that you did with your tongue,” I don’t even need to describe much further than that before the smirk spreads across his face, “Where did you learn that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

I nod.

“Pierre taught it to me.”

I stare at him, bewildered. “That leads me to so many more questions.”

He laughs. “Ask away.”

“How did that topic even come up?”

“My last girlfriend wasn’t too happy in the bedroom and we were looking for ways to make it better. She found that in another man, but I tried with the tongue thing,” he looks down, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he clears his throat, lifting his head back up. “What are your other questions?”

I pause. “Actually, I think that was it.”

He laughs again, standing up straight. “Well I have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” I repeat his words.

“How do you manage to look so beautiful in a sweatshirt and pajama pants with ice cream cones on them?” He questions, taking a step closer to me.

My eyes widen, looking down at my outfit. Shit, I forgot to change before coming down here. I was trying to sleep before I decided to just fuck it and go get fucked.

“Damn it,” I whine at my mistake.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute,” he grins, taking another step closer to me.

I smile softly back at him. He raises one hand up to my chin slowly, letting me take a step back if I want to. I don’t. His thumb gently touches my skin and it’s like fireworks explode at the touch. Our eyes both widen at that.

His other hand rests softly on my hip. He takes another step closer to me. His eyes skim all over my face, making sure that I want to do this, especially after what I said to him last time. My nod is barely noticeable, but he sees it.

His head bends down, and mine leans up, our lips meeting in the middle. I remember the kiss being sloppy last time, full of lust and desire to just have sex with each other. But this time, it’s slow, passionate, and emotional. We’re getting to know one another in a more intimate way.

“Do you want to do this again?” He pants into the skin of my neck once we finally part, both running out of breath.

“Yes, do you?”

“Of course, mon amour.”

“Mama,” a little voice yells out. I jolt from my seat, looking around in confusion. My laptop had automatically turned off, drool leaking onto the textbook page my head was laying on. I curse quietly, hoping that I don’t get a fee from the textbook rental company for the water stain.

“Mama,” the voice calls out again.

I rise from the chair, hurrying down the hall and opening the door to the girls’ room.

“Morning, baby,” I smile at Lucy as she sits up in bed, her blonde hair sticking out in every direction from her restless sleep. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

She nods, holding her arms out to me. I pull her into my arms. “Let’s go out into the kitchen so that we don’t wake your sister.”

She nods again, resting her head on my shoulder. I rest my head on top of hers lovingly, going over everything that I have to do today.

I have to get the girls ready for daycare, drop them off at daycare, go to class, go to work, and finish that five page paper by midnight. I sigh, already feeling the stress run through my veins.

It doesn’t help that I have thoughts of Charles on top of everything else.

Message me to be added to the tag list :)

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#f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #sfrthegirls

[magicshopaholic]

Baby, It's Cold Outside (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Something's up with Taehyung. Despite her best efforts, Dilara can't help but be curious.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst and something else

Word count: 6.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, themes, mentions of heartbreak, infidelity, online hate

A/N: It's cold, and writing this made me feel just a little warmer. I wasn't planning on releasing this so soon but it's the end of the year and I'm feeling a lot of gratitude in general, including for my readers - so this one's for you lot. Hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a wonderful New Year :)

This fic begins a couple of days after The Reason.

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

Listen to: "ocean eyes" by billie eilish

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

The subtle shift after Dilara’s confession is… well, subtle. She doesn’t notice it at first, mostly because Taehyung continues to keep his distance from her like she’d asked. She can’t tell if he’s told the others anything because they don’t act any differently around her. No, the change is in Dilara, in her behaviour. It doesn’t become clear to her until she hears him laugh one day in the kitchen and her heart skips a beat, and she realises that she’s stopped leaving the room the moment he comes in.

I don’t hate you. It’s not a huge insight, to be honest. If she’d hated him, truly hated him, she would’ve made sure he wouldn’t have the nerve to approach her at all, let alone stand all hauntingly and sexily right behind her as he murmured an apology in that deep, raspy voice that makes her feel some kind of way. It did look like news to him, if the confused look on his face was any indication. She remembers what Namjoon said: He was devastated about your break-up, of course, but seeing you so broken up about it changed everything. 

Thinking about it doesn’t help, though. His apology is just that - an apology. She still doesn’t know how he feels about him or how he feels about her, irrespective of what Jimin and Namjoon might say. She doesn’t know if she forgives him and she definitely doesn't know what she wants after that. Dilara becomes increasingly aware of the fact that this PR activity is only until Japan, which is another month away. After that, he goes back to his life and she goes back to hers, and they only interact in the limited capacity of Red Bull driver and Red Bull ambassador. She tries not to think of it as a deadline.

Nurburgring is as cold as ever. It’s also as small as every other European town they’ve lived in so far, so it isn’t surprising that even though the house they’ve got has a gigantic backyard with a lake beyond it, all eight of them stay huddled inside, constantly cradling a mug of something hot in their hands. Therefore, it’s to her surprise when she comes out of her room after a hot shower to see nearly all the guys huddled in the kitchen, surreptitiously peering out the window.

Dilara frowns as she sidles up behind Jungkook, who immediately steps aside to give her space. She spots him immediately, of course; Kim Taehyung, looking like a painting even in slippers and joggers, sitting in the grass, face unreadable from the distance as he stares out at the frozen lake.

“Is that -” But as usual, Dilara can’t say his name. “What is he doing out there? He’ll get hypothermia.” She looks up at Jungkook, practically demanding an answer.

“Um…” He looks conflicted, looking to the older members as though asking for permission. 

“Of course you can tell her,” says Jimin in an uncharacteristically low voice, continuing to look outside in worry.

Namjoon sighs. “His, uh, his sister graduated high school and - and he didn’t know,” he explains. “Then he called home and… well, I don’t know what happened after that.” He gestures to Taehyung outside. “He didn’t say anything. He’s been sitting out there ever since.”

This can’t be good. Even without knowing the whole story, Dilara feels her heart crack just a little bit. All through their short-lived relationship, he’d never really spoken much about his siblings. His parents, yes. His grandparents, a lot, with affection and sadness all put together. But the few times that he’d brought up his brother and sister at all, it mostly revolved around ancient childhood memories, pre-debut, because those were the only ones he said he had. When she’d once asked him what their relationship was like now, he’d taken a long time to answer before simply saying “Not much” and proceeding to shut down for the rest of the day.

Dilara had drawn basic conclusions of her own, resisting the urge to ask any of the others, but she’d never brought it up with him again. Now she remembers why. It’s familiar, this sort of worry spreading through her. 

“Is he…” No, he’s not. Of course he’s not okay. She bites her lip and tries again. “Does he want to be left alone?”

A little distance away, Yoongi scoffs, not unkindly. “Not by you,” he says, too knowingly for her liking.

The next thing she knows, she’s walking across the backyard, clenching her fists in the cold. There’s no wind, thankfully, but she can see her breath when she exhales, pearly white, as she approaches the lone figure. She stops a few feet away from him.

Taehyung doesn’t even look up. “Jeoligayo, Jimin-ah,” he snaps, and she flinches. She forces herself to stay, though.

“Wrong alcoholic,” she says steadily, keeping her eyes trained on him as his head snaps up to look at her in shock.

“What are you -” He swallows, pushing his thick black glasses up his nose. “Why are you here?”

Dilara shrugs. “No reason. Can I sit?”

His eyes narrow. “I don’t need your pity,” he mutters flatly.

She frowns. “I’m not pitying you. I’m not even sure what’s wrong with you.”

“Oh, sure,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking back at the lake. “You just happen to want to sit with me right now after avoiding me for weeks.”

Dilara huffs and rolls her eyes, even as hope bubbles in her stomach. This bickering, snapping, the sarcasm - this Taehyung she knows how to handle. This is her Taehyung, she thinks, before she nearly blanches. When on earth did she start thinking of him as her anything?

“You’re still here,” he states.

“Well done. Now can I sit here or not?”

“No.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You really want me to leave? Because I’ll do it.”

He turns back up to look at her, face smoother and stonier than ever. “Fine. Do it. Go.” His voice cracks on the last word.

As Dilara watches him turn back around, she makes up her mind. She knows he isn’t going to budge, even if he feels differently. He’s stubborn, and he’ll sit here all night if it means keeping his pride, lashing out at everyone the more hurt he is. It was like living with the grinch. A mean, petty, heartbroken and very handsome grinch. It’s unfortunate but true, so she shifts to his right and, keeping a decent five foot distance between them, drops to the ground and folds her legs.

Taehyung turns to look at her incredulously. “Seriously? Why did you ask if you’re going to do what you want anyway?”

“You don’t own the backyard,” she reminds him. “I can sit where I want. Why don’t you leave?”

“Because I was here first.”

“Fine, then stay there. I’m all the way over here,” she points out, gesturing to the distance as if it were a trench and not a short distance from where she can still smell his cologne. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

He scoffs again but doesn’t say anything, folding his arms across his chest. The situation feels familiar, but also different. Taehyung and Dilara, suppressed sadness, misdirected anger, and patience. Endless patience. Her heart gives a feeble jolt when she realises this is Monza, where she knew she’d be missing an iconic race on the calendar, where she was injured, where Taehyung drove her, waited for her, fed her and sat through her endless bitching because he knew she was hurting.

She knows the circumstances aren’t exactly the same. She hasn’t cheated on him, she hasn’t hurt him. But no matter what he’s done to her, this… this situation with his siblings isn’t about them at all. Just like Monza wasn’t about them.

Bracing herself for another snappy reaction, she scoots over next to him so their shoulders brush. He doesn’t disappoint.

“What are you doing?” he asks, although this time she detects more surprise than annoyance.

“It’s freezing,” she tells him, exhaling shakily to prove her point, “and I need some bodily warmth.” She waits for him to disagree or make some sarcastic comment, but when he doesn’t, she leans back against the rock and they sit together awkwardly.

It’s still not enough, though. Dilara knows Taehyung, despite her best efforts at pretending otherwise. He’s been vulnerable with her before and she knows what he needs. She remembers a year ago, on her last day in California: a fight, followed by making up with hours of sex, a shower, and sleep. The entire time, he hadn’t let go of her once.

Even at night, when they’d barely exchanged two words, he’d held her close, forehead pressed to her hair, breath warm against her shoulder as they silently prepared to separate yet again. Skinship, it seemed, made him feel better, secure, loved.

Conversely, in Monza, she needed space. He’d given it to her, even though she’d seen his hand reach out for hers multiple times before he’d suddenly remembered that he couldn’t take those liberties anymore. She can, though. She doesn’t think she’s wrong, and right now her heart aches too much for him to not at least try.

So, before she can change her mind, Dilara reaches over and slips her hand into his, and drops her head onto his shoulder. The moment her fingers touch the back of his hand, though, he flinches. She realises her hands must be freezing; they always are, whereas his are always warmer than usual, like now. M-m, under the shirt, she remembers whispering to him more than once, feeling him grin silently against her skin, knowing he loved it when she asked.

“Sorry,” she mutters, going to release his hand but before she can, Taehyung’s fingers tighten and he gently tugs, resting their clasped hands on his lap. Her heart races, especially when he brings his left hand on his lap as well and covers the back of hers, warming it.

They haven’t been this close physically since he’d helped her walk in Monza. He feels warm, comforting; she has to resist the urge to turn her head and inhale his scent. The familiar lotion and cologne smells like a home she’s moved out of. She wonders if she should ask him what happened, but a part of her feels like it’s none of her business.

He’s letting you sit here, isn’t he? Even if Dilara assumes Jimin and Namjoon’s theory is correct, that he does still feel the same way about her, this isn’t a topic he’s super forthcoming about. Still, her mind goes back to how Jimin had said Jungkook could definitely tell her, or how Yoongi was sure Taehyung didn’t want to be left alone by her. But she also doesn’t want him to push her away again. For once, she’s able to think about him without letting her anger or hurt get in the way, and it feels too rare and precious to disturb. She considers asking him softly if he wants to talk about it when he speaks.

“She doesn’t want me to come.” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse and shaky. She gathers he’s talking about his sister, that she doesn’t want him to come to her graduation… Dilara wants to sigh, mostly because she has no idea what to say. From the limited information she has about this, she knows his siblings don’t have the best relationship with him, from harbouring resentment for being away, to having no room for him in their lives. 

He sniffles, and she feels lost, not knowing what to say or what comfort to offer. With her free hand, she grasps his arm and wraps her fingers around it, squeezing his lean bicep gently and rubbing her thumb on his sweater. Her heart hurts; she doesn’t like seeing him in pain. She never has. Even when they were together and he liked to be the one taking care of her, she started preferring it just because it was too hard the other way round. His bottom lip would quiver, his eyes would well up, the tip of his nose would go red and she’d be powerless to stop the pain.

They stay there for a while in the cold, sitting beside each other in the closest physical way in over half a year. Dilara’s mind drifts to their time in Japan; another cold weekend surrounded by the circus that was Formula 1 and BTS, while she and Taehyung shared their own private, intimate space, falling in love without even realising it. A cold breeze blows and she shivers.

“Are you cold?” Taehyung asks softly, turning his head slightly, probably to not disturb where hers is resting on his shoulder. 

Dilara lifts her head up, though, and takes her hand off his arm. “Um… no,” she lies, not wanting this to end.

“You have goosebumps,” he murmurs, turning their clasped hands around so hers is on top and pushing back her sleeve a few inches above her wrist, as if to show her proof. He’s right; as his long fingers brush her skin, the bumps become even more pronounced.

Quickly pulling her sleeve back down, Dilara turns their hands over and pushes his sleeve up. “You have goosebumps, too,” she points out, a bit more defensively than she intended. 

Taehyung chuckles quietly. “It’s not a competition.”

“Not a close one.” Her fingers touch something cold and when she moves her hands a bit, the dim moonlight brings a familiar ring into view, resting on his index finger. Her heart twists, and next to her, Taehyung stiffens. 

Dilara tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looks up at him. Their faces are incredibly close. “Will you be okay?” she asks softly.

Taehyung nods, eyes flickering with emotion. “Why did you -” He breaks off, looking away for a moment. “Thanks for… for this.”

She bites her lip. “You know this doesn’t change anything.” As she says it, she hears the disappointment in her own voice.

“I know,” he nods. “But thanks anyway.”

She nods slowly and, involuntarily, her gaze flickers to his mouth before she immediately brings it back up to look at him. He’s looking at her too meaningfully, with far too much tenderness and regret. Dilara’s aware that at least some of it is an aftereffect of an emotionally heavy evening with his family, but as their breaths condense in the air and mingle with each other, she finds she’s afraid to find out how much of it is for her.

This time, Taehyung’s eyes fall to her mouth before coming up to meet hers, a lot slower than she did. A strand of blond hair has escaped his cap and she imagines brushing it back, maybe lightly touching his face, tracing the contours of his cheekbones...

They’re about to kiss. She knows it. His eyes are half-lidded and his face is closer than it was a moment ago. Butterflies erupt in her stomach and she suddenly feels shy as his lips slowly approach hers… and she doesn’t back away.

They’re interrupted by footsteps, loud ones that jerk them out of their trance. She snaps up to see Jin and Jimin approaching them. “Gwaenchanayo?” Jin asks tentatively.

Suddenly realising they’re still holding hands, Dilara immediately lets go of Taehyung’s and stands up, brushing herself off. “Yeah, everything’s fine. He’s all yours,” she tells them before hurrying back inside.

---

Dilara doesn’t want to know what Taehyung’s reaction was to being interrupted. If she knows him, it was a mixture of annoyance at his friends, regret at not acting faster with her, and some amount of apprehension at how she will react later.

She doesn’t stick around to find out, though. The next morning, Qualifying day, Mick Schumacher and Max Verstappen pick her up from the house to go to the paddock together. She sees Mick standing outside the car, blond and beautiful, looking like a Disney prince as he smiles and waves to her. Behind him, Max scowls at his phone as he types something, looking up only to politely nod his head at someone behind her.

“Good luck today,” says Namjoon to all of them when she turns around to see him emerge with a book in his hand. He gives her a momentary look that seems too meaningful to be a coincidence, before smiling and waving as they leave.

BTS don’t come to the paddock today. Dilara isn’t sure, but she suspects they’re filming a Run episode and irrespective of what their PR arrangement is and the fact that she doesn’t understand Korean anyway, the staff would rather not have her around.

She does get good luck texts from Jimin, Seokjin and Hoseok, the latter also adding an additional line about watching out for this episode when it airs just to be entertained by what a bad mood Taehyung is in. It’s exasperating how temperamental he gets, but there’s also a secret pride that she can’t help but feel at the suspicion that his mood could be this bad because of the kiss that almost happened… and the cold shower she suspects he needed to take after it.

Dilara needed to, if she’s being fully honest. She didn’t because it was freezing, but later that night under the covers with the lights off, for the first time in weeks, she’d brought out of her suitcase a most loyal of travel companions. In the brave hope that the thick blankets would be enough to mask the sound of the vibrations, Dilara, for the first time in months, pictured her ex-boyfriend with no guilt or shame, the memory of how her stomach had fluttered at the thought of kissing him overpowering everything.

In hindsight, Dilara doesn’t know how she would’ve responded if he had kissed her. For that reason alone, she’s relieved they were interrupted. But the momentary warmth she’d felt with his body so close to hers had been unbearably stirring, his voice deep and husky as he murmured in the dark, their fingers intertwined, his slender hand still on her wrist, how his jaw tightened just a bit as he looked down at her mouth…

As expected, Qualifying is tough. The temperature is unbearable and no matter how many blankets the pit crew covers the tyres in, they just aren’t hot enough. Two pairs of cars crash into each other, while the remaining drivers just try to hang on and wrap up the least productive Qualifying session ever.

It’s not a good Qualifying for Dilara - but not because of her result. Max snags P3 and she finishes P4, a good result considering, despite a frustrating hour of being able to get no heat into her stupid tyres. A racing incident ends up ruining fan favourite Lando Norris’s Q3, though, and while she doesn’t think it’s her fault, he’s still in P10. 

Dilara just knows her phone is going to blow up with hate from his fans. The post-Qualifying interview is terrible as well; she stutters and uses the wrong words that the anchor, Paul di Resta, immediately picks up on, and she overall ends up sounding rather defensive about the whole thing.

The debrief is shit, too, although not because of Christian or Helmut saying anything to her. They discuss her mistake but quickly move on to how they can spin it for tomorrow, with the constant question hanging over the team about how on earth they’re ever going to be able to race in such freezing conditions.

Mick and Max drop Dilara home after Quali, all three of them in relative silence which she’s thankful for. When she enters the house, it’s to the entire group in the living room and kitchen area, who conspicuously lower their voices at the sight of her. At first, she assumes they don’t want her to hear and she’s about to remind them that she doesn’t understand Korean. Then when she sees Jimin and Jungkook looking up at her from near the television with big, concerned eyes, it occurs to her that they might have seen Qualifying - and her interview after.

She doesn’t want to talk about it, though, with anyone. She silently waves in greeting and trudges to her room, shutting the door and heading straight for the shower. She turns the water to the hottest setting, welcoming the scalding water after a day of cold sweat and online hate.

It’s only after a long and elaborate moisturizing routine that Dilara realises she’s forgotten to pick up food from the track, meaning she has no dinner. Panic grips at her chest for a moment because she can’t not eat the night before a race, and the exhaustion makes her want to yell. Then, as if the universe has heard her and thrown her a bone, she smells something exquisite. She can’t tell what it is exactly, but it smells like soup and chicken curry, and her stomach rumbles in hunger.

Dilara puts her ear to the door, hearing nothing. It’s unheard of to have three or more members of BTS in a room and have this much silence, meaning it might just be safe to go out. Opening the door a crack and vaguely wondering why she’s being so dramatic, Dilara spots a lone Min Yoongi in the kitchen, quietly preparing dinner.

Her stomach rumbles again and she tries to count herself lucky that he, at least, will not probe her about today. The rest of her tries to gather the courage to actually step out of her room and open her mouth to ask him what she wants to. When she reaches the edge of the kitchen, she stops. If he’s seen her, he isn’t acknowledging it.

“Do you need some help?”

Yoongi looks up, hands still shaking some kind of powder into the pot on the stove. He frowns vaguely.

It’s not the reaction she was hoping for but it’s only then that she peers into the pot to see something vaguely orange bubbling away. Next to him, there’s a cutting board with two slabs of meat on it. “What are you making?” she asks curiously, frowning as she tries to place it.

He takes a moment before answering. “Dwaejigogi-jjigae.”

Dilara bites her lip. “Oh… I don’t - I don’t know what that is.”

He raises an eyebrow, now reaching for a cup of water. “You dated two Koreans and you don’t know what dwaejigogi-jjigae is?”

“Who’s the second? Chris?” she exclaims, thinking she might throw up. “God, no.”

“Not Chris,” says Yoongi calmly. “The other one, in Yeongam.”

Oh. Jaden. That’s even worse. “Oh,” she replies, not knowing what else to say. “How do you know about that?”

“The first one spotted you there,” he says wryly, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

So Taehyung had seen them snogging in the parking lot. She doesn’t know how to feel about that now. “Oh, yeah. Well… it didn’t really go anywhere,” she says vaguely. For some reason, she doesn’t want Yoongi to think she was at all serious about Jaden. She clears her throat. “So, do you need some help?”

Yoongi stares at her with narrowed eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the pot. “Is this about what I said in Imola? Because it’s none of my business.”

“No, I know. I mean, it’s not - it’s not about that,” she says lamely, wishing she would stop stuttering. “I just… well, why don’t you want help?” she asks, changing tacks.

“It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that apart from Jin hyung, you’re literally the first person in this house that’s ever offered to help out in the kitchen,” he explains, sounding fairly unbothered by the fact. “And I’ve been around these kids for too long not to get suspicious.”

Dilara isn’t sure how she feels about being lumped with the kids, although she guesses for Yoongi it’s only natural. It suddenly makes her feel like she'd rather tell him the truth. “I’m really hungry,” she blurts. “For - for home-cooked food.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “You’re offering to help because you want food?”

She hesitates. “I mean, it’s not like an Oliver Twist kind of situation.”

“You didn’t think I’d give you food unless you helped?” He tilts his head as he looks back at her, looking curious. “Do you really think I’m that much of a dick?”

“No, of course not,” she replies hurriedly, realising what it must sound like. “I’m just… I’m not… I’m not really hanging out with you guys right now, so I guess I don’t think it’s fair if I… I mean, I should…” She trails off, now feeling truly embarrassed. It occurs to her that even if she does get food, she’ll probably have to sit with them while she eats it. “You know what? It’s - it’s fine, I’ll just order in.”

“From where?”

“From… wherever the other drivers are getting their food from,” she answers vaguely, knowing all of them have their trainers with them and suddenly missing Lexie more than ever.

Yoongi frowns, still looking more curious than anything else. “Why are you so nervous? Do I intimidate you?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Dilara scoffs nervously. “Oh, that can’t be news to you.”

He cracks a smile. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Um, I don’t think I used the word afraid,” she clarifies before shrugging, looking down at her hands. “You’re like that older brother. The one you don’t want to disappoint.”

Yoongi chuckles quietly, without humour. “I don’t think you’re the one that disappointed me,” he admits wryly.

There’s an awkward silence. The idea that Yoongi could feel this strongly about her love life seems too foreign to consider. Dilara had never particularly got the impression that Yoongi really cared what she thought of him, but then again, he wouldn’t be the first member to surprise her.

Dilara remembers one of the few conversations they’ve ever had, just the two of them. He won’t hurt you. He’d more or less promised that, even though he had no business doing so. His response makes a little more sense when she thinks about that evening, sharing a taboo cigarette in Monterey and promising, to this day, to keep it between them.

“So do I really intimidate you, Lara?” Yoongi asks, gently pulling her out of her reverie.

Her heart skips a beat. “Oh… please don’t call me that,” she requests, shifting uncomfortably.

Yoongi looks amused. “Taehyung’s the only one who can call you that?”

The honest answer, she realises only now, is yes. “He doesn’t call me that anymore,” she says evasively.

“You can caramelise the onions,” he says after a moment, gesturing to another chopping board with a pile of sliced onions on it.

“Oh,” she sighs, deflating slightly.

“What?”

Dilara swallows. “I don’t - I mean… I really think it would be better if you gave me something that didn’t involve cooking, per se. Like chopping or - or cleaning…?” she suggests nervously, embarrassed at putting her incompetence on display like this. ”I’m a disaster in the kitchen,” she confesses.

Yoongi observes me for a moment. “Not to make things awkward, but sometimes you and Taehyung make so much sense, it’s crazy.”

It’s not the first time she’s heard this. “Yeah…” she agrees dryly, “until it isn’t.”

“What happened when you two tried cooking together?”

Dilara chuckles in spite of herself. “We never tried.”

“Just as well,” he replies. “Probably saved a kitchen somewhere from burning down.”

“Probably.” She pauses. “We never really got around to doing stuff like that,” she says after a moment, and she can hear the underlying regret in her own voice at how short a time they’d had together.

“Here,” says Yoongi after a moment. She looks up to see him push a bowl filled with carrots, leeks and colourful bell peppers. “You can chop this.”

---

Dilara should sleep. She really should. But sleep evades her for some strange reason and after a series of silly decisions, she finds herself walking outside like a goddamn zombie on an unbelievably freezing night in Germany. 

What she’s doing is ridiculously stupid. She could get hypothermia, her joints will be stiffer than ever, she could catch a cold or a fever, she will lose out on sleep, and being awake at this hour is guaranteed to stress her out even more than she already is. But her anxiety takes precedence over it tonight, and without Lexie, Chris and Fred to help her out of it, especially after a shitty Qualifying, she realises she’s rather badly equipped to handle it on her own.

Dilara is on the verge of opening her Twitter app and reading comments about her today. She does that sometimes; it’s sick, deliberately reading hate about oneself, especially from people who probably can’t even drive a goddamn stick, but she does it anyway so that, ironically, her anxiety reduces by turning into conviction that, yes, she is a terrible driver, she probably doesn’t deserve the Red Bull seat, that a little girl shouldn’t be racing with men, she probably is PMSing when she accidentally says the wrong thing on camera…

She wants to call Lexie. If she were to find out what Dilara is tempted to do, she would shut her down so quickly that she’d feel stupid for considering it in the first place. 

Dilara’s thumb hovers over her phone screen, frozen. Lexie had messaged herself right after Quali but Dilara hadn’t wanted to talk just then. It matters not, because the next second, the phone is at Dilara’s ear and she hears ringing. It rings and rings, but eventually goes to voicemail. She closes her eyes; even the sound of Lexie’s voice on the outgoing message helps a bit.

Dilara needs familiarity. Comfort.

Taehyung had tried to talk to her earlier in the night. The moment Yoongi had finished cooking, she’d inhaled a small bowl of food while he called the others inside and by the time they’d finally trudged in, she was already washing her bowl and stacking it back in the cabinet. She’d also quietly volunteered to wash the dishes after, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude to Yoongi, not realising that somehow, Taehyung was also on dish duty.

It was fine for a bit, silently washing and rinsing and wiping dishes side by side. Dilara could see him giving her lingering looks, each glance making it clear that he wanted to ask about Quali, until she finally asked him to quit it. He asked, sincerely, if she was okay, if she wanted to talk and she knew it was because of last night, but… giving him comfort was one thing. Taking it from him had the potential to spiral, especially when her feelings for him were getting more and more confusing by the day, so she had no choice but to forcefully decline.

When Taehyung tried again and reached for her hand in the warm soapy water in a presumably comforting gesture, Dilara yanked it back without thinking and, wiping her hands on the dishcloth, stalked away without a word. She doesn’t regret it, exactly; she’s still angry and she’s still hurt, and the last thing she wants to do is let him forget it.

“This is stupid,” she mutters, seeing her breath condense before her. She turns back towards the house and starts walking towards the front door when it opens. Startled, she halts to see Min Yoongi standing in the doorway, the porch light like a halo above his ice blue hair.

“What - what are you doing up so late?” Dilara asks him, genuinely bewildered. “It’s almost one am.”

“I could say the same to you,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes and sounding slightly disgruntled. He walks down the steps and stops a couple feet away from her, shoving his hands in the pocket of his oversized coat and shivering. “You know it’s freezing, right?”

“I - yes.”

“So… what are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” she asks, thoroughly confused.

“I saw you from my window,” he says shortly. “I thought I was imagining it but then you tried to kick a rock and missed, so I knew it was you.” Ignoring her mortification, Yoongi looks around at the foggy front yard. “So what is it? Is it about Qualifying?”

Dilara’s immediate instinct is to deny but when she doesn’t answer, he seems to take it as confirmation.

“Do you want to talk about it, then?” He sounds only mildly concerned, giving her enough room to decline if she wants. “It’s okay if you don’t,” he adds after a moment, “but at least come inside before you freeze to death.”

So they talk about it. Or rather, Dilara talks and Yoongi patiently listens. They sit near where she and Taehyung were last night, but the distance between them is much more respectable. Yoongi is way easier to talk to than she’d ever thought; even if there are things she mentions that he doesn’t understand, he listens, asking questions and letting her vent thoroughly.

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” she asks after she finishes talking about the last time she’d received online hate, all the way back in Spain this year when she was going through her heartbreak-induced slump.

“Okay.” Yoongi exhales before speaking. “For what it’s worth, the hate will never stop.”

Dilara doesn't look up. “Gee, thanks.”

He shrugs. “There’s always going to be someone, somewhere who thinks what you’re doing is shit,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do to make everyone happy. Not a thing.”

“I don’t care about making them happy,” she mutters. “It’s just unfair because they have no idea what it’s like in the car.”

“Exactly. They don’t. So their opinion means nothing, especially when it’s a troll halfway across the world that’s mad because you’re way further fulfilling your dreams than he is. Or she,” he adds thoughtfully.

“You don’t sound like this affects you at all,” she remarks after a moment, referring to the magnitude of hate she’s sure BTS probably gets. “Is all the anger reserved for Agust D?” she quips.

Yoongi grins, gummy smile flashing. “Something like that.”

“Maybe I should take up rapping.”

“You drive cars at ridiculous speeds. What’s a better outlet for your anger than that?”

He’s right, of course. In fact, it’s exactly what Chris Park would say. Save it for the track, D. She doesn’t have her support system here, but it occurs to her that she’s also not completely alone. 

“Is he telling the truth?” Dilara asks suddenly, needing to find out.

“About what?” Yoongi doesn’t ask whom she’s referring to and for that she’s glad.

She shrugs. “Everything. Being sorry, making a mistake, the Jennie thing…” She trails off, swallowing. “How he feels…”

“I think so.” When she doesn’t respond, he sighs deeply, as if unable to believe he’s being dragged into this childish drama. “I mean, I’m sure he’s sorry and we know his thing with Jennie wasn’t real,” he elaborates, as though counting items off a shopping list. “She was nice but I don’t know who he was fooling trying to date her. As for how he feels…” He gives Dilara a sympathetic shrug. “That’s only upto you to decide.”

“But what do you think?” Dilara presses.

Yoongi looks slightly surprised that she wants his opinion this badly. “Well… I think he still cares about you. A lot, in fact. I think he’s still in love with you, although I think you’ll have to get him to admit that to you,” he continues, apparently not realising how her heart rams against her ribcage. “But I also didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to do what he did. Going by his actions today, though, I’d say he still really cares about you.”

Dilara says nothing, replaying his words. “Hang on,” she says slowly. “What actions today? Wait, Yoongi - did he ask you to talk to me tonight?” By the way he freezes momentarily, she knows she’s right. “You have got to be joking.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“It’s - it’s the principle of it.”

“What principle?”

“If I wanted to talk to him, I would’ve.”

“And you’re not. He knows that. He said it looked like you had a rough day and since you don’t have your friends here, you might need someone to talk to.” Yoongi shrugs. “Was he wrong?” When she doesn’t answer, he chuckles, gummy smile flashing once more. “Or was he totally right?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, making him snort. “And… no, he wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t totally right either,” she adds, although she doesn’t know what to back that up with.

Yoongi doesn’t even ask. “So stubborn,” he remarks softly, his eyes on the frozen lake.

“Well, do I at least have your word that you won’t tell him what we talked about?”

“Tell who?” he asks innocently.

Dilara gives him a look. “Jungkook’s boyfriend. Can I trust you?” she asks, even as he laughs.

“Of course you can,” he says easily, standing up and offering her a hand. “And, seriously, it’s almost two am. You should sleep.”

She doesn’t argue and takes his hand, trying not to stomp behind him as they walk back to the house. “The grass is really slippery, by the way.”

“What’s that now?”

Dilara stops a few steps behind him as they reach the porch. “You said you saw me kicking a rock and missing. It’s because the grass is really slippery.” She pauses, somewhat conscious of what she must be sounding like. “I don’t miss.”

Yoongi stares at her, his mouth twitching. “Noted,” he says finally, reaching for the door handle and twisting it. “Okay, did you know this locks from the inside?”

She blinks. “Are you telling me we’re locked out here -” She glances at her phone “- twelve hours before the German Grand Prix?”

“Don’t worry,” he says calmly, typing on his phone. “I’m messaging on the group chat. Someone or the other will be awake.” He waits for a moment before chuckling, a little disbelievingly. “Okay, I was right.”

Dilara regards him suspiciously as she hears soft footsteps from inside. “Who is it?”

“Jungkook’s boyfriend, who else?”

“Perfect,” she mutters, as the door swings open to reveal the aforementioned boyfriend, a black beanie over his hair, black glasses and - she realises with a slight shock - the black hoodie she’d returned to him earlier this year. Contrary to what Yoongi made it sound like, Taehyung doesn’t look like he was on the verge of sleep at all.

He asks Yoongi something in Korean, his eyes on Dilara, to which Yoongi murmurs a reply before clapping her on the shoulder and heading inside.

“Thanks,” she mutters to Taehyung, moving to follow Yoongi, when Taehyung stops her by grabbing the edge of her sleeve.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, eyes bigger than ever.

Dilara wants to roll her eyes and tell him that she knows he asked Yoongi to talk to her, but she doesn’t know what purpose that would serve. So after a moment’s hesitation, she nods, gently taking back her hand and going into her room.

—

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

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

[pub-lius]

aaron burr pt. 1

hey y’all.... how y’all doing.......

so ive been gone for a while. sorry about that. but! i have a lot of posts to work on. i only have three more historical figures to do for @thereallvrb0y because i love him, and then imma post my notes from A People’s History of the French Revolution by Eric Hazan, so i am back. anyway, it’s burr time

but before i get into everyone’s favorite bisexual with a receding hairline, i have to give a little disclaimer. these notes are OLD. like from 2020 old, and while I always trust my sources, i don’t trust my ability to read my own handwriting, so if you go on the google doc and see Burr’s notes and you’re like “this makes no sense”, i don’t understand what i meant either. they’re also the most disorganized notes i have, but im not taking them again so. this is what we’re stuck with besties. 

The Start of the Shitshow

Aaron Burr Jr. was born at Newark, New Jersey on February 6, 1756. His father was a highly respected clerical scholar who served as a pastor of the Newark First Presbyterian Church and as president of Princeton University. He contracted a fever and died when his son was only one and a half. His mother was a daughter of noted Puritan theologian and scholar Jonathan Edwards, who was remembered for his passionate speeches. She died when he was two, so he got the whole orphan arc over with very quickly. 

He and his sister, Sally, lived with family friends until 1759 when Uncle Timmy Edwards of Stockbridge Massachusetts became their legal guardian and local pain in the ass. He was highkey abusive and we don’t like him. They moved to Elizabethtown, New Jersey in 1760, and Uncle Fuckface noticed that Burr had inherited his parents’ intellect, but not their piety, because he was too busy serving cunt to pray. He was also described as high-spirited, independent, precocious, and self confident, which sounds about right.

He had a fairly advanced education, studying with a private tutor until he was 13 when he got into Princeton, and he graduated from there at 16, which was round the age of most freshmen there, so that’s pretty sick. He enrolled in Reverend Joseph Bellamy’s school at Bethlehem, Connecticut in 1773 to study ministry, until he realized he couldn’t accept the Calvanist discipline nor avoid the distraction of the town, or maybe just got tired of the highly not okay gay relationship with Bellamy, so he moved to Litchfield, Connecticut in May 1774 to study law under his brother-in-law, Tapping Reeve. (Burr moves around so much, I never know where this mf is at any given point). \

Burr didn’t get his degree in law (yet *foreshadowing noise*) because his studies were interrupted by the revolution

The War *eagle screech and fireworks*

Burr joined the march on Quebec as an uncompensated “gentleman volunteer” in 1775. During the December 31 assault, he attempted to carry General Montgomery’s body back after he had been shot and killed by grapeshot, which won him an aide-de-campship to Washington’s staff. However, he was almost immediately reassigned to General Isreal Putnam because he didn’t like Washington’s office, which I can’t blame him because we all knew that shit was stressful. Washington also didn’t seem to like Burr much, but like Joseph Reed worked there, so Washington obviously wasn’t firing people bc he didn’t like them. 

Under Putnam, he received a commission as a Lieutenant Colonel and commanded his own regiment, which was a vast improvement to the rank as one of Washington’s aides, because they weren’t considered actual Lt. Colonels and they were constantly at a desk, which Burr would not tolerate. He saw action at Monmouth, and his regiment suffered heavy casualties, and he was also ordered by Washington to determine future movements of the British in New York. He commanded troops at Westchester, NY, and imposed rigid discipline that brought order to the frontier outpost. 

He resigned his commission in 1779 due to stress and exhaustion. This was a pretty great military career, and he was proud of it. People called him “Colonel Burr” even after his service. 

After the war

He traveled often after leaving the army and continued his law studies. In 1782, he began his law practice and married Theodosia Bartow Prevost, a widow of a British officer he had been hardcore flirting with. Their wedding was actually unplanned, bc her sister was getting married and Burr was invited so they were like “why have two bitches get married when you can have four” so they had a cute little double wedding. 

Burr moved to New York in November, 1783 after the British evacuation, along with Burr’s two stepsons and their infant daughter, who lavished special attention on his only child and supervised her education. If you want more info on Theodosia Jr., I answered an ask about here here. 

Burr was an able lawyer, working mainly for non-whigs (loyalists/tories, neutral parties during the war). This worked in his favor and he rose to prominence. This is around when he began his famously neutral political philosophy, the whole “don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for” thing Lin Manuel Miranda is obsessed with. 

He served a single term in the New York assembly during the 1784-85 session, and left public life until 1788, when he played a minor role in the NY debate over ratification of the Constitution. The Sons of Liberty (bc they’re still around apparently) considered Burr as a possible delegate to the ratification convention, but he declined. He had some reservations over the Constitution, but abandoned them when a majority of the states ratified it. 

He supported Richard Yates along with Alexander Hamilton during the 1789 gubernatorial election. Yates was an anti-federalist and a friend who helped Burr win admission to the Bar (which btw there was this whole thing about Burr fighting so that college credits before the war didn’t have to be retaken after the war or whatever idk i can’t remember). Yates lost to George Clinton, who appointed Burr as attorney general in 1781, so he didn’t really lose anything. 

Clinton also helped orchestrate Burr’s Senate election in 1791, unseating Philip Schuyler. Now, this did cause beef between him and Hamilton, like in the musical, but this wasn’t their first beef, especially since Burr dueled Hamilton’s brother-in-law soooooooo...

Also, during this time, Burr’s daughter, Sally, died in October 1788 at three years old and four months of an unspecified (i think) illness. 

Okay, that’s it for now, but the other posts are coming soon because I’m literally dedicating the next to days to this and only this so yay! hope y’all missed me <3 

#aaron burr #american history #amrev #amrev history #history #founding fathers #american revolution #alexander hamilton #do it for richie 💪

[viperbarnes]

Starlight [1/3]

40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You'd grown up chasing after your brother and his best friend. Now that they've both returned from war, it seems Bucky's the one finally chasing after you.

Warnings: Age gaps, a brief scene of drunken pushiness in relation to sex [not by or towards bucky], language. I think that’s all!

Notes: This is an older story I've never shared on tumblr. I've had to split this story into 3 parts because of tumblrs text post limits rip, but it was originally a oneshot. the reader is mixed race and only Steve's half sister. Comments and reviews are more than welcome!

Words: full story is 19k, this part is 3.5k

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three

1946

You dance around the kitchen, radio in the other room playing some jaunty song you faintly know, your hands moving a million miles per second as you plate up the eggs, keeping an eye on the bacon, when the kettle begins to whistle loudly on the stove.

“I’ll get it—”

“—You’ll do no such thing! Sit down!” Your scolding is matched with a glare as you whip around to look at your brother, hand outstretched already as he makes to stand, and you smack his fingers with your spatula. Steve yips, more in surprise that hurt you imagine, and promptly sits back down.

“Millie… You don’t have to—”

“—My big brother returns from the war a hero, and I’m not allowed to cook him breakfast!? Will you get the Times on the phone?! I need to tell everyone how Captain America won’t let his sister—”

“—Alright, alright! Jeez…” Steve rolls his eyes at you, and you grin pointedly at him before turning back to grab the kettle, pouring two cups of coffee.

Knocking at the door makes you pause, looking over your shoulder, and this time you don’t tell him off when Steve stands.

“Buck said he might come over this morning, didn’t think he’d be so earlier…” He tells you with a slight frown, and you turn back to your still sizzling pan as he makes for the front door. You take two more eggs and crack them as muffled talking meets your ears.

“... Yeah, I don’t think she stopped crying for an hour straight.” You hear the familiar voice of James Barnes as the two men enter the kitchen, and you feel a slight flutter of nerves before you turn around to greet him properly.

You hadn’t seen Bucky in a long time, even before the war.

When your mother had died back in 1939, and really, she had been your foster mother, as your own had died when you’d been born, the saint that was Sarah Rogers had gracefully decided to raise you as her own, despite being the constant reminder of her husband’s infidelity. You had only been fourteen, and Steve had been deemed (by the state at least) not able to care for you properly due to his own health issues.

You’d been granted a place at a girls school upstate, and although you’d gotten to see Steve on holidays and the occasional weekend visit when he was well enough and could afford it, you hadn’t seen either he or Bucky for any meaningful amount of time in years. By the time you’d graduated in 1942, both men had joined the army and were making headlines around the world with their exploits.

You’d watched from afar as Steve, now Captain America, and the Howling Commandos helped win the war.

Now, standing in your kitchen, it feels almost surreal to see both men, side by side like when they’d been younger, like you remember them.

Well, almost. Steve was noticeably changed and Bucky…?

Your breathing nearly halts entirely as your eyes fall on Bucky, dressed in a simple day suit, hair pushed back messily like he’d been running his hand through it all morning, face the same, and yet somehow different to how you remember him, or how he looked in the papers. His eyes are stuck on you too, questioning at first, as if he didn’t know who you were, and then recognition, then fondness, and at last, affection.

“Mills…” He says, like letting out a breath he’d been holding for too long, and you realise, he hadn’t seen you in a long time either, since you still looked like a little girl. You can’t help the grin that pulls across your face. Bucky had been like your second older brother, he and Steve had been damn-near inseparable, and you’d grown up with him being a constant.

You wipe your hands off on the towel hooked into the pocket of your apron and move in to where he’s stepped forward, arms outstretched. You embrace him easily, and fight to blink away the tears that prickle your eyes, squeezing him tightly in return. When you move back, his lips briefly, but firmly press against your cheek.

“Look at you, all grown up now, huh?” He exclaims over-dramatically, giving Steve a look, who nods exasperatedly.

“Tell me about it…”

“It’s nice to see you again, Buck… I didn’t know you were home already! Steve didn’t say!” You know he’d been in London for some time, thanks to his accident, Howard Stark insisting on fitting him with a specially-made prosthetic arm.

He takes a seat at the table opposite Steve when the blond gestures to it, and you turn back to the stove, quickly grabbing a second plate and a third cup for coffee.

“I ran away, nurses couldn’t keep me in any longer.” He says, and you chortle.

“Oh yes, I bet they loved you.”

“Hey now, all the ladies love me!” Bucky replies, and you turn around in time for him to catch your rolling eyes as you set two coffees down, one in front of each man.

The two continue conversing, with you chiming in every so often as you finish with breakfast, eventually placing that in front of them too, Bucky looking bashful, but grateful that he hadn’t needed to ask.

“Thanks, Mills.” He says softly, as you finish the rest of your coffee by the sink and quickly make to untie your apron and hang it on the wall.

“You’re welcome. Now, Steve, I have work in twenty minutes, so I’ll be gone all day. I finish at ten, so I won’t see you until then, if you’re still awake.” You inform your brother as you move around, grabbing your purse and hat from the end table. Steve lifts his head with a frown and swallows his mouthful hurriedly.

“Ten? At night?” He questions, and you feel your heckles raise. You lift your nose just slightly.

“Yes.”

“You plan on walkin’?”

You roll your eyes.

“Well, seeing as I don’t drive…” You spy Bucky frowning too, as if he were about to join Steve’s side.

“I don’t like the idea of you walkin’ alone that late at night, Millie, it’s too—”

“—I won’t be alone.” You cut him off promptly, checking your purse for your keys.

“Vinnie is going to walk with me.” You say, watching both men’s frowns deepen. This wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have two minutes before you had to go to work, in front of Bucky, no less.

“Who the hell is Vinnie?” Bucky asks, looking between you and Steve as if the blond had any answers to give him. You check your watch impatiently.

“A boy I’ve been seeing.” You tell them curtly.

“I need to go. I’m going to be late!” You stress, quickly stepping from the room before either man could interrogate you further.

Bucky looks to Steve, still wearing a deep frown of concern even after the front door has slammed shut.

“Did you know she was seein’ somebody?” He asks, disapproval clear in his voice. Steve shakes his head, lip pulled between his lips.

“No. But I’ll talk to her about it later…” Steve sighs, glaring down at his breakfast. Bucky nudges him not-so-gently with his foot.

“Steve, you don’t know this guy, he could be—”

“—He could, but it’s her choice in the end right? She’s not a kid anymore, Buck… She’s been managing just fine without us the past couple of years.”

Steve places his knife and fork down, and rubs a hand over his face.

“It was her birthday last month, she’s twenty now… She’s got her job, and has been paying the bills, looking after herself and the house… I can’t just come home and treat her like she’s fifteen again.” Steve explains, even though everything in him wanted to chase you down and question you to hell and back about this Vinnie boy. He knows he can’t though. Wouldn’t be right for him to tell you what to do and when, even if he only wanted to look out for you.

Bucky leans back in his chair and blows out a long puff of air.

“Twenty-years-old already…” He states, mind a little boggled.

“Tell me about it. I remember when Ma first brought her home.”

“She was so tiny… your Ma put the crib in the living room,”

“And we built her the pillow fort?”

“We stayed up all night ‘guarding’ her...”

The two men share a chuckle at the memory.

Bucky could remember when he and Steve would put you and Becca in the back of Bucky’s red wagon and drag it up and down the street, pretending they were chariot horses or something of the like. He can remember Steve telling him about that older boy who’d pushed you out of line at the corner store, and called you names, and how they’d both gone to teach the kid a lesson, a lesson that ended up with black eyes and cut lips, and you copying your mother as she held ice to the boys’ faces, mimicking her scolding, though she’d given all of you a couple pennies to go get some sweets, after.

He can remember picking you up from school and walking you home when Steve and Sarah had both been too ill, and holding your sobbing, inconsolable form when your mother had died. He remembers last seeing you on a train platform, a tearful goodbye to Steve and the whole Barnes’ clan who had come to see you off on your trip to your new school upstate.

Winniefred Barnes had tried to suggest to the social worker that they would take you in, but the family of four was struggling as it were, and it hadn’t worked out.

And now you were twenty, a grown woman, and yet, still so young. Bucky remembers being twenty, his whole life bright and ahead of him.

Now at twenty-eight, he felt a little differently, a little more jaded, a little more bitter, though he tried to fight it.

Still, Steve was right. You were grown up and if you’d decided that this Vinnie was good enough, then they’d just have to deal with it…

“But you are gonna scare him a little, right?” Bucky says, and Steve side-eyes him.

“Oh, believe me Buck, I’m gonna put the fear of God into him.”

—-

You check your watch and pull your cardigan a little more around you as a small gust of wind kicks up. It wasn’t cold exactly, but you’d been waiting for twenty minutes already and the breeze was beginning to get to you.

You’d clocked off at ten, when the diner closed and had been waiting outside for Vinnie to meet you. You know his own boss often kept the boys later than expected, so you try not to worry, try not to think of the worst case scenario as the seconds and minutes continue to tick by.

The street was dark and quiet, only lit up by the occasional street light, or passing car. You turn your head to look when you hear approaching voices, a small group of men and a few women laughing and chatting loudly as they move up along the street. They must have been out dancing, you suspect, judging from their jovial cadence and the way several of the girls cling into their partner’s arms.

They get nearer, and you look away, not wanting to stare or intrude, but soon see them preparing to cross the road, and you glance back briefly, only to double-take.

Bucky was among the men, you see now, and he happens to look over at you as you notice him, his brown frowning momentarily before he turns back to reply to a question. But you see him check his watch, and then, bidding the other’s goodbye, he waves them off and starts toward you.

You straighten, throwing him a nervous smile as he nears.

“Hey…” You greet, but he’s still frowning, and he looks at his wrist again.

“I thought you finished at ten?” He asks, and you swallow.

“I did… Vinnie’s just… running a little late, I think.” You try to brush off his clear concern but he only frowns deeper, before moving to lean on the wall beside you.

“I’ll wait with you.”

“No, Bucky, you don’t have to do that!” You protest immediately, not just because you felt a little indignant about being able to wait or walk home on your own, but because you didn’t want to introduce Vinnie to Steve or Bucky until you were ready.

He looks at you with a raised brow and scoffs.

“It’s ten-twenty five. I’m sure Vinnie’s just around the corner.”

You wait in awkward silence for what feels like hours, perking up every time you hear someone new coming down the street… but none of them turned out to be Vinnie, and when Bucky next checks his watch, you feel anxiety bubble up.

“Come on Millie, I’ll walk you…” He sounds resigned, or tired at least, almost like he’d been expecting this and had to bide his time. You purse your lips and try to wave him off.

“Buck, it’s really okay, he’s probably just five minutes away, you can go if you—”

“—How long are you willing to wait for this guy, Emilia? It’s ten-thirty five.” He cuts you off, exasperated, but gentle and your eyes meet the floor.

He was right, it was getting late, and it was still a decent walk home.

“Okay…” You relent, hitching your purse higher on your shoulder as you begin to walk, Bucky falling in beside you. The silence returns again, a little more uncomfortable this time, and you find yourself unable to stop from sneaking glances at Bucky, trying to read his thoughts from his expression.

“He’s not usually like this, you know.” You stop suddenly, staring at Bucky as he turns back to look at you.

“Vinnie, I mean. His boss keeps him late sometimes, but he’s not— he isn’t a bad guy.” You explain, seeing Bucky’s expression shift from confusion into mild amusement.

“I never said he was.” He defends, and you huff a little in annoyance.

“No, but you’re thinkin’ it!” You accuse, watching him stare back at you with his raised eyebrows before he shakes his head and waves his hand.

“Come on, Mills, I need to get you home before Steve really freaks out, and rallies the Commandos…”

You hesitate, face feeling hot at your outburst, and quickly make to rejoin Bucky.

When you get home at last, as you well expect, Bucky follows you up the stairs. Vinnie would usually bid his goodbyes at the bottom of the stairs that led up to your place. The door opens before you can even get your keys out of your purse, and you blink sheepishly up at Steve, who’s expression changes from worry, to confusion as he gazes between you and Bucky.

“Thank you, Bucky…” You say stiffly, avoiding his eye. You lean up to press a kiss to your brother’s cheek as he steps aside, bidding him a quiet good night as you make for your bedroom right away. Steve looks back to Bucky who had stepped inside now, and frowns.

“I was heading home from Val’s, happened to see her waiting and said I’d wait with her.” Bucky shrugs.

“What happened to Vinnie?” Steve asks, folding his arms over his chest as Bucky gives him a pointed look.

“The kid was thirty-five minutes late, so I just told her I’d walk her back…”

“Thirty-five minutes?!” The displeasure in Steve’s voice isn’t hidden, but Bucky just shrugs again.

“She said his boss keeps him unexpectedly sometimes…”

“Right.” Steve purses his lips, before unfolding his arms with a sigh and squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Thanks for lookin’ out for her.”

“You’d do the same for Becca.” Bucky smiles, and opens the door. He had a hell of an early morning tomorrow, but there was no way he was going to let you walk home alone in this part of the city.

“Goodnight, Buck.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, pal.”

—-

It’s a rare night you’d managed to get off of work, and luckily so too. A girl you’d known around your neighbourhood for years had passed word around about a celebratory evening at a local club, and for once, you’d really wanted to go.

The room is alight with familiar faces, almost like your entire corner of Brooklyn had showed up to dance and drink the night away. Beside you, your friend Jennie sighs before taking a deep drink from her fizzy apple cider, presented in a fancy crystal glass so it looked like white wine.

“All these men return from war and yet there’s still not a half-decent one to catch the eye of…”

You side eye her wrly.

“You always say that, and always end up mooning over some Private or what-have-you by the end of the night.” You playfully kick her leg under the table, and Jennie chuckles good-naturedly.

“That is true… but at least I end up dancing with someone.” She says pointedly, tipping her cigarette at you, and you scoff, defensiveness rising up in your chest.

“He’s coming!” You tell her.

“He’s always coming… Millie, that man is not as busy as he makes out to be, he’s just stringing you along because you let him!” Jennie leans into you, but you’ve already shut out her words with a shake of your head.

“You’re wrong. You’ll see. He’s just running late.” You say huffily, looking away from her now with a cloud over your mood.

“You should find somebody else to dance with in the meantime…” Jennie sighs, tapping the ash from her smoke into the provided tray, before putting it out. You continue to pretend to ignore her.

“What about him? Oh, he’s nice… look at those long legs and those shoulders! Lush…!”

You can’t help but look at where she points, the pure desire in her voice, as well as her description igniting your curiosity.

Your eyes land on a man nearby the bar, chatting jovially with several people, including at least two women who looked like they could be movie stars in your opinion. The man is, however, Bucky Barnes, and you watch with warming cheeks as he leans into one of the women, his hand resting at her back, before sliding lower to sit at her waist in a nearly inappropriate manner. His eyes are half-lidded, his smile sultry and suggestive, and you quickly snap your head away from him at the sudden strange feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

“Bucky?!” You mock-whisper, leaning in, turning back to Jennie who still hasn’t looked away, though she does when you say his name.

“You know him?! You should definitely go and—”

“—He’s my brother’s best friend! He’s— he’s like a brother to me.” You insist, screwing up your nose, despite the rather un-familial way your heart beats so quickly at the thought of his fingers dancing over that woman’s back. At the lingering thought of his fingers on your back, instead.

“You don’t say…” Jennie hums, already placing her cigarettes and lighter back in her purse, eyes now glued to the man across the room. You can’t help but frown.

“You don’t mind if I dance with him, then?”

You scrunch up your nose again and roll your eyes as you wave her off.

“Absolutely not.” You hear yourself replying, even though you feel the sudden urge to stamp hard on her foot with your heel, so she’d not be able to dance at all.

“Great! I’ll see you later then!” She throws you a wink as you watch her go, spying how Bucky looks up as she approaches, his eyes roaming her up and down as his lips pull into a grin once more. You tear your eyes away before you can see any else and frown darkly at Jennie’s forgotten drink.

Wishing it were alcoholic, you reach out and down the whole thing in one.

You check your watch and settle back in your seat, waiting, pointedly ignoring that side of the ballroom.

It must be another hour or two later before you’re finally interrupted, your chin resting in your hand as you watch the dancefloor dejectedly, debating on if you could afford to catch a cab home. You’d rather curl up under your covers right now, and not think about what Jennie had said earlier.

“So… How late is his boss keeping him this time?”

You look up sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice, spying him just behind Jennie’s abandoned seat, hands shoved in his pockets and his eyebrows raised and amused. Already on edge, you roll your eyes with a glare and sit back, crossing your arms.

“If you’re only here to rub it in, you can go away.” You grumble, annoyance only ticking over more when he chortles, and sits down.

“Jennie says you were gonna meet at six.” He continues, looking at his watch with feigned interest and you eye him sharply.

“James.” You hiss in warning, to which he finally relents, holding up his hands and sitting back in his seat, mimicking you.

You glare out at the dancefloor once more, watching the couples twist and turn and laugh, and make a point of ignoring the man who’d come to sit beside you. After five minutes of silence, you hear him sigh, and finally look at him, to find him standing, his hand held out.

“Come on.” He wiggles his fingers, and you can’t help but just stare at them, mind racing back to the woman from the bar momentarily.

“What?” You ask dumbly, but he only reaches out for your hand instead, pulling you up easily, in a way that made your belly flop around uncomfortably.

“We’re gonna dance, and I don’t wanna hear even one complaint outta you, Miss Emilia Rogers.” Bucky grins as he pulls you onto the edge of the dance floor, your feet and hands traitors to the hesitancy you feel as they automatically come to rest in place.

“I never said I wanted to dance.” You grumble, eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at Bucky’s face, his smile smug and self-satisfied as he begins to lead you in a lazily, but upbeat swing.

“But your eyes did. Sweetheart, I spent enough time watching Steve watch others dance to know longin’ when I see it.” He spins you a little, but brings you back in close again. It’s less of a serious attempt than it is a silly one, enough to get you smiling subconsciously anyway, and you can’t help but laugh at his description of Steve.

“So, until your Vinnie arrives, I’ll fill his shoes.” He states matter-of-factly, and even though you feel grateful at having such a kind man be your friend, you also feel a tangle of other emotions. Guilt for making him spend his night looking out for you, and a strange, unknown feeling every time he smiles, or every time his hand adjusts his hold on yours.

“Don’t you want to dance with any of the other dames? I know you could probably line ‘em up and out the door…” You tease, watching him roll his eyes, before he spins you again, catching you with his hand firmly at your waist.

“Maybe, but outta all these broad’s, you’re my favourite.”

You’re blindsided by the compliment, blinking rapidly up at him, before something else strikes you.

“D-did you just call me a broad, James Barnes?” You hear yourself questioning, but he only laughs away, swinging you out, and then back in again.

“You know, I think the last time we danced, I musta been fifteen… you were small enough then it didn't hurt when you stood on my feet.” Bucky ignores your question and you feel mock offence fill you once more.

“Well! You haven’t improved much since then, either!” You reply indignantly.

Bucky’s eyes fill with determination, glinting with cheek and mischief as his hold on you suddenly shifts, his hand in yours angling differently, his fingers at your waist tightening just so, and it sends another wave of strangeness over you.

“Is that right, dollface?” He remarks lightly, but you know you’re in for it. You poked the dragon, and here came the flames.

The band seems to be on his side, the song picking up into a new beat, something you recognise, an older song, Duke Ellington’s ‘It Don’t Mean a Thing’. Your heart skips a beat as Bucky begins to move faster than you’d become used to, and while you weren’t at your brother’s level when it came to dancing, you were clearly under-practised compared to Bucky.

He seems to relish in sweeping you around the dancefloor, always one step ahead, his hands moving you this way and that, spinning you and twisting you around the other dancers until you feel thoroughly out of breath, and not just from the quick movements.

Bucky stares at you while you dance, lips pulled into a lazy grin, and you can’t help but get goosebumps under your dress each time his fingers seem to trail along your side for a second too long before he takes your waist properly. Your mind flutters back to the gorgeous woman at the bar, the way Bucky had touched her, and you feel heat rise in your chest and face.

The song ends too suddenly, and yet not soon enough, Bucky twirling you around and catching you close as the last notes fizzle out, your chest pressed against his, his hand clutched in yours tightly, and his other hand gripping your side, thumb outstretched over your ribcage, pressing against the underwire of your brassier in a way that feels suggestive.

He’s smiling down at you sweetly now, not quite with the same challenging gaze as before, and you realise, looking up at him, how close you are. The air feels hot and sticky, and you can’t help but see him in a whole new light, a light that was dangerous and strange and felt a little wrong.

But he was so handsome…

You tear yourself apart from him in seconds, and stare, blinking as you will your mouth to work, to say something, anything sensible.

“I… I need water…” You announce, turning rapidly on your heel, all but running to the ladies room just off from the main hall. Your hands shake nearly all the way, and you’re glad to find the small room vacant, quickly ushering yourself inside. Leaning against the sink, you take several deep breaths, your heart hammering your chest.

You couldn’t have a crush on Bucky. You just couldn't! You’d known him way too long, and it was too strange… your mind wanders to the feeling of his hand at your waist, and your belly flops, making you gasp and hurry to turn the tap on. You splash your face with a little water, pursing your lips. Not only was it too strange, but you were seeing someone else!

A knock on the door nearly makes your knees buckle in fright, and for a moment you struggle to find your voice as another calls through the wood.

“Millie…? Are you alright?” Bucky’s voice floats through the barrier between you and you start, again.

“I-I’m fine! Be right out!” You wash your hands, hoping that when you did indeed exit, he’d have made himself scarce, but you aren’t so lucky.

“What’s wrong?” His question comes quickly after you exit the bathroom, and you blink at him, waiting for you against the wall, though he stands straight when you appear.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” You say with far more conviction than you’d expected. Bucky stares at you for a beat, eyes searching your expression before the crease between his own brows smooths just a little. He opens his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“I think I’m going to go home. I’ve had a long week.” You tell him, already expecting his response.

“I’ll walk ya.”

You don’t try to argue with him, you know he’ll only brush you off, so you make quickly to gather your coat and purse.

If Bucky notices your quietness on the walk home, he doesn’t let on, chatting jovially about this and that as you try not to focus on how attractive his voice is, or how sweet his laugh sounds. But you fail entirely, even going so far as to sneak glances at him under the guise of polite listening, your gaze trained on his lips or his eyes. Whenever he looks back at you, you can’t help but look away quickly, your ears red hot.

Was it really so bad if you had a crush on Bucky? Afterall, it was likely just that, a crush. You would get over it soon enough. You could even chalk it up to not having seen him for so long, in combination with knowing how good of a guy he really was…

Your mind wanders aimlessly for several minutes until you’re snapping back to attention, Bucky staring at you inquisitively, and you realise you’ve both stopped walking.

“Huh?” You blink at him in confusion, and his smile grows.

“I said I hadn’t realised Patty’s Parlour was open again.” You look past him, across the street to wear the ice cream shop stands bright against its neighbours, the lights still up, plenty of customers milling around inside. It had been a staple in your childhood, though a rare treat, but had unfortunately closed down at the height of the Depression.

“It’s been open for about a year now.” You confirm, nervously taking in the growing giddiness in Bucky’s eyes.

“Let’s go!” He says, holding out his hand, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for him to do. You look down at it a moment, still trying to formulate a reply, but he doesn’t wait, grabbing your hand in his own and gently tugging you across the street.

You feel like time slows as you stare down at your entwined hands, your pulse seemingly magnified by the pressure of his palm tucked against your own, and you wonder in horror if he can feel it. The moment passes though, and soon you're hitting the sidewalk again, a nervous smile pulling at your lips before you know it. Bucky casts his own grin back at you before he shoulders open the door, a bell jingly happily above it.

“I don’t think I could tell you the last time I had ice cream…” Bucky says as you approach the glass display case. You’re faintly aware of all the flavours in front of you, but you’re still far too focused on the fact Bucky was holding your hand. It was… nice, you realise, when your mind quietens down for a second, and you note how warm his hands were, without being sweaty, and how well your hands fit together. You wonder if you were to link your fingers if the fit would still be so perfect, but you don’t dare try it.

He releases you only when he digs into his pocket for his money, and nods over your shoulder.

“Why don’t you grab us a booth?”

Who are you to argue, not when a piece of his hair falls over his forehead as he pulls a couple of bills from his wallet and turns back to the waitress.

You find a booth toward the back, and slide into one side of the plush red seating. The lighting in Patty’s made it seem almost like daytime, and the air was cool enough, thanks to the ice cream, that you kept your cardigan on.

Bucky finds you easily, sliding in across from you while placing down two cups of ice cream, pushing one toward you.

“Thank you.” You say automatically, realising then, that he’d paid for you when he really hadn’t needed to, and apparently ordered for you too.

“S’no thing, sweetheart.” He waves you off, already spooning a green coloured ice cream into his mouth. You try not to stare for a moment, as his lips wrap around the little spoon, and quickly tear your eyes down to your own multi-coloured dessert.

“Bubblegum’s still your favorite, right?” He nods to the cup you hold in one hand and you can’t help but smile bashfully.

“I know it’s childish but—”

Bucky scrunches his nose with a chuckle, and waves his hand again.

“—It’s ice cream, Mills, you’re allowed to be a little childish.”

You hum in agreement, and then in delight as you taste the familiar flavour. You hadn’t had any in a long time either.

“Besides, when I was in Italy, this dame tried to get me onto some gelato with raisins in it… I tried to explain to her if I wanted stuff in my ice cream, it had to be chocolate chips, but she insisted…” Bucky speaks dramatically, even rolling his eyes some, and you laugh, subconsciously leaning forward.

“Was it any good?” You press, and he scrunches his face again, this time in disgust.

“Hell no!”

You chortle, forgetting for a moment any of your previous worries. Bucky was, at the very least, a friend, and your little crush could deal with it. You’d let it run its course, and like a fever, you were sure it would dissipate eventually.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge a little in the meantime, though.

“You really didn’t have to leave to walk me home, you know…” You say after a little while, Bucky leaning comfortably back in his seat, one arm thrown over the back.

“Firstly; I wasn’t about to let you walk home, alone, at night, in this neighbourhood,” He begins, eyeing something over your shoulder. A second later, the waitress deposits a tall milkshake glass on the table, and Bucky whips out a crumpled note, passing it to her as a tip.

“And secondly; what if I wanted to, huh?” He leans forward again as the waitress leaves, and your mouth runs a little dry.

“W-what?” You can’t help but mumble, watching as Bucky moves the drink between you, pushing a second straw to your side of the table. He leans in and takes a quick sip.

“Every time I’ve seen you lately, you’ve been waiting on that boy,”

You open your mouth, face quickly pulling into a frown.

“I don’t wanna get into it Emilia,” He anticipates your protests, and holds up a finger, which promptly makes you shut your mouth again.

Bucky’s face shifts from a little annoyed to apologetic, to soft, and his eyes cast down momentarily to the straw he twirls in his fingers, before he looks back up at you.

“Just thought you could do with a reminder of how dates are supposed to be.” He says quietly, and if your eyes don’t deceive you, you swear you see a dusting of pink blush his cheeks.

However bugged you were by Bucky’s seemingly constant poking about Vinnie, the sentiment is sweet, and your chest swells, your stomach filling with butterflies at the thought.

“...Thank you, James.” You can’t bring yourself to meet his eye right away, distracting yourself instead by leaning in to take a first sip of the milkshake he had clearly ordered to share. You chance a look up just as you pull away from the straw, the butterflies in your belly suddenly going haywire at the gentle smile Bucky gives you.

For a moment, your mind wanders once more.

Was it so strange for you to crush on Bucky? Vinnie and you had been seeing each other for a while, but you weren’t exactly serious yet. Just because you’d known Bucky for all your life didn’t mean you couldn’t like him, did it? It wasn’t as if he was that much older than you, either.

And then, just as you get used to the idea of possibly, maybe liking Bucky as more than a friend, another, unwelcome thought strikes you.

What if Bucky wasn’t interested in you? Afterall, as far as you know, he was just being a good friend, a good quasi-older brother… Just because his actions were making you weak in the knees, it didn’t mean he meant anything by them. Why would someone like Bucky be interested in you?! There were plenty of glamorous, more experienced, prettier girls he could have his eye on. You were just… you. Certainly not bad to look at, but you’d consider yourself rather plain next to most of the girls you’d usually see out.

The thoughts bubble over your head and hang like a dark cloud, and you’re only ripped from your reverie when the back of Bucky’s knuckles brush against your fingers, still holding your straw. You blink as he leans in to take another sip, not tearing his eyes from you as he does so, making your heart skip. He says nothing even as he leans back in his seat once more, simply gazing back at you, until he finally tears his eyes away, to look out the window.

Your fingers still tingle where he’d brushed against them, and you struggle to contain the fluttering in your stomach and the fast pace of your heart.

When he drops you home, he once again follows you up the stairs, but this time stops at the door when you open it.

“Thank you, Buck, for… for everything…” You say nervously, not quite wanting to admit that he’d really made your night, mostly because you didn’t want to admit it had been ruined in the first place. He seems to understand though, and he nods, smiling, and then before you can react, leans in, hand lightly holding your forearm as he drops his lips to your cheek.

Bucky had kissed your cheek a hundred times before, when you were younger, but this time, it feels different. He lingers with his lips against your skin for just a few seconds too long to be friendly, your mind whirring, and you pray to god he doesn’t hear the tiny gasp of surprise you let out, but you don’t think you’re so lucky.

When he does pull away, he moves slowly, eyes watching you warmly, and you feel as though your face could heat up half of New York. You half expect him to break out into a smug grin, his demeanor turning playful, but he doesn’t. His lips pull just slightly at the corners, giving you a sweet smile, soft and filled with fondness in a way that makes you breathe in deeply despite yourself.

“Sleep well, Millie. Say hi to Steve for me.” And then he’s leaving, waltzing back down the stairs to your apartment, seemingly in no rush. You watch him as you slowly close the door, following his figure until you’re just staring at wood.

You continue to stare at the back of the door for several minutes, the only sound is the constant tick of the kitchen clock. Your heart beats rapidly, your mind plays back the evening on repeat, and you find, as you fasten the latch over the door, and make your way through the darkened apartment to your bedroom, that you can’t stop smiling dreamily.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/yn #bucky barnes x yn

[clovermunson]

author’s note: so i’d listened to anti-hero probably ten, maybe fifteen times prior to writing this. it’s just such a billy song and i felt that i had to write this to justify it. likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, i just ask that you do not repost my work and claim it as yours! — xo, morgan❤️

word count: 930 — just a baby blurb

warnings: mentions of trauma and abuse (rather vague, but can be easily inferred), internalized misogyny and toxic masculinity, angst, and general sadness. if you aren’t a billy hargrove enjoyer, then you’re in no way obligated to read this! you are responsible for your own media consumption.

tags: @nevermore66 (i remembered you commenting on my post about writing more for billy and how you wanted to be tagged, and i just want to thank you so much for that little bit of support!💕) and also the lovely @kc-needs-coffee who basically beta read this for me and gave me her thoughts— i love you so much for that!!❤️

**gif found on pinterest!!

Billy stood with his back against the closet door, his face hidden in his hands to hide the fact that he was crying. It didn’t matter to him that the closet door was thin and flimsy— he’d take support from anything he could get it from at that point. He felt hopeless, alone even. Like he’d never escape whatever hell he’d been subjected to living in.

Don’t let him see you cry, it’ll only make it worse.

It played through Billy’s mind like a personal mantra, a stinging reminder that he wasn’t supposed to show any emotion, that he was supposed to be tough all the time.

But he wasn’t. Billy was sensitive, more sensitive than he ever let on. There were many nights where he kept himself up, trying to find the answers. He tried to make sense of it; why he wasn’t the son his father wanted or why he wasn’t allowed to be sensitive. But he never found those answers, no matter how many times he looked through every imperfection, no matter how late he’d stayed awake wondering what he did wrong.

The only thing he could determine from many sleepless nights spent staring at his ceiling was that it was all his fault. His mom leaving had been his fault. The endless torment from Neil had been his fault, though it was disguised as ‘tough love’. Any trouble that Max got herself into was his fault, despite him never having a part in it. The family, if he could even call it that, as broken and dysfunctional as it was, being uprooted from sunny California to Hawkins had been his fault, even though he never understood why he was to blame for that. Everything was his fault, and he couldn’t escape having the blame thrown on him without so much as a second thought.

He wiped away the tear that had begun to roll down his cheek, flinging his hand down as he did so, almost as if he were throwing the tear away. He took a few deep breaths, trying to regain any semblance of his composure before going to find Max. He couldn’t let anyone see that he was crying, or even let anyone know that he had been crying. Once again, he’d be left to clean up a mess he hadn’t made or run the chance of suffering the wrath of his father for a second time that night. In a wise decision to try and save his own ass, he decided to just stop arguing and agreed to find his sister before it got worse for him.

Looking at the small calendar on his wall, it reminded him just how much closer he was to graduating. How that sweet freedom was almost in his grasp. He’d have to find a job immediately or hope he'd get accepted into a college far enough away, but anything that promised him a shot at getting out of this hellhole and finally being able to support himself was good enough for him.

He then shifted his gaze to his own reflection, noticing how his eyes were still red and slightly puffy. He noticed his tear-stained face. He looked weak, vulnerable even. Why did he hate that he looked vulnerable? Why did it make him damn near viscerally sick to see himself like that?

Oh, that’s right. Because men aren’t supposed to cry. And if Neil saw it, his face wouldn’t be red from just his tears.

He held so much hate and rage in his heart towards Neil for that, sure that he’d never forgive him for burning that into his mind. But, no matter how much it burned him from the inside out, he couldn’t directly take that out on his father, it would only make matters worse for him.

Billy gathered himself, going to his bathroom to splash some cold water on his face in an attempt to try and combat the redness around his eyes. After a few minutes, he looked at his reflection again, content with how he looked, sure that it would save him from the ridicule from his father or anyone else.

He grabbed his keys from his nightstand, feeling his muscles relax a bit from knowing that he’d be leaving the house for at least a few hours. Looking at the key that matched the lock on his door, he smiled to himself, knowing that at least he could keep cherished photos and things his mom had left him safe from Neil.

Without saying a word, he walked through the hallway and living room, right past Neil and Susan, on the way out to his car. It was the one place where he felt comfort, and a little bit of escape from the cruel reality he lived in. He sat in the driver’s seat, his head resting against the headrest as his fingers aimlessly tapped against the steering wheel. A thousand different thoughts raced through his mind, each one making him feel differently about himself, but he settled on one that didn’t make him feel shitty as he looked in his rear view, turning the key in the ignition.

The camaro roared to life, and he felt his body relax for the first time since that morning. He sunk down into the seat, taking a moment to himself as he took another deep breath, stabilizing his menagerie of thoughts. Finally, he’d been granted some clarity.

You’re not the bad guy. You never were. You don’t always have to look for a fight, because that’s not who you truly are.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove angst #stranger things fics #morgan’s writings #morgan’s little blurbs #i’m not gonna lie to y’all #this was a little cathartic to write

[aforeffortenjolras]

15 questions 15 friends

tagged by my beloved @604

Are you named after anyone? i mean it’s in the bible but i’m not sure how much my parents considered that. i think it was just popular and they liked it.

When was the last time you cried? i don’t remember exactly, like a little over a week ago i think

Do you have kids? not personally but i do live with kids atm

What sports do you play/have you played? never formally played any sports. i did do figure skating for a bit. i have been thinking about the idea of being on a team and getting really strong and hardcore and working towards something a lot lately.

Do you use sarcasm? yeah

What is the first thing you notice about people? um like overall vibes in how they present themselves?

What's your eye color? dirt (affectionate)

Scary movies or happy endings? i don’t think these are mutually exclusive, but it’s rare that i like something that doesn’t have a happy ending

Any talents? i’m trying to be less down myself, but i think i’m just being honest when i say there’s not any skill that i am particularly good at.

Where were you born? farm town in colorado

What are your hobbies? reading, baking, embroidery, does camping count? i cannot wait to go camping again

Do you have any pets? no, my sister in law said they’re too messy. i wanna get a dog as soon as i get settled after graduation though.

How tall are you? 5'7"

Favorite subject in school? historically it’s always been literature/english, but i did take a screen printing class last spring that was super fun!

Dream job? i have a complicated relationship with it, and it’s not very realistic as a career, but i think being an author is a dream that i’ll always carry in some part of me

i tag @ihamtmus @bigbighouse @awildfangirlappeared @hummingbirdsaltimolockia @nolivingdudeami @okarasusama @thisbrilliantsky

#personal #thanks micah i haven’t done a tag game in ages #also same height! #sorry if i missed anyone or tagged someone that micah already did #edit: no wait i remember it was last Friday when i pair of jeans that i ordered which was the third pair i have ordered #trying to find the right size #came in the mail and didn’t fit #but! i ordered a size down and they came today and i think they actually fit!

[sydneyadmu]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

thanks for the tags @lilting-aurora and @notyouraveragesofia <3

1- Are you named after anyone?

actually yes, my mother choose my name because of a character from a novela she really liked 😭

2. When was the last time you cried?

last night😀 everything is fineee (it’s not)

3. Do you have kids?

I do have a very younger sister that I take care almost as a parent so I think it’s enough djdkk I never wanted kids for myself tho

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

only when I’m angry hehe

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

I played football (like what americans call soccer) and handball at school and I don’t know if it’s considered a spot but I do kickboxing nowadays

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

ohh that’s difficult… I consider my really good at reading people and I’m very observant so I notice how they treat others around them to see if they are a nice person or not

7. What’s your eye colour?

dark brown, almost black

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings!! I’m not a big fan of really scary movies

9. Any special talents?

not exactly a talent and more like practice but I do cook well!! and I have a very good memory too, I can remember full pages from books like if I had a picture of them in my mind which it’s really useful sometimes kdkdk

10. Where were you born?

somewhere in the middle of a tropical country blessed by god and beautiful in its nature (it’s a brazilian song so yes this is where I’m from)

11. What are your hobbies?

reading, cooking different things, and walking by myself on a nice park

12. Do you have any pets?

i have a little demon dog and I love her very much

13. How tall are you?

160cm just like jyn erso

14. Favorite subject in school?

chemistry and history (I really loved chemistry I even considered studying it at college)

15. Dream job?

can I answer that I simply do not dream of labor? because it’s true djsksk 😭 but being realistic, it can be anything in my graduation area that will pay me well

#ask games #<3

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 12/21

A partridge? In MY pear tree?? IT’S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK!

Witcher: The Ballad Of Two Wolves #1 (of 4) -  Bartosz Sztybor (A/CA) Miki Montllo

Hailed as the greatest monster slayer - the infamous witcher Geralt is beckoned to the town of Grimmwald. When a strange occurrence stirs murmurs of a werewolf on the prowl, rumors spread about the peculiar arrival of three Piglet sisters. With a grand mystery and a monster to kill, Dandelion may just find the inspiration he needs to write the perfect ballad.

Run Away With Me, Girl GN Vol 1 - Battan

Maki's first love was her high school classmate, a girl named Midori. But Midori broke up with Maki at graduation, saying they were now "too old to be fooling around dating girls." Ten years later, Maki still can't get Midori off her mind, and when the two women reconnect after a chance encounter, Maki realizes that while her feelings haven't changed, Midori's life has turned upside down-she's engaged and pregnant. But the more Maki hears Midori talk about her soon-to-be-husband, the more red flags she notices. Before Maki can stop herself, she asks Midori to run away with her. Will this impromptu escape be the key that leads the two women to a fuller understanding of themselves, and back into each other's arms?

Resident Evil Infinite Darkness: The Beginning #1 -  Keith R. A. DeCandido, Carmelo Zagaria & Valentina Cuomo

Based on the 2021 animated series featured on Netflix, Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness, this exciting graphic novel tie-in features all-new original stories from the world of Resident Evil.

Pure Love’s Sexy Time GN Vol 1 -  Psyche Delico

Four mischievous friends have finally met their match: their own hearts! Now that they're in high school, the only trouble these country boys seem to find themselves in are ones that make them moan and pant. First, there's Kou-chan who wants to confess to Kishi, but is full of heart-pounding doubt over Kishi's reaction. Then there's Mitsuru, the serious one who's pining for a lost love, when he is suddenly ambushed by Tarou, an obtuse air-headed sadist, who's full of nothing but pure devotion for his darling. And finally, just who is the tall boy beating everyone up? And why is he surrounded by flowers? What exactly is his motive?

My Cute Little Kitten GN Vol 1 -  Milk Morinaga

A budding romance between two female roommates is spurred on by the rescue of a rambunctious kitten in this yuri romcom. Rena and Yuna have been roommates since school, and decided to rent a place together after graduation. They've lived together as friends for five years, but things suddenly change the day Yuna adopts a kitten, even though their apartment doesn't allow pets. When Yuna says she wants to move somewhere that will allow them to keep the kitten, Rena admits her true feelings: she wants to be more than friends. Yuna isn't sure how to reciprocate, but she's game to try!

King Tank Girl GN Vol 1 -  Alan Martin, Brett Parson & Greg Staples

KICKS-OFF TANK GIRL 35TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS IN 2023! WRITER AND CO-CREATOR ALAN MARTIN RETURNS WITH FAN-FAVORITE ARTIST BRETT PARSON!     Turning the clock back to the early years, 'King Tank Girl offers up a veritable banquet of brand new stories: Tank Girl and the gang head  to the beach for "Barney Don't Surf"; they explore the expensive world of Wellbeing; and Tank Girl is crowned King of England. And all that before tea time.

The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses GN Vol 1 -  Koume Fujichika

With the new school year comes a new homeroom, new classmates, and a new desk for the timid Komura. But any trepidation he might've felt quickly dissipates when he catches sight of Mie, his new seat neighbor. Apt to quietly blurt out the most random things, the quirky Mie wears thick glasses that accentuate her lovely eyes, making Komura's heart skip a beat! Unfortunately, Mie is pathologically forgetful and can never seem to remember to bring her glasses to class. It's not all bad, though! Her resulting squinty, mean-girl face sends Komura's heart into overdrive too! While Komura is keen to help out and share his textbooks with Mie, will his heart give out from the almost daily strain of being up close and personal with his crush?

Breath Of The Giant TP -  Tom Aureille

According to legends, the North is the home of Giants whose breath has the power to bring the dead back to life. Sisters Iris and Sophia, decide to go on a quest to steal this breath in order to resuscitate their dearly departed mother. They can count on magic, but above all, they will have to conquer their fears. And who's Fagus, the man following them from a distance? He too, has lost a person dear to his heart and wants to bring them back at all costs. Will he prevent Iris and Sophia from being reunited with their mom? Filled with hope, Breath of the Giant combines Sorcery and Fantasy in a powerful tale from young writer and artist Tom Aureille.

Beware The Eye Of Odin TP -  Doug Wagner, Tim Odland & Michelle Madsen

Helgi, the prince of a Viking village, has stumbled upon the cursed Eye of Odin. If he doesn't return it to its rightful owner by the new moon, he will die an agonizing death of boils and decay. By his side are Stigr, a one-armed warrior past his prime, and Kadlin, a female warrior convinced she's a Valkyrie. Their only path will take them through the treacherous lands of the Hundrafolk, Trolls, and Earthen Smiths.

Afro Samurai GN Vol 1 -  Takashi Okazaki

NEW DIRECTOR'S CUT EDITION OF THE OUT-OF-PRINT CULT CLASSIC BOOK! FEATURES A SPECIALLY COMMISSIONED COVER AND A BRAND-NEW FOREWORD BY TAKASHI OKAZAKI! IN A FEUDAL, FUTURISTIC JAPAN, SAMURAI BATTLE TO BECOME NO.1 AND RULE THE WORLD, BUT WHEN HIS FATHER, WHO HOLDS THE COVETED POSITION, IS CHALLENGED AND KILLED, THE YOUNG AFRO SAMURAI VOWS VENGEANCE.

Whatcha snagging this week, Fantom Fam?

#WOTW #What's Out This Week? #comic #comics #comic book #comic books #manga #Afro Samurai #Beware The Eye Of Odin #Breath Of The Giant #The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses #King Tank Girl #My Cute Little Kitten #Pure Love's Sexy Time #Run Away With Me Girl #Resident Evil #The Witcher

[izayoichan]

Lucas: She misses you, she feels left out and left behind, forgotten. -he looked up at River, trying to figure out what he was thinking.- I think you should talk to her properly, she misses her big brother, her family. River: She is so hard to talk to… Lucas: I think that is because you both see the past in each other. You see your mom, you told me so... She sees her big brother, the one she looks up to, and can never measure up to. She calls herself “flower girl and potions chick”, while you are a sage, and a big part of her family are half gods and dragons. River: -sighs looking at Lucas.- I don’t know how to… Lucas: You do, it's the same way you talk to me, to your son, this is your little sister, someone who has always looked up to you, and just needs to be told that she is loved and part of the family. You will always butt heads, you're too much alike not to, but still… She feels all alone. River: You drive a hard bargain Sunlight. Lucas. I know, I think I learned from this vet I know. -he put a hand on River’s cheek.- Take it from someone that has always dreamed of a family; don’t wait anymore, go talk to her, mend those broken things while they still can be mended. Because if there was no hope, she would not have made me this bouquet of flowers, she would have told me no.  River: Okay… now, you said two things? Lucas: Oh yeah... She mentioned a flower shop in Mt. Komerobi, Do you happen to know which one? River: I believe I do, why? Lucas: Oh, I just wanted to ask them if they had some good remedies for an orchid that seems to need some extra care and attention.

River just shook his head, finding the name of the flower shop in question, handing the note to Lucas, who kissed him as a thank you. Then of course he asked if he could help out, to which River intended to say no, but then said yes, because he knew some cats that would love some extra attention, and it was always good to have his sunlight here. 

It was just a couple of days later when he once again saw the flower shop in the distance, River had asked him to come with him, simply because he knew how easily the two of them locked into a certain way of talking to each other. He knew Lucas had found the little flower shop, and talked to the people there. It was fascinating to River hearing him talk in the local language, something he had learned about his Sunlight was that they were quite good with languages. It also meant he had no idea what they actually talked about, although he could guess orchids and remedies.

Lucas: You’ll be fine, and I’ll be there to make sure you don’t slip into old habits. -he smiles, noticing the look River gives him.- Just remember, this is your little sister, not anyone else. River: Thanks, I will try my best. -he really did want to... Seeing the picture of Flynn and Emil with her on her graduation had been hard, he wanted to mend this bridge if he could.- Just stop me if I go there. Lucas: I will.

He walked up to the door and stepped inside looking around for Meadow, holding River’s hand in his.

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#the ward legacy #writblr #simblr #simblrstories #ts4 story #ts4 alpha #ts4 #co created with mahvaladara #Lucas Sunstar #River Ward #Yep #sometimes language skills come in very handy #as Lucas can attest too #so he made the call #and found something he wasn't expecting maybe #who knows #and now he will be there #to make sure they don't go where they always go when they talk

[of-beasts-and-blood]

Character Intro

☢ Basics: Name: Lonnie Gilmore Pronunciation: Lon-ee Gill-more Meaning: Lonnie ~ “noble and ready” Gilmore ~ “great servant” Birthday: October 27th, 1947 (Scorpio) Age: 35 Gender: Male Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Heterosexual Siblings: A younger sister, Connie Gilmore Mother: Barbara Gilmore Father: Giovanni Romero Other Family: N/A Languages: English. Current Residence: Ladonhill Castle, Wales. Hometown: San Francisco, California.

☢

☢ Wizard Fun: School: Not Ilvermorny, that’s for damn sure.  House: N/A Year of Graduation: Who cares.  Occupation: Bartender Pet: None - though he feeds Winnie’s dragons enough to feel some sort of duty of care towards them.  Blood Status: Half-blood. Squib. Species: Human Patronus: He’ll never know :) Boggart: Darkness. Complete and utter blackness. Hopelessness. Lonnie has always been a fighter. Even if the darkest of times, he’s always had enough determination to claw his way out. His biggest fear would be reaching that one time he can’t. Where everything is meaningless and he can’t do anything to change it.  Amortentia Scent: Cheap booze, wax crayons, that smell when you open a jar of jelly candy, the ocean.  Wand type: No wand.  Affiliation: Death Eaters. 

☢ Appearance: Face Claim: Milo Ventimiglia Height: 5’9 Hair Color: Dark brown Eye Color: Brown Typical Hair Style: A little on the shorter side, but still long enough to style. His hair just touches his collar and it’s usually styled to one side. It’s nothing remarkable.  Fashion Style: Mostly button-ups, jeans and ties. He has a few sets of dress pants and waistcoats for formal events. When he’s not working, he wears jackets too against the stupid cold. His favourite item of clothing is a well-worn flight jacket.  Distinguishing Features: Usually pretty deadpan. Crooked mouth. 

☢ Personality: Positive Traits: Indomitable, serious, charismatic (at work), paternal, hard-working, hopeful. Negative Traits: Bitter, misguided, scheming, jealous. Quick Facts: Can cook. Can sew. Can dance. Has a muggle driver’s licence. Has a motorbike licence. Has a motorbike (don’t tell Winnie). Has a sense of humour, but it’s very dry and very rare. Hobbies: Potion-making. Reading about aspects of the Wizarding World. Window-shopping. Exploring wizarding gathering spots. Why do so many of his hobbies make him feel like an outsider? Skills: Great at potions. Okay at playing well with others. Good at deflecting insults. Bad at maintaining interpersonal relationships. Bad at small talk. Good at those cool bartender flick-flack tricks. Not good at being a brother anymore. Great at keeping himself alive. Theme song: “Life Is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back” by Meat Loaf

☢ Headcanons:

Voice: The kind of gruff tone that doesn’t make you want to clear your own throat. He hasn’t got a memorable laugh, or one of those deep voices that makes you blush, or even the best accent. But his voice is pleasing on the ear and unremarkable enough that you don’t remember it when you finish talking to him. Lonnie fades into the crowd well. Speaks with an American accent.

Handwriting: Bad. Oh god, it’s so awful. Chicken scratch. It’s like the second he left school, he forgot how to write legibly. 

Lonnie is a master of the silent treatment. He and his mom barely exchanged words while Connie was at school and not living with them. Even when his sister was there, he got away with speaking very little in common spaces. He didn’t bother telling her he was leaving America. She wouldn’t have noticed anyway.

The only time he’s ever ignored Connie outright is when she came home once during her second year at Ilvermorny and proudly announced that he was what the kids at school called a ‘squib’. It was the first time she had separated the two of them as different. Before then, it hadn’t mattered that she had magic and he didn’t. It wasn’t something they talked about. But her world had a word specifically for someone ordinary like him, and it bugged him that she informed him so proudly. He didn’t speak to her for the remainder of her holiday.

Lonnie is used to the impermanence of home. During his final high school year in particular, he spent a lot of time away from his mother’s house. He would crash on friend’s couches or sleep in his car. He’s used to carving a space for himself where there shouldn’t be space. The fact that he’s living in an actual castle now is completely wild to him. 

Lonnie thinks Winnie’s dragons are cool. He always wanted a dog growing up, but this kind of blows that out of the water.

Even now, years later and buried under a thick layer of denial, Lonnie still wishes he would wake up and be magical. 

Lonnie likes jazz music and sometimes spends his evenings off at a jazz bar he likes in Camden. 

#m: lonnie #about: lonnie #character introduction