#I usually don’t put my opinions on not out books but he’s just so annoying

[nightly-ruse]

Just wanted to check out the Sky Spoilers especially after I heard a few things and man.

(((Spoilers Below for the second book of ASC)))

Nightheart is just a little brat? Like I knew he was already from the first book which I read half of until I got too bored to finish but he’s so obnoxious. Straight up insults Jayf, Brightheart, and Alder who weren’t even being rude?

He’s like fine until he’s like “wait was that an insult to me, to poor me who’s just bullied all the time” and then is ableist! Like dude what??? From the thread he says Brightheart does NOTHING for the clan, Jay can only mix herbs bc he’s blind, and Smth abt Alder I forgot. But dude just insults all of them who haven’t done anything besides stop his bleeding and laugh about him getting bit by a squirrel. Also before this he snapped at Flipclaw who was just being joking about it and he knows his words hurt the poor cat.

I haven’t gotten much farther in the spoilers bc I don’t care that much. Bramblestar is acting kind of out of it which is even noted by the cats around him so maybe he is being written with some brain diffrence(sorry I don’t know how to explain this)? I’ve seen a few posts abt him having maybe early onset dementia which could be interesting for him tho I hope it’s handled well. Squirrelflight also seems to be doing quite a bit of his work. She does all her deputy duties but also is keeping track of the green cough info, handling meetings and trying to puzzle things out while also trying to keep Bramble alright.

Nightheart also just seems so annoying with how he’s like “atleast my mom’s brother likes me. At least one cat in Thunderclan is my friend and cares about me unlike everyone else who just hates me :\”

But he only notes this after insulting the poor guy? I just don’t enjoy him at all. Dudes so annoying. I’m def not reading sky bc I don’t care at all. I’m fine just grabbing fandom info and making cool things instead. This arcs just so pandering to Night and it irks me too much to read. His chapters just aren’t fun to read at all and make me angry. Frostpaw seems interesting and I love more focus on Riverclan. Sunbeam I enjoy she’s funny to me but I like fandom interpretations way more than canon her, I also like reading about Shadowclan and how they are. Still not gonna read it lol that’s just kinda my thoughts so far

#sky spoilers #warrior cats #asc spoilers #asc sky #nightheart #sunbeam #frostpaw #I usually don’t put my opinions on not out books but he’s just so annoying #and now ableist to his own family? like I just can’t understand how they want him to be taken from a readers view?

[kyojurismo]

tags : fem!reader, spider-man au, reader gets kidnapped by a criminal, mention of injuries and blood, first kiss, bkg fell first & i got a little carried away alright bear w me.

notes : i just can’t help it, i had to write something about him as spider-man and here we are. across the spider-verse motivated me even more i guess . . . anyway, enjoy !! <3

special tag : @doumadono ♡

part two

spider-man!bakugo who happens to be your classmate, you find yourself study with him since he’s very smart and doesn’t even has to try. the annoying part? he’s popular and girls are all over him, so you’re often disturbed during your studying sessions.

spider-man!bakugo who starts developing feelings for you, finds himself staring at you as you focus on your notes and books, follows your figure in the corridors making sure you’re okay.

spider-man!bakugo who often finds himself checking on you while doing his usual patrols. you never notice him of course, he makes sure of it.

spider-man!bakugo who one day happens to hear you talking about him— well, about spider-man. he’s curious to hear your opinion about him.

“well, i’m glad someone is out there helping capturing criminals, but . . .” your friend shrugs, searching another article about spider-man. “look. he almost let this poor man fall from a balcony while trying to stop this criminal,” she points out.

you chuckle at her words, surprising her. “he can’t control civilians’ reactions, y’know. i think he’s doing a good work and he makes me feel more safe when i walk alone at night,” you confess, smiling. “we shouldn’t be too judgemental, i’m sure he’s doing his best.”

after hearing your words bakugo covers his mouth with his palm in attempt to hide his growing smile.

spider-man!bakugo who discovers some criminal kidnapped you and is using you against the police. he’s quick to arrive to the scene and enter inside the building, careful to not being noticed by the criminal pointing a gun to your head.

“please, lemme go!” you cry as you grip the criminal’s arm desperately, tears rushing down your warm cheeks. you can feel he is nervous, and that’s not good at all. he would probably shoot you if the police tries to come inside.

“they saw my face! i’m fucked! shit, i’m so fucked!” he screamed, shaking you and pushing the gun against your temple more harshly.

bakugo crawls on the ceiling, watching closely. he then quickly uses his web to disarm the man, immobilising him to the ground and then reach your shaking figure. “are you hurt?” he asks you, appearing in front of you.

“s-spider-man?” you raise your hands to touch his chest and shoulders to make sure he’s real and you’re not already dead or something. “yeah, it’s me. did he hurt you?” he sounds anxious, even though you seemed alright.

“uh i… yeah, i’m okay,” you check your figure and you don’t see any trace of blood or anything, then you raise your eyes to look at his masked face. “good. i gotta go now,” he hears the police starting to enter inside and he’s quick to rush through the back to exit the building.

“w-wait!” you turn and watch him, once his head turn to look at you you speak again. “thank you for saving me,” you smile at him. bakugo nods and then runs away, without being noticed by the police.

you couldn’t see it because of the mask, but katsuki smiled back at you.

spider-man!bakugo who feels good at the thought of being out there to protect you, to save you if needed. he has another reason to fight for his city.

spider-man!bakugo who bumped into you while running away from a scene after he succeeded in capturing the criminal. “careful, princess!” he shouts before running past you, before using his web to swing away. you feel your heart skipping a beat at the petname.

spider-man!bakugo who’s constantly debating about telling you his true identity, hoping that it would provide him at least a chance to be with you but also remember that it would put you in danger.

spider-man!bakugo who one night jumped into your window, falling on the floor and hitting your desk. you scream as you jump to your feet, scanning the figure lying on your floor… bleeding.

“oh my god… can you… hey!” you kneel beside him, checking the side of his stomach bleeding. you were about to remove his mask, as a way to help him breathing better but he’s quick to grab your wrist, almost scaring you. “don’t.”

you gulp and simply get up, reaching the bathroom and looking for a first aid kit. then you rush back into your room to medicate him. “what happened?” you ask as you start working on the injury. “i got shot, but the bullet passed through so it’s fine,” his voice is strained and visibly in pain but he doesn’t flinch as you medicate him. “it’s fine?! it seems like you’re bleeding to death!”

bakugo’s eyes search for your face and notices you’re actually worried about him. once you’re done you help him to your bed, helping him lying comfortably enough. you were lucky your parents weren’t home that night.

“i’m sorry,” he then speaks as you go back to your desk. “ah? sorry for what?” you turn your head for a moment, seeing spider-man lying in your bed was truly a sight. “coming to you, entering out of nowhere.”

you shake your head and then try to focus on the rest of your homework. you can feel him stare at your figure and it distracts you a bit, so you sigh and close your books a bit too loudly as you cringe. you get up and go check on him again, when you try to remove his mask once more he flinches away, stopping you.

“i need to check if you have a fever,” you explain, staring down at him. “i’m totally fine,” he shrugs and tries to sound convincing enough. “sorry, but i don’t really trust the word of a masked vigilante with a very bad injury lying in my bed.”

“i can lie on the floor if you prefer,” he tries to joke before grabbing your wrists as you try again. “okay, listen… you take it off while i keep my eyes closed and then i touch your forehead, what about it?” you try, just wanting to make sure he doesn’t have any infection from the injury. he seems to be thinking about before giving up. “hm.”

you close your eyes and wait for him to take the mask off, then you feel him guiding your hand to his forehead. you sigh in relief as you confirm that he’s alright. you retrieve your hand and wait for a couple of moments. “can i open my eyes now?” you ask him, a bit uncomfortable now that you couldn’t see what he was up to. “not yet.”

his voice is much closer than before and you then feel his breath fanning over you cheek. you shiver as his hand reached for your face and cupped your cheek. your heart starts beating so fast it almost jumps out of your chest before he leans closer and kisses your lips, the kiss lasts for a few seconds before he pulls away and lies back down, his face now fully covered.

you open your eyes and glance at him before turning around, trying to hide the embarrassment and the excitement. bakugo smirks from under the mask before closing his eyes, satisfied with his actions.

spider-man!bakugo who notices you’re trying to find out the real identity of spider-man, trying to see if it’s someone from your school. he’s sure you will never find out, he acts completely different when he’s spider-man. his secret is safe . . . right?

#📂 — writing !! #spider man au #spider man!bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo drabble #katsuki bakugo blurb #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo fanfic #mha bakugou #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic

[thesunfyre4446]

OMG I cannot take this anymore, I’m so tired of expressing my opinions on team black and getting backlash for it. TB supporters need to learn to not be so aggressive when it comes to defending their “Innocent” team. I’m not a green supporter either but I find myself sympathising more with those characters because I feel like they have reasons as to why they are what they are.

When I’m watching the show, I find myself disliking Rhaenyra. She constantly complains about being a female but yet she never does a thing to support her cause. In the books, I’ve heard she disinherits Lady Rosby and Lady Stokesworth on account of their genders and gives everything to their younger brothers. I did read the passage on which it says this and it was said that both girls were never named heir but they were the firstborn and is it not Rhaenyra’s movement to show that women can rule?

Back to her not doing anything about it, she does things, not a lot but the stuff she does do is extremely damaging to her image yet she still acts on them impulsively; Going to the street of silk with Daemon which leads to her marriage with laenor WHICH leads to her bastard children. Had she just not gone and not interacted with Daemon, she could have picked what man she got to marry, it didn’t necessarily have to be love but she could of picked one that could perform their duty and she could be friendly with. She could have done this because her father was allowing her to pick which was rare in those days and just further proves that Visery’s would ignore the customs for her.

I truly do agree with Viserys when he mentions that Jeaharys would have disinherited her and I don’t think Rhaenyra realises how lucky she is to have him as a father. She abandoned him for 6 years, knowing he was dying of an illness and only comes back to beg him to get out his bed and put himself in pain to defend her which he does because he loves her. Adding onto this, Rhaenyra expects to come back to kings landing and everyone to just follow her just because she was named heir, she didn’t stay there to prove her worth or anything. She left it for the greens to manipulate and take over and she is mad that she has no allies there when she’s the one the went into hiding. She’s been named heir for around 20 years at this point, most of the men that swore to her are dead and like they said in the show, most of those oaths are stale now.

The greens are definitely more politically savvy than the blacks which is how they gained so much support, had Rhaenyra stayed in the court and worked on making allies and proving her worth to the realm then maybe the Dance wouldn’t have started. Her hiding away in dragon stone also definitely helped the greens to take the throne because had she been in kings landing then she could have known straight away that her father was dead and the greens would have had a harder time getting the throne, but she left it open for the taking and gets mad when it is taken.

Forgive me for all this, I’m just so incredibly annoyed right now.

i completely agree with you, anon. some TB stans are just impossible to talk too. i usually love it when people with different opinions that mine leave comments on my posts, but i've gotten soooo many disgusting and disturbing messages calling me names, being racist, being incredible misogynistic towards alicent and just being very weird and aggressive.

idk it's very weird how personally TB stans take the criticism towards rhaenyra and daemyra. i mean, daemon gr00med and choked her - a lot of people are obvs NOT going to support this couple and find it very problematic.

i'm not a huge rhaenyra fan too . her character is kinda boring for me, she's giving me an overprivileged-rich-soccer-mom vibes. and yeah she def was not politically savvy (part of the reason i dislike her lol) and made a lot of mistakes. i think that rhaenyra is def a product of viserys's bad parenting skills. he never prepared her to rule, always justified and defended her mistakes (i mean, how are you going to grow as a person when your daddy defends everything you do no matter what?) and he gave her a false sense of security.

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #anti team black stans #anti team black #asks

[mrs-russ]

i’m writing a little something and idk how to feel about it so here’s the first chapter because i kinda need opinions 😔

wasn’t rlly proofread, sorry for spelling errors!

words: 928

reading time: 3:22

ao3

mentions of alcohol

Keegan had been my roommate for a while now, but i barely knew anything about him, really. all i knew was that he used to be in the military, and he has a middle name that no one else knows. on top of that i don’t really know why he doesn’t have a house of his own, i think maybe his wife cheated and kicked him out while he was deployed or something. pretty fucked up thought. but hey, anything can happen.

i’ve always felt like keegan had something against me. he never acknowledge me, never talked to me, and when he did he always sounded annoyed, like i had stepped on a nerve that had been pulsing all day.

today, wasn’t any different.

i just got home from running errands, im running off of 2 hours of sleep and 3 coffees with espresso shots. my eyes falling to keegan on the couch as i walk in the door. he never does anything. i’m out all day, going to work and getting my shit together while he sits on his ass. if he has something against me, that’s just gives me all the reason to dislike him more then i already do.

i walk to the kitchen, bags of groceries in my hands. i sit them down on the floor, unpacking them and putting them in the fridge. at least he pays me back for the groceries. once it’s time to go shopping he makes a list and puts it on the fridge with a little “USMC” magnet, $40-60 in cash under it.

i assume that was his branch, the marines. he definitely seems like it, just gives off that aura, i guess.

as im done putting the groceries up i throw the bags away, my poor bones cracking as i make my was up from the floor. i’m only 24, but i feel like my body is at least 40 sometimes, especially the days after the gym.

keegan speaks to me and i look at him, his voice snapping me out of the little world i was in. i see a beer in his hand. he usually isnt a drinker, he only has a few beers ever so often from what i’ve observed, but today, it seems different.

“did you get everything?” he asked blandly, barely a question.

“yeah” i answer back with the same tone he had, looking away from his hands.

“oh, except for those weird garlic pickles you eat, they were sold out”

“figured” he says dryly, his attention fully on the tv now.

i’m really tempted to ask him why he never gets off his ass, leaving me to do everything. it’s annoying, and it’s making me age faster then i should, i think i already have grey hairs growing.

i decide to leave it alone for now, making my way to my room and lying on my soft bed. i’m exhausted, and i need sleep, but that’s the last thing i could do right now; especially after those espresso shots. so i decide to read, pulling out a book from my shelf and continuing where i left off. reading is one of the things i love doing, especially after a long day. i usually fall asleep to honestly, just something about it is comforting.

before i can open my book and begin reading, keegan opens my door abruptly, looking in to see me sighing.

“how many times have i told you to knock?”

“can’t remember” he says, sarcastically, eyeing me down.

“i could’ve been fucking myself with a pretty pink dildo” i say in response, and his face looks slightly off-putting, the scar on his left brow wrinkling.

“thanks for that image” he says, closing his eyes and sighing.

“listen, i was looking in the fridge and didn’t see the redds, did you get them?” he asks as he reopens his eyes, his voice deep and gravely.

“they weren’t on the list” i respond, looking at him. he sighs deeply, and his face turns slightly annoyed.

“alright, i’ll be back in 30 minutes.” he says, closing the door behind him.

that’s something i’ve never heard before. keegan, getting off of his ass? that’s a new one. but of course, it’s when he’s been drinking.

i place my book on my bed and make my way out of my room, seeing keegan grabbing his car keys. the thing is probably 50 years old by now, dust and tumbleweeds in it from being out of use for so long.

“you can’t, you’ve been drinking” i say, looking at him. “do you need them that bad” i ask, my voice monotone

“well, i’ve drank everything else in this shitty apartment. so yes, i do.”

i sigh, looking at him slightly angrily. he better not be a angry drunk, i’ll be gone by morning.

“alright, well, do you want me to go and get them?” i ask, looking at him, feeling slightly pissed.

his body seemingly gets less tense, and he looks away, his jaw clenching before he looks back at me.

“if you could do that, i wouldn’t complain” he says, his voice more calm now.

i know he doesn’t need to drink any more, but maybe if i go get them by the time im back the fucker will be passed out on the couch.

“yeah, yeah, i can go” i look away from him, grabbing my keys and coat. “need anything else while i’m out?” i ask with a sigh

“maybe a burger, too” he says, handing me $10.

“alright, be back soon”

#call of dooty #call of duty #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #keegan p russ #keegan x reader

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Can I ask you questions about Locorro?👀How do you think Spider and Lo'ak's first kiss went?

Yes you can, that's my full-time job now, apparently. Spent so long staring at this ask only to accept a drabble was needed. Dear God help us if we are doing drabbles now.

Please note: if you ask me for one, give me like a week or so to write it. Please I'm busy. And you run the risk of just getting headcanons back I can't promise anything. Also I have not edited this at all. But I hope it is what you were looking for. @boringgirl2 this is a drabble.

There are a lot of things Spider will do for Lo’ak. Apparently, pa’li herding isn’t one of them.

“It’s stupid,” Spider says, as if that ends the matter. He turns his attention back to his weaving, tightening a knot on the arm band he’s making for Tuk, but Lo’ak is not that easily deterred.

“If Kiri liked it, you wouldn’t think it’s stupid,” Lo’ak says. Kiri looks up from her own weaving at the sound of her name. 

“Yes, I would,” Spider says, still not looking at Lo’ak. Kiri is, though, and her eyes are narrowed.

“No, you wouldn’t! Admit it, if Kiri thought it was cool, you’d think it was cool with her and do it!” Lo’ak says, frustrated. 

“I think plenty of things Kiri likes are stupid. Like cloud gazing, or napping, or how she always has to eat the seeds of any fruit first and how she won’t let us look for herbs unless we ‘let Eywa guide us there.’”

“Stop listing things about me you find stupid,” Kiri scowls, leaning over and shoving Spider hard enough that he drops a bead. He gasps dramatically, retrieving and tossing the fallen bead at her. 

“You do all of those things with her all the time,” Lo’ak points out. It’s true, Spider took a nap with Kiri in a meadow after cloud gazing just yesterday. He thinks they even stumbled on some herbs on the way back. Spider sighs, finally, finally, putting his weaving down and giving lo’ak his full attention. As soon as he has it, Lo’ak forgets why he wanted it in the first place. It’s easy to forget Spider is older when they’re running through the forest, teasing each other and pushing each other off of tree limbs. It’s harder when Spider looks right at him like this, and Lo’ak feels pinned in the spotlight of gaze, remembering there is careful intention behind everything he does. 

“Fine. Nash is making me go back early today.” 

Lo’ak blinks, and he knows his surprise is written all over his face. Kiri snorts. Spider doesn’t usually share much about the living at the base with his foster family, not when he’s with them. Only Kiri’s direct questions get answers. It’s only through tone and body language; whispered tidbits in the dark, that Lo’ak has developed any opinion of the McCosker’s themselves. To get this response means Lo’ak had caught him, not quite in a lie but in the avoidance of truth. It feels like a victory to get this concession, but a loss all the same to see Spider’s tiny frown. 

“For what?” Lo’ak asks, because he can never keep his mouth shut. Kiri uses his shoulder to push herself to her feet and heads for the Hometree. Their clearing is just outside it, near enough to be easily accessible and far enough for private chatting. A popular weaving spot. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Spider, but Spider glances up to watch Kiri leave. Another win.

“I don’t know,” Spider says, eyes on Kiri’s retreating form.

Lo’ak frowns at him. He can’t imagine Spider not asking; he was there last when Norm asked Spider to help watch the links and Spider had questioned him on every aspect until Norm had gotten annoyed and told him to just leave. Spider had then thrown Lo’ak a grin, grabbed his mask and dragged Lo’ak outside. 

“They want me to focus on school more,” Spider elaborates, Lo’ak’s silence apparently giving voice to his skepticism. School was what the humans all called giving Spider books and packets to complete, hoping that one day lightning might strike and he would discover and heretofore dormant love of sitting in a lab chair all day and exclaiming at tubes with Max. 

“For how long?” Lo’ak asks. Spider shrugs. 

“Forever, I guess.”

Forever would be how long it would take for Spider to enjoy petri dishes for more than the thirty seconds of joy Norm’s face brings on every time someone calls them penis dishes in front of him. Still, Lo’ak doesn’t give that much thought. 

“Ditch then. Who’s going to stop you?” he asks. The solution is simple really, and Lo’ak would have thought Spider would know better by now. He’s not typically a strict rule follower like Neteyam. But, instead of thanking him for this insight and graciously joining Lo’ak in an afternoon of pa’li herding, Spider rolls his eyes and snorts loudly enough to be heard even over the rhythmic hissing of his mask. The action makes Lo’ak flinch. 

“I have to listen to them, bro. Where else can I go?”

Lo’ak opens his mouth to say of course, Spider can come stay at the Hometree with them, but then he takes in the glass on Spider’s face, so familiar he’d almost forgotten. Spider gives him a smile, like he can read Lo’ak’s mind. He hears a twig snap behind him and whips around to see Kiri abandoning her trip back to them halfway through, skittering back towards the Hometree. He whirls back to see Spider in the same position, still watching him. Damnit, he thinks wildly. 

“Why do you want me to come so bad?” Spider asks, and he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, like Lo’ak’s dad’s ikran waiting for a slice of meat. Lo’ak does not like feeling like meat. 

“I always want you around, bro,” Lo’ak says, unfolding his legs to tap at Spider’s knee with his foot. Spider sways with the movement but does not break eye contact, eyebrows raised, so expressive, like Lo’ak has always hated his own for being. Fine then, if Spider doesn’t believe him. 

He shifts his legs back under him and braces his palms on his knees, pushing himself forward into Spider’s personal space. Spider’s eyes barely have time to widen in surprise before Lo’ak is there, pressing his lips to the front of his mask. He falls back and waits for Spider’s brain to catch back up. He goes crosseyed looking at the space Lo’ak had just occupied.  

“That is going to smudge,” Spider says, and Lo’ak is gratified to hear he sounds a little breathless. 

“Well, don’t be a baby about it. Are you going to come help herd or not?” Lo’ak shoves Spider’s half finished armband into his pouch and rises to his feet. He knows he has won when Spider jumps up after him.

“Warn me next time!” 

“Warn you?”

“Yes!” Spider nods. “No smudges.”

“Next time?” Lo’ak asks, and he tries to keep from grinning. Spider scowls at him, but his eyes are shining. 

“Oh, shut up or I’ll scare the herd in the wrong direction.”

“You’re coming now?” Lo’ak’s face hurts, his smile is so wide. Spider aims a kick at his shins.

#i don't want to hear a single word about pa'li herding #keep it to urselves #jk obviously you all can say anything to me #my bad #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #lo'ak sully #locorro #kiri sully #kiri in this: aight imma head out #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron) #melissa is spending valuable time writing fanfiction again

[armulyn]

Wisdom to the Wise

The Wingfeather family’s possession of a collection of First Books is not exactly a secret, though few are the commoners who can claim knowledge of it.

They traditionally belong to the Throne Warden, and are kept in his keeping, and the scholars know that. One of the Throne Warden’s traditional titles after all is Keeper of Wisdom, whatever that means, and while most citizens of Anniera think it more metaphorical than literal, there are others who can correct them.

There are five of them, ranging from as thick and heavy as a small boulder to what is little more than a pamphlet the size of his hand. Very few in Anniera or beyond know that, save perhaps the most dedicated and lucky of scholars. 

Finally, there are a grand total of sixteen pages among the lot that he can read.

Though about seven people alive currently know that, Esben feels he knows it the best, flipping through aged pages with boredom and growing frustration. The strangely shaped, handwritten letters taunt him with their loops and bold strokes, some written hastily, slanted and sloppy, and others firmly, whether in triumph or emphasis no one will ever know. Whoever has put pen to the ancient paper has done so in a language none now speak— or, more’s the pity, read.

He has never been as dedicated to reading as Artham, or as relentless in pursuit of knowledge, but Esben has also never liked being told he can’t know something, and so he glares at the pages as if they can be cowed into divulging their secrets.

“Well?” he says aloud, “What am I supposed to learn from a collection of shapes?”

He isn’t talking to anyone in particular, save perhaps his subconscious, but nonetheless a voice answers from behind him. 

“Perhaps I could be of more aid if I knew what you are doing?”

Esben jumps, nearly knocking the ancient tome right off the end of the ancient desk— an impressive feat, as it’s the boulder book— before a hand shoots forward and rescues it.

“Why didn’t you knock?” he demands breathlessly of his brother, brushing himself off and pretending he hadn’t nearly gotten a heart attack. Artham looks at him as if he’s being exceptionally stupid, which is neither fair nor warranted in Esben’s opinion.

“I don’t usually knock when I expect a room to be empty,” he says, then glances around, “...Especially when it’s my room. So! Besides endangering priceless, helpless, and perfectly innocent books, what are you trying to do?”

“This book.” Artham returns the boulder book safely to his desk, but Esben gestures instead to the one beside it. It is of average size and weight for a book, but its ancient leather binding and yellowed pages mark it apart from the many volumes that can be found in Rysen’s library.

“...What about the book?”

“I don’t know! They’re all equally incomprehensible but it’s that one that annoys me the most. I don’t know why, but it won’t leave me alone.”

Artham picks up the book in question, handling the tome with far more care and expertise than Esben had bothered with. He flips idly through the pages, and Esben doesn’t have to crane his neck to know what his brother sees. Unidentifiable letter after unidentifiable letter.

“This is considered to be one of the oldest of them,” Artham says, “If indeed the ages vary. Aunt Illia told me it’s said to give ‘wisdom to the wise.’”

“How can a book be said to give people wisdom when nobody can read it?” 

“No idea, that’s just what Aunt Illia told me. I don’t think she knew what it means either. It’s pretty clear that it only gives people wisdom who already have it, though, so you might be out of luck on that end.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Artham grins at him, but then returns his attention to the infuriating book at hand. He flips to the first page, upon which is a single line of text across the paper. What it says, only the wind and stars know, Esben thinks irritably.

“Well, maybe we’ll never know what’s in it. It’s not like you need to know everything about everything in order to live, Esben.”

Like most things out of Artham’s mouth, it sounds smart and also vaguely profound. Not for the first time in his life, Esben laments his brother’s hobby as a poet.

“Philosophy is all well and good, but a linguist would honestly be more helpful here.”

“I know plenty of languages, I’ll have you know. Hollish, for example, and Shreven, and—”

“I don’t suppose this one happens to be among them?”

Artham squints closer at the text, then shrugs, “I know plenty of languages that people actually speak.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

Artham rolls his eyes at Esben, an extremely undignified action that little enhances his brother’s reputation as a dashing Throne Warden. The vaguely dirt-stained clothing and windblown hair don’t help either— he must have been outside.

“Well, I’m not certain how to help you on this front, little brother,” Artham says, “but you’re doing little good glaring a pile of pages into submission. Nia was looking for you a few minutes ago though, in the front garden.”

Esben rises from the chair eagerly, glad to leave the circling uselessness of staring in incomprehension at dusty pages. All the same, he pauses at the door, a strange feeling of failure sweeping over him. There’s something in that book, he knows it. And he means to find out what.

“...Now that I think about it, isn’t that the book that’s used for the kings’ annals, too?” Artham asks, following him out. Esben nods glumly.

“Aye, and those at least are in Common. I’ve been through those same sixteen pages sixteen times but whatever I’m looking for isn’t there. That book may or may not have wisdom but either way it’s doing a terrible job at imparting it.”

“Maybe if I hit you over the head with it—”

“Please don’t.”

#the wingfeather saga #my writing #esben wingfeather #artham wingfeather #wingfeather spoilers #there are about a half-dozen potential continuations to this sitting in my docs #but this is the only intact one so here it is #may or may not be continued who knows #wip #wisdom to the wise #they're both a lot of fun to write #timeline what timeline? #i literally have no idea when this is supposed to take place #so illia & jru & nala are basically schrodinger's family right now #nia and esben may or may not be married

[mossyscavern]

Costumes and crushes

___________________

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been trick or treating.”

Tim said, staring at the costume in the mirror. “Wonder what everyone else will be.” Tim wondered turned around to see Tom staring at his costume in his hands, not at all listening.

He rolled his eyes fondly and cleared his throat. “Wonder what Sam will be for Halloween.” Tim says instead as Tom immediately lifted his head when the name Sam is mentioned.

Tom darkened his eyes as Tim laughed. “Very funny.” Tom said, annoyed by the way his twin got Tom’s attention. “That was so quick though!”

Tim commented before getting pelted in the face by a pillow. “And I regret telling you about my crush.” Tom said, a little amused at his own action.

“You’re sure it’s a good idea to dress differently?” Tom asked, now finally changing in his costume. “Yes! Besides, they’re both from a story book, it’s not so different.” He answered, putting in the fake teeth that came with the costume.

“Well?” He asked, hoping Tom’s opinion would help out. “Loose the teeth.” He said to his twin.

And Tim did just that, loose the teeth. “Yeah, I look ridiculous in them.” He said, before putting on his mask. Tom looked in his own reflection, having second thoughts about the costume. “Guys, c’mon! We gotta go!”

Lilian said barging in their room, who is wearing her usual pink bunny onesie as her costume. “I’m done anyways.” Tim said, fixing up the collar of his costume.

“… uh, I am too.” Tom answered, feeling a little unsure about celebrating again. “Then c’mon, Duncan, Travis and Sam are already here.” Lilian said, already running out of the twin’s room.

Tim went out first and Tom followed close behind, his own costume mask already on and yet he isn’t used to having half his face covered. Not even close to the hallway and already he could hear voices.

“Shouldn’t you be a gypsy if you’re Esmeralda?” He heard Travis ask and a groan from Duncan afterwards. “Travis we talked about this!” Duncan shouted as Tom sighed when Tim turned to the lounge room.

Tom took a deep breath, shut his eyes and entered the room. When he opened his eyes he saw everyone had dressed up in their respective costumes, but his eyes lingers towards Sam’s costume.

Sam’s costume is also based off of the phantom of the opera, he looks a lot like Christine with red hair, but… why did Travis say Esmeralda instead? “Looks like you really do have your phantom, huh Sam?”

“Tom’s is actually based off the book, mine’s from the goosebumps series.” Sam answered as Travis oh’d with understanding. “At least it’s better then being a clown.”

Duncan comments as Travis gasps. “Excuse me! Pennywise is actually scary.” “Not the one from the 90’s!!” “It’s a classic! Unlike your costume!!!”

“Don’t you dare! Insult the Jason vorhees original-!” “Guys!” Sam interrupted, breaking the two apart. “This is the weaver’s first Halloween in a long time, we are not ruining this!!” Sam told them, turning back and forth between the too.

“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go trick or treating!!” Travis yelled already out the door with Lilian, Caleb and Benny tailing behind while tim and Duncan tried to tolerate each other. “I-I… guess we go- go together I suppose?”

Tom stuttered out, feeling flustered about seeing Sam in a dress. Especially a dress that suits him very well. “Uh… w-why Chri- uh.. Esmeralda?” Tom asked, sam shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? Besides I got triple dog dared to wear the dress.” Sam answered as he oh’d the same way as Travis.

“Eh, I’m not complaining… and I see you’re not either~.” He said, Tom became weak in the knees at that comment. ‘When did Sam become flirty?!’ He thought, burying his red face against the palm of his hands.

While Sam realised what he said and coughed. “L-let’s catch up with the rest, they’ll probably wonder where we are.” Sam said, changing the subject as the two head outside where the others are waiting.

Even though Tom is a little flustered and worried about this day. He really isn’t complaining about anything.

Just add some costumes, candy and crushes and he’s got himself a good night!

Now all he needs to do is confess without his twin help...

How is he gonna do this?!

___________________

Yeah… I’m sorry for not posting the sunflower shirts and gravestones series for the hearse twins au…

I have a bit of writers block on that series so, I did @vinehasnohopeleft’s au on a Halloween trip with the weavers… and yes, I’ve written about Sam wearing a dress in this.

Did I have a particular reason? Not really. Is this intentional? Partially. Am I going to have another episode of an anxiety crisis? Definitely. And I’m having one right now.

#wick hellbent games #wick 2015 #wick horror game #wick au #wick #wick tim #wick tom #wick sam #wick travis #wick duncan #wick caleb #wick benny #wick lilian #candle brace shipping #uh… I’ve been pacing through tumblr for about 5 minutes #which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened 10 times #normally I’d pace scroll around YouTube #or just pace around in my head #… I’ve said too much #… watchya think about flirty Sam? #I just realised I forgot to tag it as candlebrace #… my bad

[magicshopaholic]

Melbourne (Taehyung x Dilara)

Summary: Dilara tries navigating her days with her ex-boyfriend back in her life, while Taehyung remains plagued by memories of their past.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, minor fluff, mentions of smut

Word count: 22.8 K

Rating: 18+ (for language and themes)

Warnings: crass language, mentions of sex, heartbreak, alcohol, smoking, anxiety

A/N: This one's going to hurt. Mentions of Namjoon and Kaya, and Jimin and Sooah.

Sidenote: A certain real-life idol is mentioned in this fic and isn't portrayed in the best light; it's unfortunate, but back when I first outlined this fic, I didn't know any other girl groups and hers was the only name that came to mind. That being said, it is fiction and obviously nothing here reflects my personal opinions about real people (in short: I love her and her group). I thought this would be obvious but these are sensitive times and people loooove reading into things that don't exist so here's the disclaimer to hopefully prevent that.

I also have absolutely no opinion on any rumours or anything that may or may not be making the rounds about her. Now that that's done, enjoy!

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

Listen to: “did you/fall apart” by prateek kuhad

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

Ischia, Italy; December (One month in) (Taehyung)

A cool breeze blew and Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair, welcoming the feeling against his slightly sweaty skin. It was supposed to be chilly; it was winter after all, and everything he’d read up about Ischia before making all the bookings said that while it wouldn’t be a typical snowy winter, it wouldn’t be this warm either. It was the last detail that fell into place before he’d emailed everything to Dilara, awaiting her reaction when she’d find out how he intended to whisk her away to a picturesque, off-the-radar island the moment her season ended.

Don’t you think you should ask her first? What if she doesn’t like Italy?

He’s right, actually. Couples should be making these decisions together… right?

Taehyung had dismissed Jungkook’s concerns immediately, followed by Jimin’s addition. It’s a surprise, he’d explained to them, stopping himself somehow from rolling his eyes. The entire point is to not tell her. And she loves Italy, he’d added. It’s winter and she doesn’t like the cold; it’s perfect.

His friends hadn’t looked too convinced but Taehyung didn’t care. He knew his girlfriend and he knew what she liked, and when he’d turned out to be completely correct on every account, his smugness had been impossible to mask.

Dude, we weren’t challenging you, Jimin had said, eventually getting annoyed. Taehyung suspected his status of limbo with Sooah, once again making its predictable appearance, was contributing to his bad mood. Couples usually do this shit together, that’s all.

We’re not like other couples.

It was the one thing that had made both Jimin and Jungkook back off, because the scope to argue with that statement was borderline negligible. They weren’t like other couples. Other couples didn’t fall in love over a single weekend. Other couples didn’t find each other months later halfway around the world, only to still be just as drawn to each other. Other couples didn’t have everything thrown at them, from distance, to fame, to all sorts of insecurities, only to still find their way to each other.

As he watched her walk ahead of him, still humming the song from the pub they’d just left, he knew he was right.  Her thin black sundress blew lightly around her knees. We match, she’d said earlier that evening when he’d put on a thin black shirt that shimmered dimly in the light, tucked neatly into black slacks. Her sandals clicked against the paved road as she stumbled slightly. 

“Lara, be careful.”

He heard her chuckle before she turned around. “I am careful,” she said, walking backwards now. It didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in him even as he grinned, for he knew how much wine she’d had tonight - how much they’d both had. Her cheeks, even though they didn’t blush, were flushed. Her eyes were bright and her collarbones and neck glowed under the streetlights, no doubt a result of the liquor, dancing and unseasonably warm weather. 

“Wait, I know this song.”

She stopped in her tracks and frowned, trying to place the faint music coming from a few alleys down, the same one they’d spent the entire night at. Taehyung continued walking until he reached her, amused at her deepening frown as he wrapped one arm around her waist before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Is this Neil Diamond? Doesn’t sound like him… hang on, this is definitely in some movie…” Dilara continued guessing, her hands absently going up his arms as he moved his mouth towards her ear and down to her neck, lips ghosting over her dewy skin. Slowly, without fully realising it himself, he began swaying on the spot and keeping time with the song that he, too, found rather familiar.

“What are you - oh.” Her arms went around his shoulders and he felt her chin rest on it. She fingered the ends of his hair at the back of his neck and he nuzzled hers, inhaling her perfume, a vanilla scent, sweet and delectable, that made him want to softly bite at her skin.

“Is this Versace?” she murmured into the thin fabric of his shirt, her mind clearly on the same lines as his. 

“Dior,” he answered quietly, holding her closer now, feeling her small and toned torso in his arms. He’d waited for this for far too long, he thought, and getting this moment alone with her, on a quiet street tucked somewhere in the depths of Europe, was his reward. They were properly swaying now, the music sounding louder and clearer now that they were focusing on nothing else.

Taehyung knew this song, too. Like Dilara, he couldn’t put his finger on it, possibly because his head was pleasantly swimming with the wine they’d splurged on tonight. He could remember a few words here and there, though, not to mention the instrumentals… including when the saxophone solo began.

“What the fuck?” Dilara jerked backwards when Taehyung began loudly mimicking the saxophone, eyes closed and letting go of her to pretend he was playing one, until he finally caught sight of her face and burst out laughing. “Way to ruin a moment, Tae,” she muttered, rolling her eyes but letting him take her hand anyway.

“This is Bill Withers, by the way,” he said, having just remembered it.

“Yes! Just the Two of Us,” she exclaimed immediately, shoulders relaxing. “Thank God. That would’ve kept me up all night.”

“And that’s my job,” he agreed, pulling her into his arms again, this time more flowy with the movements. “Doesn’t this beat dancing in a hotel room in the middle of the night?” he murmured into her hair, smelling her fruity conditioner. The weather compelled her to wash her hair nearly every day, especially on the days they visited the beach.

Dilara laughed. “Of course it does, love,” she said indulgently, reaching up to kiss him. “The middle of an empty street is better than the Hilton.” She looked around as he spun her. “Isn’t it too empty, though? This place has been as busy as the paddock since we got here.”

“True. Maybe it’s too late?” Taehyung guessed, suddenly realising she was right. Ischia may have been the best place to get away from normal life, but it was packed with locals. Still, no one seemed to recognise either of them, even when they walked hand in hand down the streets in broad daylight. It made spending time together a lot easier, though, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Yeah, probably,” she murmured, closing her eyes at another gust of cool breeze that made goosebumps erupt on her bare shoulders. “We haven’t been out this late so far.” She gave him a coy smile. “Although, I wouldn’t have minded staying at that concert last night a while longer.”

“Really?” His grip on her waist tightened. “At the concert or in the alley behind it?”

Dilara bit her lip, her mind no doubt revisiting the excursion they’d had the previous night after a particularly raunchy rendition of Body Language that had everyone in the bar on their feet. In a haze of boldness from the alcohol, the adrenaline and the anonymity, they’d sneaked out of a back door and into the crevices of the alley behind the bar to succumb to their desires. With the threat of being caught looming over them, they’d fucked in a heated passion in nothing but muffled screams and quiet grunts.

“Both,” she answered after a moment, shrugging, but Taehyung wasn’t fooled. “Do you want to open that Bordeaux tonight?” she asked, stepping away from him and skipping a few steps down the road. “I’m not tired at all, weirdly.”

“That is weird,” he agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he followed her. “But it’s a good idea. We can catch the sunrise.”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiled back at him and his heart skipped a beat, just before she tripped on something.

“Shit,” he muttered, hurrying up to her as she winced and inspected her foot. “Are you okay? I told you to be careful, Lara.”

“I was,” she insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder as she unbuckled her heeled sandal. “It’s these stupid shoes… there, that’s better.” Both her shoes dangling from one hand, she gingerly took a couple of steps before sighing in relief. “All good. Come on.”

“Come - are you going to walk all the way to the villa without your shoes on?” Taehyung asked, a bit incredulously.

“Tae, it’s about five minutes from here. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“No, but there could be actual glass on the road,” he argued, still standing in the same spot as he watched her saunter away. “Lara, seriously?”

“Seriously, I’m going to get started the moment I reach the villa,” she said, turning her head to give him a look as she continued walking, “whether you’re there or not.”

He watched her continue for another moment before jogging after her, darting in front of her and making her halt to a stop.

“Jesus, Tae! Do you want me to trip - what’s happening?”

Taehyung, now down on one knee, looked up at her seriously. “I’m terribly sorry, my lady,” he said loftily, puffing his chest out dramatically, “but I cannot let you continue through these woods.” He watched her confusion morph into understanding, and forced himself to keep a straight face as she tried and failed to suppress her own smile.

Shaking her head, she eventually relented and placed a hand on her chest. “That’s very gallant of you, my lord. But you needn’t worry. I know these woods like the back of my hand.” She moved to walk but he grabbed her wrist.

“Uh, it’s prince, actually,” he corrected quickly. “But I’m afraid you might hurt yourself if you continue on this treacherous path without your shoes on, my lady.”

“My lord is kind. But it’s not a long walk and I have seen far more dangerous things in my lifetime of war.”

“Prince. Also - war? I have fought in more battles than you can count, my lady. I have faced the kingdoms of MAMA and the Grammys. You shouldn’t take me lightly.”

“I have been a prisoner in the castles of Mercedes and Ferrari, my lord, not to mention the wrath I face in the factories of Red Bull against the evil commander, Max Verstappen.” Her lips twitched.

“Uh-huh. Well, not only is my lady refusing to call me prince, but she’s also ignoring me while I’m on my knees for her.”

“My lord rarely passes up an opportunity to get on his knees for me.”

Taehyung grinned. “Is that a no?”

Dilara swept past him, the hem of her dress brushing the side of his face. “That’s a no, my lord. In fact, I would also say that - oh, my God, Tae!” she shrieked as her feet were suddenly swept off the ground. 

“You dare address the prince by his name?” he demanded, tugging her closer. Dilara gasped again and tightened her arms around his neck, peering down at the road over his shoulders with wide eyes. “I’m afraid you left me no choice, my lady.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “I hope my lord knows that if he drops me, Red Bull is going to come after him for some serious insurance payout.”

“Jinjja, I’m not going to drop you. My lady may be strong but she’s super light.”

“And you haven’t set foot in a gym your entire life so forgive me if I don’t trust you, my lord.”

“You can trust me. Look -” He proceeded to spin her around while she half-shrieked and half-laughed into his neck, just before he stumbled slightly on the road.

“Fuck! Tae, I swear if you drop me I’m going to shred your brown jacket.”

“Hey, I worked out for two whole weeks before the Vogue photoshoot in October,” he pointed out hotly, frowning when she rolled her eyes. Her shoes knocked lightly against his back as he continued walking, her warm frame pressed against him. For all her complaining, her arms still stayed locked around his neck and she hadn’t asked him to put her down even once. “And you’d really shred my jacket?”

“I would at least crumple it. My lord,” she added deliberately.

“Would it kill you to call me prince just once?”

“Yes. You’re not my prince.”

“What?” Taehyung halted in his tracks, eyes wide and disbelieving. “I’m not your prince?”

“You’re a prince. Probably,” she allowed seriously.

“But not yours.”

“No. I’m from a foreign land.”

He scoffed before considering it. “Huh. A foreign princess.” He flexed his shoulders before resuming walking. “Interesting. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, princess.”

Dilara raised her eyebrows as he grinned in pride at the new English word he'd just used. "My lord is so sexy," she murmured, tilting her head and nipping at his earlobe. "But don't call me princess, though. Ugh."

"Doesn't everyone in the media call you that?"

"Yes. And it's not a compliment."

He frowned. "Why does Daniel Riccardo call you that? I thought he was your friend."

"He is… that's the drivers' way of turning the media's nickname back on them, by turning it into a joke," she explained. "Almost all of them call me that and now the press can't use it without looking like idiots."

"Ah, knights protecting my lady's honour," he mused, spotting their villa in the distance. He slowed down slightly, tightening his arms around her. "That's supposed to be my job, though, no?"

"My lord lives in a faraway land, so I need to rely on the bravery of my fellow drivers," she pointed out playfully, brushing his bangs off his forehead. "I like your hair like this, by the way."

Taehyung nodded absently, his eyes still on her. "But my lady remembers her prince will come back." It came out almost like a question.

"Always," she confirmed immediately, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, his heart flipping in his chest. "But every couple needs their crew. Especially in our kind of situation."

He ignored this last bit. "We're not like other couples, though."

Dilara laughed, dropping her head back in the breeze, now seeming fully comfortable in his arms as they neared their villa. "True. I don’t know how many other couples can manage to pull all-nighters together in this many different timezones.”

"Not what I meant," he murmured, but the sight of her right now, happily buzzed and all his, prompted him to put everything else out of his mind. "Come on, my lady," he said as they neared the villa. "Your castle awaits."

—

Spielberg, Austria; September (Wednesday) (Dilara)

Dilara takes great care to avoid Taehyung after he brings her home from the paddock, specifically because now that the ice is broken, she knows he wants to apologise and get everything off his chest. For him, it’s just another tick mark in whatever ex-girlfriend twelve-step program he’s in. For her, it’s having to face the man who hurt her possibly more than anyone in her entire life. She has zero qualms about prioritising herself in this situation and, therefore, continues to remain locked up in her room for the rest of the weekend, knowing he isn’t as brazen yet to actually knock on her door and demand to talk to her.

The only two people who do are RM and Seokjin; the former because she thinks, as leader, he feels some kind of responsibility towards her since they live in the same house. He asks, fairly politely, if she needs anything, if her ankle is healing well - nothing related to the race or anything that might indicate a relationship beyond a professional one. It’s a dull pang at first, realising that this person she once looked up to genuinely has nothing to say to her, but later is a bit of a relief as Dilara doesn’t think she’d survive a heart to heart with RM.

Seokjin is far more confident, although when he talks, it’s with such genuine concern that you’d think she’s completely bedridden. When she tells him it’s just a sprain, he stays silent for a moment before disappearing and returning with a bright pink ice pack that has a strap attached to it, already filled with ice.

As for Taehyung, just being in the same room as him makes her chest hurt with sadness and humiliation, making every gesture of his feel hollow now that she knows it’s just a way for him to get over his own guilt.

Dilara skips Qualifying on Saturday, too depressed to care. Alex Albon is driving her car and it hurts more than she expected it to, so she snags a cup of ramen, nice and high in carbs, from a brand new box in the kitchen and decides to eat her feelings instead. She hesitates briefly, though; if she has to guess, the ramen is either Seokjin’s or Jungkook’s. While she’s staring at the box, contemplating, she hears a noise behind her and almost falls.

“Jesus,” she mutters, gripping the kitchen island to steady herself.

“You can have one,” says Suga, voice calm and steady as ever.

“Oh, I wasn’t -” Dilara clears her throat, mortified. “I was just… looking.”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to argue, but then he simply shrugs and rips open the packaging himself, taking out a bowl and filling it with hot water. The aroma of fresh, hot ramen is irresistible, even when he takes the bowl and heads back to the living room to join the others, giving her a nod as he passes her.

Rolling her eyes and cursing rappers, she takes a bowl.

On Sunday, Dilara goes to the paddock, but only because she knows the cameras will be there. If she doesn’t show up, the injury’s going to be hyped up to much more than it already is. She greets everyone, does an interview and heads into the Red Bull garage to watch the race with everyone else.

It’s not fun at all. The only saving grace, selfishly, is that Max isn’t doing great either. Brief engine issues mean he has to come in for an extra pit, lose some track position, and bitch about it on the radio. As the race continues, her mood sours even further, although she can’t be too obvious about it on camera. Her eyes meet Taehyung’s once or twice, too; only he, RM and Seokjin have shown up today and she gets the feeling her ex-boyfriend has filled the others in on her disappointment. While none of them talk to her, they watch the screens next to her, standing near her, and for a moment it feels like at least three people in the entire garage are here for no one but her.

When she reaches the house after the post-race interviews, she finds a box of cupcakes on her bed. There’s no note, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it’s from. Taking one from the box and almost moaning when she tastes the sugar, she deposits the box in the fridge, the first thing she’s put in there that aren’t her own frozen salads.

The last race of this triple header is in Austria, after which they get a week’s break before reuniting in Imola. They reach on Wednesday evening; Max is the only one who isn’t with them because he’s already dropped his stuff off and left the house. When Dilara furiously texts him, demanding to know where he is, he tells her he’s spending the night with his girlfriend Kelly and will be back in the morning. 

She takes the room next to him as usual, a small but nice one that opens up into the backyard. Her dinner, as usual, is had inside her room and consists of a multi-grain sandwich she picked up at the airport. She enjoys it as much as she can, knowing that now her ankle has healed, she’ll need to work it off tomorrow morning.

By ten pm, the entire house is silent, with the lights off and everyone asleep. The jetlag and schedules, she presumes, have hit everyone equally hard and after sneaking out to the kitchen to get a drink of water, Dilara heads back to get some shuteye of her own. She’s just closing her bathroom door behind her when she hears it. 

Knock knock. 

Dilara freezes. Having lived in big cities all her life, with neighbours and people around her, she’s never quite understood how people live in areas like this, where a scream might reach no one. The knocks continue at the same pace, quiet and firm. Deliberate. She wonders if anyone else in the house can hear it; for once, she’s glad she’s living in a house with seven men.

She frowns when the sound doesn’t stop. Then -

“Dilara.”

Her heart is in her mouth. She turns slightly to see a silhouette in her window and almost screams. Holding her breath, she inches towards her suitcase and retrieves her pepper spray before approaching the window cautiously. The curtains are blowing lightly in the breeze and she flexes her muscles, hoping to have some sort of strength advantage. Silently counting to three, she rips the curtains open and points the pepper spray at the figure, only to be met by a blur of gold and a shriek.

“What -” Dilara rushes to the window sill to see him groaning as he stands up, arms blocking his face. “Jimin?”

“What the hell?” he exclaims. “Are you crazy?”

“Me? Are you crazy?” Her heart still hasn’t returned to its normal speed. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you knock on my door like a normal person?”

“Because you won’t answer,” he retorts, looking extremely annoyed, blond hair ruffled and pink lips in a pout. 

She doesn’t want to admit he’s right, so she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “So you call. Or you take the hint.”

“I tried. It keeps going to voicemail,” he informs her, looking rather like he knows why.

“That’s right, because I blocked you,” she says forcefully, regretting it a little when he winces. “Jesus… I was about to use pepper spray on you, Jimin! What would your fans say if your pretty little face was ruined because you were too much of an idiot to use a fucking door?”

Jimin smirks. “As long as you think I’m pretty” he quips, looking truly angelic.

She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat spreading to her cheeks. “Goodnight, Jimin,” she says dryly, moving to pull the curtains back but he stops her.

“Can you -” He sighs, smirk fading. “Can you come outside?” he asks nervously.

“Can I -” Dilara can’t believe the audacity. “Are you serious? It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

She ignores this. “And it’s… cold. Ish,” she amends, belatedly noting his thin t-shirt and her own tank top.

Jimin doesn’t give up. “Dilara, jebal,” he whines, all hints of nervousness gone now. “Please come outside? Please, please, please, please -”

“Fucking hell,” she mutters and hitches herself over the window sill to hop outside. When she notices the sparkling grin on his face, she holds up a hand. “Just to shut you up.”

“That’s okay,” he says happily, walking over to the gazebo in the backyard. He doesn’t enter it, though; he stops near the benches outside, the very ones she’d intended to do push-ups against tomorrow morning. There’s a backpack on the bench. Dilara keeps her distance, at least five feet behind him and stops when he does, turning around and looking much more sober than he has so far.

Wordlessly, he reaches into the bag and hands her a box. She frowns, hesitantly taking it. It’s a single cupcake, with pearly pink frosting on the chocolate cake. She sighs and looks up. “What’s -”

Silently, he hands her another box. This one’s slightly bigger; upon closer inspection, she finds it’s a box of cold brew coffee bags. “Jimin -”

Once again, she looks up to see his hand outstretched. The object in his hand this time is quite clear; it’s a wine bottle - a Cabernet, from what she can tell. She takes it slowly, balancing the other two boxes in one hand, and reads the label. Pinotage… She bites her lip, knowing there’s only one person in that house behind her who knows that this South African blend is her favourite.

When she looks up to ask Jimin, she almost expects to be met with him holding something else. This time, it’s a single red rose. He looks bashful, head bent low and looking up at her surreptitiously, as though anticipating a bad reaction. Even half a foot taller than her, he looks like a child who’s plucked a flower from a neighbour’s garden to give to his mother, not knowing what to expect.

Dilara sighs. “I’m out of hands,” she tells him. “What’s going on, Jimin?”

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, softly, and when she hears his voice tremble, she knows what he’s apologising for. 

She can feel all vestiges of dryness and exasperation leave her face. Her eyes are filling with tears without warning; she can feel her vision getting blurry but she doesn’t want to cry right now. When she says nothing, Jimin continues.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he says softly, and she can hear the guilt in his voice. “I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m sorry I hid…” He swallows. “I’m sorry, Dilara. I’m really sorry.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Dilara is frozen to the ground. She hadn’t quite expected this from any of them; then again, Jimin was the only one to directly lie to her face. She searches for the anger she’s been harbouring all this while, but in the face of an actual apology, a real moment of regret, she finds that the anger is gone. 

She swallows and turns her head, feeling a tear roll down her face but having no free hands to wipe it away. She nods, not knowing what else to do, before turning slightly and setting the boxes in her hand down on the bench next to her. Realising his arm is still outstretched with the rose, she takes it from him, muttering a quiet thanks.

There’s a moment of silence before he takes a step towards her and she does, too, and the next moment she’s hugging the first BTS member she ever spoke to in her life. His fruity scent engulfs her and she finds herself subconsciously tightening her arms around his shoulders. 

This entire time, ever since she’d seen them at the fashion show in London, she’d envisioned various scenarios, mostly of her avoiding them, maybe screaming at Taehyung, and only forcibly talking to them. But this was one she’d hadn’t allowed herself to imagine, feeling rather like it was too much to hope for. She tries to hold on to that lingering anger, the hurt and betrayal she’d felt, but she can’t. Not when she’s finally gotten what she now realises she’d wanted all along.

They pull away and she tries to gather herself, noticing how Jimin subtly rubs his eyes before gesturing for her to sit next to him on the bench. She points to the boxes. “Is all that an apology?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I didn’t want to show up… you know.” He waves his hands vaguely. “Empty-handed.”

“How did you know Pinotage is my favourite blend?” Dilara asks, carefully noting his reaction. “Or that Caffeta, a Japanese brand, is my favourite coffee?”

He doesn’t disappoint. He opens his mouth but freezes, eyes darting around. 

She sighs. “Jimin, is that stuff… is all of that from him?”

“From who?” he asks innocently, but she’s not fooled. She knows he caught the absence of the name and now he wants to make her say it.

She glares at him. “From my ex.”

He purses his lips before chuckling. “No… not exactly. I may have… what’s the word? Casually? Casually asked him for his opinion but… all that stuff is from me,” he promises, sounding slightly proud. “I really am sorry.” He reaches over and picks up the cupcake, offering it to her.

“Oh… I can’t have sugar on a race weekend,” she says, slightly apologetic because it’s only Wednesday and the race technically isn’t until Sunday.

He frowns. “You had it in Japan when we met,” he points out.

“It was my first time meeting you guys,” she reminds him in a low voice. “Of course I wasn’t going to say no.”

His eyes go wide. “That’s nice. I just got you one this time, though.”

Dilara is about to decline again but he looks so adorable - and so sorry - that she relents. “Fine, but only if you share.” 

“Oh, no, I can’t have sugar,” he says immediately. “We have a concert in a month.”

She gives him a look. “If I’m having sugar, so are you, Park Jimin.” 

Jimin pauses. “Do you want to just open the wine instead?”

“Sold. Do you have a wine opener?”

He brandishes the silver object in response and together, they pop the cork open in the middle of the backyard.

“Mm,” she sighs, placing her face close to the mouth and inhaling it. “Smells amazing. Do you have glasses?”

“Erm… no.”

Her eyes snap up to him. “You got an opener but no glasses?”

He looks mildly affronted before grabbing the bottle and taking a sip straight from it. “Does that work?” he asks, offering her the bottle.

Dilara’s about to decline before realising she has absolutely no reason to. “It does,” she mutters, taking a sip and wincing when the smooth, slightly oaky liquid hits her throat. “It’s chilled,” she notes.

“Of course it is. Who drinks warm wine?”

“People who actually care about wine like it at room temperature.”

“Good thing we’re not that classy.”

Dilara chuckles, even as she remembers an entire afternoon at an Italian vineyard that resulted in her and a certain ex-boyfriend getting drunk on tastings alone before purchasing four bottles of wine, including a delicious ‘82 Bordeaux. She hesitates for a moment before taking another swig, a longer one this time.

“So. How’s it going, Park Jimin?”

He raises his eyebrows. “We’re talking about me?”

“We’re definitely not talking about me.” She holds his gaze defiantly until he sighs.

“Fine. I’m doing good. What about you?”

“Just swell.”

“You know, you really have a more interesting love life than I do.”

She almost chokes. “It’s pretty non-existent right now.” The breeze blew a strand of hair in front of her face but she had no energy to brush it away. “Yours isn’t.”

Jimin narrows his eyes. “What do you know?” he asks suspiciously.

“Nothing. Just something about a certain classmate from high school who’s returned to your life?”

He stares. “I - how do you know that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Take a guess.”

For a moment it seems like he’s about to prod but then he simply exhales deeply and runs a hand through his fine blond hair. “There’s nothing to tell. We dated in high school, that’s it.”

“And?”

“And… then we broke up.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but she can tell his mood is souring. It gives her a grim sort of satisfaction, knowing she isn’t the only one embroiled in an unfortunate situation with an ex. “After debut.”

Dilara nods. “And now it’s…” 

“Now it’s… ah, what’s the word?” He clicks his tongue.

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.” There’s a brief silence during which both of them sit beside each other and quietly sip some more wine, the bottle passing between them in equal intervals.

"We're not… in that place," says Jimin after a few minutes, his voice clear in the quiet. "We haven't been in a long time."

It takes Dilara a moment to remember what he's talking about. "Do you want to be?" she asks after a moment.

He doesn't look at her. "No." After a moment he sighs. "I don't think it matters."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really? These grand gestures don’t work on her?" She points at the stuff between them on the bench.

He chuckles. "Yeah, no. Sooah is, like… beyond the grand gestures."

“Wow. That’s impressive. I mean… this is a pretty grand gesture,” she emphasises, raising the bottle in her hand halfway. “And you’re not even hitting on me.”

He winks and flashes her a smile. “Maybe I am hitting you.”

“Shut up.”

Jimin snorts, reaching for the bottle from Dilara as she fails to suppress a smile herself. The bottle is almost half empty now, and she can feel her head swimming pleasantly. Next to her, Jimin is humming something, his voice high and clear before he pauses.

“You know Taehyung would absolutely kill me if I ever actually hit on you, right?”

Dilara’s heart sinks, for they’ve arrived at the topic of Taehyung, even if it’s through a joking statement. It’s not wholly unexpected, but she doesn’t think she can handle any kind of conversation about her ex right now, especially with his best friend. When she doesn’t respond, Jimin hesitantly continues.

“I heard he found you when you got hurt.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yeah. He was pretty worried.”

"I'm sure he was."

"I guess anyone would be worried about someone they love getting hurt."

"Don't fuck with me, Jimin."

"I'm not."

She sighs. “Jimin, we’re not going to talk about him.”

For a moment she thinks he’s going to disagree or add something anyway, but she breathes a silent sigh of relief when he simply nods and passes the bottle back to her.

“But thanks,” she says after a few seconds. “For this.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Dilara stares into the bottle, able to make out nothing but darkness inside it. She’s glad she isn’t holed up in her room anymore; it feels incredible to be able to talk to someone that isn’t a fellow driver, someone she isn’t competing with on some level or the other. With Lexie not here and Chris and Freddie consequently absent as well, the loneliness creeps up sometimes, especially when the sound of the group together is constant.

Her eyes flicker towards the house, still and quaint in the Austrian night. Despite everything, and possibly because of the wine, her mind wanders to him, to Taehyung. She wonders momentarily if he knows Jimin apologised, or if he knows they’re out here. 

He was worried. She struggles to find meaning in it, a task made harder by the wine as well as Jimin's apology, a simple gesture that's started to break down the walls of anger and fury and is in danger of letting loose whatever emotions are behind them. She refuses to think about anything else he's mentioned.

Taehyung would love this wine, and he'd be aghast at them drinking it chilled and straight out of the bottle. It shocks her for a moment that she can remember this, even as part of her rolls her eyes, for it wasn't even a year ago in Austin that they'd done the same thing in her hotel room.

"Is he still with her?" Dilara doesn't look up at Jimin, half-hoping he hasn't heard her. 

There's a pause, but his voice is steady and confident when he replies. "No.”

She gives him a small nod, unable to see what she's achieved by knowing this. Even the wine seems harder to swallow, and she forces the sip down before passing the bottle back to him.

—

New York, USA; January (Two months in) (Taehyung)

Fifty minutes. 

Taehyung tapped his foot on the shiny floor of the studio, losing patience as the anchor kept going on and on about what was to come after the break. He didn’t understand why it was necessary to go into this much detail; wouldn’t the audience find out after the break anyway? Moreover, couldn’t he just tape this bit separately, especially since none of this was live?

But no, Trevor Noah had no such illusions, and he insisted on shoving in at least one joke between each sentence he spoke. He also liked taping in order of viewing, apparently, and now his guests - BTS, Kristen Stewart and some other British actor whose name Taehyung couldn’t remember for the life of him - were left to wait while he delivered his monologue to the camera.

Normally, Taehyung liked Trevor Noah. There was something refreshing about his humour, and he didn’t make them do silly antics on his show like the variety of Jameses and Jimmys they were forced to laugh along with. Tonight, though, Taehyung couldn’t care less about his humour - not when his humour had made Taehyung fifty minutes late for his Zoom date with Dilara, something that was scheduled after three whole days of trying to find a common time slot where they could both have a meal at the same time.

Honestly, it still wouldn’t be a proper meal because of the time difference, but they’d compromised on Taehyung having an early dinner and Dilara having a late one - anything to gather some semblance of being a couple that communicated outside of missed texts and short calls between commitments.

The good thing was that Dilara wouldn't be angry. Actually, that wasn't true. It wasn't that she wouldn't be angry; it was that she couldn't be angry, for while Taehyung had inadvertently missed this date, she had been the one to cancel the last two.

He hadn't even found it in him to be annoyed, although the second time he'd made a snappy statement on WhatsApp he'd later apologised for. It was clear she hated it as much as he did, and it was hardly her fault that F1 testing began next month, or that the car regulations had changed which meant that drivers needed to be in the factories much more than usual.

We're a long-distance couple, Tae. She'd said it later with a sigh when he'd called to apologise, her voice sounding tired yet intending to be somewhat reassuring. We just have to figure out a way around this. Every couple does it.

The words had been on the top of Taehyung's tongue - we're not like other couples - but he'd bit them back in the moment. She'd sounded too tired and guilty, and his tone had softened as he asked her about her day. He'd slipped it in in the end, though: Don't worry, we're not like other couples. 

Dilara had chuckled after a moment, and just said I love you. He'd missed her so immensely right then that he'd needed a moment to gather himself, half-wondering if he could get a couple of days off and fly to London, possibly surprising her. It never materialised, but it stayed in his mind.

Taehyung's foot continued tapping, enough for Namjoon to turn and catch his eye. The leader's expression was calm and camera-ready, yet Taehyung could tell what it meant: cut it out already.

He considered ignoring him for a moment, for he felt Namjoon of all people should understand his frustration. But then Taehyung met his gaze and felt his foot stop of its own accord, before both of them looked away in different directions.

When the taping finally ended and they were ushered back into the green room, Taehyung lunged for his phone when one of the staff handed it to him. His lockscreen lit up, a carefully cropped picture of Dilara on the grass with a puppy, from their first impromptu date in Suzuka over a year ago.

He immediately checked his messages to see six from her, the first one already ten minutes after they'd agreed to come online.

Lara ♥ [18:10] Ready when you are <3

Lara ♥ [18:15] Running late?

Lara ♥ [18:22] Taeeeee, where are youuu? I miss you (and I'm starving)

Lara ♥ [18:25] [Photo]

Lara ♥ [18:45] :( Let me know when you're back, baby.

Taehyung's heart flipped at the picture, a selfie of his girlfriend pouting dramatically with a plate of what looked like grilled fish and salad before her. Her wavy hair fell down her bare shoulder while the straps of her grey tank top lay taut over her collarbones, making the back of his neck feel hot.

She looked thinner; it was to be expected, she said, now that testing was about to begin and all the drivers would have to shed their holiday weight and start working out to go back to their absolute lightest in preparation for the season. Without further ado, as the stylists began bustling around and helping the members change into their regular clothes, Taehyung called her.

She picked up after the second ring. "You're lucky you're cute," she said, sounding both exasperated and affectionate.

He smiled automatically at the sound of her voice. "I'm sorry, jagiya. The stupid taping ran long because one of the guests showed up late and -" He turned away slightly when he noticed one of the editors from the show eyeing him “- then we had to redo the entire closing sequence because the sound was off.” He exhaled heavily, tugging at his collar. “I’m sorry. I would’ve texted.”

“It’s okay,” she said, and he could tell she was stretching. “How was the show?”

“Nothing special,” he said dismissively, picturing her amidst sheets, her hair a pleasant mess. “Just talking about the nominations and everything. Performance went well, though.”

“That’s good. Can’t wait to watch it when it airs.” She stretched again and he heard a rustle in the background.

“Were you asleep? Did I wake you?”

“No. I mean, yeah,” she amended, chuckling lightly, “but it’s good. I dozed off on the couch and I need to do a bunch of things before going to bed.”

“Lexie’s not home?” Taehyung asks, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Seokjin, Yoongi and Jungkook have all changed into regular clothes. “Won’t she kill you for sleeping uncomfortably?”

Dilara laughed, and his heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah, she would. She’s not here right now, though; she has a workshop and Chris is assisting, so I’m guessing they’ll be late.”

He frowned curiously. “Chris and Lexie?”

“Chris and Lexie,” she repeated. 

“Is that something -” But Taehyung was cut off when a hand pulled at his arm, yanking the phone away from his ear. “Hey!”

“The car is waiting,” said one of the stylists hurriedly in Korean, already fiddling with the jewellery around his neck. “Everyone else has already changed - you’re the only one left.”

“I -” He sighed in frustration before gingerly putting the phone back to his ear. “Hey, b- uh… hey.”

“Do you need to go?”

He bit his lip, the underlying disappointment in her voice not lost on him. “Just - just for a bit. I’ll call you,” he said, hesitating with his words with not one, but two stylists around him now. “As soon as I can.”

“Yeah, okay. Love you.”

Taehyung made a non-committal sound before hanging up, making a mental note to text her a long, borderline-sappy message the moment he got the chance. Changing and hurrying into the car was quick, with the crew ensuring that they got a back exit out of the building so as to not be bombarded by paparazzi. Taehyung messaged her in the car, making it to a quick So sorry, baby, I’ll call you asap before his phone died. 

The irritation was growing. The moment they reached their floor of the hotel, he made a beeline for his room, only to be yanked backwards by the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Namjoon hyung said we have to do a vlive,” was all Jungkook offered by way of explanation, and Taehyung found himself being dragged into someone else’s hotel room where half the group was already gathered on the sofa, facing a laptop. 

The entire live was spent in silence, watching his phone charge and tapping his foot in defiance as he waited for the stupid thing to be over. He neither participated nor reacted to anything and despite knowing he'd be in for a conversation with Namjoon later, he bolted the moment the live ended, shutting his room door behind him and finally, finally video calling Dilara.

When she answered, Taehyung was relieved to see her eyes light up, albeit tiredly. “Hey, babe.” She was already in bed, shuffling in the sheets before propping her head sideways on her palm. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you today.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, sitting on the carpeted floor and leaning back against the side of the bed. “The taping ran long and then my phone died and -” He sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day suddenly catch up with him, too. “Tell me you already ate?”

“Yeah, I did,” she admitted, a little sheepishly. “Fish sucks when it gets cold and I need to have a gap between eating and sleeping. Plus, I need to be at the factory to meet the head of engineering tomorrow and he’s flying in at some ridiculous hour of the morning…” Dilara rubbed her eyes before dropping her head on the pillow, a small smile on her face as she looked back up at him. “How was the show?”

“It was okay,” he said, shrugging. If they’d been having this conversation in person, she’d be burying her face in his neck and murmuring into it, without a doubt. “You’ll see it when it airs. I think one of us messed up the choreography but hopefully it won’t be obvious.”

“It rarely ever is,” she said reassuringly, waving a hand before using it to mask a yawn.

“You should sleep, baby,” he murmured after a moment, ignoring how his heart sank at his own words. “I made it too late for you.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” she said immediately, shaking her head. “I -” She broke off and exhaled, looking away pensively.

“What is it? Lara,” he added, when she didn’t respond.

It took her a few moments to turn back to him. “It’s nothing. We’ll figure it out. I mean, the actual F1 season hasn’t even started yet and you guys will start having international schedules and everything… we’ll have to get used to this, right?”

Taehyung hesitated, for this had truthfully not occurred to him. The fact that their schedules would change, yes. But the fact that it might get worse than this? It was a tough pill to swallow and his mind’s solution had been to simply block it out. “Well… yeah. But we’ll both be travelling. We’ll have overlapping schedules also, right? And you won’t be racing every weekend.”

“No, I know. Just need to make the best of what we have. Summer break I’m all yours,” she added after a moment, wiggling her eyebrows and smiling playfully.

He grinned. “All mine,” he repeated, feeling a mixture of affection and longing. His thumb brushed over the screen of his phone, as though hoping to touch her through it before he realised how silly that was. “I can’t wait. But we’re going somewhere cold this time,” he warned.

“Fine. We can do Australia - I’ve never actually been anywhere but Melbourne. And even there, only Albert Park,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Or South Africa.”

“I was thinking Brazil?” he suggested. “But you can choose this time.”

Dilara chuckled. “Surprise you with tickets?”

“Uh-uh. You can’t steal my move.”

“Fine, I’ll find another way to surprise you.”

“Or you can leave the surprises to me.” He flashed her a knowing smile. “I’m good at surprises.”

“Okay, that’s a relief because I am terrible at surprises,” she informed him, falling back onto the bed and moving the phone up above her. Her dark hair was splayed all over the white pillow and she wasn’t wearing a bra, the curve of her breasts teasingly visible over the neck of her tank top. Before she could change her position, Taehyung took a screenshot, his own face at the top right corner while Dilara took over the rest of the screen.

“I don’t need surprises. I just want to see you again,” he said bluntly, leaning his head back and suddenly annoyed that they were having this conversation over the phone.

She bit her lip, looking almost apologetic. “Soon,” she said finally, her voice softer than before. “Next month… that’s happening, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll make it happen.” Taehyung nodded, sounding more confident than he felt. As per their current schedule, he had almost six days off in a row between recording and beginning rehearsal for their upcoming music videos. These schedules usually didn’t change much but there was no guarantee - of anything, especially since it was more than possible that his days off would clash with the F1 testing week, meaning Dilara would be in Barcelona.

But he wasn’t about to give up that easily, at least not in his own head. Her season officially kicked off in March and he couldn’t fathom not seeing her before then.

“Even if testing starts,” she began, clearly guessing where his mind was at, “we can still meet in Barcelona. I’ll find a way to clear it with Red Bull,” she promised. “I mean, I’m sure it’s possible. Kelly comes with Max everywhere, and Danny’s girlfriend, too, when he was in Red Bull. We’ll figure it out, Tae.”

Taehyung looked away before nodding slowly, deliberately keeping quiet. He looked back to see her eyes flutter shut before she snapped them open. 

“Lara, go to sleep,” he said softly, suddenly feeling guilty. “We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

This time, Dilara didn’t fight him on it. “Okay,” she mumbled, turning back onto her side and pulling her covers up to her shoulders. “Wish you were here, though,” she adds after a moment, her voice even smaller than before.

Me too, my love. But Taehyung didn’t trust himself to speak right now. There was an uncomfortable bitterness in the pit of his stomach that he knew wasn’t directed at her, but he couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing, not while they were this far apart.

“Soon,” was all he said, swallowing. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Tae.” She gave him a reassuring smile before the screen went dark.

—

Spielberg, Austria; September (Thursday) (Dilara)

Dilara exits her room the next morning, fully dressed and ready to head down to the paddock before anyone else is even awake. By the time she grabs a handful of cereal and starts heading out, Suga emerges from the hallway, eyes puffy and hair a mess. He frowns when he sees her.

“Are you leaving already?” he asks hoarsely.

Mildly shocked that he’s speaking directly to her, she nods blankly. “It’s nice weather so I - I thought I’d walk,” she stutters. He nods absently, still frowning, and Dilara remembers only then that the members will also be joining her and Max for PR today..

At that moment she hears another door in the house open and low, garbled male voices speaking in Korean. The last thing she wants is for one of the members to offer to drive her or something, so after a hasty farewell to Suga, she practically sprints out of the door and jogs until she’s a safe distance away from the house before slowing down.

The fresh air helps her wake up some - and the bottle of water she’s cradling helps keep her stomach steady. She and Jimin had finally retired to their respective rooms at nearly two in the morning, after finishing the entire bottle of wine between them. By the end, they’d been sitting on the grass and giggling at the most absurd memes on the internet as their sips of wine got bigger, until she’d finally remembered that they both had a whole day of PR to get to.

“Drink this,” he’d ordered in a whisper when they’d sneaked back inside, throwing her a bottle of water. Despite how much her head was swimming, she’d managed to catch it by the tips of her fingers and downed the entire thing, knowing that no matter how uncomfortable it was in the moment, it definitely beat being hungover the next morning.

In the light of day, Dilara has no idea how being on good terms with Jimin again changes anything. It probably means she doesn’t ice him out anymore, but given that he’s rarely alone and nearly always with members she’s currently not on speaking terms with, she doesn’t want to get her hopes up, especially when he wasn’t even her closest friend in the group.

She’s glad, therefore, that she and Max have to go earlier for PR, which means she gets a couple of more hours with people she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around. After a virtual interview and a taping of some random word game with Max, both of them head out to the paddock for the stunt section. However, since most drivers are scheduled to arrive later today, the paddock is mostly empty when they reach - apart from BTS.

“You can do this, Komyshan,” mutters Max to her as they approach. When she looks up at him with a frown, he shrugs. “You look like you could stab him.”

This, she presumes, is directed at her ex, who’s just sauntered onto the paddock with the rest of his band. There’s distant laughter coming from a threesome who she spots as Jungkook, Seokjin and Jimin, while Yoongi types something on his phone as he walks. Namjoon and Hoseok look deep in conversation while Taehyung, for reasons best known to himself, has arrived wearing a grey suit, complete with a pocket square and Oxfords. Next to the other six who are in variations of jeans and hoodies, he looks like a complete fish out of water - a handsome, confident, aloof fish. Dilara’s stomach flips uncomfortably; it’s an annoying realisation that settles over her that for once, she can’t simply leave the room to avoid him.

As they all gather around the two shiny Hyundai’s parked near the starting line, she spots Taehyung running a hand through his blond hair, causing it to fall gracefully down the sides of his face. She realises only when he suddenly turns and catches her eye that she's been staring, and she immediately looks away. 

"This is going to suck," she grumbles in a low voice.

"Chin up, Komyshan," says Max, sounding uncharacteristically encouraging, as the staff begin beckoning them closer. "You drive F1 cars, remember?"

“Wish I could crash one,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and straightening her cap. “Shit, shouldn’t jinx it, no?”

He snorts. “Not on a race weekend, no,” he agrees, and she chuckles despite herself. As expected, there’s some forced meet and greet before the band splits into two: Jimin, Jungkook and Suga are ushered towards Max’s car, while RM, Seokjin, Hoseok and Taehyung are pushed towards hers. Even though she knows it isn’t their choice to be split up like this, she can’t help but feel sorry that Jimin is not in her car - and Taehyung is.

After the staff briefs the group on the sketch - she and Max racing around the track with BTS members in each car - everyone begins their touch ups and mic fittings. Dilara's is done in a few minutes but she stays to the side, suddenly feeling nauseous in the crowd of sunny moods and friendly chatter. She doesn't know if it's last night's wine or the sight of her ex-boyfriend and his friends laughing together, but either way she finds she can't stand it and instead heads inside the garage. 

She makes a quick round of the washrooms while she’s in there, staring at her own dazed expression in the mirror before she sighs and resigns herself to PR. However, the moment she exits, she's accosted by none other than Kim Taehyung himself.

"Lara," he says in a low voice, and she feels her heart drop at the sudden and unexpected scent of lotion and cologne. He darts to stand in front of her, hands in his pockets as he towers over her smaller figure.

For a moment, all she can think is how ridiculously handsome he is, with his blond bangs brushing his perfect cheekbones. Focus, Komyshan. Too shocked for words, Dilara's first instinct is to silently brush past him, taking care to knock into his shoulder as she does, but he grabs her arm to stop her.

"Don't touch me," she snaps instantly, yanking her hand away and ignoring how his face falls as she continues walking away. A second later, she feels him next to her again, his cologne (Dior, she remembers, and her stomach churns) overwhelming her.

"Lara, I just want to talk for a -"

"Stop calling me that." 

"Okay, I'm sorry - look, can you just give me five minutes?" Taehyung exhales sharply as she strides past him with a vengeance, finally grabbing her wrist again.

She turns to face him, murderous. "Are you serious right now?"

His expression instantly goes from annoyed to pleading and he drops her hand. "Just five minutes. Please, La - please."

"No. Now let me go."

"Damn it, Dilara," he says impatiently, apparently not realising how her heart thuds at the sound of her name on his tongue. "You know, we'll have to talk about this some time."

She raises her eyebrows incredulously. "Will we now?"

Taehyung gives her a look, his shoulders falling slightly. "I mean… look, just me explain, just for a -"

"Just take no for an answer, alright?" She interrupts him, not having the patience for his eyes getting wider and softer by the second. 

"Seriously? Are you just going to avoid this topic for the rest of our lives?"

"The rest of our lives? What are you talking about?" she exclaimed. "This PR thing will be over in less than two months and then we never have to see each other again."

All the colour seems to drain from Taehyung's face and it takes Dilara a moment to register, too, the words she's said. Not now, Komyshan. She swallows and shakes her head. 

"Let it go, Kim."

She starts to walk away again, already feeling a lump in her throat, when he lets out a frustrated sigh from behind her.

"Come on, just - just give me a chance!" he exclaims from behind her, and she hates how his voice breaks for a fraction of a second. "Maybe you'll understand my point of view!"

Dilara whips around, her jaw hard. "There is nothing you can say to make me understand your point of view," she hisses, glaring at him before turning to leave again. The sunlight at the exit of the garage is visible now and she starts walking faster. Almost there, Komyshan.

"Sure about that?" Taehyung isn't following her anymore and his voice is less pleading now. "Or are you afraid you might hear something you actually agree with?"

She stops in her tracks. There's a sudden simmering in her hands and feet that seems to be flowing up her extremities. Her ears seem to be ringing and there’s only one word that keeps echoing in her mind. She turns around slowly to find him stepping towards her.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me." He stops a couple of feet away from her. "I think you're afraid to hear me out."

All traces of impending tears have disappeared. Her eyes are dry as she looks up at him, and she knows she's not imagining the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You think I'm afraid?"

Taehyung licks his lips, saying nothing but simply raising an eyebrow. Yes. It occurs to her vaguely how close they are, almost nose to nose. His lips are right there, but for once, Dilara can’t care about that at all. There’s an unnatural sort of fury rising in her, and she doesn’t think she’s ever hated him more.

“You’re going to regret that,” she says quietly.

Something in her tone seems to alert him to the fact that his tactic may be going off track, for his eyes flicker and he momentarily drops his gaze. “I’m just saying, maybe if you -”

But Dilara is done with this. She’s seeing red now. “I was never the one who was afraid,” she whispers bitterly. This time when she starts to walk away, she neither hears nor feels him behind her.

She jogs out onto the sunny paddock where some of the other group members have already piled into cars. The sunroofs are down and in Max’s car, Jungkook is pointing his phone at Jimin who’s posing sultrily with a pair of dark sunglasses on. Dilara turns away from them, finding Max whose smile fades when he sees her.

“Whoa.” His blue eyes widen. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She points to the contents of his hand. “Are those the keys?”

“Um -” He nods jerkily but takes a step back. “Are you okay? Should you be getting into a car right now?”

Dilara bristles. “Excuse me? You don’t trust me inside a car? Why? Because I’m not about to be world champion, Verstappen?”

Max stares. Then he places a hand on her shoulder and lowers his head so they’re face to face. “Seriously… are you okay, Dilara?”

No, I am not okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again, not so long as Kim Taehyung is in my life, reminding me every second of how much he humiliated me. 

“Just peachy.” When Max doesn’t move, she sighs, already embarrassed by her outburst. “I’m fine, Max. Really. And I’m… sorry.”

He ignores this, still frowning. “What happened? Did he say something? Do you want to go somewhere and… I dunno. Talk about it?” He sounds incredibly unsure.

Do you want to go somewhere quiet?

The first words Kim Taehyung ever spoke to her echo in her mind. “It… doesn’t matter, alright?” she says, suddenly tired. “Let’s just get this over with.” She holds her hand out for the key.

Max hesitates. “We can move this PR to later. When you’re… in the mood.”

She rolls her eyes. “What do you think I'm going to do - crash the car?" When he doesn't respond, she scoffs disbelievingly. She extends her hand. “I’ve been angrier than this when I’m racing.”

“Yeah, but there’s something to be said for a driver’s mental state when you’re -”

“Max, he said I was scared.”

He halts abruptly. “He -” His eyes dart up over her head, presumably in Taehyung’s direction, and there’s a flash of what she imagines is understanding in his face. When he looks back down at her, he opens his mouth as if to say something but then sighs and shakes his head.

“Yeah.”

Max tosses the key to her. “Just be careful, Komyshan.”

She snatches it mid-air. “Always am.” Striding over to the car, Dilara climbs into the driver’s seat, immediately busying herself checking the mirrors and the fuel. Vicki Lloyd, Red Bull’s press officer, passes in between both cars with a cloth bag in her hand that everyone starts dropping their phones into and finally, everyone’s settled - except for one person.

Dilara tries not to pay attention to the fact that there are only three BTS members in each car. She doesn’t turn, though, not even when Hoseok calls Taheyung over, telling him to hurry up in rapid Korean. She registers the lotion and cologne before anything else, still ignoring him while he stands at the passenger door directly behind her. He isn’t getting in and while she can’t see his face, she likes to imagine he’s hesitating because of their recent exchange, possibly realising, finally, that this is her territory and he’s the intruder.

Taehyung gets in eventually, though, and the cameras come on right after. Thankfully, the guys in her car have the forethought to seat him right behind her so that she doesn't have to look at him even if she turns. RM sits shotgun, with the other three in the backseat, already sounding comically wary of what's coming. 

RM starts speaking to her, and it's his leader voice, the one that’s hyper aware of every camera. Seokjin is far too much older than her for her to snark at, and Hoseok… well, it’s just too hard to ignore Hoseok, especially when he’s wearing a leaf-printed hoodie and shades, his smile brighter than the sun. 

The conversation is carefully formal, though; she wonders if they can tell that something happened. The way they're talking to her, it's almost as though they don't want to risk offending her - possibly because they think she'll set the car on fire or something. 

Dilara catches the occasional glimpse of Taehyung, too, through her side mirror. His face is smooth and impassive as usual, a closed book, and it’s only when he lowers his gaze when he accidentally meets hers that she knows their conversation is still playing on his mind. 

He doesn’t say a word, though, and she's glad for it. She doesn’t think she'll be able to stop herself from snapping at him in public if he does and he probably knows that, if the wounded expression on his face yesterday is anything to go by.

Finally, when the anchor gives the signal, she and Max get ready for two laps around the track, posing for the camera before zooming away. The guys let out the perfect reactions, screaming and cursing and joking in equal measure, partly in English and partly in Korean.

As much as she doesn't want to engage, she has to, so does - begrudgingly. She focuses on the driving as much as possible, though, going at a hundred and twenty - child's play for her - while Seokjin and Hoseok punctuate every turn with fresh yells.

On the straights, though, all of them seem to enjoy the wind in their hair. Dilara keeps an eye on Max, who's beside her in his car, and hams it up for the camera with him. Then, suddenly, without warning, Hoseok calls Taehyung's name and says something in Korean that she unexpectedly understands.

She wishes she hadn’t. Taehyung, you look so handsome. Even in the small side mirror, with his head thrown back, blond hair blowing in the breeze and a heartbreaking smile adorning his face, he looks like the most beautiful person she's ever seen in her entire life. 

When he hears Hoseok's compliment, he laughs, sounding amused and embarrassed all at once. At that laugh, that deep, happy laugh, she gets the sudden urge to cry, because she had him and she lost him, and the reason she lost him is no one's fault but his. In her lone hole of misery and heartbreak, she wants that smile wiped off his face.

Another memory surfaces in her mind, a bittersweet one. Nearly two years ago, the weekend they'd first met, Taehyung had taken her on an impromptu date to a dog farm. He'd messed up reading the map, however, and they'd been massively delayed. In order to make up for the time they'd lost, Dilara had offered to take over the wheel and they’d made a twenty-five minute trip in under fifteen. The image of him that day gives rise to an ugly, determined pit in her stomach, one she’s not afraid to listen to.

Give him hell, Komyshan.

The moment the car approaches Turn 4 again, she swerves deliberately, savagely enjoying how it jolts him across the seat. For the rest of the lap she drives borderline dangerously, taking the actual racing lines and going as fast as the car will allow her. She can smell the rubber of the tyres burning, but she doesn’t give a flying fuck about damaging the car. With the money Red Bull is getting through this marketing partnership resulting in her daily discomfort, they better be able to afford it. 

Behind her, she can hear all the boys yelling - including Taehyung. 

She wins, of course, having driven like a maniac; although to be fair, Max finishes less than five seconds behind her. The segment ends with them still in the car and the moment the cameras are turned off, all seven band members crawl out of the two cars. To her immense irritation, she sees Max grin and fist bump Jungkook, the only person along with Suga who doesn’t look like he wants to die. 

The staff hands out small bottles of water to everyone as they all gather in the Red Bull garage. By the time she’s finished her bottle, she sees RM, Seokjin and Jimin have all more or less recovered, but they’re all gathered around Hoseok and Taehyung. Or rather, just Taehyung, for Hoseok, while he looks slightly nauseous, is still standing next to his younger member and patting him on the back.

Taehyung is seated on a chair with his head between his legs and groaning, while Jimin and Jungkook are crouched in front of him and RM and Seokjin dryly rattle off what sounds like encouragement. It’s exactly what she wanted; her moment of insane anger had led her to not only let in unwanted memories of the past, but also to remember the last time she was in a car with him that went this fast. How he’d tumbled out outside the dog farm, how he’d dramatically stated he was dying, how she’d tried not to laugh and instead brushed back his hair until he felt better…

Dilara feels like crying again. She doesn’t know if driving like that has made her nauseous, too, but she suddenly feels sick. She glances back at him again, his thick hair falling gracefully over his hands as he covers his face. She sighs; going into her bag, she retrieves a metallic strip and heads to the water cooler where Jungkook is filling a glass, presumably for Taehyung.

“Jungkook,” she mutters. He turns to her with a jerk, eyes wider than ever, as though not quite believing that she’s actually speaking to him. She’s glad; she doesn’t particularly want him to answer (he didn’t answer when she needed him; why should he now?), especially when she’s grudgingly willing to help out, if for no other reason that she can’t be focused on an ill ex-boyfriend on a race weekend.

“Give him two of these,” she instructs him, shoving the pills into his large, tattooed hand. “He should feel better in about ten minutes. And you did not get them from me,” she adds warningly.

Jungkook studies the strip before looking up at her with those same gigantic eyes. “Who did I get them from?” he asks innocently.

Dilara shrugs. “I don’t know. Tell him his new girlfriend gave them to you.” She just about catches how his expression changes from bewilderment to guilt.

“No - no, Dilara, he’s not -”

But she turns around and walks away, not wanting to hear a word about his new relationship, even though Jimin had mostly cleared that part up last night. She doesn’t know what the rest of them know, and she has no desire to be the one to break the news in any form that Jimin, at least, is on his way to earning her forgiveness. 

When Dilara sees Taehyung fifteen minutes later, he looks good as new. Rolling her eyes, she goes over to check the schedule to see that she has only one PR session left with BTS. Thankfully, this is an interview, which means she doesn’t have to directly interact with them at all. There are some questions, of course, on her unfortunately public appreciation for the band as a fan. She answers them as vaguely as possible, evasively avoiding ones where she has to talk about any particular member, and lets the band take the lead. 

When she looks at Taehyung, sitting almost directly across from her in the semi circle, she feels the same pang in her heart when looking at someone she used to know. Their eyes meet again and this time, she holds his gaze for a little longer. With one look, she can tell he knows for certain that her reckless driving was done with a purpose. She  waits for his anger, annoyance - anything. Instead, he looks away this time and the only emotion she can even begin to read is one she genuinely didn’t think she’d see: shame.

After PR, Vicki is handing everyone back their phones. She waves a silver iPhone and hands it to Dilara, a stack of smartphones in her other hand.

“Wait, this isn’t mine,” she tells Vicki, placing it back on the snacks table next to her.

“Yes, it is,” she says so confidently that Dilara wavers. “You’re on the lockscreen.”

What? Hesitating, Dilara clicks the Home button and her heart skips a beat. A picture she hasn’t seen in ages, of her lying back against green grass, laughing as she cuddles a puppy, is indeed the lockscreen. She stares at it, trying to drink in any happiness she can remember from that day. It’s cropped strategically, possibly in case it falls into the wrong hands, but it’s clear enough for anyone who knows Dilara to be able to tell it’s her - such as her press officer. 

Before Dilara can look at it too hard, though, a slender hand appears next to her and hastily snatches the phone before walking off, leaving a lingering scent of lotion and cologne.

—

Tokyo, Japan; February (Three months in) (Taehyung)

The scent of hairspray was overwhelming, and Taehyung was ready to throw up. And if the smell didn’t do that, Ji-ho’s presence alone would be enough.

It was bad enough that Donghyuk had barged into their green room without warning; this type of thing usually wasn’t allowed, and if it was, it was after tons of screening. Given that none of Taehyung’s friends had ever made it inside this room, he couldn’t help but feel a little salty that Donghyuk and Ji-ho were here, even if they were part of Hybe.

As the members sat on the couches, sweaty and exhausted, the staff began handing out bottles of water to everyone - including, Taehyung noticed, both the unwelcome guests. The rest of the group didn’t seem particularly happy with them hanging around either, even if they were greeting them politely.

Across the room, Namjoon and Hoseok were standing next to the refreshments table talking to Ji-ho, while Donghyuk was making himself comfortable on one of the leather couches next to Jimin and Jungkook. Taehyung, for once, had no interest in socialising, not even when Namjoon caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, as though prodding him to speak to them.

Taehyung turned away, though. He was here in Tokyo mostly against his will, and he was determined to not do a shred more work than he was expected to before he got the hell out of here: rehearse, doll up, perform. Making small talk with artists whom he usually did not have a problem with but today could not seem to stand, did not qualify.

It’s your job, Taehyung. Namjoon’s words rang deep and true in his mind. We all have responsibilities.

He gritted his teeth, getting annoyed all over again. It was rare that he ever clashed with Namjoon; in fact, in his memory, it had probably happened not more than once or twice at most - before this week. Taehyung had been mid-fold when his leader had knocked and entered his room at the dorm, sighing at the sight of his half-full suitcase.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” was how he’d started. Namjoon looked preemptively apologetic, and it had taken Taehyung a few seconds to realise why.

“No,” he’d said immediately. “No. No. I’d cleared this with everyone, weeks ago,” he’d cried, already hearing the desperation in his voice. “Hyung, no. Please.”

Namjoon had bit his lip and hung his head, but Taehyung had no patience to feel sympathy for him right now. “They want to film a week early,” he’d explained in a low voice. “They want time to create more promos before the show airs so we have to be there to record…”

Taehyung had stopped listening by this point. He looked at the items in his hands: a brown jacket, a beanie and a faded red t-shirt. I don’t mind bribing you for that t-shirt. The memory of Dilara’s voice on a steamy video call made his heart jolt and for a moment, he thought he might cry.

“... really sorry.”

He exhaled, still not looking at Namjoon. Then he turned around to face him, noting his pitying expression, his hands in his pockets. He did look genuinely sorry - but also looked completely firm in his message.

“Just one day,” blurted Taehyung. “Just let me fly overnight, I’ll - I’ll spend one day with her and I’ll take a flight back the same night.” His breath hitched. “It won’t make a difference to the schedule at all.”

“You know we can’t do that, Taehyung.” Namjoon gave him a look, as though this should have been obvious to him. “We don’t have a day off. They want us to leave on Thursday.”

“That’s perfect! That’s two days away - I can fly straight to Tokyo from there. Hyung, please.” 

“Taehyung, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” he exclaimed, dropping the clothes in his hands onto the bed, not caring how messy it was. “They’ll listen to you if you ask them. Just tell them I need one day. I just need to see her for one -” Here, his voice broke.

Namjoon sighed, taking a step into the room. “Taehyung, I know this is hard. But it’ll get -”

“You do know,” he interrupted. “You know better than anybody how hard this is.” There was a pause where Namjoon said nothing, which Taehyung took as acknowledgement. “Or has it been so long that you don’t even care anymore?”

Namjoon’s jaw hardened. “What did you say?”

“I -” Taehyung felt a lump in his throat. She was going to Barcelona soon, and then there would be no time, none at all. “I’m going to lose her, hyung,” he whispered, feeling his vision blur. “I haven’t seen her in three months. She’ll -”

Namjoon's eyes softened. “You’re not going to -” But here, he paused, dropping his gaze and chewing on his lip. “Long distance is hard, Taehyung,” he said softly after a moment, and Taehyung sniffled. “But you will find a rhythm. It won’t be easy and it’ll take time, but it’ll happen. Every couple figures it out eventually.”

And if they don’t… they break up. Namjoon didn’t need to say it out loud.

That was five days ago. Namjoon had left after that and Taehyung had wallowed alone in his room for hours before calling Dilara to break the news to her. He’d hated every second of it but he’d had no choice. Her disappointment had been clear as day, even though she’d tried to hide it, and Taehyung had had no idea what to do except apologise, the words sounding useless even to his own ears. 

It had been a short call, mostly because there had been something strange in the way Dilara had accepted his news. She didn’t seem angry or annoyed with him; in fact, she’d been quick to mention that she didn’t want him to blame himself because it wasn’t his fault.

“This shit happens, love,” she’d murmured, before she’d forced a smile on her face.

But there was something else in her expression, too. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on where he’d seen it before or even what it meant. It was almost resigned in a way, and all Taehyung knew was that there was a looming sense of inadequacy as a boyfriend that was creeping up on him and he had no idea how to get rid of it.

Dilara had left for Barcelona yesterday. He’d called and wished her luck and even stayed up with her on the phone for a while as she’d expressed her anxiety about testing the new car, but with both of them dealing with jetlag, the call had ended soon. She’d looked tired, he remembered, and he hated the thought of her alone in a hotel room in that state. She’d also reminded him that she had Lexie, but it hardly reassured him.

A tap on his shoulder jerked him out of his reverie. Next to him, Seokjin tilted his head at something and Taehyung looked to see Ji-ho showing him something. 

“Rum ball?” he called from across the room.

“No, thanks,” muttered Taehyung, but the rapper didn’t seem to actually want an answer, and before Taehyung even got all the words out of his mouth, the foil-wrapped object was being chucked across the room to him. Catching it, he grudgingly unwrapped it, taking a bite before passing it along to Seokjin.

“Taehyung? Something wrong?” Donghyuk seemed to notice his expression but the last thing Taehyung wanted was to have a heart to heart with Supreme Boi. 

“Just tired,” he answered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. He was sure his members didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. The conversation continued and Taehyung tuned out, preferring to feel sorry for himself instead. 

He honestly didn’t know when he’d get to see Dilara again. F1 testing lasted only a week, but by then, the group had to start recording. Her season officially started in mid-March, meaning the first two weeks would be full of PR and hours spent at the gym and on the simulator. The best he could hope for was to rely on prior experience and just land up for the first race in Melbourne, surprise her, support her from the garage and possibly make up for cancelling on her this time.

It wasn’t a great plan but it was a plan. Chest still heavy, he tried half-heartedly thinking of dates and tickets, wondering which approvals he would need this time if he intended on making an appearance in public like this. He vaguely heard the television switch on, but it wasn’t until he heard a familiar whirr and Jungkook blurt out “Isn’t that Dilara?” that he realised it was the sports channel.

Taehyung’s head whipped around to glare at Jungkook, who was already looking like a deer caught in headlights, with more than one member giving him warning looks. “I just - I meant -”

Thankfully, Donghyuk and Ji-ho didn’t seem to notice. The latter, who was now sitting on the arm of one of the sofas, also turned to Jungkook. “You watch Formula One?” he asked, sounding interested.

“I -” Jungkook stuttered and looked around, as though looking for permission. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Not for long, though. Only a couple of years.”

None of it was a lie, for out of all the members, Jungkook was the one who kept up with the sport the most, genuinely enjoying it and spending hours in the middle of the night playing the video game, sometimes with Dilara herself. 

Ji-ho nodded approvingly. “Good stuff. Who’s your favourite driver?”

“Uh… Dilara Komyshan?” he said, a hint of a smile already playing on his face. After what felt like several days, even Taehyung felt the urge to smile, turning to look at the television that was showing testing. It was just cars going around the track and minimal commentary. He could just about make out the two Red Bull cars when they came on screen but even then, it felt like a small, hopeful glimpse of Dilara. 

He was going to Melbourne, he decided. If just seeing her initials unexpectedly on a television screen could make him this happy, seeing him in person would mean the world to her. The approvals and leaves suddenly didn’t seem like an obstacle; it would all be worth it.

Around him, the discussion was still continuing. Donghyuk frowned at Jungkook. “Is that a girl’s name?” He turned to Ji-ho, his face comically confused. “There’s a girl in Formula One?”

“Yeah, just one, though,” he answered, still looking at the screen. “That’s her,” he said, pointing to the scoreboard on the left side of the screen. KOM was sixth, two places behind VER.

“Wow. I always thought it was just guys in that sport,” said Donghyuk, sounding wondrous.

“She’s really good, though,” piped up Jungkook, a note of defensiveness in his voice.

“Yeah, she’s in Red Bull. She has to be,” commented Ji-ho. “They won’t take just - oh! What a turn,” he gasped, pointing at a Mercedes on the screen.

Meanwhile, Donghyuk was still on his own trip. “But it must be good for their image, too, no? To have a girl?” When no one particularly answered him, he sat up. “Is she on the screen?”

“That’s her car,” said Ji-ho, pointing at a Red Bull pulling into the garage.

Donghyuk snorted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, that’s her,” said Jimin when she climbed out of the car, helmet and race suit still on.

“Mm, still not what I meant. Come on, what does she look like,” he said finally, rolling his eyes. “Under the race suit. I mean her face,” he added hastily, interpreting Hoseok’s disgusted expression correctly. “You said she’s the only girl. I’m just curious.”

My girl, Taehyung thought in irritation. Donghyuk was known for his habit of getting into locker room talk, something Taehyung hadn’t paid much attention to in the past, but was now getting on his nerves. “I don’t think they’ll show the drivers here,” he said shortly, speaking for the first time. Even Ji-ho turned away from the television to glance at him, looking mildly surprised.

“Okay.” Donghyuk shrugged. “Show me something else then.”

Taehyung held his gaze, hating him, while Ji-ho asked the staff for the remote. He finally tore his eyes away as a female stylist scurried up to them and passed Namjoon the remote, who gave it to Ji-ho.

“Here we go…” Going onto YouTube, he clicked on a video: Drive To Survive: Season 4 Trailer. “This season is going to be epic,” he said to no one in particular as it started.

“My name is Dilara Komyshan and I drive for Aston - for Red Bull Racing Honda. Shit, can I do that again?” She giggled to someone off screen before the video changed to a montage with a hip hop soundtrack, followed by a few other drivers doing similar introductions. 

Taehyung’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, partly with the thrill of seeing his girlfriend on screen, hearing her voice, and partly because of how desperately he missed her right now. He didn’t even pay attention to Donghyuk going “Oh, that’s her”, caring only about catching any glimpse of Dilara, any at all, amidst the clips of other drivers, of the paddock, and cars zooming down different circuits.

Finally, she appeared again, in a slow motion shot with four other drivers. Two of them and Dilara were drenched, clearly in champagne, their race suits unzipped and hanging around their waist. Lewis Hamilton was shirtless, tattoos displayed all over his torso. Next to him was Max Verstappen, grinning and running a hand through his wet hair, while Dilara stood next to him, her tangled hair falling down to her chest, her black sports bra glistening in the sun. All five drivers were laughing at something off camera when the screen paused.

“Jungkook!” Ji-ho turned around to face him. “Can you name all of them?”

Grinning, Jungkook began rattling off the names. “Well, that’s Dilara. Er, Komyshan. Behind her is Lewis Hamilton, then Charles -”

He was interrupted by Donghyuk letting out a low whistle. “That’s Komyshan,” he noted, chuckling. “Nice tits.”

Taehyung didn’t even realise he was on his way to standing up until someone’s hand squeezed his shoulder, pinning him to his seat. “Careful,” came Yoongi’s voice in a mutter. From across the room, Namjoon immediately caught his eye and shook his head, his expression betraying everything from understanding to warning.

Ji-ho himself clicked his tongue at Donghyuk’s comment, though, and unpaused the screen. “Look beyond the tits, hyung,” he said, sounding only partly scathing. “Ah, there’s an episode on the Ferrari crash, too…” He shook his head forlornly at the screen as one of the drivers with the shiny black hair spoke seriously into the camera.

Taehyung could feel Jimin and Seokjin’s eyes on him but he kept staring at Donghyuk, feeling an intense urge to punch him in the face. Say one more thing about her, go on, he wanted to say. But nothing else came, and he tried to settle for his silence as he turned back to the screen.

The trailer was almost over now. A blond driver whose name Taehyung didn’t know was speaking. “Some things this year have been cause for celebration, no matter what,” he said, smiling, before the video cut to him with a baby in his arms.

“How do these people have lives?” Ji-ho asked no one in particular, clicking his tongue again and shaking his head. “They’re flying around for practically the whole year.”

“What are you talking about? So are we,” said Hoseok, shrugging. “We manage,” he added, giving Taehyung a side glance.

“Nah, it’s not the same,” he disagreed. “They have a calendar throughout. I watched this other documentary about this sport - it was really old and it was called…” Ji–ho frowned before shaking his head. “Whatever it was. One of the world champions even said that the toll it took on his personal life was enough too destroy it. But he didn’t regret it,” he added.

A moment of silence greeted this statement. “Yeah,” began Namjoon, and he sounded far more deliberate to Taehyung’s ears, “but you said it was an older driver. Things have changed now. It’s easier to keep in touch.”

Ji-ho gave him a look and squeezed his shoulder. “You guys have such an encouraging leader,” he said in wonder, and no one but Donghyuk laughed in response. “You might be right, though. Most of those drivers bring their girlfriends to every race, so maybe it works.”

Namjoon was stonecold silent while Donghyuk murmured his agreement. “And, uh, and Komyshan,” he said, and Taehyung gritted his teeth. “Does she bring her boyfriend?”

“I don’t know about that,” said Ji-ho dismissively, clicking on the trailer again. It restarted, this time on lower volume. Taehyung tried to focus on nothing but the screen, waiting for Dilara to appear again. Her hair had been slightly styled but still casual. Her smile had been camera-ready, but made his heart skip a beat anway. Come on, baby.

“... doesn’t matter as much,” came Namjoon’s voice, steady but becoming impatient. “It’s about how much time you can give. Even idols actors break up - but so many of them are married and with kids.” He shook his head. “It’s completely subjective.”

“Still, the number of couples who break up are way more,” argued Ji-ho, waving his hand with the remote. “Suzy and that guy - Dongwook - they broke up. Jennie and Kai just broke up, Nam Joo Hyuk and, uh… oh, what’s her name? We met her at that party…”

“How does that matter, hyung?”

“Of course it matters. Oh, it was Lee Sun Kyung! Yes, they also couldn’t…”

Taehyung had to bite his lip to keep from making any movement while his heart sank. He stared at the screen, his heart twisting as he drank in the words around him. 

“Even distance is relative,” Donghyuk was saying, sounding far too sure of himself as he stood up and walked towards where Ji-ho and Namjoon were. “Like in this context, either you bring your partner to every race or -” He snatched the remote from his friend and paused the video, miraculously landing on the same screen of Dilara with the four other drivers, soaked in champagne and laughing under the sun. 

“Or?” Hosoek raised an eyebrow, seeming almost wary of the answer.

“Or you date someone you work with.” Donghyuk shrugged. “Komyshan at least should have no problem finding someone there,” he quipped, and this time even Ji-ho chuckled in agreement.

Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone, especially not his members. He didn’t want to see the pity or the apology in their faces, especially when he felt Yoongi squeeze his shoulder again and mutter to him to ignore it.

I told you.

It was Dilara’s voice, and she was on a Zoom call with him. She'd made a point and he'd refuted it, blinded by his love for her. Now, it was all coming unravelled.

—

Spielberg, Austria; September (Friday) (Dilara)

It’s Free Practice day. 

Dilara wakes up early, reasonably well-rested, and does a couple of rounds of cardio in the backyard before anyone else in the house is awake. By the time she sees Yoongi and Namjoon trudge out with messy hair and puffy eyes, she’s already on her way into her room with a bottle of water in her hand, brushing back her sweaty hair and looking forward to finally getting into her car.

However, as it turns out, even a shower is something she can’t manage in this house without it going to shit. Right in the middle of rinsing out her hair, there’s a loud, gurgling sound before the water stops altogether. She fiddles with the knobs, panicking by the second because she needs to leave in an hour, max, if she’s going to be on time for PR and FP today.

When nothing works, not the basin or anything, she hurries out, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She knocks on what she thinks is RM’s door, hoping for a plumber’s number or something. When he opens the door, he does a double take, clearly not expecting a towel-clad girl with shampoo in her hair to be standing in front of him. But Dilara hasn’t the time to help him adjust to it right now.

“Do you -” She exhales, not realising she’s been holding her breath this whole time. “Do you have the contact of, like, our plumber or the - or any help?”

He frowns. “Um, no. Why? What’s wrong?”

“My shower is broken,” she sighs, fingering the ends of her sticky hair. “The water just stopped all of a sudden and I need to be in the paddock in one hour.”

RM doesn’t look surprised. “Oh, yeah, they told us. Something to do with the motor on the roof. All the rooms on that side of the house -” He points away from him, towards her room. “- won’t have any water till the afternoon.” He gives her a curious look. “There’s a note on the fridge. Didn’t you see it?”

Dilara looks up at him, jaw slack, before she remembers the paper with purple writing on it. She takes a deep breath, trying not to scream. “You mean… the note written in Korean?”

“What?” His eyes go wide before he rolls them. “God, Jungkook…” He looks down at her, biting his lip. “You can use my shower,” he suddenly offers.

Dilara had been looking despondently at the kitchen, somewhat contemplating using the sink to wash her hair, when she snaps around to face him. “Wait… really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, sounding more certain than before. “I was just heading out, anyway,” he adds, opening the door wider and showing her a jacket in his hand. “We’re filming for Run today so we’ll be out. Feel free.”

“Oh…” In the face of this unexpected generosity, she’s somewhat lost for words. Even when she grabs her shower gel, lotion and underwear and gets back, she’s still not fully convinced. “You’re really sure?”

“Yes, Dilara,” he says again, ushering her inside and pointing to the bathroom. “Water’s still hot. Oh, and it’s a shared one with Jin’s room on the other side, so remember to lock both doors.” Namjoon gets back to rummaging inside his suitcase before he looks up to see that she hasn’t moved. He sighs. “I thought you had to get to the paddock?”

“Oh, right!” Without further ado, she hops into his shower, noting the lingering and comforting scent of aftershave as she takes off the towel and steps in. Ten minutes later when she’s done, she puts on her underwear, wraps the towel back around her, gathers her stuff and exits the bathroom, twisting her wet hair down one shoulder before letting it fall back. When she sees Namjoon still there, she jumps.

“Sorry, sorry!” He apologises immediately. “I forgot my power bank and my phone’s literally about to die, so…”

“Oh, no, don’t - don’t apologise,” she stutters, feeling her heartbeat come back to normal. “It’s your room. And… thanks, by the way. Really.”

Namjoon smiles, dimples popping. “Of course. Anytime. Good luck today.”

“Thanks.” Dilara nods, returning his smile a bit nervously, and heading out when she hears him inhale. 

“Is that vanilla?” When she frowns and turns around, unsure of what she’s just heard, he seems to realise what he’s said. “I’m not - I’m not being creepy, I swear. It’s just, well... “ He sighs and looks at the ground, looking a bit embarrassed before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, of her in a towel in her ex-boyfriend’s leader’s bedroom, Dilara can’t help but be curious. “Familiar scent?” 

The way his jaw hardens, eyes still on the ground as he nods once, it’s not hard to guess the direction his thoughts are headed in. “Kind of.” He says nothing else, apparently remembering that she’s still here. “Sorry. It’s weird.”

It could be, she realises, but it’s actually quite endearing. Dilara has never heard Namjoon talk about Kaya before, not like this. But she’s careful not to overstep, given that she doesn’t know anything about their relationship apart from what Taehyung had told her several months ago. “This one is cocoa butter and vanilla,” she says after a moment, holding up the bottle of conditioner.

He bites his lip and nods, a distant sort of look on his face. “Still familiar,” he says finally.

Dilara hesitates for a moment, before opening the bottle and gingerly extending her hand towards him. Very aware of her wet hair dripping onto his tiled floor, she waits until he seems to catch on.

Namjoon’s face is unreadable, but he seems to be wrestling with something.  She wonders briefly if he’s struggling not to shed his leader persona in front of her when, visibly hesitating, he lowers his head slightly to sniff the conditioner. The moment he does, his eyes flutter shut momentarily before he swallows and takes a step back. 

“Still familiar?” she asks, a little warily.

He nods, biting his lip. “It’s been a while,” is all he says.

She chuckles, a little sadly but she’s not sure why. “Want to keep it?”

His eyes snap up to her. “Oh, man, I couldn’t do that,” he says immediately, chuckling nervously. “I did think once about buying a small travel size bottle, though,” he confesses sheepishly, his dimples appearing briefly. “Just to carry around. But that’s…” He shakes his head, wincing slightly.

“No, I know what you’re talking about,” she says reassuringly, not wanting him to be embarrassed. “I mean, I did that with -” Dilara breaks off abruptly, realising she was just about to admit to buying a tiny bottle of Christian Dior Sauvage in Italy last year because her boyfriend at the time wore it. Taehyung had been bashful yet turned on by the fact that she liked his scent so much; it made him feel “desirable”, he’d said, as though being the world’s most handsome man and having millions of girls in love with him didn’t do so already.

She pictures the bottle for a moment again, lying on a pile of clothes, the crystal bottle catching the light inside a cardboard box. She looks up at Namjoon to see him with a well-practised, tactful smile on his face and she knows he can guess what she was about to say. Her cheeks heat up slightly and she feels a dull throb in her chest, but she’s quick to move past the moment. She holds up the bottle of conditioner. “Want another whiff?”

He laughs and shuts his eyes, groaning. “Would it be so embarrassing if I said yes?”

Dilara grins and takes a step towards him, allowing him to smell the vanilla and cocoa scented conditioner she  treasures so much. Just when he gives another dramatic shake of the head at the scent and she laughs, the door bursts open and a deep and familiar voice saying something in Korean halts immediately.

She turns to see Taehyung, hand frozen on the door knob, his handsome face for once hiding nothing as his eyes flit between us. The shock on his face is expected; his leader and friend, standing close to and laughing with his ex-girlfriend, her hair wet and nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Next to him, Jimin’s eyes are wide and his pretty lips parted in surprise.

Even though she’s quite certain that Taehyung doesn’t actually think that anything untoward happened between her and Namjoon, Dilara takes a savage sort of pleasure in how incriminating it looks - and how it’s clearly driven him speechless. 

“That’s my cue to leave,” she mutters, snapping the bottle shut and turning back to Namjoon. “Thanks for the shower,” she tells him, taking care to make her words as suggestive as possible. It doesn’t matter that Taehyung doesn’t feel the same about her anymore; there’s nothing worse than your friend hooking up with your ex.

Even as she leaves, she hears Namjoon’s voice, deep and calm, saying something in Korean. She’s sure he’s assuring Taehyung that nothing happened - and she’s sure Taehyung believes it, too. But what stands out to Dilara the most is how his face had fallen and for a moment, she’d hurt him at least a fraction of how much he’d hurt her.

—

Seoul, South Korea; March (Four months in) (Taehyung)

Her fingers were cold against his skin, and she giggled softly when he flinched. Her lips felt warm in contrast, her lip gloss tasting of cherries and love. Her curls crunched in his hand when he held her to him, smelling of her chocolatey conditioner. Or was it strawberry?

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open, a slight frown on his handsome face. Moving the glass of vodka and cranberry juice - courtesy Jimin - away from him and trying to ignore the thumping bass, he tried to remember what Dilara’s hair smelled like. Hadn’t he buried his nose in it enough times? Hadn’t he hugged her, held her, made love to her enough that he’d never forget?

“Taehyung!” Jimin’s high voice cut through the loud music, louder than his own thoughts. He jogged up to Taehyung, blond hair a little sweaty and face flushed, but looking energetic as hell. “Dance with us, no?”

He simply shook his head non-commitally, taking another sip of the super sweet drink and trying not to wince in front of Jimin. No part of him wanted to be at this listening party but as usual, no one cared. An even smaller part of him wanted to be at this table, which consisted of a motley crew of guests: a couple members of a debut boy group who were taking selfie after selfie and cheering at each one, a couple at the corner of the booth who were making out in the darkness but succeeding in hiding nothing, a girl in a black dress sitting alone, and three men next to her who were laughing at something - loudly.

Jimin seemed to notice. “At least come get another drink,” he suggested.

Taehyung paused, for it wasn’t the worst idea. “What happens to this one, then?” he asked hoarsely, clearing his throat and pointing at the pink one.

“I’ll drink it,” his friend volunteered, reaching for it without further ado and guzzling it in a flash. “Done. Now come. There’s whiskey - I’d bring it for you but I don’t know which one you like these days…”

Taehyung followed him through the crowd, his shoulders still amidst the bouncing and bopping, trying more than anything else not to bump into anyone. Maybe it was the liquor, he thought hopefully. Maybe he was too intoxicated to think straight and maybe his memory would fix itself once he sobered up tomorrow.

What’s the point? It was a valid thought, one that was made stronger after his sip of whiskey. Drunk or sober, he was across the world from his girlfriend, watching his relationship fall apart while he did nothing, and unable to recall the smell of her hair or the feel of her body against him. It had started off as a coping tactic, trying to imagine her touch every time he started missing her too much, but the longer he had to do it, the more it depressed him.

“Careful!” Namjoon’s voice came from behind him and Taehyung felt him grab his arm and steady him. He peered into his glass, frowning slightly. “Sure you haven’t had enough?”

“It’s a party, hyung,” said Taehyung in a low voice, before stumbling around his leader and going back to his table. Namjoon had been on the phone with Kaya this morning; Taehyung had accidentally overheard him when he’d passed by the balcony in the dorm; while it wasn’t enough to tell what they were talking about, the fact that Namjoon was speaking in English, not to mention his tone softer, the most un-leaderlike he’d ever heard, was enough of a giveaway.

Taehyung didn’t know why, but something about it made him incredibly angry. It was irrational and unfair, he knew, and therefore tried staying clear of Namjoon until he figured it out, lest he say something he regretted. 

Let it go. Look at me. 

Dilara’s voice surfaced in his mind, words she’d said months ago in Austin when he’d been complaining about something or the other. She’d climbed onto his lap, he remembered, and slowly made him face her. He’d tugged at her hips and she’d smiled before silently kissing him. She’d tasted of red wine - Pinotage, her favourite - and as the kiss had deepened, she’d run her hands through his hair and he’d pulled her closer, breathing in the familiar scent… 

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, registering only vaguely that he was standing in the middle of the club, motionless and with a drink in his hand, while people danced and partied around him. Think, Tae, he thought desperately. It was sweet, like a dessert. He’d jokingly bitten down on her shoulder and neck before, and she’d squeal in surprise but then sigh once she realised…

A new song began and the crowd cheered, jerking Taehyung out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open an he downed the entire glass, suddenly sick of everything around him. He stumbled back to his table, slamming the empty glass down and fishing out his phone with his other hand. Falling into his seat, he opened his WhatsApp chat with Dilara.

I’m sorry about yesterday. I miss you.

Taehyung sent it before he had a chance to think, the words dancing around the bright screen. He continued staring at it, though, waiting for a response, willing her to be thinking about him just like he was thinking about her. The double tick stayed the way it was, however, and her timestamp from the last time she was online stayed firmly at two hours ago.

She was most likely at the factory or in the gym. But in that moment, she’d never felt further away.

How does that feel?

Dilara’s hands were small and cool, travelling slowly up his chest underneath his t-shirt. Her hips rolled slowly into his and her lips pressed softly down his jawline. Taehyung clutched his glass, gritting his teeth, as he tried to picture it without the disturbance of the stupid party. Another hour of hard liquor and forced dancing had made him looser with the quality of daydreaming he was doing, but also made it harder to actually feel her.

Next to him, Jungkook and Hoseok were laughing about something, both looking flushed and happily drunk. Taehyung, who had his head on Jungkook’s shoulder as he stared blurrily into the void, wished he would stop moving so much. Yet, there was something comforting in knowing he wasn’t completely alone right now, much as he felt like it.

He needed quiet. He needed silence, and air. He needed a moment, just a moment’s peace to remember the feel of her shoulders, the shape of her in bed, the goddamn fucking scent of her hair. 

Do you want to go somewhere quiet?

Taehyung couldn’t remember right now why his heart jolted or why his eyes threatened to fill with tears, but as he sat there, biting his lower lip, he knew he couldn’t be here anymore.

“I need a smoke,” he said to no one in particular, clumsily getting to his feet. He felt Jungkook grab his arm as he steadied himself. 

“Are you okay, hyung?”

“Stellar.” Taehyung shook him off and took a few stumbling steps before he got the hang of it, now in pursuit of the smoking zone. He could taste green apple, and he hoped this place, at least, would give him some much needed peace and quiet. 

The club was obnoxiously big, Taehyung felt, and not very well-designed. He accidentally entered a bathroom and almost made his way into the kitchen, both of which could have helped him, but not with what he needed right now. Finally, he found a corridor, dark yet draughty, meaning it was close to a window or a balcony… somewhere. 

Taehyung stopped and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. He hadn’t realised how much he needed fresh air, even if he could smell ramen and rain from the alley next door. Smoke, Tae. Nodding at his own inner voice, he began walking in the same direction when something blocked his way.

“Shit,” he gasped, feeling some of his drink slosh and spill over his hand.

“Sorry.” She stepped back, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor.

The scent of a perfume assualted him before he could place the voice. Taehyung took a step back and blinked in the dim lighting, realising it was the girl in the black dress at his table, the one who was staring forlornly at her drink and not participating in anything.

“Um, no, it’s - it’s my fault,” he stuttered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. She nodded, and when she looked up, he finally realised who she was.

“It’s okay. I’m… do you know where the smoking zone is?” Jennie asked, her words a bit slow and slurred.

Do I ever. “Uh… no. I was looking for it, too.” He leaned against the wall again. “But I don’t think I can walk anymore.”

“Me neither.” Her gaze was on the floor as she mimicked his position on the opposite wall, before she sighed and reached for her shoes. “I can’t wear these anymore,” she muttered, tossing her strappy black heels on the floor.

There was an awkward silence during which Taehyung’s mind swam. His head felt heavy and his throat was suddenly parched. He finished the rest of his drink, barely feeling the whiskey burn his throat. “Do you have a lighter?”

Jennie looked up, as though brought out of a deep thought. “No. But I stole a matchbox from the bar,” she added after a moment, flashing something in her hand that he couldn’t make out, but he had no reason to doubt her.

“Good stuff,” he muttered, fishing his pack out of his pocket and placing a cigarette in his mouth before offering one to her. “Do you vape?” he asked her absently..

“Not really.”

He nodded, waiting as she fumbled with a matchstick until it caught the flame. She lit her cigarette and took a long drag before passing it to him when a gust of wind blew again and the flame flickered and disappeared.

“Hang on,” she muttered, opening the matchbox again before looking up at him. “That was the last one. Sorry.”

Taehyung was fast losing patience with everything now. Without a word - for he didn’t know what he would say to an innocent bystander if he opened his mouth - he took a step towards her and leaned down, touching the tip of his cigarette to hers. She tilted her head up automatically to let him use it and the moment he felt the first taste of nicotine on his tongue, he stepped back.

“I might be the only person having a worse night than you,” observed Jennie after a few seconds of silence.

Taehyung scoffed. “Doubt that.” When she didn’t respond, he sighed, feeling like his chest might cave in. “Sorry. I had a fight yesterday with my… friend.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. His head felt lighter with the nicotine. “Over an Instagram post.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate or mention the guy who’d been seen grabbing his girlfriend and jumping into a pool with her at a party, just like he didn’t want to think about the scathing response he’d given her when she’d defended herself. He’s just a friend. And it was a party. What exactly are you worried about?

Taehyung wouldn’t say it out loud to her, but the need to remind himself of every single detail about her had magnified tenfold since then. Cool hands, soft lips. Small body, wavy hair.

“My boyfriend dumped me over text.”

He looked up, a bit startled. Jennie’s gaze was on the floor again, her cigarette halfway over. Her black hair blew in the breeze, revealing her bare shoulder. 

A memory played on Taehyung’s mind, but he didn’t refer to it. “Why?”

“Said we were too busy. And I was abroad so we couldn’t find a time to call.”

Taehyung took another long drag, vaguely feeling a mixture of sympathy and apathy. “Happens to every couple eventually.”

“Thanks.”

“It sucks.”

“I know.” Jennie chucked the butt of her cigarette on the ground, and Taehyung reached over to put it out. She pointed to his glass. “Can I have the rest of that?”

He didn’t even look down. “There’s nothing in it.”

She walked over and took the glass from his hand, the melting ice cubes clinking together. Keeping her eyes on him, expression betraying absolutely nothing, she drank from it. “You weren’t as thorough as you thought.”

It was strange, really, for these things appeared in the most unexpected of times. Dilara’s lips weren’t as full, but they were softer. She tilted her head to the right more often than not, and Taehyung had to lower his a bit more with her. Dilara’s fingers were less slender against his abdomen, but they unbuckled his belt faster. Her mouth never tasted of rum, but he could still taste wine if he really, really tried. 

As he felt soft kisses trail down his neck, he felt himself smile slightly, for he finally realised what it was. Amidst the unfamiliar rose and lavender, the scent of vanilla and cocoa fought its way through, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, trying with every last bit of consciousness to hold onto it.

How does that feel? 

It feels different. 

But it was the closest he’d gotten to in forever.

—

Melbourne, Australia; March (Four months in) (Dilara)

One month, they're happy. They're on holiday, there's no one but them, only her and Taehyung. He's loving and passionate, and she's fallen further in love than she'd ever thought possible. He's swept her off her feet, and she's let him.

Two months in, they start to see what long distance really is, but they do everything they can to not let it get to them. Taehyung goes back to Daegu for a couple of weeks while Dilara spends two whole weekends with Lexie in the gym and one with Chris and Fred, working  out until she knows she needs to start focusing on the car for the new season again.

Three months in, BTS is back in the studio, writing, recording and rehearsing their next album. From what she hears from Taehyung and Jungkook - and sometimes Jimin - it’s more stressful than usual because of some of the lyrics that the boys have written. 

For Dilara's part, she's back to working out four days a week and spending days together at the factory, going over every micro fitting and part of the car, determined to snag at least P2 in this championship. It means practically living at Milton Keynes, using their gym when she can, going over every race last season and spotting areas for improvement. It’s incredibly exhausting, both physically and mentally, but it’s the last year in her Red Bull contract which means she needs to perform her arse off to get signed again.

She and Taehyung try. They really try. They make dates, promising to watch a movie together or have dinner over Zoom, but one of them always ends up cancelling on the other. Dilara knows he gets frustrated sometimes and she does, too, but it’s too new to fully lash out at each other. 

She's afraid of fighting with him, knowing that making up virtually is so much harder than in person. She can tell that he’s afraid to push her too much, given how long it took him to convince her to be in this in the first place.

Four months in, everything suddenly stops. It’s the second week of March, days away from the first race of the season. It’s nerve wracking in itself, but when she stops receiving replies to her texts and her calls go unanswered, the cold feeling in her lungs starts to heighten. 

For the first couple of days, she tries not to let it get to her. She reasons with herself that he’s busy, unbelievably busy, that it’s the time difference that’s causing all this, trying to ignore the fact that she doesn’t get missed calls from him either.

The week of the Australian GP, when it’s been five days since Dilara's heard from Taehyung and she's sick to her stomach with worry, she starts asking the other members. She doesn’t realise it’s strange until she's texted three out of six of them, asking each whether he’s okay, whether they know where is or why he won’t return her calls, and each of them gives her nearly identical answers. He’s fine, just busy. Don’t worry, he’s busy. Just busy with work. The creeping feeling intensifies and her throat feels like it might close up when she realises she's being lied to.

Dilara doesn’t give up on texting and calling him, though. Out of the other members, she calls Namjoon first, hoping that as leader, he’ll have the decency to at least tell her to her face what she's secretly dreading. 

But he doesn’t answer. Neither does Yoongi, whom she has to muster up a certain amount of courage to call, nor does Jungkook, the closest friend she had in the group, and neither does Jimin, who she knows for sure is the one person who knows what’s truly going on. 

Dilara's mind goes back to the night of the VMAs when they’d all sat her down to try and talk her into this relationship. It was the only time she'd ever felt intimidated by them - them and the unsettling realisation that they were Taehyung’s brothers first and her friends and acquaintances much, much after that. They had Taehyung’s back as they helped him get her, and here they are again, having his back and helping him break her.

Dilara holds off on calling anyone else until she's in Australia, ready to wait a little longer because surely, surely Taehyung would wish her luck before the first race of the season. He would text or apologise or even just tell her to drive safe. He wouldn’t miss this. 

But Thursday passes and so does Friday. Finally on Saturday evening, less than twenty-four hours before the race, she's sick to her stomach about what this means. She borrows Lexie’s phone when they're in the paddock after PR and calls Jimin, knowing he doesn’t have her number saved. When he answers, Dilara feels a simultaneous pang of relief and disappointment.

“Yeoboseyo?” Jimin’s voice, one she hasn’t heard outside of videos in months, sounds like it’s usual upbeat, tinkly self.

For a moment, Dilara can’t speak. When he repeats his greeting, sounding slightly confused now, she finally clears her throat. “Jimin?” There’s silence on the other end and in a rare moment of desperation, she hurries her next words. “It's Dilara. Please don’t hang up.”

“Dilara…” He says slowly, doubtfully. In her head, his eyes dart to someone near him, maybe Jungkook or Hoseok, or maybe even Taehyung himself.

“Jimin, is -” Her voice breaks for a moment and she doesn’t know whether it’s because she's finally talking to one of them or because she's so afraid to hear what he has to say. “Is he okay? Is Tae okay?”

“He’s - he’s fine. He’s fine,” repeats Jimin, sounding uncomfortable but certain. “He’s just -”

“Don’t say he’s busy. Don’t lie to me, Jimin.”

He sighs, and she feels a fleeting stab of pity for him. “He’s… Dilara, he -”

Dilara squeezes her eyes shut, feeling the tears threatening to spill out. “Jimin, please.” She hates how her voice sounds, how small and weak it is. “Please tell me what’s wrong. He wouldn’t do this unless something was wrong, or…” She swallows. “Please. Did I do something? What did I do?"

There’s a shaky intake of breath at the other end of the phone. “Dilara, I’m - I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be talking about this with me, you should -”

“He won’t answer me!” she exclaims, slamming the wall of the enclosure next to her. A few people walking past jump. “I’m sorry, I’m - I’m sorry, I just -”

“No, don’t… don’t apologise.” His voice sounds tight and she's suddenly so, so angry at Taehyung for doing this to him because she's sure as hell that this is his doing. "He's - he's just… busy," he says finally, sounding defeated.

Dilara's heart sinks. She's so tired and so disappointed that she doesn’t even think she can cry right now. "Right." She clears her throat, knowing she's not going to get anything out of him. With an awful finality of a chapter closing, she exhales. "Goodbye, Jimin."

She does everything she can to not think about this the rest of the night. She feels a headache coming on after dinner so she knocks back a couple of Aspirin and crashes. The next morning, the day of the race, she's in her zone as best as she can be, even as a small, hurting part of her waits and waits for Taehyung, Jungkook, any of the members to wish her luck.

By the time the drivers’ parade ends, she wants to kick herself for hoping. By the time she gets strapped into the car, her head is hurting trying to focus on the race and ignoring the humiliation at being ghosted by a guy she was stupid enough to trust in a year.

Dilara's performance is abysmal. She has a bad start from P7, dropping to P11 and staying behind Jehan Daruvala’s Alpha Tauri for half the race. She manages to finish in P8 only due to the team’s pit stop strategy and a lucky safety car, while Max cruises away to take P1, successfully beginning his campaign to contend for world champion. 

The only silver lining is that not a soul is paying attention to her today; she finishes her press interviews in a daze, congratulates Max, apologises to Christian and Helmut, and fucks off out of the paddock as fast as possible. She skims through her WhatsApp on the way to the airport, opening none of the messages she's received, a dull ache in her chest at the heartbreaking yet expected absence of the only one she wants to see.

Lexie knows broadly by now what’s wrong. Dilara hasn't openly confided in her but she’s been with her for nearly a week now; Lexie knows, Dilara knows, and they both know the other knows. But Lexie also knows Dilara doesn't want to talk about it - not right now, anyway. Even before Dilara leaves the paddock, she catches her on the way and offers to come with.

“It’s just a week,” she says, big dark eyes holding concern. “And it’s Chris.” She pretends to gag.

It’s literally the only thing that can make Dilara crack the smallest of smiles, no matter how hollow. “Don’t play with me. Go get your guy.”

“Ugh, there is no way,” she mutters, shuddering. “It’s just a trip. And you’re welcome to join, by the way,” she adds, voice suddenly softer. “It’ll be like Yellowstone again.” The sun sets behind Lexie, making it look like a halo behind her.

“I would be a worse third wheel than usual. Okay, fine, not a third wheel,” she amends quickly, rolling her eyes. “But… I just need to be alone for a bit.”

Lexie bites her lip. “It’s just one race, you know. Bahrain will be better.”

Dilara nods, feeling her face twist and her stomach churning at the thought of today’s race. “I know.”

There’s a pause. “And… he’ll call.” This time, Lexie doesn’t sound so sure.

Dilara looks away, absently watching the pink sky over Albert Park. “I’m not holding my breath,” she mutters. “But don’t worry about me. You and Chris have fun, okay? Get laid and give me all the details. Actually, don’t.”

Lexie nods, giving her a small smile, clearly not fooled by her pathetic attempt at humour. Dilara means what she says to her, though; Lexie's always wanted to see Australia and after a carefully coded conversation where Chris also randomly brought up wanting to stay for a few days, both of them decided to stay back. Dilara tries not to feel too resentful, especially when her mind brings up stolen moments from Suzuka and Monterey and Ischia, resisting the urge to warn Lexie  to not get in too deep. 

The flight back to London isn’t a good one. The first leg of the flight to her layover in Singapore is a nightmare in itself, where she wakes up from a short and uncomfortable nap, suddenly overcome with an intense desire to know what’s wrong, immediately. Her phone is switched off so she requests for a pen and a pad of paper, proceeding to draw an entire timeline of her relationship with Taehyung, beginning from the day they officially got together in Austin. 

It gets progressively worse, reliving every moment they spent together. His voice, his smile, his touch, his laugh, his scent - everything comes up to the forefront of her mind and by the time the plane approaches Singapore, she has a terrible headache.

Dilara doesn’t check her phone again until she's in her hotel room for the night. She's too exhausted to even remember until she gets an email notification from Red Bull PR. To no surprise of hers, there isn’t a single message from Taehyung or the others. She orders a plate of spaghetti, intending to polish the whole thing off but her stomach feels so queasy and she feels like she could break down at any moment, so all she manages is a few bites before she crawls into bed and falls asleep.

The second leg to London isn’t much better. Dilara doesn’t have a headache anymore, but all it means is that she's unable to stop overthinking her relationship. At this point, it’s not unreasonable to assume that she's being dumped. It’s brutal and horrendously dickish, which is the only reason she's putting it at the bottom of the list of things that could be wrong. She wants to believe he is busy. She wants to believe that this is what it’s like to date a member of BTS. She wants to text Kaya, Namjoon's girl, and ask her if this is how it is.

When Dilara finally lands in London, she doesn't check her phone again until she's in the cab. She only opens her phone to get her Uber OTP, but something in the notification tray catches her eye and she clicks it, especially when she realises it’s a message from Lexie. She's honestly not in the mood to see landscape pictures of Melbourne, but the last message simply says I can be on the next plane to London. Just say the word.

Dilara frowns. The timestamp indicates that it was sent less than an hour into her flight from Singapore… so twelve hours ago, approximately. Her thumb hovers over the chat, and she's suddenly so afraid to open it. She has to, though. Sitting at the back of the air conditioned cab, she opens it to see a link, followed by her message.

Somehow, when the link opens, Dilara's heart doesn’t thud and her eyes don’t start watering. It feels like she's numb, like the pictures of Taehyung and this female idol are all she was waiting for to confirm what she probably knew all along. 

There are two pictures; one of them ducking into the same car together and the second, more voyeuristic, of their fingers intertwined in front of them as they talk, standing face to face. It’s taken through a window and they aren’t quite smiling at each other - it’s more like they’re mid-conversation, but it’s one hundred percent him. 

As though she's hypnotized, Dilara scans the rest of the article. It’s by Dispatch; she should take it with a pinch of salt, but pictures don’t lie, not with everything else that's happened. The text tells her the girl is Jennie… Dilara knows the name vaguely, knows the group. From what she can tell, she looks like every other female idol: tall, impossibly skinny, with shiny hair and doe eyes. They’ve been spotted at a recording studio and the pictures apparently date back to over a week, but the news outlet wanted to “confirm” before breaking the news that they’re together. 

The article sounds like trash, like something Daily Mail would put out. But Dilara knows from the moment she reads the first word that it’s true. The article also mentions Big Hit: Big Hit representatives have denied their relationship, citing that they are nothing more than good friends. Given that Taehyung’s never so much as mentioned this girl to her before, combined with everything that’s happened over the last week, she has no trouble believing that Big Hit is bullshitting.

Dilara is back home before she realises she hasn’t responded to Lexie. Don’t bother, is all she says to her friend. Standing in her living room, her fingers itch to do the only thing she has left to do. 

She stares at the door to her room, left slightly ajar. She's still waiting for the tears or something, but the exhaustion has taken over again, now coupled with determination. She leans forward, hands on her knees, and tries to steady her breathing at the thought of this short-lived relationship coming to an end. There’s a vague feeling of sadness somewhere deep down that she knows will erupt later on. She closes her eyes when she feels something brush against her chest. 

It’s the ring. Dilara closes her fist around it, remembering reluctantly how Taehyung had tugged on it playfully when he’d asked her out on a date for the first time. The only time. Looping her finger through it, she feels the sign of a prickle at the back of her eyes. I love you, Lara. He’d meant that… hadn’t he? Whatever happened since, whatever’s happening now, he still loved her… she thinks.

Dilara straightens up and stares at her phone, her thumb moving in slow motion to bring up his name in her recently dialled numbers. She clicks on it and brings the phone to her ear, not even sure she wants him to answer. When he doesn’t after ten rings and the call goes to voicemail, her eyes are dry once more. There’s renewed strength in her legs again; she strides over to her bedroom and retrieves an empty Amazon carton from under the bed that her new coffee maker had come in, and places it open on the bed.

One by one, she places his belongings into it. His black hoodie, neatly folded; his black CELINE t-shirt; a dreamcatcher he’d found in Ischia; a stuffed Octopus plushie he’d bought her in Monterey; a beautiful pink silk scarf he’d sent her for Christmas; a faded copy of Gone With The Wind, the novel that had helped him the most with his English, with notes in pencil scribbled all along the margins that he’d lent to her after she'd admitted she'd never read it, a small bottle of Eau de sauvage, another t-shirt and a couple more of his belongings. 

She even adds the four thousand dollar Gucci jacket he'd bought her for her birthday; even though it's hers in every way, she needs to cleanse herself of everything that has anything to do with him. Apart from that, she has a stack of polaroids, mostly from their summer in California last year, a couple of days in Austin, and at least twenty from their trip to Italy.

Dilara pauses here, wondering what would happen if these were to fall into the wrong hands. Some of the pictures are of him or the boys, and some with her and the boys. It’s public knowledge now that they know each other but there’s a few reasonably intimate pictures as well. 

She briefly reconsiders, but when she flips through them to see the first one he ever took of them, right after their first date in Monterey where they kissed atop a rock overlooking the grey ocean, she unzips the pocket of the hoodie she's returning and stuffs the photos in there, grimly hoping for the best.

At the last minute, she undoes the thin silver chain around her neck and drops the ring in the box, staring at it for a few seconds where it shines dimly on top of the silk scarf. She feels lighter, somehow, but not in a good way. She's empty, as though she's already exhausted all the emotions she's capable of in this situation. Vaguely, she wonders if she's single now, if this marks the moment her relationship came to an end, or if she's been single for a while now but has only just found out.

The thought is too humiliating to entertain so she busies herself looking for tape and scissors, sealing the box as securely as she can. She scribbles his name on top, hoping it doesn’t look too suspicious. Kim Taehyung. She pauses for a moment before deciding to mail it straight to their dorm.

In another five minutes, she's in her car, the cardboard box sitting in the trunk, the last physical remnants of her memories with Taehyung. At the post office, the lady at the counter asks her if the contents are fragile, holding a sticker saying the same in one hand.

“Um…” Dilara licks her lips. “Yeah. I want it to reach in one piece.”

She nods and sticks the tape on the box, smoothing it out with a manicured finger. “What would you classify the contents as?”

Dilara shrugs, suddenly tired again. “Just… stuff I don’t need anymore. Clothes and stuff,” she adds when the lady looks at her questioningly.

She frowns and Dilara knows it’s because none of those are fragile, per se, but she doesn’t argue. When she exits the building, she stops in front of her car and takes out her phone. Systematically, she blocks seven phone numbers, an Instagram account, a Twitter account, and multiple hashtags on both apps. She exits a WhatsApp group and changes her lockscreen. With a slightly heavy heart, she deletes nearly a hundred pictures and over twenty videos from her Gallery. She frowns, wondering if she's forgetting anything. After a moment, she logs onto her Spotify and deletes a playlist.

Just when she climbs into her car, her phone rings.

“Dilara Komyshan?” The voice sounds familiar.

“This is she,” she answers, strapping her seatbelt on.

“I’m calling from the London Post Office,” comes the voice of the woman at the counter. “Miss, the label on your package doesn’t include your name. Would you like me to add it for you?”

This, Dilara doesn’t need to think about. “No, that’s alright. They’ll know who it’s from.”

“Alright. Anything else you’d like me to add?”

“Nothing at all. I’m done.”

~

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

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

[safety-pin-punk]

im curious, how does being punk affect your feeling of religion? are you still a practicing catholic/go to church?

Hahahahahaha oh boy, buckle in cause this is gonna be a fun ride. I’ll put a cut cause this is gonna be long simply due to the amount of context that is needed to understand how I’ve managed to mash these two things together in my life. I hope this answers your question anon! (And thank you for asking nicely, that usually isn’t the reaction I get).

So, for reference, I am Catholic born and raised. My mom is Catholic, my dad is only recently exploring being religious. My brother has remained a Catholic good boy throughout his life, my sister has denounced religion. I’m somewhere between them. I don’t go to church often, but I still feel at home there when I do (most of the time). So technically, I’m not a ‘Practicing Catholic’ because of that, but I’m following my faith to the best of my ability (explained below).

I 100% believe there is a god, and because of that my faith has had some rough intersections with other parts of my life, such as being punk, the communities Im a part of, and being heavily involved in STEM. And those are things that took me years to figure out for myself. When just looking at being punk though, I think where it really clicked that punk wasn’t against my religion, but actually supports it, was in my freshman year of college. Like I’ve said before, I go to a Protestant school so every class has to somehow have at least one connection to religion (as a chemistry major this can get extremely annoying). But that year, I had a history class as a gen ed, Western Civ to 1450, and an absolutely kick ass professor to go with it. 

This class was the game changer for 18 year old me (oh my god that was 5 years ago). We spent a lot of time in this class talking about religions of ancient civilizations, and of course we talked about Christianity. And this man went absolutely feral. He was the man that introduced me to the concept of ‘Jesus was a punk’. And when you ignore all the random bull shit that comes out of people’s mouths at church and just look at the bible... yeah, he was right. Jesus flipped tables, he ate with societal outcasts like prostitutes and the homeless, and god did he hate the Roman government that controlled so much of the world at that time. 

And I think that’s when I really felt free to embrace the punk culture. The one thing that was holding me back was gone. I also later learned that professor had a metal band (I’m now going to have to try to find his youtube again lol - its been years). 

But yeah, being punk and religious in 2022 is hard. Its hard because the people who claim to be Christians are ignorant, refuse to learn, don’t know the context of the book they call holy, refuse to understand where Christianity stems from and our roots in Judaism, and keep trying to interpret the bible in a modern world (the bible can’t tell you shit about the evils of the internet man). I don’t particularly like going to church because I often find that its a snake pit disguised as a hospital. Though, that’s nothing new, if you ever take the time to read Romans (my favorite part of the bible), its full of Paul just absolutely loosing his ever loving shit because of how corrupt the churches are. 

So instead of going to church once every seven days and conforming to the rest of the vipers there, I try to live my life by Jesus’ standards for interacting with others. Be kind and forgiving, try to understand other points of view, don’t discriminate based on job, color, socioeconomic status, gender, how many kids, ect. Moral of the story, in my opinion, to be a good Christian, you need to treat people as people, and welcome them with open arms. You need to give back to your community. You need to fight for a better world. You need to push back against oppressive and authoritarian governments. And those are all punk values as well.

#mail tag #personal

[maideninorange]

for the ask game, not sure what you would do with this prompt but i'm curious anyway!

16. “You don’t have a choice.”

Oh my! I wasn't sure either for a while there! Sorry about the long wait (even by my standards)! But I came up with a decent idea in the end, so here we go!

(TW: Just some somewhat graphic death threats, choking imagery, and mild blood. Nothing too dark here for this one, because I was more in the mood for something humorous. Also, Maiden getting too into her worldbuilding, even by her standards.)

It was a little embarrassing, in Tenkai's humble opinion, to get so absorbed in their grumbling over misplaced things on the shelves that it took them until the knife at the back of their throat presses in for them to realize it was even there.

They raise their arms up, "Not even gonna bother by the spell card rules?"

"And put myself at a disadvantage? Why would I do that?"

Ah, they recognize that voice. So they've been ambushed by that scoundrel? Well, it was only a matter of time before they got the bright idea to try picking on them. This was gonna be fun.

"Ah, the Black Shitodo has finally decided to threaten me? Remaining a scoundrel I see," Tenkai can't help but smirk as the knife presses a little further into their neck, "Still 'accquaintances' with Saragimaru there?"

"I don't exist." And the snake is here too then. This oughta make their week.

"Shut up and keep watch," Kuroji's attention turns back to Tenkai, "Now Zuifeng, if you don't comply, no amount of danmaku will help against a simple knife. You'll-"

"I'll be nothing but a mere corpse on the floor? Have the snakes been rubbing off on you or something? You can't even be creative in how you're gonna kill me like Orochin usually gets!"

"...?!" Speaking of snakes, that must've got Saragimaru's gears turning. This'll make screwing with these scoundrels extra fun.

"Unlike Yaorochi, you'll find that I prefer much more simple measures of murder. So do you truly want to test me?"

Ouch. And now there's some blood gushing out from where Kuroji pricked them, making their point. They let out a nervous chuckle, "Geez, not gonna even give me the illusion of free choice?"

"You don't have a choice."

They gathered that much. But confirmation is always nice.

Tenkai takes a step forward, not quite sure what direction they wanted them to go in yet, "So what are you guys after this time? Money? Powerful artifacts? My pride?"

"Knowledge, actually," the scoundrel answers with a light hum, "Sources say Azumaterasu has a rare book cataloguing the Senri family line all the way back to the very first priest of Mugenri."

"And by sources you mean some poor village historian you extorted that information out of."

"He didn't even try to fight back. Just gave in begging for his wealth to be spared," Saragimaru grumbles, confirming what they already knew.

Tenkai was even pretty sure they knew who that someone was. Always was a snivelling coward. How anyone could've entrusted him with such important information is beyond them.

But even so...Ooh, this was definitely going to be fun!

They bite down a mischievous grin, "Let me guess, trying to one-up the current priest? I never knew you had any sort of interest in history!"

"I don't," A low growl hisses in their ear, "I simply see the value in learning all I can about this world. The rarer information I know? The more of a bargain it will be, if you know what I mean..."

"And to make that worthless priest they won't shut up about jealous. Or something." They can just hear Saragimaru shrugging.

Tenkai suppresses a loud chuckle at Kuroji's annoyed shout. Oh, make no mistake, it would be awful if they got ahold of it. The untold havoc that scoundrel would wreck simply by having one of the most important pieces of documentation the Senri clan ever entrusted to their family cannot be underestimated. And their superiors would have their head. That too.

But that implies they plan on letting them get ahold of it in the first place.

"Can't let ya pass on that one," they exclaim, trying to sound at least a little worried, "Even if I wanted to, that book is under lock and key. Sorry!"

"Allow me to repeat myself, just this once: You don't have a choice in this."

"Or what? You'd actually slit my throat? I mean, you are a scoundrel, so..."

And there's the knife drawing blood again. Ouch.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Yes I would. So start marching."

Tenkai obeys, legs automatic, "Sheesh! Someone needs to learn better manners!"

"Don't you know manners and this scoundrel don't mix? Not that you would know much more about manners yourself."

Tenkai can only click their tongue at that. Tsurubami would've been proud.

Kuroji drags them deeper into the bowels of the shop. The "Employees Only" scroll on the door was cheerfully ignored, and they were taken in and out of various rooms in less a sinister waltz and more a clueless stumble. They even start making low growls as the charade goes on. They oughta be glad Tenkai was left to their own devices (miraculously) today, otherwise they would be very, very dead right about the second room. Maybe the third if they want to be generous.

Oh, make no mistake, their superiors are gonna be pissed if they find out Kuroji decided to break into Azumaterasu, and at them especially if they find them compromised like this. The aftermath would not be pleasant if they get caught.

But then again... it's been a good while since someone tried to knock those arrogant asses down a peg. So why not give them a little helping hand, by a certain definition?

The dizzying constant shifting of their surroundings only stops when a loud crack rings out, causing both of them to look in its direction.

...Oh darn, the snake knows a thing or two about picking apart barriers. Not much, clearly, as Tenkai can easily bypass that particular barrier without busting it so loudly, but they did know how to destabilize the inscriptions at the very least.

Saragimaru turn to look at them, the blue glow at their fingertips fading away, "...Found it."

And by the grin returning to Kuroji's face, it seems Tenkai's reaction had given it away.

"Oh my oh my Saragimaru, how did you ever know the entrance was right there?"

"The melon took me into this very room when we met the first time. Something about the inscription working best in that room... though they were lying so..."

Saragimaru fixes them with a harsh glare. Tenkai can only give a half-hearted shrug, unapologetic, "So you can remember how to break the barrier like I showed you, but can't keep track of prices. Suits ya pretty well if you ask me~!"

"...! Why I oughta-"

"Put the sword down. We still need them to bypass whatever traps these old farts put in order to gatekeep us."

Saragimaru lets out a loud groan as they sheathe their kodachi, their jaw clenched. Kuroji hums in their ear a moment later, "But don't worry! Once they disable all the traps it should be perfectly alright to take care of them then!"

... Okay, now this is just downright hilarious. Last time they got held at swordpoint, the youkai were all cheerfully talking about dismembering them once they served their purpose. These guys are just being more polite about it!

Needless to say, Tenkai bursted out laughing. As if these two could ever be the death of them! They kept laughing as they were ushered through the library doorway and down the stairs.

It wasn't until their laughter became full blown wheezing that they were asked by their current captor, "...What's so funny?"

"You..." They wipe a tear from their eye, less walking down the steps and more skipping down them, "...You plan to kill me once I've outlived my usefulness. Are you sure you won't consider a career as a comedian?"

Judging by the low hiss, like a little bird trying to sound bigger than it really is, Kuroji was making, they weren't too impressed by their wit. The knife presses into their back, forcing them down two at a time.

"...Huh. I now see why you want to kill them. All this time I thought I was craving bread, not blood."

"I told you they were better off dead!" Their eyes bore into them from behind, "So don't tempt me! I will if I have to, consequences be damned!"

"Bloodthirsty now, I see?" Tenkai snickers, "See what I mean? Utterly hilarious! Seriously, both of you might have a future in comedy!"

"Shut up..." They both mutter in unison. That will probably be the first and last time they ever agree on something, to boot.

Tsurubami would definitely be proud. They've come a long way since...

Their feet touch down on smooth stone. They swallow hard, knowing where they are and what they'll have to do.

"March," Kuroji whispers in their ear. The knife digs into their back, and Tenkai obeys.

Tenkai roams the long corridors of books and scrolls, one foot firmly in front of the other. They knew exactly where the book in question is. Tsurubami had quite a few suggestions for it when they stole that very book the third time they met. Their superiors didn't know it, but they had gleefully heeded their suggestions.

Not that Kuroji knows that. Nor do they intend to let them know and ruin their fun.

Tenkai guided the scoundrels over to the bookcase in question. The one at the very back, the oldest and mustiest.

Oh, and the only one concealed behind a very obvious and visible barrier. Can't forget that part!

"...So what happens if you touch that barrier there?" Saragimaru asks.

"You rapidly age as your future death plays out right before your eyes."

"Even to the ageless...?"

"Then just the vision of your future death," Tenkai smiles as a loud sigh rolls by their ears.

Okay, they've never actually seen what happens when an actual intruder like these two tries to touch that barrier in question before. They do remember only getting a small shock as a kid when curiosity got the better of them though. One of their...more overdramatic caretakers did spin that story to scare them away, so perhaps there's a grain of truth in it?

Not that it really mattered. They aren't hearing any protests from them, that's for sure.

"Well I happen to like being the age I'm at," Kuroji huffs, "So...? Are you going to grab the book or not? Because if you're not, I presume you know-"

"You'll slit my throat and then leave me to bleed out and die. Yadda yadda yadda," Tenkai rolls their eyes, "If you're gonna actually go ahead and kill me, at least do something more fun than a simple knife to the throat."

"Believe me, the possibilities for me killing both of you are endless if I had it my way," Saragimaru deadpans, as if they actually had the power to follow up on that particular threat.

"I'm well aware. You've told me plenty of them already," Kuroji sounds way too chipper when refuting their wayward servant in Tenkai's opinion, "But unless you would rather be the one to try and break that barrier there, I would -"

"I lost the right to share my opinion. Got it," The butt of a wooden pole jabs against Tenkai's back, making them take a step forward, "...Hey melon, if you find a way to throw this scoundrel into that barrier, please do. Preferably at once."

A huff, "Ignore them. Try that and I'll show you 'creative'."

"I make no promises!" Tenkai grins, flexing their fingers, warming up with power, as they strut towards the barrier.

In theory, this barrier, designed to keep important books under lock and key (and far away from the nose of their least favorite apprentice), is one of the sturdiest, most complex constructs second to only the Great Barrier itself. It contains dozens of inscriptions, and many riddles to keep intruders (and certain smart alecks) from easily confusing and breaking it. Few should be able to access it without an elder's say so.

Keyword: should.

In practice, this barrier was merely further proof that their superiors have never actually fashioned a complicated barrier in their lives. Perhaps it was Tenkai's genius getting the better of them, but this barrier was about as complex as the one on their safe box of gag gifts ill fitting for someone like them to hold onto. It does it's job against one who knows jack about breaking barriers, but only serves as a fun puzzle for a professional barrier breaker.

Tenkai just so happened to be one such professional barrier breaker.

The runic inscriptions light up with a quick swipe over the barrier's surface. Glowing orange fingertips scrawl over it, seeking out the vaguest, frailest sentences.

...Found one.

A twisted grin sprung to Tenkai's face as they began to pour all their energy into it. The inscription glowed brighter and brighter, until it was almost blinding. And then, right before this section could crack, disabled, under the pressure, they let up.

They then reach inside the glowing section of barrier, and yank the target book out.

"You insult me," They huff as their handiwork fades, leaving the barrier like it was never touched, "I could break barriers like that in my sleep."

"...All you did was reach through the barrier and make the room smell like melons," Saragimaru pinches their nose, "You less broke the barrier and more bypassed it."

"And alert my bosses that they were being robbed the moment it shatters? You really ought to be thanking me for not blowing your cover!" They let out a small chuckle at Kuroji's low growl, "Breaking barriers is child's play. Now bypassing barriers? That's a completely different skillset! I put in all this hard work for you guys, and you're too greedy to even thank me?"

"The book. Now." Considering the knife now back at their throat, they guessed so. Kuroji is, at least. Saragimaru is more easily manipulated than greedy.

But nevertheless, Tenkai deposited the book into Kuroji's waiting hand, whistling a small tune as they cast their glance at a nearby bookshelf. It immediately vanishes into their electric purple jacket, never to be seen again.

"Thank you. Cooperating wasn't so bad, was it? Less painful," Kuroji's focus turns to Saragimaru, "Now tie up this loose end here. We don't need all of Azumaterasu coming down on our heads, now do we?"

"On your head. This feels a little too easy, knowing Tenkai Zuifeng. Don't you think they got something else up their sleeve? And don't mix me up in the consequences of your own actions!"

"Oh no, they'd definitely come after you too," Tenkai clasps their hands together, doing their best imitation of the grin Tsurubami typically wore when about to discipline troublemakers, "An excuse to go after one of the last remnants of Yamata-no-Orochi's lineage? It would be a crime to let it go to waste! And then both of your families for good measure! ...Just speaking from personal experience here."

They conveniently left out the time they went after Tsurubami once, for the exact same crime by raw coincidence. They were pretty sure Saragimaru and their beloved Yaorochi would be able to keep their hubris unscathed (unfortunately). Now Kuroji? ...A little more debatable. But that scoundrel's upset worse people before and their superiors are all old farts, so who knows?

It did the trick though. Saragimaru's eyes widened a little, "They'd go after Yaorochi-sama?"

"Loose end. Tie it up," Kuroji deadpans, their gaze flitting between Tenkai, Saragimaru, and the room all around them."

"So I can finally kill this obnoxious melon?" Saragimaru's voice lightens notably, a fang nicking their lip as they bite it.

"Tempting, but no. Leaving a body behind is the exact opposite of a clean break-in. You're going to tie their tongue up so they can't say we were here."

They put their naginata back in its sheathe, restrapping it to their back, "Ugh...Why do I always have to cast the curses? You can cast them too. I've seen you do it."

"...Because your curses are more effective, obviously," Kuroji's gaze turns back to Tenkai, nostrils flared.

"Translation: They can't cast magic like you and I can there, Saragimaru," Tenkai jeers, snorting at the death glare Kuroji then gives them.

"I mean, we all know that...I was just wondering why they weren't gearing up to-"

"Shut. Up. Both of you. You've lost the right to speak," They turn their back towards Tenkai, "Now curse them. Then let's get out of here."

"... Yes Your Excellency," Saragimaru grumbles, stepping towards Tenkai. A blue glow, like rainwater, emits from their fingertips, ominously pressing closer and closer to them.

Or at least, it would've been ominous if they haven't been so desensitized to the dark side of magic. Thanks Tsurubami.

"Sheesh, you guys are so mean! Can't take a little joke or-"

The glowing blue hand closes in around their throat, "Shut. Up."

Tenkai suddenly felt like they were choking on something. They tried to laugh through the pain of talons digging into their nape, but every sound they tried to make sounded garbled. A small white cloud puffs from their mouth, like breath on a cold winter day. Saragimaru's teeth gnash together, and soon enough Tenkai's throat felt clogged with them.

They gargle, clouds bursting from their mouth in a rapid stream like bubbles, purging their tongue of what occurred in this library. And then, just like that, it was all over and the magic all dissipated, their windpipe clearing of misplaced weather.

Saragimaru lets go, the glow of their magic fading, and Tenkai's body drops to the floor with a thud, as if they had dropped them. Air flows through their lungs like sand, black spots dancing in the corners of their vision as they watch their tail sway gently from side to side.

"There. If they say anything about our robbery and hostage taking, the heavens shall rob them of the ability to speak the truth. ...Poor thing, I'd feel bad if it wasn't for them being Tenkai Zuifeng..."

"Good enough. We got all that we need, so let's leave them here."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? People are going to know someone was here once they notice your stupid book is missing..."

"But will they be able to tell it was us specifically? Besides, it's not like we can't pin this on Tsubakura when all is said and done. They say the Senri priest has some kind of right to this book, don't they?"

"I thought this whole pointless excursion was to make that dumb priest you are so obsessed with jealous. Blaming them for your crime sounds very counter-intuitive."

"And that's enough out of you. Let's make our exit while this place is still clear of those elders we're supposed to fear."

"...Did I actually curse the right person?"

"Oh you're such a tease! Didn't you know my body can be just as loose as my lips?"

"Ugh..."

Tenkai clamours to their knees, watching the scoundrels march up the stairs, bickering all the way there. Right as they both reached the top, Kuroji whirls around, and tips their hat to them.

Then, the scoundrel and their swordsnake vanish.

Tenkai pushes themself to their feet, coughing up one more cloud as the curse rolls around their throat and onto their tongue, tasting of smog. It was a pretty unpleasant feeling actually, but Tenkai has been under enough of these sorts of curses to know a strong one from a weak one. And if Saragimaru really wanted them to shut up, they'd be coughing up clouds and hail for weeks on end for daring to think of the forbidden object in question.

It would also be much harder to unravel than this, going by the magical handiwork now decorating their throat and along their chin. Though going by their few unpleasant encounters with that scoundrel, that wrench in their plans was well deserved.

Not as good as the one Tenkai threw though. They can't wait to see the look on Kuroji's face when they realize they handed up a rulebook instead of the history book they were actually after.

Tenkai wobbles over to the bookcase off to the side. They pluck a certain book off the shelf, and with a wave of their hand, the barrier vanishes, revealing A Brief History of the Senri Clan in all its musty glory.

(It hasn't been updated since the fifth priest before the current ones. Tsurubami had ranted to them long and hard about that once they finally got their hands on the book.)

Like Tsurubami had suggested a long, long time ago, Tenkai had the book swapped out for a conveniently dense decoy, disguising both with a cloaking barrier as the other. Not even their superiors had figured out the swap, but that won't last much longer once someone finally realizes they're missing a book or two.

Especially not after Kuroji's plan blows up in their face and they inevitably throw caution to the wind over it. Tenkai can just picture their rage now. The way their cheeks puff up and turn red when angered had always made them snicker.

They blow the dust off the cover before tucking it under their arm. Oh, they couldn't wait until their little prank is discovered. People like those two are way more fun to manipulate than some of the other idiots that occasionally try to make use of them. It's going to be great.

But right now...What exactly should they do? Their superiors are going to be pissed either way, even though they have dozens of those bloated rulebooks lying around in here. Should they put this book back and let sleeping dogs lie for a little while? Hm...

Their attention turns to the old forbidden bookcase it should be on. A smirk plays at their lips.

Perhaps the scoundrels can serve one more use to them after all? They may not know it yet, but they've already humiliated their superiors once today with their crime. What's a little more to teach those hags a well overdue lesson?

...Tsurubami would definitely be cackling at what they've done if they were still here. They'll definitely have to tell them about this when they meet again.

#ask and you shall receive (writing requests) #len'en #len'en project #len'en fanfiction #tenkai zuifeng #kuroji shitodo #adagumo no saragimaru #(tsurubami is mentioned quite a bit here) #(because Tenkai) #(but I'm not tagging them lol) #Seriously I'm really sorry this took so long! #This thing was a complete asshole to finish #Ideas would not flow for a while there lol #I wanted to try something new #(and keep from pigeonholing myself) #and decided to flex my skills at comedy #not sure how funny this actually is #but I gave it my best shot! #...and got a little too into my worldbuilding again (Oops!) #the magic imagery was fun though #and hey! Kuroji finally got to be a bitch in a fic I wrote! Hooray! #Victory all around! #(Even if they didn't win) #(but they don't know that lol) #tw death threats #tw choking #(more imagery than actual but still) #gratuitous worldbuilding #a scoundrel and their swordsnake (slaver team) #the old dictators (tsurubami & tenkai)

[taintedevesayori]

Sayo's Route: Dark 06

Sayo's Route Masterlist

-Sayo is in the library with a book in her lap. She is staring at the ceiling, unable to focus on her book

(Reiji told me to solve the conflict with Laito and then he would change who is watching over me…but how am I supposed to do that? Laito has been even more insufferable than usual these past few days. He said he wanted to fix things and get along, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore…I wonder why…)

???: Hey, hey~ Looks like someone is lost in thought.

Sayo: Hm…?

-She glances back to see the blonde vampire from the other day. Kou grins at her

Kou: Long time no see! I was growing impatient since I haven’t seen you in a while, you know?

Sayo: Impatient? Over what?

Kou: I didn’t expect to see you by yourself. Shouldn’t you be more cautious?

Sayo: Oh, I’m sure I’m being watched…He’s probably waiting for something like this to happen…Haah…

Kou: Hm? What do you mean?

Sayo: Because of you guys, the brothers decided I needed a babysitter. Laito, of all people. It’s been extremely annoying. I’m sure he’s left me alone on purpose. He’s probably lurking nearby, waiting for one of you to approach me so he can waltz up and suggest you guys take my blood in some freaky threeway thing. That damn pervert is too into that kind of thing. So, unless you want to be caught up in something so unpleasant, I would leave me be.

-Kou narrows his eyes at her

Kou: You’re just saying that to get me to leave. You’ll have to do better than that-

Laito: Sayo-chan~!

-Laito walks up to them

Laito: And Mukami Kou-kun, is it?

Sayo: Just wait for it.

Kou: Che…Don’t get in my way here.

Laito: In your way, huh? Nfu~ I don’t plan on stopping you. Why don’t all three of us have some fun~? We can squeeze Sayo-chan in between us and indulge in her together.

Sayo: Haah…told you so.

Kou: So you’re into that, huh…?

Laito: Nfu~ is that a problem?

Kou: It’s pretty disgusting. Are all of you aristocrats with too much time and money on your hands like this?

(This is actually a bit amusing. Guess Kou has some pretty strong opinions on people like Laito. Still, I shouldn’t stick around for too long. Once they’re distracted enough, I’ll sneak away.)

Laito: I just love this sort of thing. The vanilla stuff became boring a long time ago. Can’t you understand? You’re a vampire as well. Pleasure is the best spice to deal with this eternal time on our hands, don’t you think? Anything is fine as long as I get to feel good…get it?

Kou: Che…this side of you makes me want to puke. You’re exactly the same as all the other freaks I’ve met…!

-Sayo takes this as a good opportunity to get up and sneak out of the library

Laito: This is my true self, you know? Did you have high hopes for me? I don’t believe there is any truth aside from pleasure in this world.

Kou: I changed my mind~! Let’s have some fun together another time-

-Kou turns, only to see Sayo is gone

Laito: Aw~ She slipped away. Always when I take my eyes off her…such a cruel girl. Haah…

-Laito leaves the library as well

Kou: Disgusting bastard…I can’t believe myself…I actually feel bad for that girl…having to put up with someone like him.

#diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers #sayori makina #kou mukami #laito sakamaki #sayo's route

[shepardlives]

*slams buzzer* Abby for all them!!!!

1. Canon I outright reject

That he does not exist and I cannot kiss him

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Abby is a big ol cat so expect cat behaviors

3. Obscure headcanon

Abby has to resist the urge to groom people constantly. He just loves his friends

4. Favorite line

“Nya :3c”

5. Best personality trait

Abby is very loyal, even if he can be aloof

6. Worst personality trait

Abby is very quick to cut and run because of his past, so it’s a lot of work to gain his trust and make him stick around

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Abby is around 37, 7 feet even, and around 300 pounds

8. Unpopular opinion about them

The best love interest for Genji don’t @ me

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the

character

He popped into my brain because I was tired of Genji/l*cio

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

All :)

11. Faceclaim for the role

God I had a face claim but I can’t FIND IT if I find him I’ll edit this

12. Crack headcanon

Abby has a rough tongue like a cat but only Sometimes

13. Dumbest thing they've ever done

Genji

14. Most heroic moment

Abby has worked with overwatch to save a lot of people but he’s very proud of the times he’s saved kids

15. Worst thing they've ever done

He’s killed a lot of his fellow preds, either in the lab or because they couldn’t be saved… it still weighs on him

16. Deepest darkest secret they won't even admit

He doesn’t know that he wanted to be saved. It might have been better if he’d gone crazy and someone put a bullet in him

17. Quotes. sonas. poems. etc. that | associate

“Not a man like you”

18. What they'd go to see a therapist about

Probably the massive amount of mental and physical abuse they went through while being experimented on or the feelings of non-personhood

19. Vices/bad habits

Abby tends to smoke or scratch at his clothing when he’s nervous so he goes through a lot of clothes

20. Scars

Many

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

Abby likes iced mochas a lot. Usually this is just him adding chocolate milk to his coffee

22. Best physical feature

His muscles :^)

23. If they were a scented candle, what would

they smell like?

Chocolate, firewood, and tiger lilies

24. Most annoying habit

Abby doesn’t exactly keep normal sleeping hours

25. 3 things they'd want to take with them if they

were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Abby actually struggles with the idea of keeping anything thanks to his upbringing- he’d keep a weapon but that’s about it

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator

with insert character of your choice from the

same fandom]

If it were Cole, probably play cards. If it were Genji well. Depends on how long they were stuck

27. Their guilty pleasure

Abby loves reality tv. It’s terrible but he can’t stop watching

28. How they feel about insert character of your

choice from the same fandom]

Abby actually feels a lot of pity for reaper. He knows how that much anger and hurt can eat you alive

29. Eating habits

Abby is a fucking trash can and will eat whatever you give him. He’s very polite and won’t ask for seconds but he could very easily eat three plates of food

30. Sleeping habits

Abby sleeps very lightly and at all hours of the day. If he ever goes missing it’s most likely he’s found a quiet spot to take a cat nap

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

Abby is very interested in robotics and other technological advances. He’d have a big STEM themed blog. Also lots of pictures of fish around lunch and dinner time

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/

laugh

Abby loves terrible jokes: Reyes always got a laugh out of him when they were on missions

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

Abby is pretty well regulated there so it takes a lot- but talking about his old family does the trick, always

34. How they react when they are feeling X

emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.-can

specify as many as you like)

Abby is very cautious- he’s big, he’s black, and he’s clearly not all the way human, so his emotions have to be regulated- but when he’s angry he’s furious. He tends to lose himself in it and the results are usually bloody

35. Their idea of a perfect day

Cat nap in the sun, a good workout/wrestle session with whatever tank is around, a hearty lunch, a walk/date with Genji, a good meal for dinner, and then cuddling until Genji falls asleep (zoomies at 3 am)

36. Their favorite season

Abby loves winter

37. What they really think about themselves

Abby thinks… he is an anomaly in a world that doesn’t always take kindly to those. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, but he wants a place in this world.

38. Favorite holiday

Christmas!

39. Favorite game

Abby isn’t much of a gamer but he usually tunes into Hana’s streams to see what’s up. He’d really like stardew valley if he tried it

40. Favorite book

As intelligent as he is Abby isn’t a huge reader. He liked the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe though

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the

world (living or dead, from any fictional universe

or the real world), who would it be?

His mom

42. 3 comfort items

Sunbeams, hoodies, and a stress ball Zenyatta gave him

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Abby is a trash can as mentioned but he doesn’t like cucumber. Salmon is his favorite fish

44. Their happiest memory

Meeting Genji

45. Their favorite celebrity

Hana Song

46. The person they most admire

Genji, for finding peace and acceptance in what he’s been made into

47. Their dream job

Abby would love to be a kindergarten teacher

48. Scariest moment of their life

See: his whole childhood in the lab

49. Favorite toy as a child

There was a desk in his room he played pretend with

50. A memory they've blocked out

Some of the more violent experiments, especially at first. Growing his tiger features (ears, tail, claws) weren’t exactly painless experiments

[hopes-peak-postal-company]

Hey Mod Akane! I hope you're doing well :) I was hoping to get a romantic matchup for Doki Doki Literature Club, My Hero Academia, and One Punch Man please!

Name: Zachary

Likes/Hobbies: Writing, Reading, Cooking, Learning Obscure Facts, Conspiracies, Meteorology, Astronomy, 80s music (though I like most music), Going on Walks (especially while listening to music), Lasagna (seriously I'm like Garfield when it comes to lasagna), doing a little trolling, being the best person I can be for my loved ones, and being with loved ones for that matter, though I do enjoy a decent amount of alone time.

Dislikes: Being a burden, seafood, fake people, being looked down upon

Personality: I'm a pansexual INFP with he/him pronouns! I'm very eccentric to say the least, I like to go on the road less traveled on and try new things. A walking disaster but I wouldn't have it any other way! I try to be nonconfrontational and work things out, but I won't be a pushover. I enjoy my alone time, but also enjoy being with my loved ones. I like to find a good balance. I try my best to become better every day. I'm not perfect in any sense and do fall into depressive episodes, but I try my best to be at least decent. I'm not the best at communicating, but once I find someone I can trust I open up easily!

Physical traits: Skinny, tall, white with a light tan, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair parted in the middle, green eyes. I usually like to wear a cool jacket or overshirt depending on the season.

Also I didn't know where to put it but I figured it might be important to add I'm the oldest of 9 kids, with 5 sisters and 3 brothers. I don't know if it will be relevant but :p

I hope your happy with who I matched you up with.

Your Doki Doki Literature Club Matchup Is….

SAYORI:

* The literature club often gets annoyed when the two of you are late too a meeting because you both decided to go on a spontaneous trip to a new store that just opened up

* The two of you make a habit of trying out a new activity every Saturday

* Sayori will often run up to you excited to share with you something new she found on the internet that the two of you can do together

* Sometimes you both will even invite the rest of the club to come along with you guys

* Everyone calls the both of you the eccentric couple due to you both having similar personalities, but people find how the two of you can keep up with each others energy endearing though

* Whenever you want to have some alone time Sayori respects it, but make sure you reassure her it’s not because of her, since sometimes she starts to doubt herself in secret

* Likes that your not a push over because sometimes she doesn’t put her opinion across and she’s glad she’s got you there to be the assertive one in the situation

*Since you both don’t like confrontation, but your more willing to put someone in their place than she is

* The two of you can relate to each other, since you both fall into depressive episodes and it’s reassuring that you both can lean on and understand each other

* You both comfort the other when one of you falls into a depressive episode, since you both understand the signs one of you is going through one without either of you being verbal about that fact

* Even though Sayori shares a lot of things some of the more darker aspects of her life she keeps quiet about, so just like you it takes her time to open up about them, but once you open up to her it encourages Sayori to do the same to you

* She loves tasting anything you cook, especially if it is something sweet

* Will be over the moon if you make her lunch for school

* Anything you write she will read even if it takes her a while to get through it

* She will even take some book recommendations from you, but probably gets bored with reading it and ends up watching the movie at least that’s something

* Happily listens to all the obscure facts you know and happily goes around telling everyone

* “Hey, look what Zachary taught me!”

* Being the oldest one of your siblings comes in handy when dealing with Sayori since she can at times act childish, so it is very helpful to know how to deal with that

* Would love it if you let her wear one of your cool jackets or over-shirts, but won’t ask directly for it and instead opts to tugging on the sleeve of the one your wearing and compliments it hoping you get the hint

* Tries to learn to make lasagna for you, but ends up burning it maybe you can give her some cooking lessons

* She likes to play a few jokes on people herself, so she would happily help you do some trolling, but her laughter does often give it away

* Admires how you always try to be an amazing person and that’s one of the reasons on why she fell for you

* Will accompany you on your walks and if you play some music she starts twirling around with one of your earbuds in her ear making the wire tangle with the other one in your ear

* The two of you spend dates coming up with new conspiracies, especially ones you think could be taking place at school

* Doesn’t really understand meteorology and astrology, but she happily listens to you rant about it even if she does ask some dumb questions she is interested none the less

* But don’t go on about them for too long because she might accidentally end up falling asleep

* Overall, Sayori and you are a really good couple and you both are really lucky to have each other.

Your My Hero Academia Matchup Is….

MOMO YAOYOROZU:

* Your spontaneous trips help Momo loosen up a little because usually she likes to stick to what she knows and not try anything new, but once you drag her with you on a few she starts to enjoy them

* She would never join you on them during school time though because she doesn’t want to be late, but if she fails to convince you not to go on them she will write down any notes to give to you if you miss them from being late

* She likes that your on the more the eccentric side because she herself is quite shy and she needs a bit of chaos in her life to bring her out of her shell

* Momo respects when you want some alone time and asks if you want her to stay with you and if you say no she will make you some tea and then leave you alone for the rest of the day

* Sometimes she thinks it’s her fault when she’s going through an insecurity episode herself, so during that time you should spend it with her and just remind her that she’s fine you just like to be alone sometimes

* She will be happy you took the time to reassure her even if she knew that she was just self doubting

* Momo isn’t that big on confrontation either and often tries to play peace maker when people have an argument

* She appreciates when you come to her defence though, since if someone snaps at her she usually becomes at a loss for words when people turn on her like that

* When you fall into depressive episodes Momo doesn’t know what to do, so decides to read up on it thoroughly, so she can better help you

* If you really want her to give you space though she will respect that, but she will check up on you every once in a while to make sure your doing okay

* Is overjoyed when you finally trust her enough to tell her private things and swears to keep them to herself and she makes good on that by never uttering what you told her to anyone else

* She returns the favour and shares things private about herself to you as well

* Will taste test anything you make and makes tea to go with whatever meal you have prepared

* Momo can’t really cook that well, due to usually having her personal chefs do it for her, but she is happy to aid you with the basic tasks of cooking and gathering the ingredients part. Will be very appreciative if you take the time to teach her how to cook yourself

* Will read anything you write and due to her being top in her class she gently points out any grammar mistakes you may have made to better improve your writing

* She can’t give any help on the story telling part though since she is not the most creative person when it comes to that part

* Will listen to all of your obscure facts and recites some she has learnt herself from reading information books and lends some to you in case you want to learn even more obscure facts to tell people

* Likes to hear stories about what your siblings have done now, since she is an only child, so doesn’t know what it is like to have a big family

* Will buy you new cool jackets and over shirts to wear as presents she buys you branded ones as well

* She also gets one of her family chefs to teach her how to make Lasagna to surprise you with it and if it doesn’t turn out quite right she gets the chef to make you some, so she can give it to you

* Isn’t much of a jokester herself, so this is one thing your going to have to teach her and soon she will be making loads of jokes in no time, even if most of them don’t land very well

* Loves going on walks with you it helps calm her down and she does give your music a listen too, since she wants to know more about you maybe you both can swap playlists sometime

* Doesn’t really believe in most conspiracy theories, but will happily listen to one’s you come up with or have researched about, maybe you both can have a debate on why it’s real or not

* Knows a lot about meteorology and astrology from reading them in books, so you can both have conversations about the subjects during one of your dates

* Her knowledge probably won’t be as broad as yours though because that’s not the only thing she researched about and put all of her attention on to

* Overall, Momo is a great girlfriend and the two of you make a good couple even if you both have a few differences you both get along very well with each other.

Your One Punch Man Match Up Is….

Genos:

* Always accompanies you on any walks you want to go on because he enjoys them and also wants to make sure your safe

*Because what if you stumble across a monster when going along some unexplored path

* He does like your eccentric personality it’s what makes you unique from everyone else and is something he admires you for

* He can also handle it very well, since most of the people he hangs around are quite eccentric themselves even if they don’t mean to be

* When you want some alone time it is hard for Genos to understand at first, since he thinks there are ways he can help

* But after Saitama explains it to him and he does some analysis himself he gives you your alone time

* When you want to hang out with him again though he’s right outside waiting with a meal ready for you to eat

* Genos is not a massive fan of confrontation, but he will not hesitate to do it when someone has done something wrong or has done something to wrong you

* Even if he isn’t very good at coming up with insults he will still reprimand them as much as he can

* If you ever defend him against someone he very much appreciates it

* Though he does say to let him handle it next time because he doesn’t want anyone doing something to you in anger from your words to them

* When you fall into depressive episodes Genos is unsure how to handle them he becomes overly caring just wanting to make you feel better

* He reads tonnes of books and does loads of research just to figure out the best way to handle it

* He will give you space though once you finally tell him to

* Does get worried though, so Saitama ends up having to reassure him, much to his dismay, that you will be okay during this time

* Swears on Saitama’s life that he will never repeat your secrets to anyone, even if he can sometimes be a bit of a blabber mouth, but he will tread with extra caution to keep your secrets to himself and safe from prying people

* He is quite happy when you finally trust him though

* Even though he is not required to eat if it is something you have made he will gladly try it and give you his opinion on it

* Sometimes he over exaggerates his compliments on the food, since he loves you and wants to make you feel proud of what you have made

* Genos is also not too bad at cooking himself and he will help you in the kitchen to the best of his ability

* One time though he accidentally released to much fire from his hand resulting in the both of you having to evacuate the kitchen

* Saitama still ate the burnt food that was still in the oven after the fire was put out though

* Genos is happy to read any story that you have written and feels honoured when you allow him too

* He does try to give you more ideas on what to write, but most of his ideas aren’t very good

* Genos will listen intently and write down all the obscure facts you tell him

* He even does a data analysis to find some more obscure facts that you might not know, so he can tell you them

* Will help you to look after any of your siblings if you ask him to, hopefully he will get along with all of them

* Any money he gets from being a hero he tries to save it aside, so he can buy you some cool jackets or over shirts as a gift, since you deserve to be treated by him

* Will teach himself how to make lasagna and after many failed attempts he can finally present you with his creation

* Hopefully you will like it

* Doesn’t really understand jokes that much, but will still laugh anyway

* Please laugh at his jokes even if they are unfunny he is trying his best to make you laugh

* He did a whole survey to find out what the perfect joke consists of

* His joke turned out far from perfect though

* Will accompany you on walks to make sure you are safe and because he enjoys spending that time with you

* He will listen to your music and he actually enjoyed it, he doesn’t really listen to much music, but maybe he should start. Hopefully you can recommend him more songs to listen to

* Genos kind of believes in most conspiracy theories if their is evidence that it could exist

* So any conspiracy theories you come up with he is definitely believing because your his lover and he doesn’t doubt you

* Will find out more about astrology and meteorology just for you and does loads of data analysis on them

* Hoping to impress you with his knowledge and to benefit yours about these topics you love to discuss as well

* He loves it when you talk about them to him as well and will always write detailed notes on what you tell him, like your teaching a class of only one student

* Overall, Genos is an amazing boyfriend to have and he appreciates everything about you and will do everything he can to understand your interests and desires even if they are a bit confusing for him to understand straight away on his own.

#doki doki literature club matchup #my hero academia matchup #one punch man matchup #matchup

[riahlynn101]

"The Caretaker's Keeper" (2).

Thank you, guys, for all the support on the last chapter <3 I appreciate it all so much!

Trigger warnings: kidnapping, people in distress, All for One upping his creepiness meter, abandonment issues, implied/referenced child abandonment, and swearing.

I took the last chapter and made it worse (in my opinion). As always, take care your mental health first. Don't read something that might aggravate existing issues (be kind to yourselves) ^w^

Chapter 2 (final part)

--

“My brother likes you,” his boss says, an unreadable expression on his face. It fills Izuku with a certain sense of foreboding, like his entire existence hangs in the balance of one man’s unhealthy obsession with his younger brother (and it kind of does). 

“O-oh?” Izuku puts his pencil down and looks up at his boss. He tries not to make eye contact. Kacchan hates it when he does that; he thinks it has something to do with control and wanting to feel powerful. His boss has never laid into him for looking at him like his former friend does (or did as they started at separate high schools, three months ago) but old habits die hard. 

“Yes, and if I’m particularly honest, I find myself becoming quite fond of your presence.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words feel hollow coming from his mouth. Fondness from his boss is akin to superglue that spills and dries on carpet. More and more he sees that Yoichi is living proof of that. 

“Well, I see no need to beat around the bush. Izuku-Kun, I’m going to need you to move in.”

“Move…in?”

“Yes, move in. I have to be away on a business trip for a month, or so, and I don’t trust any of my associates to handle my brother with care. Besides, it will be easier for you to stay here rather than taking the bus back-and-forth.”

“I-I don’t know, sir. My mom-”

“Will be sent fifty-percent of your paycheck. I know you usually give her all of your earnings, but I think you should save at least five hundred per paycheck for college.”

There’s something to his words. A finality. 

“I don’t want to-” he stops himself, seeing the stormy glare his boss is giving him. “My mom will worry about me.”

“You can still call her, everyday.”

He swallows hard, fighting back tears. “But my school. I have to leave anyway to attend.”

“Online schooling is a remarkable thing. I’m sure my brother would love to tutor you. He loves helping others.”

Izuku sighs. There’s little he can do right now. A month is not that long anyways. “And this arrangement is just for a month?”

His boss smiles, head resting on his hands. “Of course, Izuku-Kun. Would I ever lie to you?”

-x-x-x-

“I’m overjoyed that you decided to stay with us.” 

Izuku fights down a scoff. It’s not in his best interest to show his boss attitude. He gets mildly annoyed when Yoichi does it, and the man’s his adored little brother. He would hate to see what someone like him-who has barely broached the level of ‘fondness’-would get if he dared to be a little extra cheeky.

“I’m very glad to be here, sir,” Izuku says, keeping his tone bright and cheery. 

His hair is ruffled for the hundredth time today - his boss really likes doing that for some reason. And, despite his negative feelings towards him, Izuku finds it kind of nice. His own father never engaged in affection of any sort, choosing instead to keep Izuku at arm's length. 

They stand in the middle of his (well, less his and more the designated room his boss has decided to graciously offer him) temporary bedroom. The interior design is uncomfortably reminiscent of the vault Yoichi has been trapped in for however long. 

(Sometimes Yoichi will whisper names to him. Just names, nothing else. Like he doesn’t trust himself to keep them safe, or wants to make sure they live on. And they always come out sounding so heart wrenchingly sad.)

It has the same layout with the twin bed (with similar-looking bedding) and a desk and a bookshelf with all the same books he’s seen on the bookshelf in the vault.

A shiver creeps down his spine. His mother hadn’t been happy with this new arrangement, and almost made him quit (something neither of them can afford to do), but she let him go when he told her it’s a month at most.

“I hope this room is to your liking, Izuku-Kun.” His boss watches him from the doorway. 

“Very much so, sir.” He can’t handle looking at this room any longer, so he subtly joins his boss back in the hallway. “How is Yoi- your brother doing today?” 

He hasn’t seen the other brother since Friday (his boss allowed him a couple of days off to spend with his mom, which was….kind of him….Izuku supposes). 

“Good. He’s very excited to help you with your schoolwork.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to speak with him more?” All their conversations have been very one sided. It would be nice to finally be able to ask Yoichi some questions.

“Within reason. Any talk regarding current events, or escape plans will be met with garnished wages. Of which will firstly be taken from the portion of the paycheck given to your mother.”

Izuku opens his mouth but quickly closes it with a muted click. 

“And of course, I don’t need to tell you that any attempts at helping my brother escape will result in a consequence you really won’t like.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Off to see my brother you go. I have a meeting to attend, but I would love for you to meet me in the dining room around six.”

“Yes, sir.” Izuku turns on his heels, heading for the elevator that will take him down…down…down to Yoichi’s “room.” 

-x-x-x-

It’s nice being able to talk to Yoichi. He has to keep some of his questions to himself, but anything is better than standing unmoving for hours at a time. There had even been another chair brought in just for him, though Izuku guesses that might have something to do with the fact that Yoichi is going to tutor him for the month Izuku has to homeschool. 

Yoichi is quiet today. Unnaturally so. 

He sits at his desk, shoulders hunched up. A curtain of white hair blocks Izuku from seeing his face. He doodles on a drawing pad. The faint sounds of pencil on paper seem extraordinarily loud with every moment that passes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching a hand out to…..to he doesn’t know. Check his temperature? Pat his back? “Do you need a-”

“I’m fine,” Yoichi snaps. The sounds of pencil on paper increase, undue pressure being added. 

It would be wise, he thinks, to back off. Izuku has been through enough to know when his help is not wanted, nor needed. He chews at his bottom lip, casting a worried glance towards the camera. 

Still, he has a job to do. 

He tries again, this time scooting his chair closer. 

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine. Did something-” The words die in his throat at the icy glare Yoichi sends him. 

“You should’ve quit when you had the chance.” Despite his glare, there is no bite to his words, only a bone-weary sadness. 

-x-x-x-

The hours between that strange confession and dinner had been excruciatingly long. Yoichi returned to ignoring his existence, but listened when the time came to switch to another task. He ate his dinner a little early and turned in for the night.

Which meant that Izuku had to endure the company of his boss’ other employees. They’re polite to him, at least more so than people usually are. But that’s not saying much. Their boss doesn’t tolerate disrespect, nor rudeness, so maybe everyone being “nice” is a condition of employment. 

He hangs out in the kitchen until he’s called upon for dinner. Something about watching the cooks bustle around the kitchen is interesting to watch. It vaguely reminds him of those cooking shows his mom and him used to watch before his father left and they could no longer afford cable. Sometimes they even let him taste-test the food.

By the time he’s collected for dinner, Izuku has almost fallen asleep, pressed in the corner between a metal-shelving unit and a mop bucket. A maid twice as old as his mom pokes him with her foot, urging him to get up and make himself look “presentable.”

He’s then taken by the elbow to a side room. The maid uses her thin, bony fingers to tame his wild hair. She soothes out his clothes, trying to work out all the wrinkles she can before opening the dining room door and ushering him inside. 

“Midoriya Izuku, master,” she announces, bowing. 

The dining room is surprisingly humble. The table is fit for a family of four. It looks worn, the wood old. His boss’ chair creaks with the slightest movement. And the room itself is quite small. The floral wallpaper is peeling in some areas and crinkling in others. 

Their boss dismisses the maid with a wave of his hand. Izuku envies the maid who can exist invisible to their boss, only called upon to fetch guests or clean rooms. The latter of which Izuku hates with a burning passion, especially folding laundry - but he would rather be doing that than having dinner with his boss. 

“Izuku-Kun,” His boss greets, sipping on his wine. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

As if he had a choice!

Izuku smiles, bowing. If his father did one thing right, it was instilling a proper understanding of politeness and manners. “Happy to be here, sir.” His tone betrays nothing. 

Must be over-eager, not reluctant.

“So formal. Come, come, sit.”

Izuku, as per usual, obeys. He sits to his boss’ right (the only other place setting). The fabric place mats are a deep green. They remind him of his mom’s eyes. 

His heart twists. 

One month. He can do this!

“I hope my brother didn’t give you any trouble today?”

Izuku shakes his head. He’s seen how cruel his boss can be to Yoichi. His biting words always go further than he realizes. 

( Or maybe, a voice whispers in his mind, he doesn’t care). 

“Fine, sir. He followed the schedule perfectly.”

His boss smiles but it doesn’t reach his blood red eyes. “As a heads up, my brother might be particularly….hm…. moody during the upcoming month.”

Despite not asking permission to speak, or being asked a direct question, Izuku’s own curiosity wins out. “How come….uh….sir.”

His boss frowns down at his placemat. “I’m afraid the anniversary of our parents’ deaths is coming up.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry for your brother and your losses.”

His boss looks at him, face impassive. “Can I ask you something, Izuku-Kun?”

He stares longingly at the door leading to the kitchen. Maybe he should just book it. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to make rent this month, but they would get through it. They always do. 

His boss clears his throat. 

On instinct, Izuku snaps his attention back to the tall, imposing figure sitting next to him. “Yes, of course, sir. You can ask me anything.”

“Your father,” he starts, swirling the liquid in his glass of wine, “he treated you poorly, correct?”

Izuku looks up at the ceiling. “N-no.” He forces himself to look at his boss. There’s a level of vulnerability that comes with talking about Hisashi Midoriya. One of two people in the world that should have been guaranteed to like him, and Izuku can’t even have that. 

“No? What do you call walking out on your family?”

“He….he doesn’t matter. I have my mom and that’s good enough for me.”

His boss watches him, and Izuku knows he’s watching him. He does that a lot, like he enjoys picking apart Izuku’s reactions. It feels wrong and violating, but he’s been wrong before. So, maybe he’s overreacting. 

“Is it?” His boss asks.

Before Izuku can respond, the door to the kitchen opens. The head chef along with a waiter bring in their dinner. It’s Katsudon. His favorite.

He has no appetite. 

-x-x-x-

A week passes and his boss leaves on his business trip. Izuku is given a list of emergency contacts and a whole binder full of contingency plans if anything goes awry. 

Both of which sit on Izuku’s (borrowed) desk. He leafs them over in between caring for Yoichi and some other chores he picked up to be more helpful. His boss didn’t say he had to do chores, but sitting around and watching others clean up after him makes Izuku feel gross. 

He feels worthless enough without watching the elderly maid bend down with her creaking back to pick up the house. 

Besides, the maids and other staff don’t seem to mind. They have even started letting him in on some of their gossip and inside jokes. And it fills his time.

As his boss forewarned, Yoichi’s temperament is mercurial. He follows his schedule to the letter, but spares no warm words or knowing glances. This would be fine if Izuku didn’t have to spend an extra hour or so a day getting tutored by him.

(He misses Yoichi. He wishes the man would just talk to him).

Every night he calls his mom. No matter where she’s at, she always, always picks up the phone. Her soft voice makes him feel a little less alone. He tells her about his new coworkers and how nice everyone is (some of them aren’t, but his mom shouldn’t have to worry about him). In turn, she tells him about her own co-workers and the new orange cat that their neighbors recently brought home. 

He misses her terribly. 

The month can’t end fast enough.

-x-x-x-

Another good thing that’s come out of being trapped here for a month, is that Izuku can see so many cool and interesting quirks up close and personal. 

Outside, people are weary of using their quirks. Some skirt the rule of no outside quirk usage unless you possess a provisional license, but unless they’re a villain, even those people use their quirk sparingly. 

He’s so glad he brought another empty notebook along. These people aren’t heroes by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside Izuku pushes him to ask questions and analyze all the potential ways their quirks could be used in combat (or just in day-to-day life). 

However, he’s had to limit his questions, as it seems even the people within these walls aren’t immune to thinking him odd. His mumbling is creepy to them (as is always the case). 

Even Yoichi, who’s still ignoring him whenever possible, looks at him with a sense of unease. 

Still, he has thirty of the one hundred-fifty pages filled. It would be a waste to not continue on.

-x-x-x-

Everyone has their boiling point.

“I don’t understand. Please, stop ignoring me. Your brother said-”

And Yoichi’s boiling point finally, well, boils over after a particularly confusing math lesson. He glares at Izuku, stopping the rest of the words from leaving his mouth. 

“My brother says a lot of things. He means none of them.” Yoichi leans over until he’s staring Izuku right in the eyes. “You’re foolish if you believe anything he tells you.”

For a second, Izuku is transported back to his fourth year of elementary school. Instead of Yoichi being in his face, it’s his then-teacher, Aoki-Sensei. All of his teachers were their own level of cruel to him, ranging from neglectful to full on encouraging the other students to terrorize him, but Aoki-Sensei always stood out. 

She had started out nice. Patient and empathetic to his plight as being the social pariah in his class. Each day she let him sit in her classroom before and after school (so he wouldn’t run into Kacchan), allowed him to complain about how unfair life is, and even sometimes walked him home. 

After years of no adults in his life caring (sans his mom), it was nice having someone who listened and saw Izuku for who he is. 

And then it came to an end. Aoki-Sensei must have started becoming a social pariah among the other staff members-because that’s the only reason that makes sense (surely she hadn’t played the long game, in an effort to hurt him more?)-because suddenly, one day, she became just as cold as the rest of his teachers.

She seemed to take great pride in pointing out his flaws, laughing along with the class as he sobbed loudly. What made it ten-times worse was that, after school, when he asked what he had done to warrant this new behavior, she had simply said, “you must be a special level of foolish to believe I ever cared about you.”

Over the top, almost cartoonishly evil words aside. Those words had stuck with Izuku all these years later, weighing him down. 

That feeling of being so utterly ashamed comes back in full force. 

Ashamed that anyone would have ever treated him kindly. 

Ashamed that he believed he had a friend, or confidant in someone.

Ashamed because no matter how hard Izuku tries to dig himself out of the metaphorical hole he’s been trapped inside since he received his quirkless diagnosis he’ll forever be stuck.

“Stop!” Izuku shouts, standing up suddenly. The movement makes him dizzy, but he shakes it off. 

Yoichi follows him. “Stop what? I’m sorry am I being a little mean?”

Izuku can feel his face growing red, burning. His breath hitches, as he fights down his sobs. “Y-yes.”

“Isn’t this what you signed up for? Here’s an idea, if you don’t like me being mean, why don’t you leave ?” 

“I-I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot because your mother and you have nothing to your names, isn’t that right?”

Hearing his mother brought up lights a match inside Izuku. It sets alight some deep, ugly emotion. The kind that makes him feel bitter and numb in place of hurt and embarrassed. 

“Yeah? At least I’m not trapped in a bank vault! What? Couldn’t hack it outside these walls, so your brother-”

Smack!

Izuku is thrown backwards. He hits his head on the corner of the bookshelf on the way down. 

For a second, there’s blissful silence. 

He lays in front of the bookshelf, idly staring up at the ceiling. How has he never noticed that it’s unpainted before? 

And then, like a freight train, the pain hits. 

He moves to sit up, but an overwhelming ache fills the back of his head. It sends sparks of stabbing pain down his spine. He groans. 

Yoichi is on him in an instant. His green eyes-so similar to Izuku’s own-fill with tears. Izuku thinks he might be telling him something, but the words sound so muffled and faraway that he hears nothing beyond his own blood rushing in his ears. 

And then, 

Nothing. 

-x-x-x-

It’s raining when Mikumo makes it back home. Most of his staff has been dismissed for the night, barring some of the guards who have overnight shifts. So, the house is almost completely silent, save for the quiet buzzing of monitors, or the large grandfather clock ticking away in the foyer. 

Out of habit he heads for the security office, the one he uses to keep an eye on his unruly little brother. 

He peeks into Izuku’s room on the way there. It’s clean. More so than what he would expect from a fifteen-year-old boy. Not a thing out of place, nor missing. It’s a little odd he isn’t in bed yet, but Yoichi is probably giving him a hard time. 

Mikumo wouldn’t put it past him to give the kid trouble just so he would run away. He’s certainly done it before. But, from the looks of rumpled sheets (the only thing out of place), he hasn’t succeeded yet. 

There’s a notebook sitting on Izuku’s pillow. It’s blue binding and the large words scribbled across the top: Hero Analysis for the Future: Number 14, catches his eye. He picks it up, leafing through it. 

“This….this is incredible.” Not the hero-part per say but excluding the title there’s not many heroes in the book itself. No, Mikumo’s interest lies in the exquisite way Izuku takes apart quirks. Dissecting them down to their bare components. Turning them inside out and finding out what makes them tick. What makes it all the more impressive is the fact that the kid doesn’t possess a quirk like All for One, so all of his analyses are from simply watching and or asking questions. 

He smiles, clutching the notebook in his hands. 

Clearly this is a sign that Izuku was meant to be their family. He was made for them. 

What a brilliant little brother he’s turning out to be. 

-x-x-x-

Mikumo takes one look at the cameras and is instantly moving for the elevator. His little brother couldn’t help himself, could he? Leave it to Yoichi to make a bad situation worse. 

He opens the vault door hastily, having to reenter the code several times. 

His eyes land on Izuku’s body-very limp, very much not moving, body-first. Even from here it’s easy to see the boy’s eyes are starting to glaze over, and there’s a small puddle of red forming around his head. 

“Help!” His brother screams. He sobs loudly, hands hovering over Izuku. “Fucking help him!”

Mikumo steps closer. “Yoichi-”

“Don’t…” he sobs, rocking back-and-forth (a habit he formed during their tumultuous childhood). “P-please, help him. I-I am so, so sorry.”

He hasn’t seen his brother so broken since- 

Mikumo kneels down. The puddle of blood has grown larger, it covers his knees when he sits. Izuku’s face is paler now. It sends a stab of worry through him. His gut twists. Gingerly, he takes hold of Izuku’s wrist to check his pulse. 

“It’s weak,” he murmurs, just loud enough over his brother’s sobs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Izuku. I didn’t mean it. Please. Please. Please…”

At some point, Mikumo blocks his brother out. This is a time sensitive issue. Judging by the blood loss and the fact it’s coming from his head, the kid probably has less than three minutes before it becomes outside his scope of practice. 

But taking him to the local hospital is also out of the question. He could always ask Doctor Garaki if he’s willing to take on a patient, but the man is too nosy for his own good. He doesn’t even know about Yoichi. 

That leaves him. Mikumo is the one that hired this kid. He’s the one that set this whole plan into motion and forced his little brother and a naive kid together. 

So, it has to be him that saves the day. 

It’s what big brothers are for. 

He has countless regenerating quirks that could fix the kid up in an instant, but Mikumo has another, shared quirk that would better fit the newest member of their family. 

He sighs, placing a hand on Izuku’s forehead. He hadn’t wanted to do this until Izuku got used to his new arrangements. But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. 

“I won’t let you leave me.” 

-x-x-x-

In the morning, he is woken up by his boss. Izuku startles, afraid he’s missed taking breakfast to Yoichi. That’s a whole three hundred dollars his mom will miss out on! All because he slept in.

He goes to sit up, only to be met with a sharp ache in the back of his head, and his boss grasping his biceps. “Easy there, Izuku. Yoichi did a number on you, the idiot. You need to rest.”

Izuku blinks sluggishly at his employer. “What?” 

“All in due time.” His boss covers him back up with the comforter and soothes his hair back. “Rest.” A kiss is laid upon his forehead, easing the ache just a little bit. 

Sleep claims him once again. 

-x-x-x-

Yoichi scrubs the blood on the floor. No staff besides Izuku are allowed in here. Izuku (or his brother) handles anything that might otherwise warrant someone coming in here.

Laundry. 

Changing of supplies.

Deep cleaning. 

And everything in between. 

But neither of them is available right now, and Yoichi can’t bear looking at the slowly drying spot any longer. A horrible, horrible reminder of what he did. 

He scrubs harder, willing it all to go away. The scent of blood and watered-down bleach is nauseating. Even with a mask on, he has to turn away every so often. 

It doesn’t come out, at least not fully. 

He continues rubbing at the spot, trying not to think about the fate he inadvertently thrusted someone so….so young and nice and reminds Yoichi of a better version of himself. A version of himself that hadn’t yet been under his brother’s thumb (at least not aware of it). 

Tears continue pouring down his face. 

His eyes drift over to the older blood stain and then back. 

He sobs, hands braced on the floor. It’s hard to see through his tangled mess of hair. He should have cut it long ago, but the thought of looking anymore like his brother makes him sick. 

“I-I’m sorry, Izuku! I’m so sorry!” 

He curls up on the floor. There’s nothing he can do. He’s useless. 

He’s always been useless. 

-x-x-x-

“Izuku?” 

Someone runs their fingers through his hair. The exact same way his mom does. He smiles, his boss must have sent him home last night. The voice doesn’t match, but maybe his mother has a head cold. 

He groans, snuggling deeper into the pillows. 

His mom laughs. 

He’s…..he’s missed her laugh. 

That isn’t her laugh.

His eyes snap open. His boss hovers over him, stroking his face and hair. 

“Welcome back,” his boss says, something like worry in his voice. “I hope you had a nice nap.”

“What?” 

“I bet you’re confused.”

Confused would be a tad bit under generous for how Izuku feels at the moment, but he’s retained enough self-awareness to recognize doing so might not be good for his health. 

He nods. 

“You took a little tumble. My brother and you got into an argument-”

Oh, that’s right. He insulted Yoichi, and basically called him useless. 

Just like Kacchan used to do to Izuku. 

“-of course, you're fine now. I fixed you all better. I would still like you to rest. I’m working on expanding the vault downstairs, but it might take a while.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. Shouldn’t he be sent home now? If his boss’ words are to be believed, then he’s all better. He should be leaving. His mom will be expecting him soon. 

He can’t leave her like his dad did. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“In the meantime,” his boss continues, oblivious to Izuku’s internal distress, “You can stay in the room I use when I have to move Yoichi place to place.”

“What does that mean?” He asks, voice shaky. 

“It means you’re here to stay. I see something in you. A spark I haven’t seen since my brother and I were your age. I want to keep it. I want to keep you. Little brother.”

Izuku swallows around the lump growing in his throat. “W-why me?”

His boss sighs. “I just explained why, little brother.”

Izuku yanks the blankets off, throwing himself forward and off the bed. He lands on the metal floor. The coolness of the material brings him back to his senses long enough to realize that this room is tiny, half the size of the room he’s been staying in and has metal flooring and a metal ceiling. 

He scrambles to his feet. It’s hard to hear anything over his own blood rushing through his ears, which brings a nauseating bout of nostalgia. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sickening sound of his own skull caving in. 

He shakes his head to get rid of the unwanted memory, but it only makes him feel worse. 

Somehow he makes it across the room on trembling legs to pull at the door. It’s not the typical vault-style door. So, it should open. Right? 

He pulls and pushes and yanks. 

“It’s not going to open, little brother.”

“I’m not your fucking little brother! Let me leave now!” His mind is going a million miles per hour, each thought whizzing by like runaway trains. All he can focus on is needing to escape. He needs to leave! 

He needs out!

There’s a clicking sound. “I wouldn’t normally tolerate such indecent language, but you’re clearly adjusting. I’ll let it slide if you say sorry.”

“No!”

“Izuku.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

He sees his boss step forward. “One more chance. Say sorry.”

Izuku presses his back against the door. He shakes his head frantically. “M-mom! Mommy help me!”

His boss takes another step and then another. Izuku closes his eyes. Silently he apologizes to his mom for being such a terrible son.

He’s being lifted and held securely against a firm chest. A hand returns to his hair. 

“It’s okay, little brother. You’re scared, but things will be okay now. Everything will be alright, Nii-San is here.”

Through his panic, Izuku doubts that. Nothing in his life, minus the paychecks he gets like clockwork every week, has been okay. 

If getting out of poverty means enduring whatever this is, Izuku will eat dollar store packets of ramen every night and every morning for the rest of time. The minute he hits sixteen he’ll apply to everyplace in the city, and work as many jobs as possible to keep his mom and him afloat. 

“Please, let me go. My mom-”

The grip around holding him to his boss’ chest tightens. “Your mom is no longer your mom. She doesn't want you anymore.”

Logically, Izuku knows his boss is lying. His mom hadn’t given him up after a quirkless diagnosis, or after his father left and doing so would have been more financially smart. She’s too kind for that. She’s too much of a good mom to ever leave him. 

He knows that, but…..

…..Izuku’s so tired. 

Comprehending anything beyond what is in the here and now feels out of reach. He wants to go home so badly, his body hurts when he thinks about being trapped here. 

“N-no she didn’t.”

“She did. One of my men took your paycheck to her, and she was in the process of moving out. Apparently she was in quite the hurry. She took the paycheck and slammed the door.”

“But she wouldn’t….” the words die in his throat. He feels sick. 

Five years ago, he would have said the same thing about his father. So, maybe she would. 

“M-mom,” he says, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“But it’s okay, your big brothers will take care of you.”

Numbly, Izuku nods. 

A childish ask bubbles up from his chest. Summoning his last remaining courage, he asks, “you won’t leave me, right?”

“For as long as I live,” his bos- big brother promises. 

He feels empty inside. 

-x-x-x-

The first few years are hard. 

In truth, Izuku has no way to know if years have passed. He himself doesn’t change and neither does the vault. Yoichi tries to help keep track of time for his sake, but quickly loses count.

They share the vault, Yoichi’s twin bed becoming a trundle bed. (“So, neither of you get lonely during the night,” big brother explained). Sometimes it’s hard being together all day and all night, never being able to escape to somewhere that’s not here, in this place. 

Yoichi has taken it in stride. At times he holds Izuku (his grip looser than big brother’s) and tells him in near-inaudible whispers that one day they’ll be able to leave the room. 

Izuku can’t bring himself to hope anymore. 

They don’t get a new caretaker, Nii-San likes to do the mundane tasks himself. He comes around every few hours with food, medicine, or supplies. His constant presence is every bit as stifling as it is comforting. 

So, it’s strange one day when Nii-San doesn’t make an appearance. 

Yoichi does his best to calm him, reading passages from the book he’s reading and stroking his hair. 

More time passes. No Nii-San. 

“His meetings must have run over. It’s not often he’s late, but it does happen.” 

More time passes, perhaps another hour, day, or week. They tear into the snacks and bottles of water their big brother allows them to have in their bedroom for emergencies such as this. 

It’s after the third time of waking up with no sign of Nii-San that Izuku starts to visibly panic. This, of course, makes Yoichi panic (though he does his best to hide it). 

He paces the length of the room, occasionally waving to the camera hoping to see the red recording light come on. It never does. 

On, what has got to be, his seven hundredth time pacing, something emerges from the wall. Several panels in the wall slide down, revealing small spouts. He looks at Yoichi.

“What are these things?” 

Before his other, less crazy, big brother can shrug, the air suddenly becomes thinner. He coughs, whirling around to face Yoichi because his lungs are weaker. Whatever this is, it must be related to the spouts. He can’t put much effort into thinking. His head is filled with cotton and he has to blink away the heaviness pulling his eyelids down. 

“Yoi-chi….?” Izuku stumbles over to the bed. His brother lays on his bed, eyes shut and limp, but still breathing (thankfully). “Bro…ther?” He coughs, trying to dispel whatever’s clogging his lungs. “Wake up.” His strength is leaving him second by second, but Izuku manages to get on his brother’s bed and shake him. “P-please…..w…ake….” 

He falls next to his brother, blissfully unaware of the chaos going on above the surface.

-x-x-x-

He wakes up much more tired than when he first fell asleep. Yoichi’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“We need to go now,” he says. “The door is open. I don’t know what happened, but everything is different now. Much, much different. We should leave before Mikumo comes back.”

Izuku’s brain sluggishly processes those words. “Leave?”

“Yes.” Yoichi doesn’t wait for a reply, helping him into a standing position. “I have a few contacts on the outside. They should be able to help us.”

Izuku takes in their surroundings. Everything’s covered in cobwebs and dust. What…. happened here?

They hobble along the hallway, supporting one another.

“Let’s hope the elevator works.”

It does. Thankfully. 

And even more thankfully, Nii-San didn’t change the codes to work the elevator since Izuku was Yoichi’s caretaker.

The upstairs is even more dusty and covered in cobwebs. Almost like no one’s stepped foot in this place for decades.

“Where is everyone?” Izuku asks. More to himself than his brother, but Yoichi takes it upon himself to answer anyway.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either. It’s better if we move on.”

They have no trouble leaving. The guards’ tower is just as empty as inside the house. The fence is overgrown with ivy and moss, covering every inch of it.

They reach the city before nightfall, though Izuku has a hard time recognizing it as the city he’s lived in all his life. Nothing looks the same. All the shops are different and not a single person they pass looks familiar. 

Yoichi has him stop in front of an apartment building. He says something about needing to call someone, before stepping into a nearby phone booth. But Izuku doesn’t hear a single word, eyes transfixed on the building towering over him. 

Home. 

Before he can stop himself, Izuku runs for the entrance. Maybe Nii-San was wrong. Maybe his mom didn’t leave. She’s probably been waiting for him to come home. 

He reaches his apartment. The numbers on the door are faded and the metal dust-handle is rusted, but it’s unmistakable theirs. Heavy footsteps come up behind him.

Someone coughs. “I-Izuku!” Yoichi shouts, with all the energy of an aggravated older sibling. “What are you doing? You can’t just run off like that.”

Izuku looks down at his feet. “This is my home.”

“Wha- oh ,” his brother murmurs. “I see. Go ahead.” 

Izuku checks under the mat for the spare key his mom kept in case of emergencies. He finds it, his fingers clutching it to his palm. The weight is familiar. He’s missed it.

Nervously, he glances back at Yoichi. 

“Go on, Izu,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Izuku shakily unlocks the door. To his relief when the door creaks open, the apartment isn’t covered in dust or cobwebs. He enters, Yoichi on his heels.

“Mom!?” He peeks into the kitchen. The drawing he made of All Might is still on the fridge. 

“Mom!? It’s me, Izuku! Where are you!?” A loud, hacking cough gets his attention. Somewhere down the hall. Excitedly, Izuku races for his mom’s room. He’s here. He’s home. He can finally see his mom.

He pokes his head into her room, the light is on. Usually he’d knock first, but he’s sure she’ll forgive him for forgoing that rule. “Mom! I can’t wait to- huh?” 

“Uh, Izuku,” Yoichi starts, “maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Who are you!?” Izuku asks, because the old woman in front of him, laying in a hospice bed, is definitely not his mom. “Where’s mom?”

The woman looks at him. “I-Izuku. My baby?”

He shakes his head. “No. My mom…you’re not….Yoichi?” He backs away from the room. His back hits the wall directly across the room. 

“It’s been a while. She’s grown older.”

“No, no, no, no!” He cries. “My-my mom is young. She’s living somewhere warm, and she’s happy.”

Yoichi frowns. “I’m sorry, Izuku.”

“She’s supposed to have gotten away. I was the reason she had to live like this. Why didn’t she leave? Nii-San told me she left. Why did she come back? Did she even ever leave?” 

Yoichi doesn’t speak, patting his back. 

“Oh my god, I abandoned her. I’m just like my father.”

A light pop on his mouth startles him out of his downward spiral. He looks at Yoichi, eyes wide. His brother has one of the most serious expressions Izuku’s ever seen on someone. 

“You listen to me, and you listen to me well. You are not your father. Your father made a conscious choice to walk out on you guys. You weren’t given a choice. You did what you had to, to help your mother out of poverty. You were just trying to be a good son.”

Izuku feels his usual waterworks starting up. He leans into his brother’s embrace, taking refuge in the familiar warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Anytime.”

“Izuku?” His mom calls out, and without panic altering his senses, he can hear her voice. 

“If you want to leave-”

“No. I should stay, at least to say goodbye to her. She’s probably waited years for me to come home.”

“Go on then.” Yoichi smiles at him. “Be her hero.”

Izuku nods, taking a running start straight into her bedroom. He hops into All Might’s signature pose (one of them at least). “I am here!” 

His mom is hooked up to so many machines. An oxygen mask covers the bottom half of her mouth. Her long green hair has thinned out, and she’s all skin and bones. The circles under her eyes tell of years worth of sleepless nights. 

(How many nights did she stay up, hoping and praying he’d walk through the door?)

Despite her misery, his mom manages one of her famous smiles. The kind she used to do at him when they would play heroes. Bright and genuine and so achingly-familiar. 

“Izuku Might!” She cheers. “My hero!” 

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been expecting you.”

Izuku’s stomach twists. “Oh?” 

“Yes, I was hoping it would have been last night. Would have saved me the trouble of having to listen to the upstairs neighbors argue over things that don’t matter.” She laughs.

Izuku closes his eyes, trying to commit the sound to memory. Forever. 

“Well, I’m here, mom.”

“You are.” Tears well up in her green eyes, which are dimmer than they used to be. 

Izuku is by her side in an instant. He climbs over the railing of the bed, and cuddles up next to her. “It’s okay, mommy. I’m here. I’m sorry I left.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault. I should have been better. After your father left, I was absent. I ignored your needs. I was selfish.”

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to defend his mother from herself. A finger brushes his lips, shushing him. 

“Shhh…..I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He lays with her, curled into her side like he’s five-years-old again. He strokes her hair, murmuring comforting nothings to her. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku stumbles into the hallway, gaze fixated on the wall in front of him. He feels empty. But this empty is worse than usual. It’s not the kind caused by suppressed emotion, but the sort that follows you like a rain cloud. 

His face and neck feel sticky with all the shed tears. 

“I’m ready to go now.” 

His brother holds a hand out, which he takes, grateful for something to grasp. He’s lead back outside the building, passing a nurse-judging by the medical scrubs and badge-on the stairs. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, looking at them. “But could either of you tell me where Midoriya Inko lives? It’s my first night, and the nurse that normally works overnight here just quit.”

Izuku points upward. “Apartment 38C.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He stands on the steps a few moments longer, watching the nurse race to her patient that is long, long gone. 

His brother tugs on his hand, getting his attention. “Come along. My friend will be meeting us at the park down the road. You’ll like him.”

Izuku doesn’t spare a glance at the building, choosing instead to move forward. For the first time, in a long time, he allows himself to hope. 

The future suddenly feels brighter. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku sits in the backseat of Yoichi’s friend’s car. He watches them lean in to kiss for the hundredth millionth time in five minutes. 

“Ick!” He sticks his tongue out. 

Yoichi’s friend reaches a hand in the backseat to ruffle his hair. His face is heavily scarred and there’s an underlying hardness there, but the icy glare melts away anytime he lays eyes on Yoichi (or, as he warms up, at Izuku). 

“Niiii, stop,” Yoichi says, giggling. 

Izuku giggles too, turning away from the couple to look out the window. They pass by open fields and luscious forests. 

“Hey, Yoichi-nii, where are we going?” 

“Um, that’s a great question. Where are we going, my hero?”

Izuku gags. What did he do to have to bear witness to this?

“I can’t say. It’s a surprise.”

Yoichi and him exchange a worried look. They both don’t say it outloud, but surprises scare them. The last surprise either of them got was near-eternity in a metal box. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, Izuku drifts off to the sound of th a/c and the quiet murmurings of long-lost love. (Even if he thinks they’re being kind of gross. It’s still nice that Yoichi has someone out here waiting for him. That’s one more person than Izuku has).

-x-x-x-

The car pulls to a stop deep within a forest. The trees that surround them, completely block out the sky. A quaint, little cabin sits in front of them. 

“Well,” his boyfriend says, putting the car into park, “this is it. The others should be inside, waiting. I called them right after you called me.”

Yoichi nods. The idea of seeing all the people cursed with One for All makes his stomache. 

“Yoi, what’s wrong?”

He fiddles with his fingers. “They’re not…they aren’t angry, are they?”

“Of course, they aren’t. What makes you think they would be?”

“Immortality is a curse.”

His boyfriend kisses on the lips, shutting him up. “I missed you.”

Yoichi melts. A happy squeak escapes his mouth without him permitting it too. “Me too.” He shakes his head. “I mean….I missed you, not that I missed myself. Well, you know. Right?”

His boyfriend’s expression softens even further. “I know perfectly well.”

They share a few more kisses before they start getting ready to go inside. 

“I’ll carry the kid inside. We have a room made up for him.”

Yoichi opens and closes his mouth “How?” He asks, gathering the meager supplies his boyfriend bought on his way to pick them up. 

“The attack on your brother’s base. The one that put you both into a coma for thirty-plus years? That was us.” He leans into the car to pick Izuku up. He holds him close to his chest, though it’s a bit difficult for his boyfriend to carry Izuku like he or their older brother does because of his below-average height. Still, he manages it like a champ. “We found his base of operations and broke in. The raid must have triggered a gas attack.”

“Huh,” Yoichi murmurs. “Well, you saved us from thirty-six years of playing Monopoly over and over again. But I do have a question.”

They step onto the porch. “My brother’s base wasn’t ransacked. It was just….dirty.”

“We didn’t destroy anything. Just infiltrated. Yagi was the one that did damage to your brother.”

“Is he…my brother dead?”

“Probably not. That bastard’s worse than a cockroach. He’s lucky that Yagi found him first, because what he did to….” his boyfriend swallows heavily. “Third deserved better.”

“He did. What All for One did to him….I dreamt about every night. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

His boyfriend looks at him. “So am I, Yoi, so am I.” There’s not a hint of malice in his boyfriend’s tone, yet the words sting. He smiles, hand reaching for the door handle. “But tonight’s not about regrets. You’ve just been freed. Live your life for you and all those that can’t be here with us.”

“Yeah,” Yoichi says, resolute, “you’re right. Thank you.”

His boyfriend’s smile widens. “Ready to go inside.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

#mha fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #mha au #mha izuku #mha yoichi #inko being a good mom #dead midoriya inko #possessive all for one #vault time #angst #ichinii #angst with a happy ending

[suckitsurveys]

Did you know that all the fish are dying out? Did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean boulevard?

Would you ever wear a white tuxedo? Sure.

Do you judge a book by its cover? I think we all do to an extent.

Do you like chips and dips? Yes I do! Tortilla chips and salsa/queso/guac is my favorite!!!!

Last time you went on a rollercoaster: Oh gosh it’s been a bit. Probably 10 years ago?

Ever been to a pottery class? Yup, I took ceramics in high school and college.

Does your milkshake bring all the boys to the yard? Please no.

Who was the last person to stay over at your house? My niece.

Do you like red lipstick? Yes.

Can you recall your country’s national anthem? Uh huh.

Do you believe in ghosts? Sure.

Which sweets/candy would you put into your dream pic'n'mix? Never heard of pic’n’mix but I assume it’s just mixed candies? sour gummy candies would make a good mix.

If you had a boat, where would you sail in your boat? I wouldn’t.

Can you rap? Hah.

Are you a light sleeper? Sometimes.

When you were young, did you ever pretend to “marry” somebody? Yeah.

What is your favourite Disney film? The Emperor’s New Groove and the Toy Story movies.

Do you prefer brown or white bread? Wheat.

Have you ever spent an entire day in bed? I have. Or on the couch.

Don’t you just find it annoying when people get too much plastic surgery? No, people can do whatever they want with their bodies.

How high’s your pain threshold? Somewhere in the middle.

What would you wear to a red carpet event? It would entirely depend on said event.

Whose birthday is next, out of all the people you know? My cousin Kelly and my coworker; they have the same birthday.

What kind of coat are you going to wear in the winter? It is winter and I have my trusty black puffer jacket.

Did you ever go through a Goth phase? Eh.

Do you find architecture interesting? YESSSSS I love architecture.

When on the computer do you ever think about how it all works? Well now I am, thanks.

How many songs are there in your iTunes library? I don’t use iTunes.

Do you like Irish accents? Sure.

Describe the worst date you’ve ever been on: This guy took me on a picnic but when we got there he told me it was a “zombie apocalypse” picnic and the food he brought was those prepackaged MRE things where you just add hot water to them and it makes a meal. Then he told me that if anyone got close to use, we had to move and move quickly and it was just so dumb and embarrassing.

When did you last go to the park? It’s been a bit since the weather has been cold.

Which two animals would you breed together to make a hybrid? Eh.

Do you ever forget how to walk? No.

Do you own a Jesus bracelet? Nope.

How far out can you stick your tongue? I don’t know, the normal amount?

Do you like David Bowie? Yes.

Would you eat a live cockroach if it made you a millionaire? Eh.

Does it annoy you when you feel like people aren’t really listening? It depends on the person and what I am talking about.

Are you the type who usually plays it safe? For the most part.

Do you want what you can’t have? Eh.

Ever been copied by somebody, clothing or style-wise? Not really.

Is there a point to clear nail varnish? I mean, it’s usually a top coat or a strengthener.

What is the latest time you’ve ever woken up? I’m not sure, maybe about 2pm?

Ever gotten into trouble over something you didn’t really do? Yes.

Are you currently ill? Not in the physical sense, no.

Don’t you just hate being corrected? Depends.

Are there any really beautiful buildings close to where you live? Oh yes, Chicago has amazing buildings and architecture.

Who do you think about most? The people in my life?

Do you have embarrassing parents? Nah, I honestly never found them embarrassing, even as a teenager.

How often do you use the word “poltent”? I have no idea what poltent means.

How’s your grandmother? Dead.

What in your opinion is the most annoying noise in the world? Metal scraping against metal.

Are you any good at writing? Sure.

Can you speak any Spanish? Un poco.

Do you like things from the ‘50s? My parents were born in the 50s and I like them.

Would you rather be skeletal or curvy? Curvy.

What’s your favourite type of cloud? Storm clouds.

What’s something that really matters to you? A lot of things matter to me.

Did that pass some time? Sure.

#surveys

[selfcarecap]

would like to know more about your opinions about punk 57 :))

Hii Yesss, okay so I’m just gonna say eeeverything (but warning it’s not positive lmao) it’ll probably be a lot so I’ll put a readmore lol (also spoilers)

Okay idk where to start. So this is obviously fully my own fault but I misread the blurb (several times💀) and thought this was a wlw story and was a tiny bit disappointed when I realised it wasn’t lol but at the same time I was still really excited to read it bc I’d only heard good things and either way I thought the pen pal thing was super interesting and could be cute

Right from the start I didn’t like Misha like aren’t the male MCs supposed to be likeable and loveable in a romance book? Lmao. I guess he wasn’t bad but even before the thing with his sister happened I didn’t like him.

Then we met Ryen and I didn’t like her either. I mean most people wouldn’t like her at the beginning obviously but she’d been so horrible that by the time we found out why she’s the way she is, I didn’t care anymore 😭 also I think 18 is old enough to know better and not act like that.

Omg and generally age wise? There’s no reason for these people to be 18 and in high school. It’s like Euphoria in that way lmao. They should have been in college. I didn’t know whether to expect YA or New Adult and I still don’t know what it was because it’s clearly not YA because of all the sex but then why are they in high school? I didn’t really enjoy the smut bc it was weird knowing they’re barely legal. I’m not much older than them or anything but most people I knew when I was 18 (and actually it hasn’t changed much in the two years) were not having that type of sex lol (sure some people do and good for them lol but just make them older lol. This is a book adults are supposed to read so?). It was so so cringe to me when they were having sex on the library floor and in the car with their whole class right next to them omg.

And also about the sex, so I genuinely don’t mind the word slut during sex lol BUT NOT WHEN IT COMES OUT OF NOWHERE? If you haven’t talked about what you like during sex yet and the guy suddenly calls you a slut? 🚩🚩🚩 I mean Misha was generally a red flag tho, he was so aggressive and weird and I get he was heartbroken because of his sister but I just didn’t get him. and he was suddenly a criminal as well like idk he was such a ‘bad boy’ but like for no reason and he wasn’t even cool. He was just an annoying man (boy) who was very unlikeable and I didn’t see any character development? And yeah just very mean and aggressive towards Ryen. They definitely had sexual tension (although it kind of came out of nowhere too) but I never got why she would like him, especially before she knew who he really was. I get their history but I still didn’t believe that they actually liked each other romantically.

And for Ryen idk😭 I usually support women’s rights AND wrongs and sometimes I love a messy female protagonist but I just couldn’t like her, she was just a bully and so was Misha. And yeah she kiinda redeemed herself at the end but yeah by that point I just didn’t care. Also why did she have to be pregnant in the epilogue? It’s so random when authors put that in an epilogue it literally ruined the story even more lol. And like I said I would not believe that they’re still together after 5 years because they didn’t seem to actually like each other. I’d believe that they liked each other while they were still writing letters but irl I didn’t see a connection except a sexual one, especially because Ryen didn’t even know who he was for ages.

And just generally they were extremely immature all the time. And yeah they’re 18 but then it’s weird to see them fucking the whole time when they’re acting like (violent lwhejs) 14 year olds.

Okay now an important point. I would feel very differently about this if it was like a dark romance or not even romance at all lol. But as far as I can tell it’s apparently a romance book. But it just isn’t lol. There were hardly any romantic moments in it. It was a badly written dark high school erotica at best and if it was marketed as that genre, I still wouldn’t have liked it a lot but I would be a lot less disappointed lol and yeah I think selling it as a romance book is just not appropriate and telling anyone that that’s a healthy romantic relationship is just not right lol. (I mean I guess in the book it was never claimed that it’s a healthy relationship lol like of course the characters are toxic but they never stopped being toxic? Like there was a bit of character development in Ryen but Misha was nothing but an asshole to her and everyone else (except that guy Manny? I think that was his name lol. Only character I liked😭😭)

Omg also I just remembered the amount of times Ryen was in Misha’s lap and they were lowkey making out in the lunch hall😭😭😭 why would an adult write that lol. Also literally every single scene in the school was so so unrealistic and cringe lol. And if people really act that way in school, why has no adult done anything about it??? Lmao

It also definitely did not pass the bechdel test loool. I understand women can be mean and I’m not saying Ryen should be friends with Layla or whatever her name was but I would have loved to see at least one nice woman or healthy female friendship. Or reconnecting with her sister. I know there was one sentence about how her sister doesn’t hate her anymore or something but come on 😭 give us something 😭. I’m concerned for Ryen because Misha’s not good for her and she doesn’t even have a female friend to be honest with her about it. Yeah there was Delilah but that’s not what I mean obviously. With the whole fitting in theme etc I think it would have been so important for us to see Ryen connect with another woman or at least not be a pick me (she wasn’t a pick me generally I guess but in that regard she was). (Female) friendships can be even more important than a “romantic” relationship so just because she has her toxic unlikeable misogynistic bully boyfriend she inexplicably likes now, doesn’t mean she’s gonna be happy forever.

I really wanted to like this book and I’m genuinely happy for the people who do but I just can’t see the appeal shsksj

BUT at the same time I did read all of it (although I was tempted to dnf at many points😭) within two days which is fast for me so it couldn’t have been all bad lol.

What do you think? 👀 lmk!! (Whether you agree or disagree with me lol I’d just love to hear what other people think!!!! <3)

#anon #punk 57 #this is obviously mostly subjective but yeah idk