#i have wanted it since day one since i knew it existed. since before then honestly

[dudeitiskarev]

What If… | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: Aaron gets sick on the way home from a case, and since his symptoms are too similar to pregnancies, Reid introduces him to ‘sympathetic pregnancy’. Which makes Aaron wonder… what if?

Tags/warnings: sick Hotch :(; established relationship; sympathetic pregnancy symptoms; pregnancy scare; suggestive content; Jack and Haley don’t exist in this universe.

Word count: 1.4k

Author's note: something short, sweet and silly to keep my creative juices flowing. Hope you like it!

HOTCH MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The last time Aaron got sick was over four years ago. 

Back then, he had no one to look after him, and he refused to go to the ER because it was just a cold (it took him two weeks to get a full recovery, and if it weren’t because of Penelope’s magic potion, it would’ve lasted a month). 

Now, he couldn’t wait to get home. To you.  

"No offense, Hotch, but could you please sit...over there?" JJ gestured with her head to the empty seat at the end of the jet after Hotch returned from the toilet for the third time. All the color of his face was gone. "I don't want to bring some flu home with Henry."

"It's not the flu," Aaron's voice came out raspy, and chose to sit next to Reid instead of next to JJ. His throat was still burning from puking everything he’d eaten for breakfast. It must’ve been something he ate.

"You've been feeling weird for the two days," Rossi commented, "In the mornings."

"Ugh, morning sickness is the worst," JJ casually said through a small laugh.

Emily laughed, too. "Are you implying Hotch might be pregnant?" 

Everyone laughed except for Reid. "Studies have shown that men can get pregnancy symptoms while their wives are pregnant,” he began. “It's called sympathetic pregnancy."

"You mean Hotch's girl might be pregnant?" Morgan quirked his brows.

A thick silence filled the jet, and then Rossi asked, "Have you guys been trying?" 

Hotch merely shook his head. It had been a topic of conversation before getting married, of course, and the plan of trying for a baby was after five years of marriage (you really liked each other’s company as it was) and it’s only been two. 

The idea of Hotch’s girl being pregnant vanished as quickly as it came, but Hotch didn’t let it go. He didn’t think you could be pregnant, but the constant thought of you carrying his child helped him get through the three-hour journey back home. 

He called your name as soon as he shut the front door, even though he knew you weren’t back from work just yet (he didn’t want to tell you he was feeling sick, or else you would’ve dropped everything to be there when he made it back). 

His entire body was aching by now and all he managed to do was strip out of his work clothes and get in bed, turning himself into a shivering cocoon. 

The bed sank next to him, and a soft kiss landed on his cheek, pulling him out of his not-so-deep slumber.

“Hi.” Your bright eyes were right there on his face.

“Hey.” He fluttered his eyes open to capture your whole beauty. 

"Why are you in bed?" You asked with half-a-pout. "Are you feeling sick?" Your hand flew to his forehead to feel his temperature, and your face dropped. “You’re burning.”

"I feel better now." He snuck one arm out of the bed covers and caressed your cheek to greet you properly. He’d missed you so much. 

"Why didn't you tell me?” You were quick to reprimand him with a caring frown. “I could've brought you some medicine."

"I don't know, I don't think I need it.” He shook his head, raising his brows. “I feel much better now."

He did feel better now that you were there, but he still didn’t feel quite good. 

"You look pale. Have you eaten?" You asked and he shook his head. "I’m gonna make you some soup," you replied, already getting up.

"No, just…” he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you back to bed.  “Stay here with me for a while?" 

Your whole body softened. You gave in right away, kicked off your shoes and clasped every bit off you with his body, ending up nose to nose. 

The thought of you being pregnant came to him again and he couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” You frowned.

"You know Reid," he started. "He’s the smartest person I know and he mentioned this thing that happens to men when their wives are pregnant."

"This thing?" you snickered, running your fingers through the side of his head.

"When men show pregnancy symptoms and it's the woman who actually is?"

You paused all movements for a moment. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know." He merely shrugged. "I thought it was...interesting."

You pecked his lips and went back to stroke his hair again. "You think I could be pregnant?"

"I don’t know, could you?" 

"I don’t think so. I haven't felt anything strange." You shrugged, too. 

Aaron placed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth and stayed there, lips glued on you as he asked, mumbling, "Didn't you say the other day that your...boobs were sore?"

"Yeah?"

"And that food craving you had at almost midnight?" he then teased by your ear.

"We had," you laughed at the ticklish feeling of his deep voice. 

“Alright,” he laughed, pulling back. “You’re right.”

"But I guess it's…” You breathed in. “Unusual."

"A little." He smiled. "How effective is your birth control?"

"Very, but there’s always the risk."

You stare at each other for a moment. There was a gleam in your eyes he was sure it had some reflection of his own. He loved you so much. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were pregnant. 

“I’m gonna go to the drugstore and get you some medicine. You’re not looking very well.” You kissed the top of his head and left him there.

In the store, you looked up and a bunch of pregnancy tests winked at you. You hesitated whether to buy one or not. You hadn't felt anything odd that could point out to a pregnancy—besides what Aaron had mentioned.

"Is that all?" The cashier asked you.

You paused, looking up again. "And two pregnancy tests, please."

Soon, you were back home and found Aaron half asleep in the same position you’d left him. You told him to sit upright as you went to prepare him some herbal tea for his stomach to complement the medicine.

“This can help you for a few hours.” You sat next to him and handed him the warm mug. “But if you get worse we’ll have to go to the ER.” 

“Thanks, honey,” he replied.

“And…I bought these, too." You showed him the pregnancy tests. You’d made sure they were different brands just in case one of them wasn’t of good quality. "You planted a seed in my brain, so I guessed we could rule it out right away instead of having the uncertainty.”

“Sorry, I just…” Aaron shut his eyes for a second in deep thought. “I didn’t think it could happen before our plans since everything has turned out exactly how we want.”

“I know, but if it’s something you want to talk about… make some plan changes, we definitely should.”

He reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s rule it out first.”

“What if it's positive?" You tilted your brows with curiosity. 

"I don't know.” He smiled. “What if?" 

Maybe it was the tea you’d made him, but the color of his face was back. You went to the bathroom to get it all over with and were in and out in less than five minutes. 

“Now we wait.” You put both tests on the nightstand and set the timer for three minutes. 

Aaron tapped the bed next to him for you to join him and he pulled you close by your waist, kissing your temple. 

"I’m scared, what if it’s actually positive?”

“We’re gonna have to make some… adjustments in our lives. But now or later, I want you to know that I want it all,” he confessed, planting a squishy kiss on your cheek. 

The alarm went off and you reached for both tests right away, holding them up. 

'NOT PREGNANT', showed the first one, and a single line showed the other one.

“Okay, I’m a bit relieved.” You put the tests aside and looked at him. “And you’re… not. Are you okay?”

“I am I just…” he licked his lips. 

“Aaron, do you really want to have a baby soon?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “We’re perfect like this. Is just… seeing JJ with her baby does make me want to hurry some of our plans sometimes.”

“That sounds like baby fever,” you teased him. 

Aaron shook his head and pulled you down in bed, attacking your face with kisses and making a sweet sound after each one. 

“Oh, someone’s feeling better,” you laughed. “Maybe we could just stick to practicing.”

“Well”—he kissed right below your ear—”I am, in fact, feeling much, much better.”

[reggies-eyeliner]

OKAY AN EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT SENSELESS RAMBLE ABOUT JWCT REGARDING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS AND FOUND FAMILY AND COMPLEX CHARACTERS COMING UP AHEAD WOOP WOOP !!!

i cannot stress to you enough. how much i love the way they write processing trauma. like yeah trauma is all silly and angst and whatever but it's a real thing like genuinely and it's exhausting to see shows just dismiss it over and over again but THIS SHOW I SWEAR IT'S JUST. EVERYTHING IS DONE SO SO WELL AND I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL LIKE

and not to mention that the animation SERIOUSLY DOES IT JUSTICE like the expressions are SO GOOD OH MY GOSH LIKE IT'S I'M THEY'RE YEAH THE EXPRESSIONS. ARE INCREDIBLE. that looks darius got in his eyes when he KNEW the password to brooklyn's phone and kenji didn't??? so good SO GOOD and just the way their eyes all shine before they start crying is actually done so well that if you listen carefully you can feel my heart breaking

also i love how like emotional processing is also written so much. all of them aren't afraid to cry and i feel like that's just. yeah it's beautiful. they cry soft they cry loud whatever it is they're comfortable enough to do so and if they're not they at least know they won't be judged for it ARE YOU KIDDING ME I'M GOING TO BITE A TABLE?????

the characters have flaws. i love that so much. the characters are not perfect but they're still likable and it's executed so well. darius' grief is PALPABLE and kenji's anger, albeit sometimes annoying, is so understandable that you can't actually be angry or annoyed with him because the story writing makes you understand. that's incredible. yasmina struggles with anxiety and ptsd and she gets frustrated and that is !! okay !! sammy ignores her emotions and struggles with toxic positivity but we understand *why* she talks to yasmina that way (because she's worried and scared and concerned for her girlfriend, but she's also just as worried of truly addressing what she's been through) so it's so hard to get mad at her. ben is THANJ GOODNESS not mischaracterized as a cinnamon roll and is actually a complex character with complex emotions and i can't get enough of it. he's like a pain he's so annoying sometimes but it's endearing because he reminds you of that one classmate from elementary that makes you go ohhh yeah no it's him that's fine

okay paragraph was getting long but I do have more to say about kenji. the relationships in this show are executed SO WELL and I'm beyond relieved that Kenji and Daniel's relationship was written INCREDIBLY WELL

like. okay first off the asian rep YEAHGHH IT EAS GOOD !!! WOOP WOOP YRAHAHDH HONK HONK the part about kenji saying he should get his violin after daniel was like telling his sob story was SO FUNNY OH MH GOSH

and just. kenji and daniel kon. im. like his dad was never perfect. far from it and yet kenji just he loves him so much and wants to make him proud and it makes me sick because the writing helps you UNDERSTAND why

daniel keeps giving kenji ultimatums and kenji standing up to him for once just. yeah. that was done incredibly well. and then not even ten minutes after daniel started to change and gave his son something without expecting anything in return other than his presence daniel gets eaten alive in front of him.

okay now this show holy moly i was NOT expecting daniel to just. get ripped apart but um YEAH THAT HAPPENED and the grief was written so well I cannot stress this enough. I loathe in movies and shows when they skim past traumatic deaths and just act like the grief is just non existent and this show does an incredible job at showing that it is VERY MUCH STILL THERE and it makes people out there who are struggling feel a little less crazy and that's so beautiful

i've been a benrius enthusiast since day one and honestly at this point i just hope everything goes well for them moving on. brooklyn's death and Darius coping with her grief was done SO SO WELL and honestly okay as much as i love sibling-type dinostar i think rewatching scenes with the lens that he was in love with her just makes it hurt so much and it's just. yeah. it's written well.

I will say that I think the story could have gone on without Darius confessing his love to Brooklyn, and the scene where Kenji asked Darius about the voicemails could have been used solely as a chance to highlight grief. another way the scene could have gone was if kenji sifted through the voicemails and just heard Darius's voice shatter in a way he's never quite heard it or listened to darius blame himself and that could have been a moment for kenji to realize that grief isn't something people should deal with alone, that *he* shouldn't deal with grief alone

regardless i really do think the idea that Darius was in love with Brooklyn was done really well. I don't know a better way for kenji to have figured out the truth, and for that I am grateful :D!! I hope the hardcore shippers don't get too mad though 😭

also I absolutely loved the lady with the whistle. she's cool. her character design is terrifying and the way she treats the dinosaurs reminds me a of a queen that is very fond of her workers like 😭 she's cool but also i would never want her within a 100 mile radius of me

the found family in this show is actually. yeah. it makes me cry because it's just done so well because it doesn't idealize perfect relationships. there are awkward moments, there are sad moments, characters still feel broken and alone despite having people who've actively said that they'd go to the moon and back for them. it's realistic and it's written beautifully

I think Darius might actually be the character with The Writing ever. his grief and his nostalgia, his awkwardness and fascination with learning and his kindness are all things that exist together and I am so so grateful for that. he's allowed to laugh and make jokes while feeling constant, looming guilt. he is fascinated with learning while also struggling to feel like he deserves to be happy, he enjoys learning about dinosaurs while also being terrified of them on the worst days. he feels guilty and feels like a bad person. but he's loved and he's cared for. can you tell he's my favorite now because

enamored with yasmina and sammy as always. they are just the girlfriends ever and i love so much how openly they communicate with each other. sammy apologizes when she makes mistakes, yasmina doesn't hold it against her. they're always at each other's sides and their love isn't conditional. i love them SO MUCH

okay sorry im making this about darius again but this guy actually is The character ever. I don't think I've ever felt so seen in a character and i just yeah the writers are incredible because all of the characters are written to feel relatable, and if not that, to feel real. it was just a huge comfort to me to know that okay im not crazy for feeling this way because of a character, who was written and animated by dozens and dozens of creators was allowed to be written this way, i'm not messed up in the head, im just processing emotions and it's okay that I need help for that

THIS SOUNDS SO CRINGE I AM SO SORRY

but yeah i. i love this show.

[ckret2]

Chapter 52 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: the Pines get their hands on a book that, they hope, might explain Bill's entire history.

And Ford, Dipper, and Mabel debate the ethics of executing a wanna-be tyrant who recently saved their lives.

"Hey, hey you with the inner eye! How'd your show go, inner eye?"

"Did you read anybody's mind?"

"Did you get next week's lottery numbers?"

"Yeah! Did you predict when anyone's gonna die?"

Brag one time about identifying somebody's cancer and nobody lets it go for years. As the triangle stuffed his bookbag in his locker, he tried to ignore the square and rectangle laughing at him down the hall. Every time he missed a few days of school so his parents could haul him to a speaking engagement several states away, he got this when he got back. They knew he couldn't read minds and they knew he couldn't tell the future. They didn't care; they just wanted to make him mad. If he tried to correct them, they'd just laugh at him for caring about what they said.

"How come your inner eye's on the outside, inner eye?"

"Yeah, shouldn't it be in your stomach?"

"Can you see the ghosts from in there?"

He slammed his locker and turned toward the square leading the harassment. "You know what, I did have a vision at the show," he shouted. "I saw who your real dad is! Hey, did you mom ever get that mutt fixed?"

He didn't need to tell the future to know he'd better run for it. He bolted for class.

He'd missed the last three days of school so he could wow the crowds by telling them what was in their pockets, while his parents talked about cleansing negative energy from their spirits or some junk like that; and he'd come back just in time for a history test he hadn't studied for.

He wasn't worried. He was sitting behind the smartest line in class. On test days, the teacher set up cardboard barriers between everybody's desks to prevent them from reading each other's tests, and he took it on faith that this worked on the other students; but for his own part, the barriers were so thin that sometimes he walked into them without noticing they were there. He just looked straight past them as if they didn't exist. He had a clear view of the smart line's test.

As he bolted for his classroom, he could see through the walls that the line was already in there, talking to the teacher. He slowed down his mad dash before reaching the doorway and came in at a stroll, just in time to hear her quietly say to the teacher, "Just for this test, can I switch seats? I don't want to sit by..." She trailed off when she caught the triangle coming in; she and the teacher both stared.

He stared back, irritation flaring up, and snapped defensively, "What?" What did she care if he copied her test? It didn't cost her anything and it didn't make her do any extra work. Wasn't it considerate to help a fellow classmate out? Why should she be selfish about her test?

The square and rectangle tumbled into the room, advanced on the triangle, saw the teacher watching, and shoved past him to get to their own seats. They glared at him as they passed, but didn't say anything. Yeah, that's right, look who got the final word in.

To the line, the teacher quietly said, "Don't worry about it, just get ready for the test." She raised her voice. "All right, settle down, everyone at your desks. Put your notes away. This is a long test, so we're starting immediately." Several students grumbled in dismay.

The triangle couldn't be more delighted. The teacher didn't believe in psychic abilities—to his benefit, since so far it had let him get away with copying other students with impunity—but she also didn't like him. He'd been sure that she'd agree to let the smart line switch seats to get away with him. But apparently she'd rather dismiss the class pet than admit that maybe it was possible for him to psychically cheat. He smugly headed for his desk, ready for the easiest test of the class.

The teacher put a hand on his arm before he could pass her. "Not you," she said. "Get your stuff from your desk, you'll be taking the test at the front of the class. At my desk."

"What!" He whirled to stare at her indignantly. "Why?!" (The rest of the class fell silent. He could feel a dozen eyes on his base.)

"Because, your last few test scores have been... unusual. I want to keep my eye on you—"

"Unusual how! My grades have been great! You should be thrilled I'm keeping up with my absences!"

"Your test grades haven't been consistent with your classroom performance," she said tersely.

The other students started to titter. His sides flushed in humiliation.

His classroom performance was abysmal. He never finished his homework (he rarely started his homework), he never had an answer when he was called on in class and usually substituted with something sarcastic that'd at least make the other kids laugh, he never did the readings, and he wasn't even sure which town he'd lost his history textbook in. Studying was boring! He had better things to do! He was a busy guy! (And why bother, when he wasn't any good at it anyway.)

"What, you think I'm too stupid to make A's?!" He planted his fists on his corners. "If I'm cheating, how!" She had the privacy walls between students on test days, she'd searched his desk twice, and during the last test she'd passed behind him like a dozen times as he filled out the answers. Sarcastically, he asked, "Am I psychically reading the other students' minds? Maybe looking at their tests through the walls with my laser vision?"

The class giggled again, but at least this time it was with him. Everyone in the school knew about his family's traveling show and the performances he put on. And everyone in class knew that the teacher thought his family's shows were scams and that he was a fraud, and she'd made that clear from the first week. The other kids believed in his abilities. He'd been in class with most of them since they started school, and his default reaction to being called a liar about his abilities had always been to do something to prove them wrong—and he'd kept doing that even after he realized that telling kids what they were hiding in their bags only creeped them out. 

But it didn't matter if all the kids believed. As long as the teacher didn't, he could get away with anything—and everyone else in class knew he was making a fool of her.

She narrowed her eye. "That's enough. Just get your pen and come to the front."

"This is stupid! You can't prove I've done anything wrong!"

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You just hate my family, you don't have any proof I—"

"Get. Your. Pen. Or you'll be taking your test in the office."

He shot her a dark look; but stormed to his desk, snatched up his pen, and returned to the front. Times like this, he really did wish he had laser vision. He could, just, grow a laser gun out of his eye, shoot her in half...

As he passed the teacher, he muttered under his breath, "I'm telling my mom," but apparently not quietly enough, because the square who'd been bothering him all morning announced, "Hey, he's gonna tell his mommy!" and half the class laughed.

"Behave," the teacher snapped; then said tiredly to the triangle, "You can tell anybody you want, just—take your test."

Sure, she said that now. She didn't know what his mom was like when she thought her golden child was being mistreated. He'd go home whining and moaning about how unfair his teacher was, and tomorrow morning his mom would be in the front office ripping into the principal over the terrible teacher slandering and humiliating her perfect little triangle. And she was shrill. The whole hallway would hear it. Wielding his mom was a double-edged sword (or maybe double-edged whip would be a more apt metaphor): the other kids would make fun of him for weeks; but he'd definitely get what he wanted. Either his teacher would shape up, or he'd get a new teacher.

Assuming he did convince his mom he was being mistreated. His confidence waned as he waited at the teacher's desk for her to finish passing tests out to the rest of the students. What if calling in his mom backfired? What if his teacher graded his test tonight? What if his mom got there in the morning and the teacher could show her that he'd gotten almost perfect grades on his other tests, but flunked the one where he'd been forced to sit at the teacher's desk? The teacher didn't believe he could see through walls, but his mom sure did—and he wasn't sure whether she'd care that he'd cheated, but she'd sure care if they could prove that he'd cheated and make her look bad. But now that he'd said he'd tell his mom, he'd look like an even bigger loser if he didn't...

The teacher set his test on her desk last. He filled out his name and stared miserably at the first question. Who was the first triangular president. How was he supposed to know? There'd been like, seven. It was a multiple choice question; he looked at the options to see if any names sounded old-timey, concluded they all sounded old-timey, and sighed in frustration. Now what? He'd heard a kid say once that if you didn't know what to guess, you should always guess C. Would he get enough right answers to pass...?

He let his all-seeing gaze drift past the test to snoop through the teacher's desk—sheets of stickers he'd never earn, eye drops, coupons to a movie theater, spicy novel... and then stopped in wonder. She'd left the answer key to the test inside her desk. Every answer, right there. This would be the easiest test he'd ever taken!

As the teacher watched in increasing frustration, he cheerfully highlighted answer after answer, pausing between each question to read a couple paragraphs from the novel in her desk to make it look like he was actually thinking.

The line at the top of the class and a couple other kids had turned in their tests by the time the triangle had finished his performance. With a flourish, he turned and presented his test to the teacher still standing behind him. "Well?" He gave her his most innocent look. "So how'd I do?" He'd almost asked her, so how'd I do it?

She glowered at him, seething; but simply took his paper and snapped, "Go back to your desk."

"Whatever you say!" Cheerfully, he sauntered back to his desk. As he passed Miss Perfect Grades, he said quietly—but not so quietly the other nearby kids couldn't hear—"You got question 7 wrong, idiot." She groaned.

Nobody would get the best of him. He was making it through this class with flying colors. Maybe the teacher was right, maybe he was stupid—but he certainly wasn't a loser.

####

As soon as he'd dressed, Dipper ran downstairs to get the phone book in Soos's office and call the library. This was it. He was rested, his schedule was free, and he was ready to read. Today, he was buckling down and reading Flatworld. He was gonna crack Bill's secret history wide open—and on top of that he'd get a leg up on a year of math, and he'd learn something big about Bill before Mabel.

Which he felt guilty for being excited about; but he figured it wasn't wrong to want to be the better twin at paranormal investigation, right? That was his whole thing. Anyway, Mabel might be grateful for it—she'd seemed annoyed at the prospect of reading a hundred year old book on math; maybe he could summarize the important parts for her, it was just like when he'd help her study for big tests...

The librarian on the phone said, "Flatworld by Edward Bishop Bishop? Sorry, our only copy is checked out."

There went Dipper's plans for the day. "When's it due back?"

"In twenty days. Do you want to put it on hold?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Dipper hung up. The Gravity Falls Library let you check out a book for twenty-one days; so somebody had grabbed Flatworld yesterday. Who else would want it?

####

Absolutely aghast, Mabel cried, "They banned colors?!"

Bill and Abuelita, sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, stared at her. Mabel was standing in the doorway, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed, bags under her eyes, distraught. Bill said, "What?"

"On Flatworld!" Mabel dragged her hands down her face in distress. "They made colors ILLEGAL?! It's ILLEGAL to have COLORS?! That's as bad as—as—I can't actually think of anything as bad as banning colors!"

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Oh, you're reading Flatworld!"

"Bill, you've been through so much!" Mabel grabbed his shoulders. "What a traumatic childhood!"

"Mabel."

"No wonder you turned evil, I'd be evil if I grew up without coloring books—"

"Mabel. Kid."

"What!"

"Colors weren't illegal," Bill said.

Mabel paused. "They weren't?"

"They weren't. I was even born gold. I drew my house, remember? You saw the rose bushes?"

"Oh." Mabel thought about that. She planted her hands on her hips. "Then I take it back, you've got no excuse for being evil!"

"I'm devastated."

"What is Flatworld?" Abuelita asked politely.

"Book inspired by my home world," Bill muttered. "Loosely."

Abuelita nodded, puzzled. "¿Pero tú no eras del infierno?"

Bill laughed. "¡Puede ser!"

Mabel asked, "So if colors weren't banned, why did the book say they were?"

"Ahh, Eddie was a writer." Bill shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. "He took some creative liberties to make the story more exciting. He wasn't writing a history textbook."

"Which parts are true?"

Bill gave her a sly sideways glance. "Which parts pardon me from being evil?"

Mabel blew a raspberry.

In the entryway, Dipper said, "Mabel? You checked out Flatworld?"

She jogged over to him. "Yes! Augh, Dipper, you've gotta read it after me! There's some crazy bonkers stuff in here!"

"Yeah," Dipper said, mildly deflated, "sure. When did you pick it up?"

"Yesterday! I biked to the library after Bill fell asleep. I had to find out what it said. Did you realize we don't know anything about where Bill came from? I don't even know if he had dirt."

Bill had avoided looking at Mabel as she talked to Dipper, focused on eating, mouth set in a flat line; but without glancing over, he said dismissively, "Sure, of course we had dirt. It was cheap to import."

Mabel turned back to Dipper, her eyes bugging out. "He had to import dirt. I didn't know that!" 

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Here!" She dragged Dipper into the living room.

Bill looked at Abuelita. "Ask how cheap it was to import dirt."

"No."

"It was dirt cheap. Ha!"

Abuelita shook her head.

Mabel picked up the book from the end table by the sofa bed. Out of range of the kitchen, she whispered, "All that talk about the Axolotl and prophecies just kept bugging me until I read the book. I stayed up half the night! I thought maybe it'd help us remember more of the poem."

"Did it work?"

"Not yet. But I think I feel something percolating in my brain! It's coming, I know it." She pushed the book into Dipper's hands. "We've gotta talk as soon as you read it."

It was a much smaller book than Dipper had anticipated; a cover about the size of a paperback novel, but it was only as thick as one of those easy chapter books for new readers that Dipper had started devouring in second grade. Even if the text was dense, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to read.

"By the way, who put me back in my bed?" Mabel asked.

"Oh. Bill d—" The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood on end as he realized something he'd been too tired to notice last night. "Bill did."

"Aww, that's sweet of him," Mabel said.

"But Mabel," Dipper hissed. "I don't know how he got through the bedroom door."

####

Ford shut his journal and turned his desk chair to face the children. This was serious enough to warrant his full attention. "You're sure you didn't prop the door open last night?"

"Positive," Dipper said. "We talked about it. We decided it would be safer if Bill was stuck in one spot and had to ask to leave."

"The doorknob's been busted since the tooth fairy broke in," Mabel said. "Maybe Bill just pushed it open?"

Ford said, "Under the terms of the curse, he shouldn't even be able to do that much. It's supposed to magically prevent him from remembering or imagining any way to get through a door." Still, he made a mental note to ask Soos to repair the door as soon as possible. They ought to at least remove the possibility that Bill might have found a loophole.

"Could the curse be wearing off?" Dipper asked. "Maybe you just need to do it again?"

"This isn't a curse that should wear off. It was originally designed to keep hidden treasures guarded for a thousand years—and as far as I know, the only way to remove it is for the person who placed it to lift it," Ford said. "If Bill's getting through doors, either he knows a way to break the spell that he never told me, or he's found a way around the spell. Both mean bad news. For all we know, he might already be able to get through any door and is just pretending he can't."

Dipper thought back to the pitiful performance he'd seen in the bathroom. "I... don't think he's faking." Unless that wasjust a big act? Bill flung himself down staircases and stuck forks in his arms for fun; what was stopping him from writing on the walls in his own blood?

"Well, he can get through at least one door." Ford got to his feet and began pacing up and down the length of his study. "On top of that, by now he's revealed he can see through walls, see the future, see in the dark, and see who knows what else in other dimensions... He's trying to befriend Wendy, he's already befriended—" he cast a guilty look at Mabel, "... one of us, and I suspect he's getting into Stan's head... He has a standing weekly appointment to network with the mayor, the sheriff, and the deputy... He could be up to almost anything by now. I'm afraid he's right on the verge of slipping through our fingers. If only we could get that blasted fuel! We need to destroy him before he finds a way to escape for good—"

"Wait," Mabel said. That alone was enough to make Ford flinch. "Didn't he just save you guys' lives yesterday?"

Dipper winced, but Ford didn't seem surprised that Mabel knew; he just averted his gaze and sighed. "I know. And I'm..." he wrestled with his words until he reluctantly conceded, "grateful that he did. But even so—"

"Grunkle Ford! How can you still hate him after that?!"

Ford pressed his lips together to avoid saying pretty easily. "It's not about hatred, Mabel. It's an issue of the greater good."

"The gr—pbbbt!" Mabel blew a raspberry and flung her arms in the air. "Come on!"

Dipper said, "Grunkle Ford's right. Even if Bill isn't just trying to manipulate us somehow... if he had a chance, he'd still take over the world."

"Exactly," Ford said. "Two lives isn't a sufficient down payment to let him purchase the rest of our reality. We must put the safety of the universe first, and... put our consciences second."

Mabel looked between them in disbelief. "It's not a down payment, it's—it's progress. It means he's changing for the better! Guys, you don't know what the world he came from is like!" She pointed at the book Dipper was carrying. "Of course he's evil after how he grew up! Maybe he just needs some people to be nice to him and he'll learn to be nice back!"

"He grew up more than a trillion years ago," Ford said. "That's over seventy times longer than our entire universe has existed. He's had plenty of chances to outgrow his upbringing. I'm sure somebody's been kind to him in that time." He'd been kind to Bill.

"Then why is he being nicer now? First he was nice to me, now he's been nice to you two—if he keeps getting nicer to more and more people..."

Ford shook his head. "He could be nice to the whole world and it wouldn't mean he's any different."

"How do you know?!"

"How often does he talk to you about his plans for Weirdmageddon?"

Mabel fell silent, thinking uncomfortably about all the times he'd freely told her what boring animals he planned to upgrade once he'd conquered the world, or which fun places he wanted to destroy with his alien friends, or which laws of physics and spacetime he planned to change. She thought about all the times he'd expressed his gratitude by swearing to shed blood or rearrange stars on her behalf.

"He doesn't see befriending his future victims as a conflict of interests. So why wouldn't he start Weirdmageddon again?" Ford asked. "He doesn't feel remorse over a single thing he's done."

Mabel thought about Bill offering to put back the stolen ring at the mall.

Dipper thought about Mabel's Fault.

But did that really prove he felt remorse?

"But—doesn't he ever get a chance?" Mabel's voice was thick. "How do you know if he'll be selfish next time if you don't let him try? He can do better, I know it! He just needs a chance to prove it!" She looked pleadingly at Ford, then at Dipper. "What if he could be good this time? What if he could help?"

Dipper had to avert his gaze. "If we were talking about shoplifting or vandalism, yeah, but... if we give him a chance and he lets us down, it's the end of the world. We can't risk that."

Ford knew Bill would be just as selfish this time, because Ford knew Bill. Because Ford had heard, throughout the multiverse, on world after exploited world, just how selfish Bill had been for billions and billions of years. Because as far as Bill was concerned, he didn't have any reason to change outside of the fear of death—and fear never made anybody better. But Ford said, "His second chance is whatever he can do between now and whenever we find or make a fuel that will let us destroy him. But once we can..."

Mabel's face scrunched up as she fought not to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, crossed her arms, and lowered her head.

"Mabel..." Dipper reached for her shoulder.

She shook him off and shook her head; but she said, voice muffled by the collar of her sweater, "I know. You're right. He's too dangerous." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Ford said.

"It—it's fine." She wiped her eyes and turned away. "I'm gonna get breakfast."

"Mabel, wait," Ford said. "You... know not to mention any of this conversation to Bill, right? Even if you want to help him, it might just make him pretend to be better long enough to fool us—or escape entirely, if he's found a way how yet..."

She turned to give him a teary-eyed frown; but she said, "I won't. I promise." She got into the elevator to head upstairs.

Ford sighed and sank back down into his chair. Should he have done more to keep her from Bill? Used his summer guardian privileges to ban her from talking to him, and dealt with the relationship fallout? What he and Stan really should have done was just send the kids home. He'd thought this would all be over weeks before now.

He didn't think Mabel would betray them for Bill. He hoped not.

But this was going to break her heart.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper said. "About the fuel we need to power the Quantum Destabilizer..."

Ford sighed. "The impossible-to-synthesize paradox fuel?"

"Actually... I think I have an idea."

####

In order to generate NowUSeeitNowUDontium, Fiddleford had said, they needed a paradox: someone to simultaneously both observe but not think about and think about but not observe the miniature particle accelerator as the experiment was run. Fiddleford had tried to cheat by using a pair of twins, hoping they'd be similar enough that they could still generate Dontium, albeit at a much slower rate; but to no avail. Which left them at a road block. How could one person both observe and not observe and think about and not think about the experiment at the same time?

Dipper thought he might have found away.

Bill had made a comment last night that stuck with Dipper, about how his body stared at nothing while he was outside it. (He'd called him "stupid looking." That was the real reason it had stuck with Dipper.) Would that meet the criteria of the paradox? A body that was looking at the experiment, but not thinking; and then if his soul was thinking about it but not looking...

Ford thought it was worth a shot. He could call Fiddleford and propose it. "As long as you're sure you want to try?" he asked Dipper. "You only just figured out you've been slipping out of your body—and too long a separation without anything occupying your body might kill you. And who knows if there's more risks we don't know about yet?" Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "We can still look for other possibilities first. You don't need to be a hero."

Dipper scowled. All he could think of was Bill capturing Ford, laughing at him as he turned him into a statue, burning up his journals in front of Dipper's eyes: Don't be a hero, kid. This is what happens to heroes in my world!

"I'm going to do it," Dipper said. "And we should do it now. Before I lose my nerve."

Ford frowned. "I'm serious, Dipper. If you're afraid—"

"I didn't mean that," Dipper said. "I mean—about Bill. He did just..."

"Ah," Ford said. "Yes. There's that."

It had been easier to treat the issue like it was black and white when Mabel was in the room—when she saw it all in black and they needed to balance out her perspective with white. But when she was gone, and the muddled shades of gray crept in like fog?

Dipper could still see Bill gloating as he kidnapped his great uncle and burned the journals; but at the same time, he could also see Bill angrily muttering under his breath as he delicately reeled in Dipper's body by a thread, and then rushing to the cliff's edge to drag Ford to safety. Safety of the universe aside—it felt wrong to plot to kill the guy who'd just saved them.

After an uncomfortable silence, Ford said, "But it doesn't change anything else he's done."

"Yeah," Dipper said, "it doesn't change anything." All the same, his stomach twisted with guilt. He wondered if Ford's did too.

Ford sighed heavily. "I'll call Fiddleford."

####

Fiddleford was wary about trying a new strategy, although for different reasons: he didn't want to change their method to create Dontium before he'd spent several days calculating how the new variables would affect the experiment. But desperate times... He agreed they needed to do whatever they could before Bill found a way to escape.

Dipper went upstairs to grab his backpack. He didn't even unpack all his camping equipment; he just shoved in his journal and Flatworld, and headed back downstairs.

Meanwhile, Ford tracked down Soos in between tour groups to ask him to fix the kids' door.

To Ford's surprise, Soos looked uncomfortable at the request. "Dude, are you sure that's... y'know... necessary?"

"Even if Bill weren't a threat, it would need to be fixed sooner or later, wouldn't it? I can help when we get home if it will take too much of your time." Or maybe Stan could help, he didn't seem too busy; last Ford had seen, he was hunting through the house for a missing remote control.

"It's not that." Soos fiddled with his hands uncertainly. "It's just, I know Mabel and Bill have been getting along really well lately, and I think that's probably a good sign for Bill; and I thought, if Bill can use their door, maybe Mabel would like it if Bill can visit her a little easier?"

Ford stared at Soos, bewildered. He'd expected this out of Mabel, but Soos? "And I think Dipper would like it if he couldn't."

"True," Soos conceded.

"Not to mention ensuring he can't sneak in during the night, or snoop when they aren't home..."

"Okay, okay. You're right." Soos sighed. "I'll fix it after work."

"Thank you."

A tourist family came in, and Soos went to greet them; Ford watched him a moment. Where had that come from? Soos rarely interacted with Bill; if anything, Bill seemed to steer away from Soos, and certainly never had anything kind to say to him when they did interact.

Maybe the pet geodite had won him over. Ford shook his head and returned to the living room.

Dipper was waiting on the couch, adjusting the straps of his overstuffed backpack. Ford glanced in on Mabel having breakfast by herself in the kitchen, picking at a waffle, lost in thought; but they left without saying anything to her.

####

(Took two weeks to get the next few chapters cleaned up, but finally here it is! Hope y'all enjoyed—and we'll be hearing a lot more about what's in that book next week.)

[silovsmenot]

This or That | Artūrs Šilovs

Request by anon...

silovs is a media darling. how about something with him and social media admin, like they're trying to get him to do a tiktok or something for the fans and he's just nervous around them

WARNINGS: None at all, as usual, it's 1000% complete fluff. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilovs x reader. NOTES: I absolutely adored this request, and I will never get tired of writing for Arty. WORD COUNT: 1306

As far as jobs go, you were pretty sure that you’d hit the jackpot. The social media admin for the Vancouver Canucks, with pretty much free reign on what you wanted to do. Your job was to get the team trending, to keep the community talking and to make the boys seem ‘real’.

These players were, for intensive purposes, celebrities in Vancouver. If they were spotted on the street, management wanted people to see them as approachable and friendly. It was a good marketing tactic, and you were rolling with it.

The team had so many young guys that it was easy for the most part — they were all ready and willing to get in front of the camera, and do stupid things for the trends. You were having a great time with it. Even some of the older guys were getting into it.

But there was one who was a little more reserved and had, until now, evaded you. You’d exchanged words in passing, you knew the other existed, but he finished training and left without word most days. He kept to himself, and while that was fine for a while, management wanted him to be included.

Artūrs Šilovs couldn’t escape the camera forever.

And today was the day that you were going to get him — you weren’t unfair, you’d find something together that he’d be willing to do. It was never your intention to make any of the guys uncomfortable.

Completely on queue, you saw his head ducking out of the changing rooms with eyes on the nearest door. But there would be no escape from the social media admin today.

“Artūrs!” You shouted, jogging up behind him with a growing smile at your lips. He turned quickly; the Vancouver cap backwards as messy strands of brown hair escaped through the hole. And, as he normally did post training, his glasses rested upon the bridge of his nose.

You’d told yourself when you got this job, no dating players, but he was cute and you could be tempted to break your own rule.

“Sorry, if you’re not busy, would you mind helping me with something?”

You phrased it carefully, knowing he was more likely to turn around and say yes if you said it was to help. And it was to help both of you. As expected, he did nod — he turned on his heels and was ready to follow you.

You both found yourselves smiling at the other, he was full of nerves as you began to walk back into the corridor and he didn’t quite know what to say to you. There were things he was thinking about saying, like how he was thankful that you had been a friendly face to him since he was called up to the Canucks, or how he would’ve liked to spend some time with you, but far from a camera.

Whatever he was thinking as you led him toward the little media room, he didn’t say any of it. Arty just followed with hands buried in his pockets, fiddling with threads with nerves and a small smile upon his lips.

He opened the door before you could reach, holding it wide open for you to enter as you’d say a quiet thank you. With the door closed, it was impossible to not focus on how nervous he so clearly was.

You simply found yourself staring at him for a brief moment, trying to find the words to say that would put his mind at ease.

“Art, I’m not going to ask you to do something that you’re not comfortable with…” You quietly said with a few short steps toward him. “I have an idea and if you’re not happy with it, we don’t do it.”

His brown eyes had been fixated with since you called him that corridor and they made no signs of wavering from you. He was uncomfortable in front of that camera, but it was just nerves with you, and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d grown used to so many people over the last few weeks in Vancouver, but you stood out. You made him smile without a word and while he knew you’d only talk to him to get him in front of that camera, he wanted you to talk to him. It was all quite confusing in his head, but pushing through it all, he’d simply nod in response to you.

A quiet, sheepish ‘okay’ coming from his lips.

And so, you began to explain your idea, and it was simple. An easy ‘this or that’, with things from Canada vs back in home of Latvia. It would take a little work to find a comparison, or as near as you could both get, but it was a way for him to reveal a little bit of home to the Canuck fanbase.

“I like the idea… Let’s do it.” Artūrs finally said as you finished your explanation, taking a moment to dramatically gasp for air after you’d talked non-stop for a couple of minutes. You couldn’t help the triumphant nod that you gave at his answer, the smile spread across your features from ear to ear. A smile that quickly caught upon his own lips.

All it took was a piece of paper, five minutes to sort the ‘this or that’ options and you were both ready. His steps were hesitant as they bought in before the green screen, the little camera now upon him.

“First one is nice and simple, your left is Rīga and your right is Vancouver — your favourite city is …?” And you paused. He’d told you that his answer was Vancouver, but he stepped to his left which caused a quiet laugh to part your lips.

He stared at you, pinkening in the cheeks, for a moment as he tried to figure out what he’d done. Once he did, he took two quick steps to his right with hands waving in apology.

“Arty, you can calm down. We’re no rush with this, just think about it and take your time.” Your voice was soft; reassuring and genuine, and it worked. He stopped staring awkwardly at the camera, and simply found your gaze yet again. And there? He felt more comfortable.

Now you had to stand directly behind the camera to make it work, but it did work from there. He kept your gaze, and with clammy hands from nerves, he made the right steps each time. Another five minutes later and you were done. It all needed throwing together for a video to post, but you had what you needed … and there was a hidden, but shared, disappointment in that. He thought about making a few more mistakes to stay longer, and you thought about asking just a few more unnecessary questions to keep him there.

Neither of you made your excuse to stay as you were both nervous. You walked him to the door of the media suite with a melancholy weight upon your shoulders, leaning against the door frame as he’d linger just beyond.

“This wasn’t too bad, was it?” You asked with a slightly teasing tone, just enough to make him smile again. And he did smile, he smiled wide and nodded his head as he removed the cap and messed at his hair with his free hand.

“It was almost fun.” He quickly said, and you felt the slight fluttering in your stomach. “Just let me know if you need me again, at any point.”

That only serve to make the fluttering more unruly. Your mouth dry in surprise as you were simply forced to nod your head. You didn’t take your eyes off him until he was nearly out of sight, and you just missed the sight of him turning back to catch a final glimpse of you.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

HEY WHO WANTS AN UPDATE ON MY VACATION THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR? Lmao well sucks for you this is a monarchy and I am Prince and you're getting it anyway:

1. My friends and I went down to eat breakfast. The waiter asked them what language their native tongue is, Kannada or Tulu or anything else, and before they could answer he pointed at me and said (in Kannada), "I knew this one speaks English as soon as I looked at them. With people like this I just go full butler and restrict myself to yes or no."

2. Yes I fucking got called out as a whitewashed piece of shit by a random waiter who took one look at me. The worst part is he's right. English is my first language.

3. I saw a lot of human kidneys and they were THE CUTEST THINGS EVER THERE WERE SO MANY I WAS SO HAPPY UNFORTUNATELY I COULDN'T HOLD ANY BUT AT LEAST I GOT TO LOOK AT THE CUTIES.

4. I made a lot of intense eye contact with dead babies to evade the Birds. To be fair, most of the babies had, um, closed eyes. Or no eyes. I promise I wouldn't have been making that much eye contact without the Birds. I'd have been looking at the kidneys instead. No i will not be elaborating for fear of freaking people out.

5. It was legal btw. Aside from the photo my friend took of me making the two fingered salute (like the dude smiling next to the grave meme) next to a foetus that was at least slightly demonic in origin.

6. Anyway so then I spoke to my other friend and told her how I felt (about being afraid that they didn't see me as a guy because they've known me since I was 11) and she said it wasn't that, she was just getting used to the new name and pronouns and that was all (since I only came out to her two days ago). And I hugged her.

7. My friends have all been using Asmi for me and correcting themselves with their pronouns. I love them and I want to cry.

8. I saw two men holding hands in front of me at the mall. A very careful holding of hands, delicately. But I think they saw me glance at them, because when they got on the escalator in front of me, they untangled their hands and when one reached for the other's hand again, he pulled it away, and they both carefully stayed on their phones. I don't know. Just something I'm thinking about.

9. Maybe I should take off the progress pride pin from my denim jacket and just wear it everywhere I go. Fuck blending in with the cishets I want the queers to know I exist and they're not alone.

And those were the highlights of my day <3 A totally normal vacation for real.

Have the loveliest of days my maggots I'll be back home in two days and then I'll have all my attention to annoy you with, my loves. And a social battery, which currently is dead by night because of irl interactions.

I'll sleep now. The Horrors will be occupied with me, I hope they leave you alone.

I love you 💕

[purple-babygirl]

fallen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x guardian angel!f!reader

Word count: 1,395

Summary: Steve thought Bucky falling out of that freight train was partially his fault. What if there was another unseen side to the story?

Warnings: angst, crying, mentions of violence including being captured by the war enemy, torture, blood, angel wings snapping, imprisonment, cryo freezing, suffering and nightmares.

A/N: i don't know what i'm doing. I'm sad. i don't even know how I'm gonna continue this story. i have nothing prepared for it. again, I'm just sad. i love you tho.

~

Guardian angels, beings as old as time. They exist and protect without getting bored or fed up. They are there even if people have created too many wars until they have stopped believing in them and in gods altogether.

She was the same, and although she wouldn’t know, she was a piece of art. Lilac hair and eyes, skin softer than silk and a voice so sweet it could melt mountains.

She had no name or age. She had a number. Angel number 11 was who she was. She had no family or friends.

But she had a human.

He was assigned to her and she was made for him. Her only purpose as a creature of the light was to look out for him and keep him safe.

What she wasn’t supposed to do though, was fall in love with him.

Unlike her, he had a name. He was James Buchanan Barnes. This handsome, brave, young man who got enlisted and was about to go fight for his country. He was so kind, so charming and so so far away.

She was very worried, her angelic heart only ever knowing these feelings for him, yet confident in her powers. She would never let anything bad happen to James, or Bucky as he liked to be called.

War or not, she had his back. He could walk through fire and she would get him out of there unharmed.

A

Sadly, all of her planning was burnt to ashes when her ‘superiors’ found out about her latent feelings for the human she was assigned to guard since birth.

It has never happened before. Or at least that was what they had said.

It was all the same with each and every one of them. They get assigned to a baby human, be it male or female, they look after the human all their life until they no longer have one and then they move on to another human.

No angel has ever broken the rules, let alone to this extent.

Why did she think she was going to get away with this? Why did she think she was any different? Who did she think she was trying to carelessly cross the clear boundaries?

The night they were sure she had those forbidden feelings for a lesser being, she was chained and temporarily deprived of her powers, and Bucky was captured by the enemy.

They left her alone to wallow in the dark and cry in worry about her beloved, wishing she was strong enough to get out of her shackles and go be with him in this time of war; in his time of need.

When they kept her there for days to give her a chance to have a ‘change of heart’, Bucky was experimented on and tortured by Hydra.

And when she begged, swearing on all things holy that she was past her silly feelings for him and was ready to go back to serving her part and her part alone, Steve had found Bucky and brought him back with him.

She saw the bruises on his face, the dried blood down his ears and she cried and cried until her eyes were out of diamonds.

She blamed herself for being sloppy with her feelings. She had to be careful if she wanted to stay by Bucky’s side. She had to step on her heart and suppress her emotions if she wanted to keep protecting the man she was in love with.

The way she was unknowingly being monitored, however, ruined everything for her and ended her life as she once knew it forever.

Bucky was being the good friend that he was, going with Steve to fight again, looking more courageous and more handsome than any human ever has.

She was so proud of him and her smile wasn’t missable.

They noticed the focus on her face as she made sure the rope Bucky used to descend on the back of the train held up. They noticed her angel heart and how its beats accelerated with every bullet she dodged for him.

They noticed and they had to stop it.

“You lied,” they said, coming prepared with stronger chains to lock her in.

“He needs me. Please let me be with him,” she begged instead of  finding a way to defend herself.

They didn’t care, hands already on her wings and others on her neck.

“It’s over. He’s on his own from now on and it’s your fault.”

They were punishing Bucky for her mistake. He was going to get hurt and it was all because of her stupidity.

“Please, no!”

They didn’t hear her pleas or her cries, or pity her heart-wrenching screams as they snapped both of her wings off her back at once.

The second she fell to her knees, bloodied and broken, Bucky fell off the train, her last sight of him being him trying to reach for Steve’s hand and failing.

“You’re gonna be in there for at least 80 years, better try to forget because when you’re out, he might be gone.” They advised with little sympathy as they threw her inside the dark cave-like cell.

If this was heaven, what was hell supposed to be like? She can’t be feeling her heart get crushed over and over like that in the one place that was supposed to be void of such bitter feelings, could she?

She cried and cried, day and night. The bright lilac of her pupils turning dim and dull.

Has she just caused Bucky’s death? Did she just kill the one man she was created to protect? The one man that had gotten her heart to beat?

Screaming until she couldn’t breathe, she mourned the man she has known and loved all her life.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not her wings or her imprisonment. Nothing made sense without Bucky. Her life didn’t make sense without Bucky’s.

They let him die. They let her watch him die. Her heart ached with the memory for nights on end even though she could still feel their bond as if Bucky was still there. It was weaker, but it was present.

She became quieter as the years passed, no longer singing or screaming or even talking. The heavens didn’t miss her though, but James sure did. They had too many of her kind, but James only had her. Such thoughts would attack her every night year after year until she would cry herself to exhaustion every night, eventually losing sense of time.

20 years later, she started having nightmares. Terrible, horrendous dreams of her long-missed beloved hurting others.

Her once gentlemanly, well-mannered, kind man was now ending lives in cold blood in her nightmares.

James looked different. His hair was longer, his face grimmer, his eyes darker and his left arm shinier. His warm gaze was replaced by a dead one she never knew.

Had she not known him with her heart before her eyes, she might have not recognized him.

She knew it was her James. She could feel him. She could never forget him even if she wanted to.

Their bond felt strained, weighed down and suffocated. She had no idea what that meant. She thought she was turning crazy, her mind conjuring up an evil version of James to make her fear him or hatr him or leave her memories of him behind for good.

But she would never. Let her turn crazy, she was still going to be in love with James until her last breath no matter what.

Another 50 years and her nightmares have been recurring visions that she was used to, and even waited for.

Any glimpse of James was welcome even if he was acting nothing like the James she had known and loved.

The hardest visions where the ones where she saw him get hurt, his pained screams pulling her heart out and shattering it.

It all felt so real and that made her hate it all more.

It took her a while but she eventually figured out that James was still alive. She didn’t understand how he didn’t age until the cryo-chamber visions came on. Her heart ached for him, bled and sobbed inside her chest for the man who was suffering because she couldn’t be there to protect him; because she let both herself and him fall.

~

Tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga @lindababe69 @sapphirebarnes

[muiitoloko]

heyy, I don't wanna bother you, but can we have some eli x reader? 🥹 maybe someone who after sex is actually attached to him for the first time and he's like

wait

that usually doesn't happen

why are you sweet to me?

😭😭

Title: Beneath the Surface

Summary: Eli struggles with his own feelings towards you.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, denial of feelings.

Author's Notes: Sorry this isn't exactly what you asked for, but I kind of lost control of the wheel while writing this 😭

Also read on Ao3

As Eli parked the car in front of your building, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket with a practiced nonchalance. The screen illuminated his face briefly as he tapped out a message to you:

Eli: "Arrived. Outside."

He smirked as he sent it, knowing you'd be quick to respond. It wasn't long before your message came through:

You: "Almost ready ;). Be down in a sec."

Eli reclined in his seat, making himself comfortable in the plush leather interior of his car. It had been two months since the two of you officially started dating. You met at a bar, where Eli's initial attempt to seduce you into bed that night failed—a rare occurrence for him. The challenge intrigued him, so he took your number and persistently pursued you, asking you out on dates and exchanging texts until, after 11 dates, you finally relented.

For Eli, you were merely a means to an end. He enjoyed the sex, and that was it. He often took you out to dinner, had sex with you, and then left the next morning without any complications. The only hassle was the obligatory texting and occasional dinners he had to endure with you.

Eli leaned back, replaying the last few months in his mind. He had gotten used to your presence, your body, and your quirks. It wasn't that he found you particularly interesting or attractive beyond the physical realm, but you served a purpose—a regular, accessible source of pleasure. And that was enough for him.

He glanced at his phone again, noticing your text.

You: "Coming down now."

When you finally appeared at the entrance, he watched as you hurried towards the car, your heels clicking against the pavement. You slid into the passenger seat, a small smile on your face that made him wonder if you genuinely enjoyed his company or if you were just eager to get the evening started.

"Hey," you greeted him, leaning in for a quick kiss.

And it was one of those moments that Eli Michaelson rarely allowed himself to dwell upon: the brief, fleeting instant when his desire overtook his carefully maintained façade of detachment. As you leaned in for a quick kiss, he responded with a hunger he refused to acknowledge, his lips eager to taste yours, savoring the sensation of your warmth and the faint flavor of your lip gloss.

Why did you have to be so good? Eli pondered internally, even as he kissed you back with a passion that defied his own self-imposed rules. He knew better than to let himself get attached—after all, you were just like any other woman, nothing special. He had told himself this repeatedly since the day you met, yet here he was, struggling to maintain the distance he thought he had established.

The kiss deepened momentarily, and Eli found himself wanting to pull you closer, to lose himself in the intimacy of the moment. But the confines of the car prevented such abandon, and it was you who eventually broke the kiss, your voice pulling him back to the present.

"I hope this doesn't mess up my makeup," you remarked lightly, a practical concern that jarred Eli back to his usual self. He felt a pang of disappointment, irrational as it was, at the interruption. He wanted to prolong the kiss, to explore the depths of his feelings, even as he denied their existence.

"You look perfect," Eli said softly, his tone almost reverent, though he quickly masked it with a faint smirk. "Makeup or no makeup."

You smiled at his compliment, and the air between you shifted subtly. Eli cleared his throat, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"Are you ready for dinner?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, as if the kiss had not affected him in the slightest. "I made reservations at that new French place you mentioned last week."

You nodded eagerly, seemingly unaffected by the charged moment just past. "Oh, I can't wait! I've heard such great things about their wine selection."

As Eli started the car, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes lit up with excitement. It was moments like these that made him wonder—what would it be like to truly let himself care, to let go of his carefully constructed walls? But then, he quickly squashed the thought. He was Doctor Eli Michaelson, renowned scientist and expert in his field. He wasn't supposed to be attached to anyone, especially not you.

Throughout dinner, Eli maintained his usual facade of charm and wit, engaging you in discussions about various topics that interested you both. He expertly steered the conversation away from anything too personal, always keeping a safe distance emotionally. Yet, as the evening wore on, he found himself enjoying your company more than he cared to admit.

When you reached across the table to touch his hand lightly, Eli felt a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar stir within him. He withdrew his hand subtly, a faint crease of concern marring his otherwise composed expression.

"Everything okay?" you asked, a hint of worry in your voice.

"Of course," Eli replied smoothly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Just thinking."

But as the evening progressed, Eli's internal struggle continued unabated. He was torn between maintaining his aloof persona and the growing attraction he felt toward you. At one point, as you recounted a funny story from your childhood, Eli found himself genuinely laughing—a deep, rich sound. It startled him, reminding him of the genuine connections he was capable of making, despite his best efforts to the contrary.

As he drove you home later that night, Eli found himself grappling with conflicting emotions. He liked being with you, enjoyed your company, and yet, there was a part of him that resisted this feeling. He was Eli Michaelson, a man who prided himself on his detachment, his ability to remain untouched by the emotional entanglements that ensnared others.

When he finally parked the car in front of your building, he turned to look at you, his gaze lingering on your face. The streetlights cast a soft glow across your features, accentuating your beauty in a way that made Eli's heart skip a beat. He felt a surge of something—affection, perhaps—swell within him, threatening to burst through the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

"Would you like to come up?" you asked, your voice gentle and inviting.

Eli smiled, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. This was what he came for, after all. He nodded, his arrogance returning full force. "Of course," he replied smoothly, his voice laced with confidence.

Exiting the car, Eli followed you into the building, his steps purposeful and assured. He tried not to think too hard about the conflicting emotions swirling within him, focusing instead on the anticipation of what was to come.

As you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, Eli allowed himself to be pulled closer to you. He relished in the warmth of your touch, the simple intimacy of your connection sending a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins.

Entering the elevator, Eli leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that betrayed his inner turmoil. And then, unable to resist any longer, he pulled you into another kiss, his lips hungry and demanding as he tasted the sweetness of your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body melting into his as he deepened the kiss. Eli's hands roamed over your curves with a possessiveness that left you breathless, his arousal evident as he pressed his erection against your stomach, letting you feel just how turned on he already was.

Feeling emboldened by his desire, Eli moved his hands down, trailing them along the smooth fabric of your dress until they found purchase on your ass. With a low growl of approval, he squeezed the firm flesh, relishing in the way you gasped and arched against him in response.

"You feel so good," Eli murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

And then, with a fierce determination, he claimed your mouth once again, losing himself in the heady rush of passion that consumed them both. In that moment, all thoughts of his inner conflict faded away, replaced by the overwhelming need to lose himself in the intoxicating embrace of your love.

You scratched the back of Eli's head, your nails lightly raking against the nape of his neck, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from him as he kissed you fervently. His hands roamed hungrily over your body, his touch electrifying against your skin. You could feel his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach, a testament to how much he desired you in that moment.

With your other hand, you trailed down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, and you teased the edge of his waistband. Just as things were heating up, the elevator announced its arrival with a soft ping, signaling the end of your private moment.

You reluctantly pulled away from Eli's kiss, a breathless smile on your face. "Looks like we're here," you murmured, bending down to retrieve your bag that had fallen to the floor in the passion of the moment.

Eli followed you out of the elevator, his gaze dark with desire as he watched you, taking in your every movement. He stopped behind you as you rummaged through your bag, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he pressed his body against yours, his erection evident against your ass.

"Come on, baby," Eli whispered huskily into your ear, his voice dripping with desire. "Open that door soon, or I might just have to break it down."

You chuckled softly at his impatience, the sound mixing with a breathy moan as Eli kissed your neck, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you closer against him. His arousal pressed more urgently against you, his eagerness clear in the way he nipped and kissed at your sensitive skin.

"You're so damn impatient," you teased, your voice low and sultry. "I like it. Maybe I should make you wait a little longer."

Eli growled low in his throat, his grip tightening around you possessively. "Tease me and you'll regret it," he warned, his tone a mixture of arousal and threat that sent a shiver of desire down your spine.

"Maybe I like it when you're all riled up," you shot back, enjoying the playful banter that only added to the tension between you.

With a defiant laugh, you finally found your keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside with Eli right behind you. He wasted no time in pulling you into his arms again, his lips claiming yours in a fierce kiss as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"Fuck, I can't wait any longer," Eli muttered against your mouth, his hands already tugging at the hem of your dress.

"Then don't," you replied breathlessly, your own hands making quick work of his shirt buttons.

As the two of you stumbled towards the bedroom, clothes quickly discarded in a trail behind you, Eli's internal conflict raged on. He told himself that this was just physical, that he didn't need emotional entanglements. But with each touch, each kiss, each shared moment, the barriers he had erected around his heart weakened just a little more.

And as you lay tangled together in the aftermath, savoring the intimacy of your connection, Eli couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was fooling himself. Maybe there was something more here than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, content to revel in the pleasure and the heat of the moment. Tomorrow was another day, and tonight, he would simply enjoy being with you, his feelings be damned.

As Eli helped you slip off your high heels, his touch was both tender and possessive, his fingers trailing along the curve of your ankle with a possessiveness that sent shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lay on the bed in just your lace panties, the cool fabric against your skin contrasting with the warmth of the room. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to tell Eli what had been on your mind all evening.

"Eli," you began, your voice soft but determined. "There's something I need to tell you."

But Eli ignored your words, his attention focused solely on you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a heated kiss. You tried to protest, to insist that this couldn't wait, but Eli silenced you with another kiss, his hands wandering over your body with a hunger that left you breathless.

As he deepened the kiss, you found yourself getting lost in the heat of the moment, the urgency of his touch driving all thoughts from your mind. You decided to let go of your worries, to tell him what you needed to say later, when the passion had cooled and you could think more clearly.

Eli released your mouth, a thread of saliva still connecting your lips as he trailed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He reveled in the taste of your skin, the warmth of your body pressing against his as he explored every inch of you with his lips and tongue.

With a low growl of desire, Eli turned his attention to your breasts, their nipples erect from the coolness of the room. He took one in his mouth, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh with a hunger that bordered on desperation. You moaned in response, arching against him as pleasure coursed through your veins.

As you grabbed the back of Eli's head, a low moan escaping your lips, you called out that nickname you knew he loved, even though he never explicitly admitted it: Daddy. Eli smiled against your breast, his lips still teasing the sensitive skin, before his expression shifted to a faux frown. He released your nipple and lifted his head enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Daddy, huh?" he said, his tone playful yet warning. "I've told you before, sweetheart, I don't like that. You know better."

But you only grinned, knowing full well the effect that nickname had on him. You let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning innocence. "Oops, my mistake," you replied with mock contrition, though your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Won't happen again... at least not tonight."

Eli chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "You're incorrigible," he muttered, though there was a hint of fondness in his tone. "But for now, let's focus on more pressing matters, shall we?"

And as you squirmed beneath him, your movements eager and frantic, Eli watched with hungry eyes. He could see the desperation in your actions, the way you were practically begging for his touch. With a low growl of desire, he reached down, his fingers trailing lightly along the lace of your panties.

"Looks like someone's eager," he teased, his voice dripping with lust as he leaned in closer. "Let's see just how much."

With deliberate slowness, Eli lowered his head, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin. He watched intently as you stuck your fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with a sense of urgency. Eli couldn't help but smile at your eagerness, the sight of you squirming beneath him igniting a primal hunger within him.

As you struggled to free yourself from the confines of your lingerie, Eli decided to lend a helping hand. With a swift motion, he grabbed the lace panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. He smirked at the surprise in your eyes, relishing in the anticipation of what was to come.

You eagerly reached for Eli's underwear, your fingers trembling with anticipation as you sought to free him from the fabric that trapped his throbbing erection. But Eli had other plans. He intercepted your hands, guiding them to his shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch.

"Stay still, baby," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky with desire. "Just relax and enjoy."

With a soft sigh, you acquiesced, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation of Eli's lips on your sensitive flesh. He returned to sucking and nibbling at your nipples with a skill that left you breathless, his teeth grazing against the hardened peaks in a way that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

But even as he lavished attention on your breasts, Eli's fingers teased the eager lips of your pussy, tracing lazy circles around your clit with a tantalizing slowness. You squirmed beneath him, your hips lifting instinctively in search of more contact, but Eli held you firmly in place, denying you the release you craved.

Instead, he dipped his fingers lower, parting your inner folds with a deliberate gentleness that belied the hunger burning in his eyes. With practiced precision, he slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to stroke that sweet spot of yours that made you moan uncontrollably.

"Oh, Eli," you gasped, your voice a breathless plea as he worked his fingers inside you, setting off fireworks of pleasure with each skilled movement. "Don't stop... please."

Eli smirked against your skin, his lips trailing a path of fire along your collarbone as he whispered dirty promises in your ear. "I'm just getting started, sweetheart," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "You're gonna scream my name before I'm through with you."

With that, he intensified his ministrations, driving you to the edge of ecstasy with a relentless determination. His fingers moved with a practiced rhythm, plunging deep inside you to hit all the right spots, while his lips and teeth left a trail of fire along your trembling skin.

You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of sensations Eli evoked within you. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent you spiraling closer and closer to the edge, until you were teetering on the brink of oblivion, your body trembling with the need for release.

And then, just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Eli's fingers found that perfect angle, that elusive spot that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You cried out his name, your voice echoing in the room as ecstasy consumed you, your walls clenching around his fingers in a tight embrace.

Eli watched with hungry eyes as you unraveled beneath him, your body writhing with pleasure as you rode out the waves of ecstasy. He felt a surge of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that he was the one responsible for bringing you to such heights of pleasure.

But even as you lay panting and spent, Eli's hunger remained unabated. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he shed his underwear with practiced ease, revealing his throbbing erection in all its glory. He hovered over you, his gaze smoldering with desire as he positioned himself at your entrance, ready to claim you in every sense of the word.

As he pushed inside you, inch by agonizing inch, you gasped at the delicious stretch and fullness, your walls clenching around him in a tight embrace. Eli groaned in response, his hips rocking against yours in a primal rhythm as he buried himself deep within your welcoming warmth.

"You feel so fucking good," he growled, his voice thick with desire as he set a relentless pace, driving himself deeper and deeper into you with each powerful thrust. "So tight and wet for me. You're mine, sweetheart. All mine."

You could only moan in response, lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation as pleasure washed over you in relentless waves. With each thrust, Eli claimed you more fully, staking his claim on your body and soul with a ferocity that left you dizzy with ecstasy.

And as the intensity of your passion reached its peak, Eli's movements became more erratic, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he pursued his own release. With a primal roar of ecstasy, he finally reached his peak, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep within your core.

You cried out his name as pleasure consumed you, your entire being consumed by the overwhelming intensity of your shared passion. As the intensity of your shared passion slowly ebbed, you and Eli remained entwined in each other's arms, your bodies still humming with the aftermath of ecstasy. Eli's breath was hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses there, a stark contrast to the fervor that had consumed him mere moments ago.

And you felt the weight of your secret pressing down on you—the need to share it with him, to unburden yourself, outweighing the potential consequences. But you knew Eli, how he valued detachment, how he kept his emotions at arm's length. You wondered if revealing your feelings would change everything, if it would drive him away.

Despite the doubt nagging at the back of your mind, you decided to follow your heart, to cherish him in this moment before the storm of uncertainty hit. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, feeling his heartbeat slow and steady against your chest. His vulnerability, so rare and unexpected, tugged at your heartstrings.

Without a word, you pulled back slightly, catching his eye with a soft smile. Eli raised an eyebrow, the usual smirk replaced with curiosity. He wasn't used to tenderness, especially not after sex. It was always just sex with Eli—pleasant, satisfying, but always leaving a bitter aftertaste of detachment.

But you were different. You always made it seem like more, like Eli had made love to you, not just fucked you. He found it silly, unnecessary. He wasn't in love with you, and he was certain you weren't in love with him either.

Your fingertips traced patterns along his jaw, down to his neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his jaw, slowly making your way to his ear. Eli's breath hitched, a shiver coursing down his spine as you whispered softly, like a secret meant only for him.

"I love you, Eli."

He froze, his eyes widening in shock. It was the first time you had said those words to him, and the weight of them hung heavy in the air. For a moment, Eli couldn't find his voice, couldn't process the rush of conflicting emotions that surged through him.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for a reaction. Confusion, disbelief, and a hint of fear danced in his eyes. You bit your lip, suddenly unsure if you had made a mistake, if you had pushed too far. But then Eli's expression softened, just a fraction, and his gaze met yours, a storm of emotions flickering in their depths.

"Why?" Eli finally asked, his voice rough with emotion, though he tried to keep his tone steady.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm you. "Because, despite everything, despite how we started, I can't help how I feel about you," you confessed, your voice trembling with raw honesty. "You're more than just a casual fling to me, Eli. You've become someone I care deeply about, someone I want to be close to."

Eli listened in silence, his jaw clenched as he processed your words. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with unexpected tenderness. "You shouldn't," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "You shouldn't care about someone like me."

"Why not?" you countered softly, your hand resting on his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I know you have your walls, Eli. I know you don't let people in easily. But maybe it's time to let someone in. Maybe it's time to let yourself feel something real."

Eli closed his eyes, a mix of frustration and longing etched on his face. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "I'm not... I can't..."

Before he could finish, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him gently. "Shh," you murmured, your voice filled with understanding. "I don't need you to say it back, not right now. Just... think about it, Eli. That's all I'm asking."

Eli gazed at you, his expression unreadable as he searched your eyes. You saw the turmoil there, the conflict between his arrogance and the vulnerability you had stirred within him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Then, Eli shifted, pulling you close against him, his arms wrapping around you in a gesture that was both possessive and protective. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin in a tender kiss that sent warmth spreading through your entire being.

"I don't know if I can," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try... for you."

You smiled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you held him tight. "That's all I ask, Eli," you replied, your voice filled with love and understanding. "That's all I ask."

And as you lay there in each other's arms, the world fell away around you, leaving only the two of you lost in the sweet afterglow of your shared passion. Tonight had been a night to remember, a night filled with pleasure and ecstasy beyond your wildest dreams. And with Eli by your side, you knew that there would be many more nights like this to come.

[thechosenthree]

I am back with more Kendra haunting the narrative thoughts after watching Helpless.

This episode is all about slayers and tradition, it’s about the Watcher’s Council treating the slayers as expendable and disposable. Giles says “It's a test, Buffy. It's given to The Slayer once she— if she reaches her eighteenth birthday.”

This episode is about Kendra.

Even though the episode refuses to say her name, Kendra Young is everywhere! Not even a full season before this episode aired, we were shown— for the first time but far from the last— the tragedy of a slayer dying too young in the line of duty, another slayer rising from her grave and then her being seemingly forgotten about.

The show tries to forget Kendra the same way the council does. I’ve already talked in the post I linked above, about how Faith’s existence ensures that we don’t. But it’s more than that!! The tragedy of the slayers and what Buffy and Faith go through, the entire premise of the show, continues to remind the audience of the slayer who didn’t make it as far as them.

Buffy is going through an identity crisis this episode, she has lost her slayer powers and she doesn’t know why. Giles is in no big rush to figure it out, he doesn’t actually seem all that concerned, and Buffy grows increasingly adrift. She realizes she doesn’t know who she is if she’s not The Slayer.

She’s very aware of who she was before. She brings up Cordelia to make this comparison— her ex shadow self who is a representation of her childhood, of the Buffy she was before she was “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer”— and she seems ashamed of who she was then.

She doesn’t want to go back to being that person. She literally CAN’T go back, and she knows that. She has been changed by her experiences, even without her slayer powers, she is a different person than she was. Buffy says “I’ve seen too much. I know what goes bump in the night. Not being able to fight it— what if I just hide under my bed, all scared and helpless?”

She can’t return to the naïveté of the life she lived before she knew what was out there. I mean, she already tried that!! Buffy spent much of s1 trying to hold on to who she used to be, not wanting to let it go, not wanting to acknowledge that that girl and that life were already gone. Her death in Prophecy Girl goes hand in hand with her accepting that she can’t outrun her destiny, she can’t NOT be The Slayer.

Much of s2 was about accepting that being the slayer was a part of her life now. But Buffy continued to treat it like it was a job, one that had been chosen for her and that she’d accepted she needed to do, but a job nonetheless. She was at war with these two sides of herself, unable to see how they could possibly fit. Kendra played a big part in helping her along that journey. “You talk about slaying like it's a job. It's not. It's who you are,” Kendra tells her in What’s My Line.

Kendra who identified as “The Vampire Slayer” before identifying as Kendra. Kendra who never had a childhood or the chance to try and figure out who she was as a person. She was a weapon and a tool forged, used and discarded by the council (and the show). Being the slayer was not only who Kendra was, it was all she was allowed to be.

I can’t imagine the writers were unaware that writing an episode like this would remind people of Kendra. After all that same Buffy speech I quoted earlier includes the first mention of Kendra’s stake since it’s introduction in Becoming. “… Or what if I just become pathetic? Hanging out at the old slayer’s home, talking people’s ears off about my glory days. Showing them Mr. Pointy, the stake I had bronzed.”

Buffy is able to imagine living long enough to grow old IF she doesn’t have her powers. That isn’t the life of a slayer and she knows that, has seen the consequences of this life first hand. She herself has already died young, and a year later she watched her friend die. She goes from being unable to imagine any kind of future at all for herself to spiraling about the possible reality of a powerless one.

Buffy talks about all this while name dropping the stake a 17 year old slayer gave her just before her death… A slayer who didn’t even live long enough to be forced to endure this cruel test.

Reminding the audience of Kendra seems intentional. Which makes them refusing to say her name even more infuriating.

But she IS there, whether truly intentional or not, the show continues to remind me of her. She’s nowhere and everywhere all at once.

[insufferablelust]

ten. 10 meltdowns later and i have yet to be able to comprehend 261. the pain is just too much, like why? thats like 2 strong protagonist destroyed in one arc. all he ever wanted was not give in into jujutsu world, have freedom for himself and his students, friends, Suguru, people he loved.

If being a child is not a sin, then why does he need to end in such a devastating way, Gege? a bounty on his head when he was born. Treated like a prize rather than a human being. Hunted all his life. Never felt any affection from his family because they don’t value him, they value his six limitless eyes. Had to use infinity to seal his protection. Losing his friends through terrible circumstances. Watched as his only best friend, the only one who ever saw him for what he truly was, deteriorated right before his eyes. Had to end said best friend so the world will be at peace, had to do it himself, carry the burden himself. Losing a part of himself in the process.

Try to built a life on top of the tragedy, making sure his students will have the youth Suguru and himself would have deserved. Making sure his students will someday become stronger than he ever had. Take in the responsibility to train and take care of a pupil from another clan, one that doesn’t see him as human either. Having to exist in a lifetime where the king of curses thrived inside his own student’s body. Protecting him from being destroyed by the higher up because he seldom believed that the boy deserved to have a youth and that its a right not a choice.

Having to acknowledge that his high school friend had loss his life to protect the students, the most disciplined man he probably ever met, the perfect exact opposite of himself. Having to endure another devastating revelation that his person was used after his passing, brain sewed to reveal the antagonizing curse controlling Suguru. Having to endure life in a limitless prison cube, because he knew that was never Suguru that captured him. Having to face the king of curses alone, and many curses before that. Subsequently loses his own life in the most tragic painful circumstances imaginable.

After all that… all the suffering, maybe just maybe I thought he can finally rest easy. Maybe meet Suguru in a beach, talk about how nice it is to just rest, no curses, no humans, no sorcerers. Maybe hoping one day Shoko will join them so they can take a leisure time for eternity, just not too fast, since Shoko is the only one left.

But no… His body and power was used as a weapon after his passing, consented by him prior and controlled by the very student he saved. No it isn’t yuuta’s fault at all. It’s just unbearable to try and digest the fact that even after his passing, he was treated and used as a weapon not honored as a fallen sorcerer hero, or respected like a human being.

Six eyes was not a curse, its supposed to be a blessing but he was treated as the exact opposite. Limitless was not limited, its supposed to be freeing but it became the sole reason of his own demise. Infinity means forever, and he did not even reach 30.

Why?

His eyes is bright ocean blue, soul is free as wide galaxy spread, heart is big as Japanese archipelago, smile is soft as zunda kikufuku, personality is bright as the red sun, knowledge is broad as the moon surface.

Why does he have to end that way?

Isn’t he the honored one? through heaven and earth, isn’t he the only honored and strongest one?

[zapsoda]

i know im like predisposed to mental health issues. and this is entirely my own hubris. but i just cant imagine myself getting post op depression after top surgery

[justauthoring]

jerk.

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: wooooooohhhhh i love soulmate aus so much omg

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part two.

You’ve known he was your soulmate from the first day at U.A. 

When he’d bumped into you, steaming with anger in that way he regularly was and had spat at you; “move it, extra, or i’ll make you” – and you’d known then because those were the words written across you hip since you’d turn five and it had manifested with your quirk.

Because that was how the world was. Nowadays, it was odd to find someone without a quirk and even harder to find someone without a soulmate and you’d grown up your whole life having those awful words written on your skin. Had grown up knowing that for whatever reason, the soulmate you’d been given didn’t say warm, intimate words to you or even just simply generic words. Your friends had always had such nice sentences from their soulmates, with pretty words or a happy greeting.

And in yours you’d been called an extra.

Whatever the hell that meant.

You’ve never been excited to meet your soulmate. Not once. Not when you were five, or eight or twelve or when you started noticing people in a way you hadn’t before, more romantically. Not when you started maturing and growing up. Those words glared at you every time you stared at them and you didn’t want a single thing to do with your soulmate.

Not ever.

That is only doubled when you realize who your soulmate is. Maybe there was always a small part of you that hoped the words were misunderstood; you’d make scenarios up in your head about how those words could be teasing or even just a misunderstanding. 

When they’re spat at you by an intimidating blonde man that looks like there’s actual steam pouring from his ears, with piercing red eyes that cut into you like you’d done some horrible thing to deserve his anger… you understand then that they weren’t teasing and they aren’t a misunderstanding. They’re cruel and they’re mean and dismissive and hurtful and every horrible thing piled together by a man who is even worse beyond just his first words to you.

So you make it your goal that he never finds out you’re his soulmate in return.

You avoid him. Desperately. You’re barely a person in his own head so it isn’t all that hard to do. Even as the rest of the class grows closer and bonds, it seems Bakugou is just as content to ignore everyone else as you are to be ignored by him. Sure, some worm their way into his heart, like Kirishima or Midoriya and Shoto, but nobody else really seemed to matter. At least, you didn’t. You had the same friends, you were in the same class, and eventually, you ended up sleeping in the same building. 

You saw him everyday. You ate in the same kitchen and relaxed in the same living room. You trained in the same gym and overall, were consistently near each other. But you didn’t speak to him and he’d never tried to speak to you after that first day. Months pass and it continues on this way and you’re sure he doesn’t even know what your name is.

Or that you really even exist.

And you’re happy with that.

Content.

Because while the idea of a soulmate was romantic and heartwarming and something you dreamed about, him being your soulmate sounds horrible.

And it was best he just never even knew.

He was so focused on becoming number one, you’re not sure he even cares about finding his. 

Which is fine. Works better for you in the end.

-

“Y/L/N and Bakugou. You two are teamed up for combat practice today.”

You freeze at Aizawa-sensei’s words, body tensing as your eyes instantly shoot towards Bakugou. He’s already looking at you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he lets his eyes drag across you; it’s clear he’s assessing you. Maybe trying to remember your name or if he’s ever seen you before.

It wouldn’t surprise you if he was.

Somehow, in all your months of being in the same class as Bakugou, you’ve never once been partnered up with him for anything. You think once you may have been put in a group with him, but that was with several others so it'd been easy enough to avoid him.

One on one though? That was going to be harder.

Way harder.

“Good luck,” Mina calls from beside you, squeezing your shoulder before she moves to meet up with her partner; it looks like she’d gotten Jirou. Lucky. 

Watching everyone else disperse tells you that you can’t just stand there like an idiot anymore. You take a deep breath, ignoring the nerves that course through you as you make your way over to Bakugou. As you make contact with him again, you realize he’s not moving; obviously he expects you to come to him.

Jerk.

When you reach him, the two of you just stare at each other and since you’re certainly not going to speak first, there’s a moment of awkward silence before Bakugou grunts; “ready?”

You nod and he isn’t confused by your silence so the two of you walk off to an open area in the gym. He stands across from you, gives you a look and then is racing towards you. You’re not sure why Aizawa-sensei teams you up with Bakugou because your quirks definitely don’t mesh well together and it’s clear Bakugou is stronger, but you’re able to hold up well enough on your own.

You even manage to land a hit on Bakugou once that clearly surprises him and you take it as a win.

And a little payback for being such an ass.

Then, when the class is over and you’ve promptly been knocked on your ass in return, you’re surprised to see a hand stretched out in front of you, invitingly. You blink, eyes drifting upwards only to meet Bakugou’s as he stares down at you. He’s not smiling and he doesn’t look all that friendly, but he nods his head in recognition.

“Good job.”

The words are such a shock your brain short circuits for a minute. Not only are the words the nicest thing you’ve ever heard Bakugou say (which is saying a lot) but his voice wasn’t gruff or aggressive like it normally is–it was… soft, almost? Maybe not soft but… normal. Just… calm.

Your heart is lurching at the sound before you even realize and then you’re pushing yourself up to your feet, basically smacking his hand out of the way and running out of the room without another word.

-

After that, Bakugou doesn’t seem to leave you alone.

He’s everywhere.

And not everywhere in the way he had been before. He’s not there in passing or just across the room from you, he’s asking to train with you or deliberately making sure he’s the only one left for you to partner with. He seems to always be in the kitchen when you want to eat or in the living room when you want to vedge after a long day.

He’s constantly there.

Not to mention, gone are his glares or looks of indifference. He’s always looking at you, making sure you know he knows you’re there; even if the two of you are in class or with a group of classmates. He makes note of acknowledging you. The others seem to notice too because the girls start asking what you did to get Bakugou’s attention and you promptly tell them you have no idea.

Of course, they don’t know Bakugou’s your soulmate so they don’t really get the scope of your panic. And it’s not that you don’t trust them, especially after all you’d been through as a class, but more because the less that knew, the less likely Bakugou was to know.

But now? Now it was getting hard to avoid him and it was even harder not to say something without it looking obvious why you weren’t.

You were promptly fucked.

You are able to stall it for all of two weeks before you’re cornered by Bakugou.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your wide eyes fall on him, not only shocked by his presence but panicked by his words because there were few things a sentence like that could mean. 

A quick glance around tells you there’s no way to get past him without Bakugou being able to block him and since it had already been made clear that he was in fact stronger than you, you knew there was no escape. Everyone else was gone since you’d snuck out of training to grab a bite to eat and it seemed like Bakugou had snuck out the same to follow you.

So yeah, you were screwed.

Bakugou lets out a huff at your silence and he takes another step towards you, further crowding you and you swallow thickly when he steps into your personal space. You move to walk back but then your back is pressing against the wall of the kitchen and Bakugou is completely shrouding you, it's hard to look anywhere but at him.

“Do you think I don’t know why you won’t speak to me?”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the right, determined to avoid his steely red eyes that feel like they’re piercing into your very soul. You focus on the handle to the cupboard to your right and try to ignore the growl he lets out in response.

He takes another step forward and suddenly he’s inches apart, close enough you can feel his breath drift across your skin, warm to the touch.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out after you ran from me that day when we were partnered up,” Bakugou continues. “Especially when I started to realize you’ve never talked to me. And then? Avoiding me for the last two weeks? It’s not hard to figure out.”

You halt, freezing, waiting for the words—

“You’re my soulmate.”

You refuse to look at him. You won’t look at him. 

Maybe if you just ignore him, he’ll go away. He’ll just… leave. He doesn’t like being ignored, that much you’ve gathered and so if you just refuse to–

Suddenly his hands are on your arms and his chest is against yours and he’s way too close. “Hey,” he huffs, “look at me.”

You don’t listen. Even as you tense beneath his grip, you refuse to do anything, to give him any sort of reaction. If you give him a reaction, he’ll get what he wants. And you’re not thinking straight. You need to just wait, wait until he’s bored and then you can think—figure this out because surely–

“Y/L/N,” he calls and you’re surprised he even knows your name, “look at me. Hey. I’m right, aren’t I? Why else wouldn't you fucking looking at me.” You continue to remain silent and Bakugou lets out a low growl. “Fucks sake. I’m not leaving until you say something so you might as well—”

“—I’m not saying anything to you because you’re a jerk!”

Well, that certainly could’ve gone better.

The words leave your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. The second you’re done, your chest is heaving and you finally turn your head, eyes snapping to Bakugou’s, fearing his reaction at your rather blunt and rude words.

But, a second later, instead of being angry like you’d expected, Bakugou starts… laughing.

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen the boy laugh, certainly not that genuinely. His lips are parted and his eyes have squeezed shut and the laugh that leaves his lips is pure and genuine and loud and it’s so unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him you’re stunned stupid as you stare back at him with your lips left parted, jaw slacked.

As his laughter fades, Bakugou meets your gaze.

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words for years,” he starts, still smiling–actually smiling this time. Not a smirk. But an affectionate grin. “Wasn’t sure what I did to deserve those words, but it seems fitting.”

Blinking, once, twice, you sputter, snapped out of your stupor. “I–I… You jerk!”

“I think we’ve established that already, babe.”

You barely even notice the nickname. If it wasn’t for the way your heart races at the sound, you’re sure your stupefied mind wouldn’t have caught it because seriously, what the hell?

“You… this is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything!” You cry out, not sure if you’re defending yourself for him or more for yourself. Why are you even defending yourself? And what against? “You’re insufferable. And rude. And cocky. And a jerk.”

Bakugou just snorts. “What are your words?” He asks, smile fading slightly as his expression turns more serious; almost solemn. Regretful. “Must’ve been bad if you had to avoid me.”

You’re surprised by the guilt in his tone, but it gives you the confidence to answer. “‘Move it, extra, or I’ll make you’,” you mumble, fiddling with your hands. “You said it the first day we started here at U.A.”

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, running a hand through his hair. “So you’ve been avoiding me for months?”

Your eyes flick to his before lowering and that gives him his answer.

He shifts. “L-Listen… uh, sorry about… about cornering you like this.”

Blinking, you tilt your head up. You’re shocked to see a red tinge to his cheeks. 

“I just needed to know,” he finishes explaining. “And I’m sorry about that shit I said to you. My soulmate doesn’t deserve that crap but I can’t take it back, so I’ll just make sure I make up for it.”

You’re positive now that you’re hallucinating this whole thing.

“What?”

He blinks down at you at your screech before smirking.

“Well, I mean, as we get to know each other,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m shit with words but I’ll try for you. I'm good with showing though,” and he looks a little too pleased with himself.

But you can barely focus on the very blatant meaning of his words, you're still trying to catch up. “You…” and you hesitate, not sure if you’re hearing this correctly. “You want to get to know me?”

And he looks at you like you’re dumb.

“Duh,” he shrugs, “you’re my soulmate.”

“What about being number one?”

“What about it?” he argues, shaking his head. “That’ll still happen. You think I can’t do that while also dating you?”

Your eyes widen; “dating?”

“Yeah,” he says, again like you’re dumb. He takes a step towards you, once again closing the gap between you and his hands falling on your waist, pulling a gasp from your lips at the touch that causes him to smirk, as if proud. “You’re my soulmate. Of course we’re going to date.”

“I barely know you!”

“That’s why we’ll get to know each other.”

You just stare up at him.

“You really are insufferable,” is what you manage to say in the end, exasperated. Your shoulders fall and your body sags but you don’t pull away from his touch and even if you’re not fully aware of it, you’re pretty sure you end up leaning into him.

“You’ll learn to love it,” he shrugs, still grinning. “Now, let’s go back to training. We need to work on your defense.”

Blinking, you turn to him as he shifts the both of you, guiding you forwards. “Hey!”

“What,” he shrugs down at you. “It’s true. You were barely able to block my hits when we fought.”

You can’t find the words to say so you simply let him lead you along, trying to ignore the way his hands make your skin tingle and your heart race. Or, really, the way that despite everything, you really don’t mind.

If anything, you actually like it.

Fuck—he really is a jerk.

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru Gojo, the strongest, who cared only about dominating the court suddenly cared only about you. Him and his team were practicing for a game next week in the school gym when he noticed you sitting among the crowd of spectators. Whenever him and his team practice, the students in school will always come watch in their free time. He recognized some familiar faces, but you, he doesn't recognize you. He had never seen you here before, and something about you dragged his attention towards you.

Satoru, who never misses a shot when he has his hand on the ball, suddenly misses? Dead silence. His team stared at him with confusion and disbelief that the Satoru Gojo missed a shot. His best friend and teammate, Suguru, came up to him with concern in his eyes and asked– "Are you alright, Satoru?"

Satoru runs his hand through his hair and huffed out a fine to his best friend. What the fuck just happened to him? Must have been a fluke he said to himself as his eyes wandered towards the crowd who was gossiping about his failed shot. His eyes then wandered towards you who was staring right at him. His eyes widen when you caught him staring at you before quickly turning away. His heart racing in his chest in an uncontrollable pace. He noticed Suguru and his teammates still staring at him with concern in their eyes.

"C'mon, let's continue practice," he sighs. "I just got distracted. It won't happen again."

The team was reluctant to continue practice because no matter how distracted Gojo was, he had never missed a shot. He could practically play a game with his eyes closed and not miss, but all of a sudden, he missed? As practice continued, Satoru made no other mistakes. He didn't miss again, but every time he scores, his eyes always end up wandering towards you.

Fuck. What the fuck is happening to him? Why can't he stop his eyes from going towards you whenever he scores? Why is he so focused on the way your eyes light up in awe as he makes every shot? The way you wet your soft looking lips with your tongue as you stood at the edge of your seat. You were a sinful sight to behold.

When practice ended, Satoru quickly left the court to go to the locker room. As he pushed past his teammates, he noticed their confused expression. Their confusion was understandable because, normally, Satoru would be the last one to their locker room. Satoru loves attention, so he would always give out fan services when practice or a game ends. However, this time, Satoru was quickly pushing open the gym door to escape, and his eyes wander towards you one last time before completely exiting the gym. He doesn't like what he's feeling right now. It was suffocating, but it's ok, right? Today was just a one-time thing. Oh, how wrong he was.

Since that day, he noticed that you always were there during their practice. He knows you're not from his school because of your uniform, so who exactly were you? Who allowed you in? And why is it that he couldn't get enough of you? Why did you suddenly show up in his life out of nowhere?

Satoru sat down on the bench as the other continued the practice game, wiping his sweat with his towel as he secretly watched you. You who had his under some kind of spell. You who he hasn't spoken one word to since the day he saw you. He wanted you to say his name. Hear the syllables of his name come out of your soft looking lips. Gojo wasn't dumb. He just likes pretending to be, so it doesn't help that he knew exactly what was going on with him. He knew what he was feeling, and it was downright stupid. Fuck love at first sight. It shouldn't exist. He shouldn't want to kiss you. He doesn't even know your name! He groans as he run his hand through his hair again. He curse at himself before he felt something cold touch his cheeks.

"What caught your eyes, Captain?"

Satoru took the water bottle from Shoko's hand and took a big sip. "What are you doing here, Shoko? Don't you have that medical test or whatever to study for?"

Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment– "That was yesterday Gojo. So are you just going to ignore my question? Clearly, something is up for you to miss your shot a few days ago."

"No idea what you're talking about," Satoru replied as he fixed his hair. "Didn't miss nothing."

"Right. It's not like the whole school was gossiping about you missing for the first time."

"These people and their big mouths..." He mumbles. Funny coming from him since he himself would have done the same if the situation was flipped.

Shoko looked toward the place Gojo was eyeing and then saw you. She blinked once and then looked back at Gojo before huffing out a small laugh. Someone is going to be in for a surprise.

"That's his sister, y'know?"

"Not funny, Shoko," Satoru said before looking at Shoko's expression. She was serious. You and your brother look nothing alike. He sighs before mumbling a curse under his breath.

"Oh fuck indeed," Shoko laughs again as she turned towards the gym door. "Going to need some sweets?"

"Yeah, I'll pay you back later."

"Free of charge today. My compensation for this free entertainment. It's going to be an interesting few days." Satoru was now left to his own thoughts. He couldn't help but sigh at his predicament.

Satoru never got the chance to speak to you. Whenever he tries to go towards you, he stops and turns away. He couldn't help but be nervous when it comes to you. It's not his fault that he thinks he'll faint from hearing your voice. He'll talk to you one day when the opportunity arises. It seems fate had granted him his wish. Satoru had met you outside one morning right before his team game. You had accidentally bumped into him while rushing.

"Ouch!" You rubbed your nose from the sudden collision before looking up at him with your innocent and beautiful eyes. Oh fuck. Your voice was music to his ears. He just gone to heaven and what made it even worse was how you looked. Why the fuck do you look so pretty this early in the morning? He himself could barely get out of bed for today's game. His hair is messy and all over the place. His shirt is not all the way buttoned, and his tie is hanging loosely over his neck. If he didn't have a game today, he would be at school getting scold. He just looked like a mess compared to you. Sure, he is a hot mess right now, but this was not the impression he wanted to give when he talked to you. He listened to your endless apologies before interrupting with a question.

"You coming to the game?"

"Huh?" You stopped your apologies at his sudden question before his question clicked. You didn't know he noticed you during his practices. Your eyes instantly light up and grab his hand. "Yes, I am! I'm very excited since it's my first time witnessing a game! I've been to your practice for a while because of my brother's invitation. Oh, my brother is–"

As you continued your rambling, Satoru's eyes were fixated on the fact that you were holding his hands. Your small and soft hand holding his. He stopped your rambling by taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. An intimate act. You looked up at him in confusion, and before you could say anything, he was tugging you along.

"Making sure you don't get lost on the way. Let's walk together to the stadium." An excuse to keep your hand in his even though you were practically strangers. He made sure you couldn't let go.

When the two of you finally arrived at the stadium, he had to let you go. He didn't want to let go, but he had to go towards the locker room so he could change into his game uniform.

"Name is Satoru Gojo. Call me Satoru. Let's hang out after the game today." He then brought your hand towards his lips and kissed it. His eyes moved up towards your eyes, holding your gaze as he whispered– "Keep your eyes on me." He then quickly left towards the locker room, his ears burning from his sudden boldness. While he can dominate the court, you have dominated his heart.

When he entered the locker room, his team was already getting ready for the big games. He quickly went to his locker beside his best friend and started to undress his school uniform. Suguru was already ready for the game, so he was sitting on the bench in the locker room, drinking some water.

"I'm in love with your sister," Satoru blurted out, causing Suguru to immediately spit out the water he was drinking. Confusion and disbelief were written all over his face.

"What?"

Part 2

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid? 

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it. 

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream. 

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased. 

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea. 

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side. 

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out). 

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you. 

There was no way. 

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure. 

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan. 

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention. 

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger. 

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak. 

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.” 

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?” 

Stupid reddit post. 

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ” 

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him? 

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.” 

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend. 

He was doomed. 

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.” 

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent. 

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.” 

“Oh.” 

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip. 

Lando looked stuck. 

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out. 

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.” 

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted. 

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume. 

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.” 

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.” 

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming. 

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable. 

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.” 

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled. 

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.” 

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles. 

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun. 

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?” 

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no. 

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.” 

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo. 

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?” 

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job. 

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando. 

Low-and-behold, you did. 

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants. 

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.” 

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit. 

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along. 

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up. 

But you didn’t.  

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way. 

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray. 

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts. 

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.” 

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest. 

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?” 

Oh, so you knew how to play. 

Luckily for Lando, so did he. 

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. 

You were internally freaking out. 

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. 

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area. 

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same. 

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.” 

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.” 

There was a lingering silence before you broke it. 

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend. 

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out. 

“Can I have your number?” 

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end. 

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back. 

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away. 

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after. 

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you. 

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could. 

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!” 

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber. 

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡” 

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory. 

The giant-ass “4.” 

“Shit.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[groguspicklejar]

Okay so I just read your losing interest chapter and as I am STILL SOBBING I offer you this blurb (not a request, just word vomiting my tears( and WARNING: As a medical student, I recommend breathing un-polluted air, NOT H2O

Now that the reader realizes she is surrounded by basically 4 Blairs in different skins, she weighs her options. These are men about 3 times her size and each built like a brick shithouse. Even if she successfully escapes she will always be dragged back. She begins to believe that there is no truly free future for her besides. She sits in the bath contemplating her fate and looks down to see that the water is overflowing a bit and oh shit, that bathwater is beginning to look mighty breathe-able.

the wonderful people of tumblr and ao3 giving me ample ammunition to unload all of my angst on y'all🥲 i actually received a lot of asks in the last few days and i thought why not combine them into the next part of this series😈 takes place after [escape route] part of mafia!141 series

warnings: dark themes? yeah i think this counts as dark themes. very brief suicidal thoughts, emotional manipulation, very brief smut and mentions of smut, excessive alcohol intake (hinging on alcoholism), emotional outburst.

surprisingly, in the following days, you were compliant of their wishes to keep you inside. you didn't put up much of a fuss besides that one time at supper and made no attempts to escape. mostly because you knew you wouldn't be able to get past the electric fence and you wouldn't get far when they have eyes and ears everywhere so there was really no point.

that would've brought a huge relief if—

"i hate you..." you mumbled quietly as Soap set you down on the bed, your eyes shut and body pliant.

he frowned, feeling the words cut him deep. you dozed off after he tucks you in and presses the barest kiss on your forehead. you had drowned your last bottle of whiskey, the one Price had left here months ago for when he came to see you in your apartment.

you put on more fake smiles in the last week than you ever did in the last year you've ever spent with Blair. letting Price steer you through gatherings and functions, his hand staying firmly on your waist, never letting you go far.

he hardly ever lets you out of sight. after that attempted escape, he closed off every possibility of you running away from them if ever you got the chance.

right now, Ghost held onto your passport. you don't know where he put it but you know you're never seeing it ever again. he still looked at you as if you were the bane of his existence. fine. whatever. he's hostile towards everyone anyway, so it's not that big of a deal to you.

Soap froze all of your bank accounts. you can't touch a single penny of your own money because in his words "can't have ye buying the first bus ticket out of here again, bonnie." your eye twitches when you think about it and you're surprised you kept your cool that day.

Gaz had your employment contract terminated. that one might have stung the most because you actually liked that job. you blankly stared at the email before going to cry yourself to sleep once Gaz left.

essentially, with no money, no passport, no resources, no friends... you were trapped. more than you ever were with Blair.

you find yourself taking more baths than showers. too drained to stand up for more than five minutes in one place. you stare at the foam floating in the water, wishing it would give you a better solution than wanting to drown.

though that would be easy, wouldn't it? escaping to the afterlife since you can't escape this prison.

the only reason you don't do it is for your mother. you know Price is going to have to lie to her about how you died. and you know her, she's going to smell right through his bullshit and she's going to want to find answers.

you don't want to cause her demise because she went looking for truths that put her in an early grave.

Price's "punishment" never came in the last few weeks, but you never put it out of your mind. you were certain he was going to demand something unreasonable and completely out of your reach.

you've stayed out of trouble ever since. kept your head low, your voice even lower and avoided them whenever it was possible.

"babe, what do you want to eat?" Gaz asks you as he tries to pull your feet onto his legs. you curl them underneath you on the couch, hoping to get some peace and quiet.

you don't look up from your book. "whatever you want."

you don't see the way his face falls. he knows you love food and you're usually spouting out suggestions whenever prompted. he was hoping to use that to weasel his way into a normal conversation with you, but you immediately slammed the door on that.

Soap had a harder time at that task.

even putting on your favourite shows won't get you to comment on their stupid characters making the dumbest mistakes in film history. you just quietly stare at the tv with a blank expression while he does all the talking. your eyes don't even light up when you see your favourite fictional crushes.

as much as that makes him jealous, that alone crushed his soul.

Price didn't have it any easier than the Sergeants. no, in fact, he thinks he might have it worse.

first off, you stay as far away from his meetings as possible. you plaster a fake smile around him at all times and you don't disagree with him, even when he knows he's wrong (purposefully trying to break your feigned calm demeanour and instigate your need to argue over the silliest things). he gets nothing but smiles and nods and glazed eyes and unfocused gazes into blank walls.

you hide your true nature and leave a docile shell, a doll for him, for all of them to dress up and play with. you just seem to 'exist' around their vicinity, rather than live as one of them.

as for Ghost? you don't bother him. ever. you haven't stepped into his room since you came back to get your sweater and anything else that belongs to you. it's better to just not be in his presence since he views you as just a 'brat' to 'babysit' after all.

you do enjoy the sex though. with the other three, because again, having sex with Ghost would just defeat the whole point of staying out of his way. if he has a problem with that, he hasn't voiced it and if he sought comfort in another woman's bed then all the better.

so far, you've been doing fine. you were sure. or so you thought.

"less... agreeable..." you slowly repeat the words as you place the wine glass on the counter, staring down Gaz's nervous expression.

he hasn't bothered to put his shirt back on. had followed you out of the shower when he realized that you weren't going back to sleep.

Gaz hadn't meant to say what he said. he was just trying to establish some peace, to lessen the rift between you and all of them.

"baby, he didn't mean it like that." he reasons, but you scoff and open the bottle of wine.

"then please explain what exactly it is he meant." you said, putting the bottle down and swirling the half-full glass. "because i've done all you guys have asked without one complaint."

he doesn't like the way you phrase that. it implies you've been forced to do things you don't want to do and that's not... true... is it? Gaz tries not to think about that for a minute. tries not to think about what that could imply.

"he just means that you're less..." he's unnerved by the way your brow raises. even more by how your eyes have dulled. "friendly."

"friendly." you blankly repeat. he fidgets under your gaze, his eyes darting away.

he's nothing like the wolf that he is. for now, he hides under the skin of a nervous boy, a sweet thing who often brings flowers for you. sweet, sweet Gaz who makes you feel safe when you stumble and fall. sweet, dependable Kyle...

who doesn't see that he's just as selfish as your dead husband.

as you're looking at him now, you almost forget the way he looked at you the day you decided to try to leave. how disappointed he was that you tried to step out of your cage. how eager he was to leave you alone with the leader of his pack to pick at your bones.

your smile is wry as you tilt your head. "so... what? he wants me to smile more? is that it?"

"dollface." he pleads softly as you take a sip. "please..."

why are you even drinking? it's not even ten in the morning yet. the misery in his eyes did nothing to phase you.

"if he wants me to be friendly, fine." you grabbed the bottle and rounded the kitchen counter, smiling pleasantly in a way that made him restrain a wince. "i'll be friendly."

as friendly as you can be to your captor, that is.

Kyle was weary around you from there on. observing your every move. everything you did made him uneasy.

more often than not, he finds you tipsy or hungover. different glasses aren't too far. wine, bourbon, scotch, whiskey. always rotating between the four when you get the chance.

he's carried you to bed because you were too drunk to walk. he doesn't even want to think about the time you fell down the last few stairs and started giggling to yourself.

you were the same with Soap.

opening your legs without a word if he feels up for a shag, going along with the motions. for the first few days, Soap actually thought he was forgiven until one time, you immediately got up after riding him.

you had left him dumbfounded as he was still panting harshly on the couch and gone to the bathroom to clean up. it took him a few moments to compose himself, tuck his cock inside his pants and follow you.

"i can do it for ye, bonnie." he tries to take the cloth away from you, but you shift away.

"no, it's fine."

"hen." he reaches your arm. just then, his phone buzzes in his pocket. "shite."

he checks his phone. an emergency at headquarters. Soap frowns deeply, wanting more than anything to stay here and talk things out with you.

"i know." you dryly remarked. "duty calls."

"i'll be back soon." at the very least, you allow him to press a kiss on your forehead.

"it's okay." he heard as he was about to leave the bathroom. "take your time."

the knife in his heart twists as he leaves. he can't think clearly because of it, can't help but feel like your despondency was triggered by him.

it's worse with Price.

you're already getting out of bed and getting dressed the moment his phone rings.

"where are you going?"

"back to my place." you were going to ask Kyle to drive you back to your apartment but John grasps your wrist and pulls you back to his side.

"work can wait." he asserted, pulling you onto his lap. "come here."

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own home, you're relieved to find that you're still left with one last bottle of vodka. at the very least, it'll drown your demons long enough to sleep peacefully.

getting dressed and dolled up doesn't fill you with as much joy anymore. it's a chore. a task you must fulfil to appease them when it's time to go out.

you've never felt more like a piece of meat slathered in glitter and gold.

"you look spectacular, bunny." Gaz kisses your cheek.

good to know your make-up skills were more than enough to hide the bags under your eyes. if only they could fix you on the inside too because you feel like absolute shit.

you plastered a smile and fluttered your lashes. "thank you."

truthfully, you feel dead inside.

Price steers you around the room full of people, rich folk, mayors, senators, businessmen and women and everything in between. all gathered to show off their wealth for this charity event, rather than actually participate for a good cause. his hand tightens when you try to pull away, his lips at your ear, a mere whisper draining your resistance as he tells you to behave.

you grit your teeth and keep moving in step with him, your eyes trailing to the bar. the sight of a shot glass shouldn't look nearly as appealing as it should right now.

the routine of doing nothing but reading and staring into the wall and getting fucked and repeating the cycle left your brain in a constant state of static. the more you keep being ran through the cycle, the more you can feel the hairline fractures in your sanity spread. you needed to numb your brain. fast.

by the time you're done socializing with Price's associates, you're ready to repeatedly hit your head against the wall because it's fucking ridiculous how he can stand to listen to all of these dull voices talking about 'business' all night long.

you're starting to see why Blair preferred to keep you out of it. why he didn't want you to get involved. not only was it dangerous, it was surprisingly boring as fuck. that, or he didn't want you getting the upper hand on him on his own turf, but either way, you agree with his decision now.

and that should say a lot about how 141 treats you. making you wish you were dealing with the devil you knew.

he's worried when he finds the empty bottle of bourbon and its glass cup at your bedside dresser. this is the third one and the week isn't even halfway through.

John hates how your eyes are devoid of light these days. shutting yourself off in every way he didn't think was possible. he hates himself for how you've wilted like a neglected flower in the last few weeks, though you've been anything but neglected.

your room is dark. curtains drawn, books and papers sprawled all over the small desk in the corner. he spots your diary face down open on the floor, abandoned and forgotten. you hardly ever get up, hardly find the energy to even go outside your room unless you're coaxed out by the him and the boys.

"darling, please look at me." he sits by your bed, a hand on your back.

you're curled in on yourself under the covers, groaning softly. your arm pokes out from the comforter and you're trying to reach for something. it's not the phone he gave you, or the lipgloss next to it. no, your fingers touch the half empty glass and start pulling it.

he sighs and take the glass out of your reach. "alright, that's enough alcohol for the day."

he drinks what is left of the contents of the glass while you sluggishly push the covers so only your grumpy face is visible.

"are you going to ta—" your slurred words cut off into into a hiccup. "take tha' away too?"

the utter resignation in your voice broke something in him.

footsteps file in. the Sergeants give him a worried look. Ghost is most likely still in the living room, probably to avoid you. he hasn't spoken to you since the day you tried to leave and he couldn't bring himself to face you since then.

especially with how you actively stay out of his path. you must hate him now. or you're afraid of getting yelled at again. either way, Simon needs to swallow his pride if he wants you to feel safe around him again.

"Soap, draw her a bath." Price orders as he drags the blankets further down so he can see you.

"aye, sir."

you're still in your glittery dress, the shoes haphazardly thrown elsewhere and forgotten too. just like you forgot to wipe off the makeup on your face. that can't be good for your skin, so he'll have to do it for you. "Gaz, where are the wipes?"

it's not long after he asks before Kyle holds out the package with the top open.

"come here." John pulls you onto his lap and cradles your head in his hands, trying to force you to look at him as he begins to wipe off the shiny colours on your eyelid. "what can i do to fix this?"

"there's nothing to fix." you squirm and try to twist away from his gaze, but he won't let go.

he keeps wiping off your makeup as gently as he can, even as you resist. you hardly take care of yourself anymore. it's becoming a cause for concern, especially because they hardly ever see you eat without them putting the plate in front of you. now you don't even to wipe off your makeup, when in the past, you would complain about your skin breaking out if you forgot to do that and take a short nap.

they've done their best to keep your head above water. to look after you when it seems like you've lost your will to keep marching forward with your head held high.

"baby..." Gaz sits behind John with a heavy sigh, frowning deeply. "please don't be like that."

you lean forward instead, kissing Price on the mouth. he's unsettled by the taste of alcohol on your tongue, having used to not seeing you this inebriated. it occurs to him that lately, you've been in this state more often than not and that might be their fault.

"everything's fine." you murmur, throwing your hands around his neck to pull him closer. "i'm not—" and speak through kisses, one hand slipping under his jacket. "not being a brat, am i? have i not been your good girl?" he doesn't like the tone of your voice. the sarcasm seeping through the sickly sweet smile. "your perfect little doll? hmm?"

he looks into your eyes. the dullness in your once bright soul. where did the glint go? the light in your eyes is missing and he fears they might have snuffed it out.

John tries to pull your head away as you trail drunken kisses down his neck, but you tighten your grip on him, refusing to let him move. Gaz leaves the bed, heading out of the room to join Ghost.

"i've been following your rules, haven't i?" John feels your teeth nip his skin. "i've done all you wanted." his chest tightens with the more words that spill out. "i've been your pretty little sex toy. just another hole for you to stick your cock in—"

his eyes widen. he grabs your hand when you try to unbuckle his belt, his expression grim. "darling, stop."

something in him cracks when he comes to the horrifying realization. how could you even think you were anything less than treasure to them?

to his surprise, you push him away while he's still in shock and sluggishly get off the bed. you would nearly fall off if he hadn't caught your hand and helped you keep your balance. "where are you going?"

you ignore him and head out of the room, he follows, calling out your name. he grabs your hand to stop you from going any further, but you whirl on him, spewing fire at the top of your voice, "what is it you want, Blair?! what?! is this not why i'm here?"

he reared back as if he'd been slapped, ears ringing loudly.

you... you called him—

"what more do you want?! have you not taken enough from me?!" you screamed, loud enough for the Sergeants to come out from your bathroom to see what was going on and for Ghost to stand at the end of the hallway to watch. "you've put me in a cage and made me dance your little tune! what? am i not doing it right? is that— is that it?"

you were tearing apart at the seams. the floodgates breaking down and letting drown all of them. the silence you hid behind wasn't just to shield yourself from whatever prodding and poking from them, it was to stop yourself from pouring all of your flames on them.

you pushed past Ghost, jerking away when he tries to touch you. John and the Sergeants followed, all of them trying to calm you down, trying to soothe you but you weren't having any of it.

you threw the vase at one of them, probably Soap, which he quickly dodged. it shattered on the floor, spilling water and the flowers Kyle got for you earlier in the day. you tried not to stumble as you walked away from them, tears blinding your vision.

you trip on the rug and fall on your knee, a small cry spilling from your lips. Gaz was immediately right by your side, hands on your back and arm, trying to make you sit back down as you attempted to stand.

"love, calm down before you hurt yourself." you're struggling in his arms, tiredly trying to push him off as you get on your feet again. "you can barely walk—"

Gaz follows you to where you're going. the kitchen. what you could possibly want there is beyond him, but he's scared you might fall again so he just goes wherever you go. and true to his fears, you stumble again and he's quick to catch you once again.

you feel his hand on your leg. panic strikes your veins. you shove him harder this time, grabbing one of the steak knives from the block and pointing it at him, yelling at the top of your voice, "don't touch me!"

three words. three little words paralyzing all four of them for a second. in all your days since they've known you, not once have you said that to them.

Gaz fixed his eyes on the sharp end of the knife, hands paused in front of him, half surrendering. the other half felt like a threat as he took a step forward. you take a step back.

"love." he sternly says. "put down the knife."

you don't listen to him. backing away when he tries to come closer, frightened even beneath your mask of rage. you're surrounded, backed into a corner.

all four of them. all four wolves trapping you once again, staring you down like the cornered little mouse that you are.

"we're not going to hurt you, love. just—" Gaz tries to placate, his voice softening. "just give it here, alright? we can talk about this."

"what would be the point in talking?" you countered sharply, eyes blazing with hot tears. "none of you listen to me!" each of them flinching more at your words than you brandishing the sharp blade. "god, i should've drowned myself in the fucking bathtub when i had the chance..."

the four of them are jolted by your lament, eyes widening in horror as the ice cracks and each one of them plunged into a living nightmare. they hadn't realized it was this bad. they were too blinded by their own selfish needs, their own complacency to see you deteriorating and falling into pieces right in front of them.

"sweetheart..." Kyle's voice shakes, he takes another step. he's close. too fucking close. "hey—"

you swipe at him with the knife. but it's too sluggish, too slow for his reflexes not to avoid. your wrist is caught and you're brought against his chest fast there you could blink.

the knife, your only defence, your only salvation, is taken away. you're held against someone, legs kicking out as you screech and yell and kick out your legs in an attempt to escape. demanding, pleading, "let me go!"

Ghost holds your legs as you thrash around, grunting when your knee knocks his chin as he's limiting your movement. Soap holds your hands when you try to claw at Gaz's arms, trying to talk you down, trying to soothe the broken little bird. you cry out when you feel a prickle on your neck and Price telling the boys to hold you steady when you struggle even more.

but just as quickly, your rage fizzles out and your shoulders slump. you find yourself on the floor, between Soap's legs and you lay against his chest as he rubs your back, the embers finally dying down, "just let me go. please let me go..."

"shh..." he cooed, caressing you, lulling you as whatever you've been injected with takes effect. "it's okay, bonnie. it's okay." your limbs weigh down on you, too boneless for you to keep attempting to break free from them, your eyes too heavy. "ye're safe here, love. it's okay."

his voice grows tight as he glances at Gaz, at Ghost and finally, Price. they know what he knows. they saw it as he did. they broke you. held you too tightly in their grasp and snapped you in half.

Price watches you sleep that night. pondering where he went wrong, how this could've happened. you didn't even realize what you'd just called him.

Blair. you called him Blair.

a dead man. someone long forgotten and buried. you spared no more tears for that man after the funeral. swore that you'd never let his memory taint your newfound freedom.

the freedom that Price now plucked and pocketed away. it all makes sense now. how you've been behaving all this time.

you were reliving that loveless marriage all over again. settling back into old ways, long practised rules and motions to help you survive. this was how you'd been living before you met them. this was what kept you alive. easy submission. quiet resignation.

the perfect little slave wife for Blair. now he haunts you every time you look at the four of them.

Price has ever felt more like a failure that night.

this was so rushed💔 i just didn't want to give up on it but it was starting to weigh down on me.

i swear y'all be sending me the most angsty of angst into my inbox than i know what to do with🥲 anyway, happy new year💫 banners by @cafekitsune mafia!141 masterlist offer a note in the picklejar

[babyleostuff]

. . . praising the hhu for the “lalali” MV

[🍒] choi seungcheol

ugh, this man would be so smug (he’s a leo after all), you would not be able to wipe that annoying smirk off his face for the rest of the day (he’d probably fall asleep with it too). choi seungcheol lives for the praise and it makes his ego skyrocket (as it should because he’s the best), but he’d be so annoying with it. he’d follow you everywhere and be like “oh, so you loved the earrings that much?” or “tell me again how good i look with those green highlights”. man would be unstoppable. but deep inside he’s kind of freaking out because “omg omg omg they loved me in the MV” *heart eyes*. (and he’s a lil cutie patootie so at the end of the day when you’re laying in bed he cuddles closer to you, and is like “did i really look that good?)

[🍒] jeon wonwoo

(this era belongs to wonwoo change my mind) 

he knew you’d go fucking feral over him in this MV, i mean the visuals, the outfits, the attitude, THE RAP - come on, there was no way you wouldn’t end up screaming at every scene with him. he was especially excited for you to see the “mafia boss” scene with him, since he knows how much you love the jeon “actor” wonwoo agenda. and he was not let down in the slightest. at first his plan was to tease you over your reaction, but he found it hard to do it since you looked adorable (and low key crazy) fangirling over him in the MV. like, you’re really cute for getting excited over a barely three minute video, jumping around the room, and screaming like a maniac, so he just ends up looking at you fondly as you rewatch the MV for the tenth time.

[🍒] kim mingyu

he wasn't sure if he should have warned you before you played the MV about his naked tiddie scene because he was afraid you would fall off the couch and hurt yourself. like, he knew exactly what your reaction would be on that scene, so he wanted to avoid any accidents if he could. but, to his surprise, you sat through the whole MV in silence, and when it ended you simply laid on the floor, and he was like??? you good??? and then, as if the reality hit you, mingyu got what he wanted - you yapping about every single thing you found hot in this MV (which was everything), at one point you started even hitting him and yelling at him for being so handsome. all mingyu could do was to laugh because he knew that this was your way of showing your appreciation. another annoyingly smug one, ugh (not only is he tall and big as hell, but his ego is even bigger, he’s so annoying seriously).

[🍒] vernon chwe

he’s kind of like “do i really look that good?” but then he looks at you, and your excited reaction, and goes “yeah, i guess i am that cool.” he just really appreciates your reaction, and all of your compliments, and wild screams, and incoherent words - whatever comes his way he soaks it up like a sponge because hearing that praise from you makes him feel so so good. and ohmy he loves your reaction to the middle finger scene, the way you laugh and your excited “let’s go” makes him smile like an idiot, though he gets a bit shy too. he just truly feels blessed for having someone who will praise him so much over a MV like it’s the biggest masterpiece to ever exist.

[dumpywrites]

Facade - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Your friend arranged you on a date with a BTS member. The catch is, you have to pretend like you’re not a fan. 

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, strangers (?) to lovers, idol Jungkook, fan/army reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: I obviously don't know how real idol life works, let's just pretend this is how it looks like ok lol

“You did not just set me on a date with Jeon Jungkook.”

Folding your arms, you stood with your eyebrows knitted together, looking straight at your friend who in contrast had a big grin plastered on his lips. You bit into your sandwich, looking left and right, all skeptical about people overhearing your conversation. The guy in front of you then repeated his sentence again just to humor you. 

Undoubtedly, you did not hear your friend wrong. Man really just set you up with the one and only Jungkook from BTS. Being a set stylist in Big Hit and all, it came as no surprise that he knew the boys, but you did not know that he was that close to the point that he could introduce them to you personally. In fact, you were never aware of how close your friend was with them until now.

While it was true that you had told your friend, although mostly jokingly, about how you wanted him to introduce him to someone, you did not mean this. You did not mean introducing to the guy whose songs you literally had in your Spotify wrapped. 

“Felix, you can’t be serious, how??? I don't think I have anything to wear???“

“Here’s the catch.” The guy said sternly, putting down his chilled drink. “You have to pretend like you don’t know him.”

You looked at your friend as if he just turned into a fish. The sentence he blurted out just sounded ridiculous. 

“Okay, okay, I’m aware of how unbelievable that sounds. Obviously, everyone knows who he is. All I’m asking is for you to at least pretend to not be a creepy fan.”

“I’m not a creepy fan.” You looked at your friend, pretending to feel insulted. 

“You took a picture of his Calvin Klein poster at the mall last week.” He argued.

“That doesn’t count, I was asking about the location.”

“You mentioned something about rock-hard abs…”

“Okay, fair.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not one of those sasaeng if that’s what you mean.”

“Duh, I wouldn’t have suggested this if you are.” He rolled his eyes back at you. “The other's been teasing him about relationship stuff and your face popped up in my head." He sneered. "When I showed him your picture, he seemed to be interested.”

Your eyes widened. “Which picture of me did you show to him?!“

“Doesn’t matter.” He dismissed you. “But you’re somewhat of a fan, so you must know that he’s mentioned that he doesn’t date fans.”

“I’m aware.” You sighed. 

“I think that’s bullshit to be honest, he’s just saying that for safety purposes. So army wouldn’t fight over him and stuff?” He chuckled. “But just so he won’t get put off on the first meeting…”

“Yeah, I get it.” 

“You sound discouraged.” 

“No, I’m beyond ecstatic, it’s just that…” You stopped to sip your drink. “I don’t know, the idea of lying to his face just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You can tell him later if the date goes well! It’s just so he won’t run away on the first meeting…”

You frowned, contemplating for a good moment. “Alright fine, but you have to help me with the outfit.” 

“I got you covered, girl.” 

**

That was how you ended up waiting in a private room, at restaurant way too fancy for you, sitting down awkwardly at a table that has a paper written “Reserved for Mr. Jeon” on it. Out of nervousness, you kept fixing the non-existent crease on your blouse, the one Felix helped you choose just the day before. 

Felix was the one who drove you there, since he knew the place and both of you basically talked with him as a bridge in between. Your friend did mention the possibility of your date being late, due to the fact that he could not just enter the place from the front door like normal costumer would.

Just around six minutes of fidgeting your fingers, you heard a light click from the door handle and you quickly straightened yourself up. Honestly, you wished he came even later, cause you were nervous as heck. Thank heavens for the good air conditioner or you'd be wetting your outfit with sweat.

And so there he was, walking in full slow motion before your eyes. He was walking in casually, so effortlessly. Running his fingers through his black, slightly permed locks, he closed the door behind him and you swore his black blazer was swaying in an animated way. There was a shine in both his eyes and lips. You were definitely wearing a pink tinted glasses and you were fully aware of it.

“Hi, you must be Y/N.” He flashed a bright smile and took a seat. “Sorry I’m late, had to make sure no one saw me and all…”

“Don’t sweat it.” You said, trying not to sound breathless. 

“You’re very pretty by the way.” He grinned. “Like, actually better than the picture Felix showed me.”

“Thanks…” It was impressive how you manage to not stutter while your heart was doing a backflip. “You look great too… I mean I’m sure you get it all the time.”

“Don’t even.” He laughed. “I look great cause we have a team of professional makeup artists on stage. Today though, I’m just Jeon Jeongguk in the flesh.” 

You wanted so badly to hit him because there was no way this man really just said that his no makeup face was anything but gorgeous. 

“Anyways!” The guy exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let’s order? I’m starving!”

“What do you recommend here? I’ve never been here before…” 

“Oh, I’ve never been here either. I just asked Jimin-hyung to recommend me a good place for a date…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I figured it would make a good first impression.”

“You could just ask me out for a tteokbokki and I would’ve said yes.” 

Wait, you didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jungkook’s laughter filled the room suddenly, which taken you by surprise. “That sounds awesome, we should totally get some after this!” 

You couldn’t help but to smile as well. 

“Felix told me you’re a copywriter?”

“Ah yeah, I am. I mostly work for social media stuff.” You explained as you flipped through the menu. “I kinda want to indulge in writing music but I don’t know where to start…”

“You should definitely try it!” He said in excitement. “I didn’t get to actually write my last album since the company decided to go full English, but I’d like to, maybe for my future releases.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

“I can introduce you to my writers and producers if you want?” He looked at the ceiling for a second, pondering. “Have you listened to my song “Seven”?”

As a matter of fact, you had memorized the song lyric by lyric, but you couldn’t just tell him that. 

“O-Of course.” You cursed secretly for stuttering. “It’s everywhere, don’t act like that song didn’t top the charts.”

“Right…” He said, grinning while looking away from your eyes. “I mean, I could introduce you to the writers if you want.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure I can learn a thing or two from you.” You looked at him, testing the waters. 

“Or that! I prefer that, honestly.” He laughed. 

Dinner went extremely well. You were surprised at how at ease you were with him. He was fun and easy to talk to. He was talking about every dish in a very passionate way, which you found endearing. You share the same movie taste as him, which did not really come as a surprise to you, but it absolutely did to him. His eyes were practically glowing talking about the upcoming Deadpool movie. 

The guilt of pretending still lingered in you and you couldn’t just simply ignore it. No matter how comfortable he made you feel, you kept feeling on edge, scared of the possibility of spilling something you’d rather him not to hear. 

“So, are you still up for the tteokbokki?” He asked after giving his card to pay. “I mean, we can’t just eat them on the street like normal people cause you know…” He sighed, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you can’t just…” 

“I’m sorry, it sucks.” He smiled sadly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but… I guess it’s just a small price to pay.” 

There was a very clear hint of disappointment in his voice, and you felt awful. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, I can just tell my driver to drop by so we can get some and I don’t know, eat in my car? Unless you wanna eat in my place which sounds bad, I don’t think you’ll be comfortable knowing we just met—“

“Jungkook, it’s alright.” You assured him. “We can just get them next time.”

“There’s a next time then?” He said with an eager smile. 

You blushed. “Of course. I had fun…”

“Okay… phew!” He exhaled comically and you laughed. “You know, I’m glad I came today.”

“Me too.” You smiled. 

“Can I have your number?” He said with puffed cheeks as he bit the inner side of his mouth. “It’s not exactly convenient to talk via Felix.” He chuckled. 

After exchanging phone number he offered to take you home with him having a driver as the argument. You refused, but mostly because you didn’t know if you could handle being in a close distance and such small space with him yet. Your heart could barely take his boyish grins and cringey jokes. You certainly needed more getting used to. 

Your friend was so gonna get an earful about this. 

Maybe you’d treat him food too as a thanks. 

**

“So?” 

“I’m in trouble, you don’t get it.”

Your friend laughed out loud while you sighed and palmed your face. 

“Aren’t you happy that it went well?” He snickered, eyeing the unopened notifications from Jungkook popping up in your phone. “He even texts you daily, don’t you know how busy he is?”

“He still doesn’t know that I basically have his album at home.” You groaned, slumping into the table. “Albums! And his posters… his light stick…” You ruffled your hair in frustration. 

“Relax, he clearly likes you! Look at those puppy eyes emojis he sent you.”

“How am I suppose to tell him now?!” You looked at your friend in disbelief. 

“I’m sure he’ll understand, you just gotta find the right timing.” 

“That’s easy for you to say cause you’re not the one dealing with it.” 

“Shut up, look…” Felix took your phone and shoved it in front of your face. 

“Are you free this Saturday? Let’s watch a movie!”

“Oh my god???” You snatched your phone instantly, eyes fully open.

And so here you were again, somewhat dolling yourself up for a mere cinema date. You did not step out before video calling your friend and sending the view casual outfit option you had. 

This time Jungkook insisted on sending you a driver to pick you up, mentioning how it was safer and more convenient for you that way. You felt a bit weirded out by the treatment but you guessed it was only right given his status. He even said that he wanted to pick you up himself if he could. 

The first thing you noticed after stepping into the cinema was how empty it was. Sure it was quite late at night, around eleven, but it was not that late to the point where nobody would be there. You had been to the cinema at the same hour before and you were sure it wasn’t this empty. Although you were feeling suspicious, you showed the staff your booking code anyway and she led you to the auditorium. 

How terrified you were to found the auditorium to be empty also, only the huge screen playing the commercials before the movie. You began to look around, terrified. Was this some sort of prank? You were not sure. Out of the blue a finger tapped your back and you yelped in horror.

“I’m sorry! Did I scare you? I was in the restroom.” It was Jungkook. 

You stood up for a few seconds, still processing the whole situation. Your eyes were glassy due to the fear and your heart was beating rapidly. Jungkook just stood there, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a baggy jeans, looking handsome as usual, just staring at you with two cups of soda in his hands. He had a beanie over his head, making his face look rounder and pinch-able. 

“Hey… are you okay?” 

You cleared your throat, scratching your eyes. “I was scared I thought I got pranked or something.” You chuckled, vision still quite blurry. 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you that I rented the whole place… I just don’t want people to see me and make a fuss about it…” 

“It’s okay. I’m here now, let’s just sit down?”

Jungkook followed you as you picked a random seat in the middle of the room. 

He was being awfully quiet as the movie started playing. You noticed how suddenly tensed he was and you saw his hands trembled for a quick second before he shoved it down his pants pockets. 

“Uh, Y/N?” He called. 

You were startled. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t take you on a normal date.”

Your heart melted at the statement. While it was true that you were a fan, but seeing him being a considerate and gentle guy in real life completely swept you away. 

You smiled, looking at his direction. “I mean, as long as we’re spending time together I don’t care where or how.” 

He flashed you a smile, one that could turn you into a puddle instantly. Your eyes darted to a staff that suddenly came to your seats, with two cups of what seemed to be snacks. Your eyes beamed with excitement at the realization of what was served to you. You gasped, covering your lips. You barely mouthed a “thank you” to the staff and they bowed before walking out. 

“I didn’t know they serve tteokbokki here.” 

“They don’t… I just told my driver to get us some.” He said timidly. “I hope that’s okay?”

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been just to eat a tteokbokki.” 

Jungkook breathed out a sigh before smiling brightly. “You know, I don’t even remember the last time I went out on a normal date… I’m sorry if it’s weird to you.” 

“I haven’t been in one in a while either, it’s okay.” You smiled back, poking the tteokbokki and took a bite.

He started stuffing some in his mouth as well. “No, it’s different… I think I will never get the chance to actually date normally, you know? Not in the near future at least. I just wish people respect my privacy more, that’s not much to ask, right?”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” 

“Well, at the end of the day, I love what I do and I don’t regret anything.” 

He shrugged and continued to stuff more food in his mouth, making you giggle at the sight. You had seen him eat multiple times on his weverse live but seeing him actually eat with such enthusiast right in front of you just felt different. God was he cute. 

“I’m glad you’re not like those people.” He looked at you, smiling with his mouth full.

You froze. Am I though? You thought to yourself. Immediately the eye contact was broken and you straightened yourself on the seat to watch the movie, the one with plot you never really got to know at this point. You did not realize how you never really responded to his sentence. 

He did not press over it again and you were glad. Instead of opening his mouth to ask for more, he put his hand over yours instead. A bold move, which surprised you, but his touch was oddly calming and in no time you found yourselves intertwining your fingers together. 

After the credits rolled, both of you stood up to exit but Jungkook quickly caught your right hand again, refusing to let go of it yet. You found it really adorable so you let him be. 

“Let me take you home, yeah?”

“But aren’t you worried? What if someone snoops around seeing the same car drops a random girl and then you later?” You reasoned. 

“You’re not some random girl.” 

You were both mad and smitten that he chose to focus on that. “That’s not the point.” 

“I know… it’s just,” He puffed his cheeks. “I wanna spend time with you more, I don’t really get breaks that often so…”

You almost let out an “aww”. You sighed, fighting the urge to just hug him right there on the spot. “Alright.”

“Yes!” He celebrated, throwing his left fist in the air. “Don't worry, I have a driver trailing from behind in case I get followed. I won't drop you in your specific apartment tower too, if that helps."

“You drove by yourself?”

“Kinda wanna chat just the two of us.”

Okay, you were now holding every fiber of yourself not to just jump and kiss him.

“Is that alright though?” You worried. 

“The staffs here already signed NDAs and stuff, so I hope so.” He shrugged. 

Nodding, you followed him to the parking basement, where he parked his car. He did not let go of your hand until he reached his car. Not minutes after starting his engine, he already was asking for your hand. His eyebrows wiggling playfully at you, while he whined about how he could comfortably drive with one hand. 

You were in no position to complain though, your hand felt too comfortable resting against his. It almost felt like it belonged there but saying that about Jungkook made you feel delusional. Despite actually going on a date with the man himself, it was still surreal for you, the idea of going out with your idol. 

“Do you think I’m going too fast?” 

“Your driving? I guess it’s alright.” You raised one of your eyebrow, looking at him. 

“You know what I mean.” He chuckled. “About this whole thing…”

Before you answered, he spoke again. 

“I get way too excited over these things, I don’t have that much experience and not to mention how I don’t really get that much time to do so.” He nervously laughed. “I’m a fucking twenty-six year old guy who gets way too excited over holding hands…” He shook his head. The curse word rolling out from his tongue actually sounded natural, somewhat sexy.

“I think you’re fine the way you are.” You squeezed his hand, patting the top of it with your other one. “Everyone experience life differently, and so what if you get excited over holding hands? You think I don’t?” You chuckled. 

“You do?!” He said cheerfully. “We’re such a great match already.” He joked. 

You rolled your eyes but your lips were curled into a shy smile. 

“I like you, like a lot.” Jungkook suddenly confessed, as if it was nothing. 

You almost jumped in your seat, looking to his direction. His eyes were on the road but he was smiling from ear to ear. 

This was it right? This was the moment of your dreams. You were literally dreaming about this.  The idol who you admired, confessing his feelings to you. But a small part of you thought about how wrong it was. You were putting a facade in front of him. While you did not lie or put up an act just to impress him, he still didn’t know that you were one of his fans. Will he get mad if he finds out? You’d rather not find out. 

“Jungkook, it’s…” 

“You don’t have to answer right now. We’ll see each other again, right?” This time he squeezed your hand, dragging it near his chest. You felt his heart beating rapidly. 

You kept quiet, only nodding silently. Looking at his direction suddenly felt stuffy so you looked at the window instead, the road and traffic lights kept you busy. 

It was not long after and he finally stopped at your destination. 

“I’ll see you again?” He said, voice sounding a little bit like a beg. 

“I… I can’t.”

Jungkook’s jaw dropped slightly, he looked at you with furrowed brows. “Why?”

“I’m not who you think I am…” You looked away, backing off so your body hits the car door. 

“What’s that suppose to mean?” He leaned towards your direction, making you nervous. 

Panicking, you finally spilled the beans. “Jungkook, I’m actually your fan.” You breathed out. “I’m an army…”

You were so ready to get yelled and thrown out. This was gonna be the moment you wished you had never met—

“I know.”

“Wait, what???” You replied, voice almost a little too loud.

“I saw your little Koya charm in your bag when we first met, I was waiting for you to bring it up but you never say anything.”

Shit, guess you forgot to take that off. 

“But you said you were glad I’m not like those people…”

“And I don’t mean my fans? I was talking about those crazy stalkers and dispatch.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost as if he felt betrayed. 

“I… I don’t know what to say…” You blushed, the sudden realization hit you that Jungkook in fact had known about your secret since day one. 

“That was it right? That’s the only thing that I supposedly don’t know about you? You didn’t lie about anything else?”

“N-No, of course not…”

“Then my offer still stands, I’ll let you know when I’m free next.” He grinned. “If you want to?” 

“I want to…” You managed to say, in which seconds later the huge built guy launched towards you for a hug. 

“Hey!” You whined, but you were aware of how hot your face felt. Your whole body probably had turned red. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked impatiently, eyes big like a puppy asking for food. “I mean… it’s okay if you don’t want to?” He giggled. 

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me…" You groaned. "You don’t have to ask!” You pouted with your cheeks burning like crazy. 

He showed you his tooth-aching smile, one that turned his eyes into crescents, before he quickly dipped and met your lips. It was a short and soft peck. He did left it lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you were lowkey expecting more. 

“Good night.” He giggled. 

“Good night to you too, silly.” You laughed as well, hugging him close and pecked his cheek. 

He finally let you go so you could grab your bag. It was kinda awkward after all hugging in the car seat but oh well. You clicked open the car door, slowly stepping out. 

“Drive safe.” You said, looking back to him. 

He nodded before waving you goodbye. 

That night you went to bed with your eyes wide open. How could you even sleep? The whole scenario felt like you just receive something only someone who had won a war in their past life would get. You took your phone, wanting to text the guy who you totally did not have as your wallpaper now. 

There were already two bubbles of notification from him, but your eyes almost popped out reading the second one. 

“I have arrived safely! No one followed me! Hehe”

“Any chance you want a signed album from Namjoon-hyung? I can give you for a very low price of a single kiss! 💜”

Thank you for reading! 🍷

Prompt request: HERE