#but as an entire race... over time... imagine the impact

[yuniemaki]

Many people say at a glance, AI looks OK, but it messes up the details. Artists have a field day screenshotting the errors most of the time.

The issue is, we're conditioned to simply scroll. A glance is all we offer, and if it looks fine we don't bother to dig deeper. A layman could never see the myriad of issues with AI-generated art. It's a similar case for writing, really. Most people won't see the problem with AI writing, but any writer will.

The point is - AI is here to stay. Which also means that the creative process is more undervalued than it already is. It means a future generation of creators who won't understand what it means to pour your heart and soul into a creation; to etch a piece of yourself upon canvas; to write the song of your soul into existence.

The masters we study and the stories we analyse - all were crafted with a soul, with a fervent desire, with a dream. No matter how accurate or amazing AI becomes in the future, this I believe - no work of a machine will ever touch the hearts of humans the way a heartfelt poem or painting can. And no AI work will ever break the rules it has been constructed to obey, for that requires a soul and a yearning for something greater; a vision; a work that has yet to manifest.

The art of creating is dead. In AI we have forged unbreakable boundaries - not because we cannot, but because we will eventually forget how to break and rebuild our limits.

We will still aim for the stars, but we will no longer reimagine what the stars could be.

[tiyoin]

pt. 1 | 📍pt.2 | pt. 3

hmmm

i like to think that the other yuu (y/n) would also somehow befriend kalim

like- listen.

maybe they’re wandering around campus while everyone is in class. they were skipping, yet again, because of their anxiety. yuu gave them the advice of walking around the school while everyone was in class so you could get to know the school on your terms.

so you here you were, roaming around the outside portion of school, forcing yourself to walk slowly and take in your surroundings. each footstep followed the pattern of black and white tiles; left white, right black. if your toe went over the black tile your other toe would have to match. if your foot skidded on the tile, your other foot would have to follow in suit.

it was an old habit you had in your old world. you never knew what possessed you to do it, but you couldn’t stop once you started.

‘tsking’ at the fact that half your foot went over the white diamond, you were preparing to have your other foot follow suit when you felt a sharp jab in between your shoulder blades

“AGHH” you cried out in pain as you tripped over your feet. with the short time you had, you braced yourself onto your side, where the side of your arm took most of the impact. letting out a shaky breath at the pain, you felt tears escape as you kept your head down looking towards the floor.

fuck. what luck huh.

first the scene in crewels class last week, now this???

the universe is really trying to humble you

there was a crushing weight on top of you that kept pushing your side into the floor. you were debating rolling on your back to cradle your arm, but you didn’t want to cause you and the boy to shift positions…

your face started heating up. just at the thought of anyone seeing you like this made your tummy clench. you can imagine it, the bell ringing, indicating the end of class. all the boys in the classrooms would thunder like wildebeests into the hallway, only to see you pinned to the floor by the mystery man.

oh could you could just kill yo-

“ughh- oh sevens! ae you okay?”

the voice cried out from above you, immediately getting off of you. your relieved sigh from the weight being taken away was short lived as you were yanked by your wrist upwards.

you gasped, pain shooting through your ankle as you toppled into the strangers strangely strong arms.

his skin was tanner with white swirls and patterns running up his muscles arms- no stay focused. your ankle? probably broke-

“hello? anyone home? i oh no, i hope you didn’t hit your head, ahh im so sorry, let’s get you to the nurse!!”

a soft hand found your shoulder as he set you upright, and there you were forced to meet you assailant.

of course you knew who kalim al-asim was. you’d hear him from classrooms away, and jamil too, the latter usually chasing after the former.

“huh, that’s weird, i’ve never seen you before” he tilted his head in confusion, a split second later his face lit up like a thousand christmas lights as he connected dots.

“oh! you must be a new transfer student!

(i said he connected dots, i never said he connected the right ones)

i’m kalim al-asim! im the housewarden of scarabia! and you are…”

he looked at you expectingly, his scarlet eyes honing in on yours. you would’ve thought he was trying to peek into your soul if it weren’t for the ever growing smile on his face.

“uh… y/n” you didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t new.

you shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to his crest as you fiddled with your hands behind your back. despite your nervous deposition your mind was racing.

what if he was there to bully yiu?

if you kept pressure off your foot then just maybe it won’t be black and blue and swollen like a pufferfish.

oh god what if a camera crew jumps out from behind the corner telling you you just got fucked

oh god what if the entire school is in on it-

“hey, you okay there?”

snapping your head up, you met kalim’s worried expression. his eyes no longer like that of a predator’s stalking its prey, but of someone who was genuinely worried about you.

was this the leap of faith yuu was talking about?

1,2,3 fuck it

“uh, no actually” fuck you wanted to run. yet like an anchor at the bottom of the sea, your foot stopped you from setting sail. you were stuck in your own situation.

“oh sevens, i knew it! here i’ll take you to the nurse!”

“OW”

you yelled when his hand tugged you in the opposite direction. you thought he got burnt by how fast his hand detached itself from yours.

“sorry” you mumbled, rubbing your brushing arm firmly. you weren’t sure why, but a little pressure made it not hurt so much- you winced, rubbing motions stopping immediately as you cursed yourself mentally.

“there’s no no reason to apologize, at the most i should be the one saying sorry, you did get hurt by me after all” his face shifted to a guilty one as he eyed your ankle, then your arm, and back to your face.

you sighed, running your free hand through your hair as you let out an exasperated sigh. “how about this, we call it even if you can take me to the nurses” you pointed to your ankle “think i sprained it” you mumbled out once you realized you were ordering THE house warden of scarabia around.

you were gonna get snipped, weren’t you?

bye bye y/n! died before they could live!

“nonesense!” he shouted, causing you to flinch slightly at the closeness and loudness. he let out a small sorry as he smiled sheepishly “i knocked into you while riding this guy” he pointed behind him as his expression quickly grew to one of amazement.

“oh! you haven’t seen my magic carpet! he’s-“

“not behind you” you muttered, peeking behind him left and right. and yet, there was only him and you in the deserted hallway.

(you checked behind you as well just to confirm your claim.)

“WHAT” kalim shouted, again. this time not apologizing as he was too busy freaking out about his lost carpet.

“jamil’s gonna kill me” he whined.

“if you want i could help look” you pressed your nails into your fists as you asked. boy were you talkative today!

“nah, you’d only be dead weight with that ankle of yours, don’t worry about it!”

… this is why you don’t talk…

“oh! how about this, when i find it i’ll let you ride it so you can go to the nurses office!”

…you were getting dizzy, first he calls you dead weight now he’s offering to ‘carry’… carrying? said weight on his so called carpet.

you couldn’t keep up with him.

nodding dumbly, you hobbled to the door side of the corridor as kalim jumped through the hole that acted as a window that outlooks the courtyard.

searching high and low, you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the heir turn into an acrobat as he climbed trees, jumped over rocks and somehow managed to climb on top of the gazebo’s roof.

“don’t fall! i don’t want us to having matching ankles!” you mused, laughing lightly as he turned to you, waved, almost fell off, and flailed to get his balance back all in the span of 10 seconds.

a few minutes passed when you heard him yell out. prying your attention from your nails, you were face to face kalim.

“shit!” you flinched as kalim almost ran into you a second time. although he tried to keep it hidden behind his back, the large carpet peeked over his shoulder at you, before folding in on itself.

“this is my friend, y/n! c’mon don’t be shy buddy. they’re shy just like you, see?” kalim encouraged the carpet from behind his back. yet every-time he tried facing it, the carpet would stay glued to his back until they started playing an intense game of “peek-a-boo”

laughing at their antics, the carpet unfolded its wings and with a flap, it flew into the sky, effectively knocking kalim over and onto his butt.

“HAHAHSHAH” you threw your head back as you slapped your good leg’s knee.

what felt like a few seconds must’ve been a few minutes of you laughing none stop that you didn’t even notice the two in front of you.

calming down from your ab inducing fit of laughter, you started fanning yourself as you had a nasty habit of blushing when you laughed. your eyes were closed in concentration as you let the last of it out of your system.

“boy you guys are sure a riot, lord i can’t remember laughing that hard in a long time- what”

kalim, with his ass still on the floor was just staring at you. you didn’t dare name the emotion as you tensed up again.

“i’m sorry for laughing-“

springing up like a rocket, he celebrated with his carpet. what the fuck.

“there you go! no longer doom and gloom! you should laugh more! “

extending a hand to you, he grinned, his face flushed and breathing slightly erratic that the normal eye wouldn’t have been able to spot it. yet you did, you always did.

you looked at his hand for a moment, then to his face, then to his hand, which he opened a bit more towards you to get you to take it.

what felt like a pause in time was probably more of a minute as you just looked between the two.

“fuck” you growled out lowly, closing your eyes as you thrusted your hand into his. you kept your eyes shut as he yanked you up to the point your feet touched off the ground.

bracing for another hard impact, you were met with the soft, fuzzy fabric of the carpet.

“oh” you said lightly, ungracefully fixing your positioned to where your good leg was extended and your bad ankle was resting over your good leg. your arms keeping you up right.

“neat huh” you looked at kalim as the front carpet dipped a bit to let him on. he sat in front of you as he shifted his position to face you.

“do you mind” he looked at your ankle as the carpet started flowing. too impressed with that fact that you’re on a giant fucking carpet, you shook your head no.

the light touch onto your sore ankle caused a hiss to escape you as your head snapped towards an apologetic kalim.

he wasn’t sorry for too long as he kept softly poking your ankle, before he dramatically sighed. shaking his head, he said “yep, it’s sprained alright.”

groaning, you leaned back in annoyance. but with the lack of personal awareness made you forget that this is in fact not! a car.

so down you went. your world turning upside down as you felt your legs lift. and soon enough you would nose dive into the concrete.

welp this was it ladies and gentlemen. you’ve had a god run.

our father who art in heaven-

a hand lashed out and gripped your arms before pulling you back up. where you were met, once again, face to face with the al-asim heir.

breathing heavily, you stared at him wide-eyed through the tresses of your hair.

“not gonna lie, i thought you were gonna let me fall” you joked, gulping as you looked behind you at your almost murder scene.

pushing down the sudden dread, you looked back to kalim who wore an almost serious expression

“only a fool would drop a girl like you”

he smiled slightly, cheeks growing in hue as he looked away from you shyly. his back was now towards you as he told the carpet where to go.

the complete one-eighty left you gagged as you you just stared at him, gob-smacked that he had the AUDACITY to use that moment to quote a meme.

shaking your head slightly, you looked behind you as you extended your arms back, hands trailing through the carpet. stopping once you thought it was a suitable distance from the edge. leaning back, you enjoyed the ride

—

i was gonna write this sooner but i had to finish my assignment el oh el

i love this y/n sm🫶

y/n is actually me

yes i did that on purpose

[shaunamilfman]

no such thing as bad thoughts

summary: In which you learn to appreciate Lucy's bluntness after a sudden proposition in vault 4.

“You wanna have sex?” Lucy’s cheery voice breaks the silence, tilting her head to the side in question as if she were just asking about the weather.

Your jaw slackens, eyes widening in shock as you process the question. Your mind races as you try to figure out how she could have dropped that bombshell so bluntly, but the more you thought it over, the more in character it felt for her. For all you knew, that kind of thing was par for the course back in the vault.

Across the room, Lucy stares back innocently, legs kicking idly as they hang from the side of the cot. You’d almost question if you imagined the whole thing, if it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in her eyes, suggesting she knew just what she was doing. You can’t hide the grin it brings to your face as you lean back contemplatively, propping yourself up on your elbows. It’s classic Lucy, always surprising you in the most unexpected ways. There’s a certain allure to her unapologetic nature, as if she’s never been told no.

A more thoughtful person would consider how it would impact the long journey ahead. You briefly considered how awkward it could make the situation after— the last thing you needed was to have to navigate a new relationship in the middle of everything else. But then again, when have you ever been one to think things through? 

Fuck it.

“Sure.”

Lucy’s smile radiates warmth, lighting up her face and tugging at your heart in a way that you’re not entirely comfortable with. You try to brush off the thought, but it lingers in the back of your mind like an uninvited guest, refusing to be fully ignored.

She pushes off the cot with a suddenness that you didn’t know she was capable of, her lips meeting yours by the time you’ve managed to get to your feet. You meet the movement eagerly, careful to avoid irritating the cut on her lip. Lucy doesn’t have any such reservations, an urgency underlying her actions that leaves no room for restraint. 

As you graze her injured lip, you worry for a moment that she’ll pull away, but the gasp she lets out assuages any feelings of guilt. She pulls away with a breathless laugh, hand instinctively coming up to wipe away the small droplets of blood from the reopened wound. You’re torn between wanting to apologize and the desire to make her bleed more. There’s a tension between you that only increases as she meets your eyes. You grab her hand before she can attend to it more, pulling her closer as you lean in to capture her lips.

You groan at the faint metallic taste underlying the kiss, almost savoring the taste of it as you meet her with a renewed passion. You’re only vaguely aware of Lucy’s roaming hands until they land on your arms, lingering for a moment to squeeze appreciatively at your upper arms before making their way up to wrap around your shoulders.

Lucy’s grip tightens suddenly, the only warning you get before she effortlessly springs herself off the ground. You stagger back under the unexpected weight, your back colliding with the unforgiving surface of the cot behind you as your arms instinctively encircle her waist. 

Heat absolutely radiates from Lucy’s body as she presses up against you, her warmth seeping through your clothes and making her presence undeniable. Her legs wrap around your waist with surprising strength, locking you in a tight embrace that leaves you breathless.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as you catch your breath, Lucy’s eyes alight with mischief as she smiles playfully at you. You couldn’t help but be swept up in her infectious energy, your own pulse quickening in response as you took her in. 

“That hurt,” you protest, your smile negating any real criticism. Lucy laughs, pointedly running her tongue across the streak of blood you’ve left on her lips.

“Poor thing. Let me make it up to you?” You shiver at the feeling of her nails on the back of your neck, digging into the skin before she slides her hand into your hair and pulls you back towards her.

You stumble forward with a mumbled “Oh, shit,” against her lips as you manage to regain your balance, hands wrapped around Lucy’s thighs as you carry her blindly to her cot. It slams against the wall with the force of your weight, groaning in protest as it bears the brunt of the impact. You run your hands up Lucy’s legs, happy to explore now that you don’t have to hold her up.

Lucy pulls away with a muffled moan as your thumb digs into her inner thigh, squeezing pointedly as the muscles in her thighs flex as her legs tighten around you. You’re quick to try to close the distance again, stopped only by Lucy’s hand pressing against your chest as she leans back. As her hand comes up the zipper of her jumpsuit, any thought of protest leaves your mind, watching intently as the zipper slowly reveals her skin to the room. The sound of the zipper seems to echo through the room, each click heightening your anticipation.

You’re almost surprised by how smooth her skin is, unadorned by the scarring and injury you’ve become accustomed to seeing. You’re struck by a sudden jealousy, imagining what it must have been like to grow up with none of the struggle to survive that marred your own body. You push the thought away as her bra starts to peek through, too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

She giggles as you abandon your grip on her legs to push her sleeves down her shoulders, eagerly shrugging out of it as it exposes her torso. The material lies discarded against the cot around her, pooling around her hips in a way that makes your mouth water.

As you drink in the sight before you a vivid image passes through your mind– Lucy clad in her jumpsuit, muscles flexing with each movement as she works tirelessly in her vault, the top half of her jumpsuit hanging from her hips as she wipes sweat off her brow. The thought of her strong, capable hands wrapped around a wrench as she fixed… pipes, was it? You weren’t sure it mattered; the thought sent waves of heat through your body as you fought the urge to squirm.

You’re quick to take as much of her in as you can, eyes lingering on her surprisingly firm muscles before sneaking a glance at her chest. There’s no real need for subtlety as Lucy is far from shy, resting her palms on the cot behind her as she pushes her chest forward in a silent invitation. You meet her eyes with a laugh, her endless well of confidence never ceasing to amuse you. 

Lucy shivers as the chill of your hands brushes against her stomach, muscles tensing reflexively at the sensation. You trail your hands up her side, feeling the warmth of her body beneath your touch. As you reach the underside of her bra, you pause, thumbs hooking into the fabric. “I’m going to take this off now,” you murmur, tearing your gaze away from her body to meet her eyes.

She nods, a soft smile playing on her lips as she stares up at you. “Okey Dokey,” Lucy says casually, her voice laced with a hint of amusement as she raises her arms up. With a practiced ease, you pull it up and over her head, disregarding it without ceremony as you free her breasts.

She sighs contentedly as the fabric releases its hold, her body relaxing in a motion that elicits a laugh as her arms flop back to her sides. Lucy shrugs nonchalantly, enjoying the attention even in such a mundane action. “It was tight.”

You hum in understanding as you lean forward to press your lips against the delicate skin of Lucy’s neck. “I’m sure,” you say against her skin, enjoying the way she shivers at the sensation of your warm breath against her. She laces her fingers in your hair as she pulls you closer, an action borne of both desperation and possession. You trail kisses along the curve of her neck, a smile coming unbidden to your face as her pulse quickens beneath your touch.

Her chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, her skin flushed with anticipation as you mark her up. Emboldened by her responsiveness, you tentatively bring your teeth into play, grazing her skin with a gentle pressure. The moan that leaves her throat is nothing short of encouraging, her grip on your hair tightening as she tilts her head backward to offer you better access. You’re quick to take it, marking her neck as your hands come up to cup her breasts. 

She arches into the touch, making you chase her neck back as her chest presses into your hands. As you continue to lavish her with attention, she only gets bolder, and more demanding as her movements become more urgent. 

“Needy,” you murmur between kisses, unable to resist the playful jab as you thumb at her nipples. Lucy huffs out a response, nails digging into your skin with a delicious hint of aggression. It’s not a denial so much as a silent reprimand— a punishment for calling attention to her desire, for finally managing to bring a flush of embarrassment to her face.

“Am not,” she insists, her voice faltering as you pinch her nipple between two of your fingers, eliciting a moan from deep in her throat.

“Are too,” you counter, a mischievous grin playing at your lips that seems to grab all of her attention.

“Am n-not.” She stammers, but her denials ring hollow as her voice breaks as you play with her.

“That’s not fair,” she protests weakly, not looking as if she actually cares as long as you keep touching her. You give her a knowing smile as you caress her, sliding a hand down to press your fingers into a bruise on her stomach just to hear the way she squeaks when you do it. She grabs tightly at your back, pulling you closer with her legs as her hips start rocking against you. 

“Gosh,” she breathes out with a sigh against your ear, her hands tugging insistently where the back of your shirt is tucked into your pants. She protests the absence of your hands the second you take them off of her, an adorable frown making its way on her face as you pull your shirt off as if she wanted to do it herself.

She’s quick to press herself back against you as you discard your shirt, her hands seeking out the straps of your bra as she slips her fingers beneath the fabric. You welcome her exploration, taking a moment to seek out all the bruises and fresh cuts on her body.

You raise your arms up as she starts tugging, almost shivering as her fingers brush against your arms on the way up. Lucy hums in approval as your bra hits the floor, her fingers running along the contours of your body with an air of reverence. She traces a gentle finger over a bruise on your shoulders, her lips pursed in a frown. You give her a reassuring look as you notice her hesitance, redirecting her attention as you reach up to cup her cheeks.

Your gaze lasts just a moment too long, reveling in the warmth of her skin as she nuzzles into your palm. Her eyes seem almost to glow in the dim light of the bunker, her lips parting as you kiss her gently. The kiss is slow and deliberate, her hands exploring your body as she maps out all the available skin with her fingertips. You want to taste every inch of her, to memorize her scent and the way she feels.

You can feel her fingers curl around your belt loops, tugging you closer as she hooks her thumbs in your waistband. You pull away as her inquisitive fingers start playing with the button of your pants, ignoring the sheepish look on her face as you know better than to think she’s capable of shame.

“You’re very attractive,” Lucy says simply, shrugging her shoulders in defense. She looks at you with such wholehearted admiration that it’s hard not to feel something in your chest stir.

“... Thanks?” You say unsurely, caught off guard at the bluntness of it all. Lucy smiles sincerely, if not a little awkwardly. It’s clear that she’s not sure what to say next, and the air between you is thick with uncertainty. 

“You are too,” you offer after a moment, face flushing as you realize how lame that sounds. 

“You’re stunning, I mean. I’ve never seen anything like you before.” It’s said with an earnestness quite unlike you, which Lucy definitely seems to appreciate as her face immediately softens.

“Oh, baby. That’s so sweet,” Lucy says, caressing the side of your face as her hands make their way to your shoulders. She presses down firmly till you sink down to your knees in front of her, looking up at her as she stares down at you affectionately. 

“I think my favorite thing about you is how shy you are,” you joke, shaking your head in amusement. 

She winks warmly, nearly bending in half as she leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. Her lips linger against your skin just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away as she starts pushing her jumpsuit off her hips. You gently slap her hands away, slowly letting it fall to the floor as you trail kisses down her leg.

Lucy seems delighted at this series of events, giggling as you press a kiss against her ankle as you help her step out of it. She cups the back of your neck as you make your way back up her thighs, tracing patterns on your skin.

“Where has all this patience been hiding?” She whines, sighing as you finally make your way between her thighs.

“Oh, Golly,” she breathes out, her hips twitching to meet the touch. You laugh quietly against her thigh, pretending not to see the questioning look she aims at you. 

Lucy tugs gently at your hair as she tilts your head to look up at her. “What’s so funny?”

You raise your head to look up at her, resting your chin on the curve of her stomach. 

“It’s just… Sometimes the way you speak is so dated,” You confess.

Lucy pouts, giving you a playful look. “Are you making fun of me? That’s not very nice, you know.”

“Fiddlesticks,” you mock, instinctively dodging the gentle kick aimed at you. You smirk up at her from between her legs, biting playfully at her inner thigh in response. She gasps, skin flushing as you worry the flesh between your teeth.

“You’re so mean,” she protests, spreading her legs wider to accommodate your shoulders.

You breathe out a laugh, pressing a kiss against the mark you’ve left on her thigh. “Poor thing. How do you deal with it?”

“It’s harder than you think.” There’s a hint of seriousness there that turns your playful smile into a scowl, rolling your eyes as Lucy pointedly ignores your gaze to stare at a crack in the ceiling.

“Whatever.” You scoff.

You grip Lucy’s thighs rougher than deserved as you pull her toward your mouth, but judging from the sound of delight that leaves her mouth, she doesn’t mind much. Her nails dig into the back of your neck as you trace the length of her with your tongue, the sting fading to the background of your desire to touch her.

The scent of her arousal makes your head spin, a heady feeling that makes you eager to bury yourself in her. 

“That’s nice,” she moans, her hand sliding up to grab a fist full of your hair. She doesn’t pull, not yet, but the weight of it feels better than you imagined it would. You squeeze her hip gently in acknowledgment, not wanting to pull away from her for a second.

Lucy squirms on the bed, stuck in a careful dance of slowly rocking against your tongue and maintaining her position on the edge of the bed. Her feet couldn’t reach the ground at the best of times, and with their place over your shoulders, she’s left with a lot less leverage than she’d like. You can’t help but enjoy her frustration. The thought of denying Lucy something she wanted is more pleasant than you anticipated.

“Please,” she exhales shakily, whispering praises into the air as you circle her entrance. She squeezes your head pointedly with her thighs as you tease her, applying gentle pressure to coax you closer. The warmth of her legs against your ears sends shivers down your spine, making you eager to please her as you finally give her what she needs.

The first touch of your tongue against her clit makes her hips jerk so hard you have to steady her with a hand lest she fall off, pressing your forearm against her stomach as you urge her backward. She gasps at the pressure, whining and digging her heel into your back. 

“Please, please, please,” she chants, her hips moving to meet your mouth as she leans back against the wall behind her. You’re more than happy to let her, flattening your tongue as she grinds down against it.

“I want–” Her voice breaks into a moan, her words lost to pleasure. You can feel her dripping down your chin as she chases her release.

Your fingers dig into her hips as she messily rolls her hips, holding her as you help her move against you. Lucy cries out, arching into the sting as you drag your nails down her thighs.

“Inside. I want you inside, please–”

You’re quick to reward her as you widen her stance, slowly slipping two fingers inside her as you mouth at her clit. You stare up at her as her face contorted in pleasure, a strangled noise leaving her mouth as you stretch her open. 

She cries out loudly, utterly unselfconscious as she takes what she needs. You muffle a groan against her as she tugs at a handful of your hair, not wanting to miss a second of the noises she’s making. Her grip is tight, but you don’t mind— it only makes the experience better.

Your fingers move inside her, curling and thrusting as your tongue dances against her clit. The sounds she makes fill the small confines of the room, ensuring that the only thing you could focus on is her.

Her restless hands grab onto any part of you she should reach, the muscles in her stomach flexing and her thighs trembling around you as she cries out. Her back arches as she clenches hard around your fingers, clawing at your shoulders as she comes. 

“Oh, wow,” Lucy breathes out after a moment, bleary in a way you’d never seen her before. Lucy was such a morning person, even when she woke up it was with a wide smile and alert, excited eyes. You watch her fondly as her chest expands and deflates with each ragged breath, an adorably tired look on her face. 

You chase her hand as she trails it across your face, kissing her palm and down her fingertips as she stares down at you adoringly. 

She gently grips your chin as she pulls you up to meet her in a lazy kiss, still breathing hard as she runs her fingertips across your back. 

“You look so pretty when you come,” you say softly, watching as Lucy’s face flushes in embarrassment. She buries her face in your shoulder, hiding herself from view till she manages to get control of her emotions.

Lucy slaps weakly at your shoulder as she pulls away, clearly her throat as she nods in agreement. She’s quick to distract you from the source of your embarrassment, her nimble fingers slipping down to pop the button of your pants open.

She smiles at the quiet gasp that leaves your mouth, her hand pressing against your back to keep you closer to her. She grabs your hips, pulling you closer still as her hand slips beneath your waistband.

“That feels so good,” you whisper, your voice barely a husk.

Lucy laughs, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. “That’s the idea.”

[orange-coloredsky]

The two most popular reads of the synth plight in Fallout 4 are that of the race allegory and the Red Scare/McCarthyist allegory. In the former example, synths get racialized in a similar way to Black Americans in the late 19th and early 20th century, but just barely. The Underground Railroad is quite literally remade, synths are subjected to slavery at the hands of their human creators and punished harshly for escape attempts. Others have likened synths to fears of immigrants or asylum-seekers from nonwhite majority populations. Synths in these imaginings of Fallout 4 are painted as needing to be saved at the same time as they are vilified and dehumanized – sometimes by the same character over the course of the story. This duality could be a great opportunity for a dive into how white saviorism tends to play out, but in reality it ends up being a messy, deeply uncritical exploration of the impact of race and racism in society. The factions doing the racialization and/or saviorism’s motives are never questioned, and there is a very clear depiction of “good vs. evil” being the end-all-be-all of anti-racism work (again, with no critical thought as to how the “good” side is made almost completely of non-racialized people making decisions on behalf of a marginalized group). Worse yet, it’s contrived. The android-racism analogy has been a thorn in the side of the science fiction genre ever since Isaac Asimov wrote the 3 Laws of Robotics. There’s very few iterations on the idea that have come from popular (white, Eurocentric) media that aren’t riddled with the same aftertaste of white guilt and fundamental misunderstandings of how racism plays out in day-to-day life.

The less common, slightly more agreeable interpretation is that of the Red Scare – which, given Fallout’s inspirations and the setting’s original critique of reliving America’s “good old days”, makes perfect sense. In this example, synths take the role of the Soviet spy: watching over everything Americans are doing and reporting back to a secret base that is plotting to overthrow the world as we know it. Psychological screenings as well as inhumane tortures are utilized to pick synth “spies” out from the good, red-blooded residents of the Commonwealth. A neighborhood is founded entirely around the protection of the “old ways of life”, complete with a white picket fence comically decorated with automatic machine gun turrets. While this is a more charitable analogy that’s grounded in a slightly-deeper-than-surface-level exploration of American history, the Red Scare interpretation is victim to the same pitfalls that plague the racism interpretation. Midway through the game, the player discovers that there actually is a secret base of evil villains hiding underneath our feet, plotting to annihilate our beautiful Commonwealth lives. People do get taken and replaced by synths, they are in our governments, there is an actual reason for synths to be feared. Sure, some synths are perfectly fine people with no wish to be made tools of the Institute’s tyranny, but that is greatly overshadowed by the fact that the Institute’s stated goal is to use synths to gain control over the Commonwealth. There is no real critique of McCarthyism, there is no ideology to be challenged, because the Communists are here and killing your loved ones in their sleep.

[dorcas4meadowes]

Hiii!!! This is my first time really leaving a request but imagine being like best friends with Clarisse but also dating Luke and her dating Chris bc like gossiping about them, double dates, the entire dynamic would be fire

Double Dates

Pairing - Luke Castellan x reader!Zeus

Warning - alcohol, light fighting, kisses

W/c - 4k

(Pretend weather affects inside chb, this sorta drags on, but i plan to make a pt 2 with more double date energy)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The woods were decorated with pinecones and screams.

Misery and Kleos sounded almost indecipherable, so you didn’t attempt to assist or applaud the shrieks. The atmosphere held both despair and glory, the bizarre feeling almost painful since you gained neither. 

You hesitated to continue with Clarisse’s order to stay on the outskirts of the forest. The only fight you met from a handful of Demeter kids who were focused on decaying vegetation, the win was disappointing.

The path you trailed left a strange configuration, the ground exposing your depleted performance through the snow underfoot, many prints leading in circles. You trudged through the silent woodland and listened to the creak of tree limbs and distant bird chatter, all unnerving through the stillness.

Your breath rose like smoke as you watched it spiral above you to the sky which was darkened with clouds. The dim light made it difficult for you while you cautiously stepped over broken logs, your path only met with an end of secrecy and the border rive, which had frozen over delicately.

Perhaps you were hoping for chaos, so when a sudden sound of leaves rustled it startled your intrigue. The disturbance led you to hit your spear against the blanketed ground, the impact causing an abrupt burst of energy to illuminate the forest's demeanour and electrify your weapon.

You held it out in front of you, your head swiftly turning to a figure which emerged from the shade of a pine. 

“Look, I don't want to hurt you”.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's concern, “I have no worries Castellan”.

You both remained still for a few seconds, studying each other's stance and hold, his mere presence made you aware of your entire body. You took a swift inhale before you stepped in his direction. You went first, but his move to block your attack was fluid and precise. Each defend and bout almost choreographed.

You obstructed his hit and retaliated quickly which he caught with the edge of his blade. He began to step closer and push your spear and so it held above you, his lips toying with his stupid smirk. 

With one arm he kept both your weapons up and with his other he took the helmet from his head and shook out his sweaty curls and pushed yours away as well.

But as he challenged you with one hand his grip depleted, beginning to shake from the impulses which your weapon emitted. He was strong, but not enough. He kept nearing closer, your arms drifting further above you, his nose just brushing against yours.

“You forfeit?" he whispered, his lips grazing against yours with each word.

He expected a weak response -  words to fuel his glory -  but instead a soft kiss was pressed to his lips, followed by a quick pull away from your weapon and leap of your body as he staggered forward. Your spear pushed  against his armour which had him on the ground. With a swift kick you pushed the sword out of his disorientated hands, and stood in front of him with a hand on your hip, your other on your weapon.

“On your knees Castellan?”, your head tilted to one side, his lips opened to speak, but they closed when a racing body leapt across the ice another behind it eagerly.

 Clarisse screamed words which were inaudible, but with the blue flag crumpled in her hands and a victorious smile etched onto her face, you took no time in cheering, the conch matching your excitement.

Chris stood beside her panting and flipped you off, you gratefully responded with your finger before turning back to your boyfriend who’s shoulder still had a twitch from the electricity.

“You surrender?” you asked, leaning down to him a little to emphasise your poise.

“Never”.

Unexpectedly a pile of snow was launched at your chest plate causing sleet to fall down your back and into your bra, the rush of cool making you shriek. You immediately began to throw whatever was in reach at Luke, his laughs only excelling.

You didn't exactly know when you toppled into the snow, but when you couldn’t feel your fingers and your clothes were drenched, the cold only emphasised your desire for a shower.

The showers never afforded much privacy, even though your body remained a mere suggestion - apart from your shoulders - you found discomfort in knowing you could catch someone's gaze at any moment. So you waited promptly until the stalls were vacant, except for friends you could tolerate.

It was almost an established procedure that Luke would shower prior to you, then hold you in company while you did so. 

His head leant against the wooden timbers, his curls dampened by the rising steam, his barely audible words competing against the chorus of water. Some days he would join you, but you wanted soap to drip trace your body instead of his hands. 

It was rare you could come by hot water, so when the infrequent heat left the tap you merged yourself in the soothing rhythm. The drips were like summer rain and fell onto your skin in all the right ways.

“Baby, it would be nice to get out,” Luke said and continued his last sentence.

“We went out when the twins threw that party”.

“That was months ago, plus Clarisse is going”, his response was inattentive as he grew amused by the veins on his own arm, flexing mindlessly.

“Is she?” you asked.

“She’s going if you’re going, and Chris is going if she goes”.

“Couldn’t we watch a movie instead? I saw a new trailer, Jennifer's body. I think it’s about a cheerleader or something”.

“We do that every night”.

“How long do you plan on staying at this thing for?” you asked, as a bar of soap slipped from your hands.

“A few hours maybe”.

“I have to watch the Apollo kids get sloppy drunk for a few hours!”

“You don’t have to, Beauregard will be there and you can dance with her, and for one i’ll be there”.

You turned the shower off and asked Luke to hand you your towel which wrapped around your steam obscured body.

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“You will!”

“Maybe”.

 You knew you would go, but you found pleasure in listening to him beg.

_____

The dining pavilion echoed with conflicting chatter and a vengeful distraction on Herme's table.

“Uno!” Clarisse screamed, oblivious to the trembling campers who caught her adrenaline shattering gaze.

“You can’t end the game on a colour change”, Luke enlightened her.

“Fuck you i won”.

“He’s just mad we won to capture the flag” you spoke, looking in the direction of Chris who flicked a card at your forehead. 

“We felt bad for always beating you, it was more of a let”.

“Your excuses numb me Rodrigues” you mocked, reshuffling the cards which were sprawled over the table. You push each set on the wood and begin another fretting game, watching everybody’s twitching features.

Pick up two

Pick up two

Pick up two 

Pick up four 

Pick up four

“Suck it Castellan!” Clarisse shrieked, watching his slowed response.

“Just pick up baby, you aren’t always going to be on top” you teasingly spoke, leaning over and patting his hand.

“I -” he gave up on his sentence and picked up 16 cards to his already enormous hand.

You won this round, Chris next and then Clarisse again, but uno could only progress for so many rounds before it became too repetitive.

“Let’s make this interesting, the winner gets a week off chores” Chris suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m in, the stables stink like ass” you said, placing your stack in the middle for Clarisse to shuffle.

“I’m down” she agreed, your boyfriend’s smile only answering your question.

Once the challenge was set the game had become theatrical; Clarisse’s screams, Luke’s laughs and both you and Chris’ unspoken glances.

As the game advances Chris’ hands grew to contain an abundance of cards, the absurd sheets all falling when Luke yelled.

“Uno hah!” the final card hit the table and you couldn’t help, but groan.

“Watch your back Castellan” Clarrisse snarled, abruptly standing up to ease her steam. “Yeah Luke, wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you” you said, kissing him on the cheek then leaving back to cabin 3, with the promise of meeting him within an hour.

The Zeus cabin was consistently desolate, the stale air defeating the little number of inhabitants. The interior was a constant reminder of the gods' disinterest in your life, the vacant bunk beds and unclaimed spaces proved that you were an anomaly, but mostly a hazard. 

The empty cabin smelt of pine and leather and despite your heavy usage of perfume, the lingering scent never seemed to fade. It was almost as if it were trying to silence your existence.

There wasn't the hustle or rush in your cabin as many others had to experience, only the hum of electricity and the quiet reflection from the open sky.

Despite your initial hushed greeting, your sister brought relief to the quiet, her steady presence in your life reassuring your every move. Thalia had grown from your half sibling to becoming your chosen family, you were tied together by blood, but her fondness for you never felt transactional, she made you feel appreciated for simply living. The only adversity with your sister's company is the loose chops of hair that would float around your cabin from her irrational trims, but ignoring the material difficulties - and her slight narcissism -  you loved her, you always would. So did your friends, Clarisse admired her and they shared an unspoken respect for each other, she didn’t mind Chris or Silena and Luke were hers before he was yours. She was not jealous of your relationship, but she felt that she was losing him to you, the one person she could trust to not complicate her life, taking who meant most to her.

 The addition of your companions and hers meant that your docile cabin was filled with bursts of spirit once every so often, but when the sky darkened and the temperature plummeted it was just Thalia and you, her words gentle and actions soft. You were the one person who she would protect from the brutality of the world, the one person she felt vulnerable with.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Thalia asked, she gently hit the top of your head and moved towards the door with a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Mhm'' you agreed, watching her leave. Something that would never change would be her avoidance of goodbyes.

The air that gasped at Thalia’s departure was swiftly content with the arrival of Clarisse, your friend perched on the edge of your bed fastening a clasp of gold around her neck. 

“You drinking tonight?” she asked.

“If I plan to leave with my sanity, then yes” you replied, shrugging your jacket over your top. The camp shirts were comfortable, but they didn’t exactly exude “lets get drunk and make mistakes”, so events usually held a casual attire. 

She made a low hum, “I could use a break”.

“I heard Beau’s gonna be there tonight”, you plucked at an invisible string that entwined Silena and Clarisse. “I know, I heard she’s hooking up with Beckendorf”.

“Heard you finally hooked up with Rodrigues”, you teased at the new found information that she shared over a piece of toast. She threw a shoe at the back of your chair and you turned with a grin. “How is that going?”

“Yes” she mumbled. 

“Yes?”

“He’s shit but he’s nice”.

“He’ll get better, they usually do” you smiled.

“Please don’t tell me you're referring to Castellan”.

“No, he was always a good shag”.

“Block my ears please”.

“You asked”.

“I did not!” she defended, swiping lipstick from your desk. 

“Where do you go anyways?” you questioned, you were eager for the answer since you never found any privacy. Whether you were stealing kisses behind stone sculptures or bent over in your dark cabin you always seemed to get interupted, any mood which arose immediately decreasing. 

She replied with one word “Showers”.

“You ever get caught?”

“Twice, but people learn to piss off pretty quickly”.

You caught her eye in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh, because in a matter of moments you were immersed amongst the Dionysus cabin which held sweaty bodies and flashing lights, Clarisse leaving your side swiftly to down shots which piled up seamlessly. 

On either side of the floor stood pulsating stereos that only added to the distraught atmosphere. The cabin scraped up surprisingly well from its usual mess, but the strung lights and table of drinks could not pull away from the crowds.

These parties always proved to be tedious.

 Nobody could hold their liquor and the room was swarmed with drunken mistakes. Within ten minutes you had observed your friends humiliate themselves willingly and drag one another into private corners, everybody seemed eager to confess their secrets which you listened to absently, their breath laced with cheap alcohol. 

Many of their vicarious actions humbling any pedestal you placed them on.

“No you listen to me, i - i know it’s dumb, but he has nice eyebrows” Silena slurred, hovering over you. 

“Beau you don’t know him” you explained, trying to impede your words into her intoxicated mind. 

“But I love him!” she exclaimed rather loudly.

“How about we get you back to your sisters” you suggested, setting your drink on the table beside you. You hitched her arm over your shoulders and searched for Drew who always seemed to be alert, letting her fall into her arms.

“Maybe you can stop baby sitting and enjoy yourself”.

You turned to your boyfriend, “perhaps i could if this cabin weren’t filled with idiots”.

“Are you calling me an idiot?” Luke asked as he slid his hand through yours.

“Yes”.

“You will never have fun if you don’t let yourself”.

“I never will then”.

“Not with that attitude”.

“Your personality fatigues me”, you pestered and rolled your eyes.

“Loose some layers and come dance with me” he suggested, taking a few steps towards you.

“It’s four degrees outside”.

“Not in here it’s not” he said, his fingers slipping behind the neck of your jumper and trailing down so the zip fell with each moment. 

You wouldn’t admit to it, but his touch sent sparks down your spine and any excuse for him to be touching you, you would both utilise.

He leant closer and brushed his lips against your ear, placing your jacket over his arm. 

“I love these little lace up tops'”, he whispered, his words fighting against the rising voice of Shakira. His hands toyed with the strings of your shirt before pulling you towards the crowd of campers whose arms were strewn above their heads. 

Lucky you were born that far away so

We could both make fun of distance

You shifted weight on your feet and loosened a little to “wherever whenever”, stifling a laugh as Luke spins you around and into his arms, attempting to ease your rigor. You didn’t want to enjoy yourself, but you couldn’t help but find a steady sway in your hips as Luke guided them mindlessly, his hands on the bare skin of your back. 

Le-do-lo-le-lo-le, le-do-lo-le-lo-le

Can't you see? I'm at your feet

 The flashing array of lights only made it more tempting to seek out comfort in Luke’s body, the blue hue making him appear angelic which wasn't far from the truth.

Whenever, wherever

We're meant to be together

From the sheer number of people dancing your bodies were pushed together, his hands tight against your ass to keep you close. His placement was intentional so when he turned you they could travel to your hips with ease. You skimmed your body against his, his lips peppering small kisses along your neck as you pressed yourself further into him. 

Lucky that my lips not only mumble

They spill kisses like a fountain

You let your head rest against him as he nips below your ear, his fingers pressing into your hips firmly, you were sure you were branded. You couldn’t help but feel completely and utterly blissful (horny is the right word) allowing his hands to turn you so you features eagerly brushed against one another. 

His head drops to the space between your neck and shoulders while a hand travels up your side, one still swaying you gently. His fingers fold under the hem of your top and progress to cup your breast in his hands, his fingers pressing into the fat. It doesn’t take you long to assist his grip back to your waist, but once he hangs loosely around your middle you feel as if you know all there is to Luke Castellan, the soft curls only the start to him. 

Le-do-lo-le-lo-le, le-do-lo-le-lo-le

At your feet, I'm at your feet

You didn’t care considerably for the music, but it seemed to completely cease when a hand landed on your shoulder, trying to tug you away from your boyfriend. It took little time for Luke to notice the hand and for you to turn, to only have your nerves ease when the grip belonged to Clarisse who drunkenly pulled you close to her, laughing, holding you affectionately, not caring for Luke’s groans from the loss of you.

After a few sweaty dances both you and Chris found solace in the contents of red solo cups, both attempting to empty the liquor fastest. You threw the liquor down your neck ignoring the burn, watching him mirror your movements, but even then, that didn't last too long, your body - with the assistance of Silena’s hands - were being pulled over the people who were gathered around the carpeted floor in a circle.

Chris was to your left in and you both looked for one another for an answer, but when a bottle was placed in the middle of the group by a child of Hecate, it gave you your response.

They went first, spinning the empty bottle and met a child of Hermes in the centre for a quick snog before it spun again and spun until it came in the hands of Luke.

He leant forward and breathlessly spun it swiftly. You watched it pass you and Clarisse and anybody you would be comfortable for your boyfriend to kiss until it landed on a pretty girl from the Hephaestus cabin. She smiled as she leant forward and so did Luke,

Moments before he planted a generous kiss on her lips his eyes met yours for a split second then closed. The more she explored his lips the more her hands wandered, pulling at a few curls at the nape of his neck, touring with the strands which were yours.

You could feel yourself blink and by the time they pulled away giggles slipped out of the girls lips and you felt like you were going to gag. You rolled your eyes at their persistence, but you let your gaze linger on the girl who seemed cheerful.

The glass continued to spin, people meeting in the middle numerous times until it caught at the carpet facing your knees. You looked up to the person you were soon to meet and when you did your lips tugged into a grin.

Enzo you believed his name to be, a son of Aphrodite, very renowned for his soft lips and gentle touch, that which you were eager to know. You could admire one's beauty, but you felt no need to act on your impressions, so when you could - free of charge - you would.

Enzo dark curls fell over his eyes, framing his face carefully as he neared closer to you, his lips instantly falling onto yours when his hand snaked around your neck. He moved differently - his lips that it - it was nothing like Luke. Enzo was harsh and he had no hesitation as if pouring his soul through the press, you felt like you had known him in several languages and multiple lifetimes. 

The room blurred a little after you pulled away, a swift last kiss pressed to your cheek as if bidding his farewell. You smiled at his warmth and then moved to your seat, watching the already spinning bottle at the hand of Silena.

“Had fun?” Chris whispered to you, watching a daughter of Iris pull Silena into a messy snog. 

“I suppose so”.

“My brother looks riveted,” he said, his tone teasing.

“When does he not” you replied, turning to his impending gaze on you.

 “What” you mouthed.

“Nothing,” he mused, it wasn’t nothing, but you were too intoxicated off of your dances and a few drinks to be concerned.

When the game disbanded and were relocated it took very little to persuade you of much, so when the offer to play just dance arose you had no hesitation in amusing yourself with the game, Clarisse and Chris beside you. 

Out of the humming centre lay a few old couches which are where you flickered through songs on a wii and paused at “wannabe” by the spice girls.

The first few beats of the song played and you instantly began mirroring the characters on the screen, mimicking the choreography.

You carelessly moved  your body and couldn’t help, but laugh at Chris who was never graced with the ability of rhythm. You danced and allowed yourself to disregard any priorities you held, letting them drip off of you like the sweat that beaded on your lower back.

“Hey Y/n!” Clarisse yelled over the chatter and music.

“Yeah?” you responded, breathing heavily as you danced the last few moments of the song before falling against the couches behind you.

“Call me a daughter of Hermes, but I'd love to travel in your bra”.

You giggled at the joke, “call me a son-”

“Son?” “- of Poseidon, but there’s a tsunami forming between my thighs” you laughed, leaning over to plant a sloppy kiss on her cheek. 

“Call me Kronos’ but i would love to eat you up” Chris teased as he slumped next to Clarisse snaking an arm around her.

“Oh um” you stirred, thinking of a comeback. 

“Maybe I am the daughter of Athena, because I would love to strategize how to open your legs,” Clarrisse slurred, making you breathless from her stupid jokes.

You leant into her side, her arms around you and Chris, she had two hands after all, but so did you, your grasp empty of Luke.

“Where’s Luke?” you said, not caring of your volume, recalling what felt missing.

“Probably moping”.

“About what?”

“Global warming i don’t know” Chris confessed, causing you to push yourself from the couch and to search for your lost boy.

Your head buzzed and your limbs ached, not particularly from movement, but lack off. You staggered through the room and allowed yourself  to take your time as you lazily surveyed the following in front of you. Mist glazed your sight, so every step felt like a game of charades, hoping you would not fall against the wrong body.

“Luke” your voice croaked, pulling a hand to your mouth when a hiccup left your lips. “Luke” you repeated, your legs weak under you as you trailed through the bodies and dropped possessions. 

“Need help angel?” 

You were close to the door when a boy from the Apollo cabin steadied you, “I - i where’s Luke?”

“He’s outside I believe”.

“Thank you soldier” you saluted the blonde.

“You sure you’re ok getting there”.

“Impertantly” you slurred pulling away from him and using the door frame to push yourself out of the hustle with a groan. “Luke” you slurred, the last letters elongating, “hide and seek, i see”. You passively rubbed at your eye with your hand, your make up cascading across your cheek with each swipe. “It’s ok, I'm not going to eat you”.

Your words fell like your body did against a plush landing of greenery. “You’re not Luke'', you hit the grass and recoiled as shocks sent through your fingers and sparks threatened to spread against the green. “I hate you” you spat, letting the grey fog in the air drag a body towards you.

The voice spoke, but you couldn’t decipher their words, but their touch, it was one you would recognise blindly. Luke was not immune to your sparks, but found pleasure in the shocks as it proved your consciousness. He ran his hands across your sweaty forehead and did not flinch as you reached to pull yourself to him, melting in his arms.

“Let's get you to your bed hm?”

Luke indulged in alcohol but knew his limits, unlike you who drank till senseless.

“I’m not tired” you whined, morosing with the thought of your bed. 

“How about a walk to take the edge off”.

“No” you denied his other request.

“What do you want then”.

“You”.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

this was sitting in my drafts and i probably will re write <3

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @ashr0 @y0urm0m12 @2hiigh2cry @niktwazny303

[burnin0akleaves]

Here's the draw six fanarts meme I decided to participate in 4 years late

In true burnin0akleaves spirit I didn't ask anyone for requests and just went ahead with all of the characters that have been the most impactful/important to me, so there is a high chance you've seen me draw these guys before.

By the way, unlike the rest of the blorbos here Siyra is an original character and belongs to @nineteen-rats!

Close-ups and rambles under the cut because it's my blog

Ohh the Dark Urge. My latest obsession. I love his design so much, I'm a slut for white/red color schemes, but I feel like it's a double edged sword that takes you out of the horrors he's commiting at the same time?

Durge is supposed to be murder incarnate, someone that does every fucked up thing related to death imaginable; but when you see a giant lizard eating babies or humping corpses, it dulls the effect a bit since you automatically view it as an animalistic act. Dragonborns are obviously a fully sentient humanoid race in-universe; but when the violence you're seeing is already toeing the line between horrifying and hilarious, seeing a scalie doing it just pushes it over the line. I still think it works really well most of the time and I'm very glad that this is the default durge we get! It's just funny to me that when you choose to play as the giant lizard, the dark and disgusting horror story turns into the hilariously edgy bloodfest.

Reminding everyone again that Siyra belongs to @nineteen-rats! I love this man so so so much. I am the Siyra fandom. I am the number one Siyra fanartist. He did nothing wrong and I will defend his every decision. I also hope terrible horrors befall him and that his actions keep him awake for the rest of his life. Pookie bear xoxo

COMING IN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR IT'S WILL TREATY

He is on my mind, always. I don't talk about him as much but he's probably still the fictional character who had the most impact on me as a person.

PATROCLUS! PATROCLUS!!! SIR I'M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!!

I got into patrochilles and the Illiad in general thanks to "The Song of Achilles". It was one of the first queer books I got to have in real life and the prose captivated me instantly, I still have it on my shelf. After reading the Illiad itself however, I hate that book so much. I'm sorry it's genuinely beautiful and I get why people like it but I can never forgive that horrible Patroclus characterization after seeing what he was originally like. Achilles too for that matter.

Hades swooped me up into its arms like I was a sick baby bird and nursed me back to health with its portrayal of the two though and for that I am forever grateful. I can't wait for Hades 2, death to Chronos.

God Half-Life is such an important series for me. My dad would let me play through a few levels since I was a child, he grew up with the games, but I REALLY played through the entire series one summer shortly before dad moved out. He was there watching me play most of it and getting to enjoy someone actually translate the game's dialogue for him for the first time.

Gordon may not speak once but I like the hints of his personality we get throughout the games, most importantly from the way Alyx talks to/about him. I have my own characterization of him obviously but I do really think you can get a good understanding of the kind of man he is meant to be in-universe just by paying attention to his surroundings. Also another reason the games were so immersive for me is that I'm just as in love with Alyx as Gordon is. I must have let her get hit only once or twice the entire time just out of how protective I was over her. I'd topple the entire Combine empire just for her hand in marriage. I rewatched the ending of Half Life Alyx recently and cried.

I read the entirety of LOTR in one week in 11th grade, carrying that damn brick of a book everyday to school and back. I'm so glad I did honestly. Frodo and Sam are my important little guys and I find myself going back to them when I need something to calm me down in a way no other series except LOTR can. I've read most of Tolkien's work at this point, but nothing captivated me like those two little hobbits. Everytime I read a bad take about their relationship I sketch them making out.

People liked seeing my drawing process before so here's the original sketch and the little notes I wrote to myself trying to set the mood. I followed like half of them.

[bluntblade]

I've got a theory about why this happened, and I think the other Mandoverse shows support it, especially Mando S3. Basically, these shows have over-committed to using the Volume to the point that it hurts their action scenes. Not just in terms of how they look and feel, but what can even be put in front of the camera.

As Greig Fraser (the brilliant DoP who worked on early Mando as well as Rogue One, Dune and The Batman, and first got the Volume to work) has said, the Volume comes with pretty steep limitations. Spielberg has managed to do some things with it that Fraser hadn't thought possible, but for the most part it restricts what angles you can shoot at and also what movement you can have. Film Crit Hulk talks about it in more detail re Mando back in 2020:

Note HOW MANY times they’re standing relatively flat and the camera angle is directly parallel to a ground so that it puts the horizon in the same 1/3 of the frame spot behind them. They do this because if they raise the camera higher (as many shots should and would) it would reveal the “boxy” angle of the stage. It may seem small, but it REALLY de-emphasizes the natural surrounding and I’m worried it’s hurting the overall look of the show.

And it occurs to me that arguably the best-shot action of that series is probably the one where they went out and just filmed in the California hills. Note how Boba gets to tower over that one Stormtrooper and how there's a real sense of wham when he lands.

If you're shooting everything in a context where nothing can move all that fast, though, it really hurts your most kinetic characters. When Kelleran Beq gets his showcase in Mando S3, the camera can't move to add oomph to his strikes or give him a hero shot (in Kenobi you see them trying this with Vader, but they have to stop short of an angle which will actually give the image punch). If you've seen Dune Part Two, think of how the camera races along with Paul and Chani in some of their fights with the Harkonnens. That's wholly missing here.

And this also impacts the old jet packs (and Jedi acrobatics, for the most part). Whereas Jango could rocket around merrily, it's notable that the Children and the Nite Owls alike only really use their packs for dedicated aerial scenes. In the pirate fight, you can easily imagine them boosting from rooftop to rooftop and sparking even more "high ground" memes, but instead they conduct the fight entirely at a walking pace and on the ground.

And all of this hurts Sabine in particular, because like Ahsoka, she originated in animation and has previously been depicted in a really kinetic way. Even without a jetpack, she's a very acrobatic fighter in Rebels, and it's one of the things which makes her a really fun character. But in the process of moving to live-action, Filoni and co opted to change the characters to fit the Mandoverse style, instead of changing the style to fit the characters. The result is that lots of the things that first made Sabine so cool and fun just aren't really possible now.

[adiluv]

☆ ､､ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐰/ 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

after allowing this idea to rot inside of my brain for the past... who knows how long—here's some imagines!! inspired by the other types of hybrid reader scara / wanderer fics! hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི｡ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ｡꒱ྀི১

772 words. reader is from sumeru, not edited.

wanderer who meets you while on a walk through avidya forest, having only recently regained his memories and in need of some time to come to terms with it all. a troublesome finch had been keeping his company for the entirety of his little excursion, incessantly annoying him despite his numerous attempts to shoo it away.

he finally snaps once it pecks at the ornament holding his vision, cursing at it and accidentally swatting it with the back of his hand, sending it flying away and onto the shoulder of another individual. it chirps at you, as if desperate, and you turn around to be greeted by the scowl of this mysterious stranger.

wanderer who... doesn't exactly hit it off with you, becoming even more exasperated when you start to chide him for being mean to such a 'cute' little fledgling. he takes a second to eye you before noticing your colorful hair and patterned clothing, before finally locking onto the wings sprouting out of your back. he calls both you and the finch annoying, turning away before you can get another word in.

wanderer who finds himself meeting a familiar face once enrolled in the akedemiya, forced to room with another scholar in the hopes of him making another friend. his hands clench around his bag once he knocks on the door of his new home, knuckles white when your smile drops in silent recognition. turns out you were the amurta member kusanali had asked to room with him. wonderful.

"you're joking." he's scowling at you—your new roommate, apparently—eyes trailing up and down your form as if trying to make you disappear. you, on the other hand, can't keep your gaze stationary, looking between that familiar scowling face and the small bag of belongings he carries with him.

frankly, you want to say those exact words to him, but are left unable to as he shoves past you, trudging towards the empty room right beside yours. the door slams shut, a sense of finality shutting you up before you even had the chance to speak.

... you were starting to regret putting in the effort of making food for him. how could somebody known as 'hat guy' be so... bitter?

wanderer who's forced to adjust to your presence, despite your many disagreements. the rooms aren't exactly the largest, with the both of you being relatively new to the organization—and you have this terribly annoying habit of dragging him around to all sorts of pointless events. he tells you off each and every time you drag him away from his desk, but becomes less and less resistant over time.

wanderer who races you through the forest whenever the both of you are free, soaring through the trees with you by his side. he plays dirty, manipulating the winds around you in order to keep you from surpassing him—something that he only snickers at when you attempt to call him out on it. you've nearly crashed into a few trees due to his manipulation, though he'll always make sure to steer you away before you actually make impact.

wanderer who helps you whenever your pin feathers are ready to be unsheathed, despite his reluctance during the first few times you'd requested his assistance. he'd been much harsher than you'd expected, nearly pulling out the entire thing instead of simply breaking the keratin sheath, sending you squawking as you pushed him away.

now, though, he's gotten the hang of it, hands gently trailing over your head as he helps to relieve the itch. he'll still scoff, of course, calling the entire ordeal foolish—especially when you could just take care of the ordeal yourself, though he'll become incredibly pouty if you decide to heed his words.

wanderer who holds you tight against his chest whenever the both of you share a bed, allowing you to envelope him within your wings. they're soft, fluffy, comfortable, and while not something he'd ever think of revealing to you... he gets a bit sad whenever they aren't wrapped around him. not his fault that they're so warm.

wanderer who actually does let you use his hat as an umbrella, allowing your bird form to perch on his shoulder whenever it starts to rain unexpectedly. he's once taken you to the sanctuary of surasthana like this, only realizing the extent of his mistake when he saw the stars dancing in kusanali's eyes.

any attempts to bring the incident up are immediately dismissed, though the thinning of his lips and aversion of his gaze do nothing to hide his embarrassment. don't try to tease him about it—he'll pinch at your feathers.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[elitadream]

Ok so I was watching Brave earlier and I had ✨a thought✨

In the body swap AU what if being tapped in a monster’s body starts to have an effect on Mario where he slowly starts to lose himself to the monstrous urges? Like for a few seconds he’ll essentially ‘black out’ and become one with the beast he’s physically become, and overtime it starts to happen more frequently and he can’t control it no matter how hard he tries.

And when Peach and Luigi eventually rescue him, it happens again; His eyes change color and he starts to talk in low snarls and grunts. They’re both confused, but quickly figure out something’s not right, and they’re forced to back away as he starts to corner them with a menacing, animalistic glare. He raises the claws, but before he can attack he suddenly comes back to his senses. Realizing what he almost did, Mario profusely apologizes and explains that it’s been happening on and off for a while, feeling completely ashamed of himself despite knowing it’s not his fault.

Obviously I don’t expect this to actually happen (nor do I want it too cuz I would literally never recover lol) I just felt the need to participate in sharing ideas hehe

This had me pacing around and banging my fists on the table because YES. That's genius, omg!! 😱 What if the body they inhabit had a direct impact/influence on their psyche long-term? What if Bowser progressively assimilated human behavior while becoming more sophisticated, whereas Mario slowly felt his own mind begin to slip as the beastly side began to take over?

And for it to happen in front of Luigi and Peach too!.. 😭🙇‍♀️ Mario would be utterly mortified to be seen like this, poor dear. 😥 What if he ended up hurting one of them by accident?? It would be so scary for him to feel that shift and be unable to stop it. To slowly - but surely - start to lose the grasp he has on his own thoughts and actions. In a scenario like this one, I imagine that it would be a race against time. A rushed and desperate attempt to turn him back to normal before he forgets who he is entirely. 😣

I love mixing ideas and integrating concepts from different movies into this universe, and the premise for Brave fits perfectly in the body swap AU. 🎭💯 Thank you so much for sharing, dear!! 🙏💖

[bi-bard]

Phoebe Bridgers Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Kaz Brekker - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Phoebe Bridgers Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Kaz Brekker

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader

Word Count: 2,671

Warning(s): bad family, anxiety/anxiety attack

Author's Note: This was originally for a different character from a completely different show, but I think it fits Kaz better.

Not even gonna lie, the last song is a bit of a stretch.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

------------------

Smoke Signals

And you, you must have been looking for me Sending smoke signals Pelicans circling Burning trash out on the beach

I had grown used to spending time in Kaz's office when I wasn't working.

It was quiet, calm. Even when he was planning whatever the Crow's next job was, I would find it nice to just be there. To simply exist in that space with Kaz.

He was going over some of the paperwork for the Crow Club. Inventory and budgeting. It was almost humorous, watching someone with such a notorious reputation do something so... normal.

I could tell that he was getting frustrated over something. I was sitting opposite him.

"What is it," I asked. He looked at me as if he was shocked that I noticed him. "You aren't very good at hiding your scowl. What is it?"

He paused, debating if asking for my help was a good idea. "This math isn't adding up."

I stood up and walked around the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"I spent years watching my dad fill out paperwork just like this," I explained. "Let me look it over."

He moved to the side a bit. "You don't talk about your family very often."

"Neither do you," I countered. I glanced at him. My joking tone fell off when I saw the look on his face. "You never asked."

There was a pause as I scribbled on the paper in front of me.

"There. Done," I grinned. "Go ahead and check it, but I'm pretty certain that I'm right."

"Tell me about them."

I took a sharp breath, turning around and leaning against the desk. I looked at him.

"Please."

"I ran from home years ago," I said. "Nothing beyond that is important."

"And you settled here," he asked.

"Didn't have the funds to go anywhere else," I replied.

"Why'd you leave?"

"Kaz-"

He placed his hand over mine. One of the few steps forward we have made since we started this relationship of ours.

"I was unhappy," I never realized how much I despised talking about this. "My parents didn't want children. It was... all too obvious to me. Once I was able to take care of myself, I had to. I left because I needed a place where I wasn't a burden. I needed a home."

"And you chose Ketterdam?"

"I chose the Crows."

He raised an eyebrow at me, pulling his hand back as he leaned back in his seat.

"I met Jesper, started working here, and it all just... clicked. As if I had just been following some path here... to the Crows... to you."

Vulnerability was not an easy thing for Kaz or me. It was stunning how much two words could truly impact both of us. There was a shared tension. A sharp breath through the nose as our hearts both moved a little faster.

But it felt pointless to step back now. "I feel like I've known you my entire life."

There were a few moments before Kaz pushed himself from his seat.

He stepped closer.

We both watched each other closely. I was almost convinced that I could hear his thoughts. I could hear him going back and forth with himself. I waited, watching him map out scenarios for what could happen within the next few seconds.

When he moved, he was slow. I couldn't tell if he was still convincing himself or simply giving me the time to pull away.

When his lips touched mine, it was gentle. I would have called it awkward if I didn't feel how fast my heart was racing and how warm my face was. It was nothing more than a few moments of his lips touching mine.

He leaned back first. I grinned at him.

If this was the feeling that I had been looking for when I left home, then I could confidently say that it was all well worth it.

Steamroller

But then I see you Always smiling Makes me wanna touch you Keep from dying

Working in the Crow Club was more an accident than anything.

Jesper got me the job. He introduced me to Kaz and insisted on giving me a chance. I ended up making drinks.

It was enough for me. I got the money that I needed to survive and for the first time ever, I finally felt like I was a part of something. I had a group, support. It was the only thing that had felt like a family to me.

I didn't think that it would ever go beyond that.

Until one night.

The club had shut down for the night. I was cleaning off the bar when Kaz came down the stairs from his office.

"Evening!" I smiled at him, not quite registering the scowl on his face until after the cheery statement had escaped me. "Are... Are you alright?"

"Can you just... get me a drink," he asked. I nodded before grabbing him a drink. I slid it over to him.

As he sipped, I tried to ask my question again, "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

I couldn't say that it was surprising to only get one-word answers from Kaz. Even on his best days, he wasn't known for long-winded answers. They gave too much away.

I went to put the bottle away, but he stopped me, pointing at the bar so I would put it down.

"That doesn't seem fine," I replied as I did.

"Did I hire you to ask about my feelings?"

"You hired me because Jesper guilted you into it," I shrugged.

"Exactly."

"Meaning that you didn't define my tasks very well," I said. "How would I ever know that you didn't want me to ask about your feelings?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. I just offered a grin to him, tilting my head a bit. He rolled his eyes.

I couldn't force him to talk and he knew that I never would. Instead, I stepped back and walked around the bar, going to check for a few extra glasses that patrons had just left around the club.

I wanted him to talk to me. I would give anything for him to trust me like that. I always wanted to believe that I had stopped considering the possibility of anything happening, but then there would be the nights when it would just be the two of us. I couldn't stop myself from entertaining those possibilities.

And I always felt so childish for that.

I thought that Kaz just continued to ignore my existence.

But when I made it back to the bar with a few glasses, he spoke up.

"Sit with me," he muttered.

"What," I asked, convinced that I had misheard him.

"Sit with me," he spoke up a bit more. "Please."

I set the glasses down before dragging myself onto the seat next to him. "Did you... Did you need something?"

I wonder what went through his head at the time. I wanted to know what potential answers he came up with. If I had my way, I would know every sentence that he held back around me. Just so I could understand it all.

"I just want you around," Kaz confessed.

I tried to bite back the large smile that tried to form on my lips. "Oh."

"Don't be smug about it."

"I'm not," I replied. "But... why me?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He looked at me. "I... like your company... I like... you. You make me feel better."

"Really?"

He didn't respond, instead deciding to look down at the bar.

"Well, for whatever it's worth, I like you too, Kaz."

When he looked back at me, I could have sworn my heart stopped for just a few moments. I had to take a moment to remind myself to breathe. It felt ridiculous, sitting there and feeling so nervous. I felt like nothing more than a scared kid.

"We should talk about... this a bit more, shouldn't we?"

"Maybe."

And that was enough for me to be happy.

For now, at least.

Motion Sickness

I have emotional motion sickness Somebody roll the windows down There are no words in the English language I could scream to drown you out

I had grown accustomed to bumping into people at the Crow Club.

It was kind of a natural consequence of my job. You throw a bunch of people into an arguably small room, tell them all to focus on their game, and then watch them risk far too much money in a night. And then you threw someone in the middle to help the truly committed players get their drinks. It took a lot of convincing and a small bonus fee to convince Kaz to let me do it.

Bumping, nudging, awkward tapping, waving... all of that was usual to me. No one ever grabbed me. Not anymore, anyway. Two mistakes were all it took for that lesson to be learned by all of the patrons.

So, when I was suddenly grabbed while I was on my way back to the bar, I was immediately ready to pick a fight. I turned around immediately but froze before a single angry word could escape me.

My parents were standing in front of me.

"(Y/n)-"

I stumbled back when my mother reached out for me.

She furrowed her eyebrows. As if she was actually surprised why I wasn't jumping for joy over seeing them. She tried to step forward and touch me again.

I stumbled back again, going a little farther this time. "Don't touch me!"

"(Y/n)," she sighed.

My yelling caught the attention of a few patrons. My parents went to move forward, but Jesper walked over, filling in the space between us. He touched my arm, furrowing his eyebrows at me.

I didn't have an explanation for him. Not one that was going to be any good. I couldn't have formed any words if I wanted to. I knew that the words were trying to form; I could feel my jaw moving a few times.

He turned his head away from me, letting go of my arm as he stepped over to my parents. "Who are you?"

"That's our child-"

"No, I'm not," I finally spat out. I felt someone touch my other arm. I looked over at Inej.

"We have been looking for you all this time!"

"Have you?" Kaz stood just a few steps ahead of us. "(Y/n) said that you were more than happy to go about your lives. Let your precious child struggle in the Barrel."

"We didn't know where you had gone-"

"I thought I had made it clear," Kaz grumbled. "You speak to me, not (Y/n)."

"You don't get to tell me whether or not I can talk to my child," my dad snapped at him.

"It's my club, I can do whatever I want."

My parents didn't speak up after that.

"I think you should both leave. (Y/n) has made it clear that they have no interest in speaking with you."

"I am not going anywhere without my kid," my dad stepped up to Kaz, getting in his face. Kaz didn't flinch or step back. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at him.

"I think you are."

"You little rat-"

Kaz turned around and walked toward me. Jesper and Inej blocked him from my father as if they were a wall. I was still tense, fists clenched and jaw tightened and breathing unsteady. I could feel the tears in my eyes, but I didn't want anyone to see them fall. Hell, I barely wanted to let Kaz see them fall.

"Go upstairs," he instructed me quietly. I didn't respond, my eyes still fixated on the intruders. "(Y/n)..."

I finally looked at him.

"Upstairs."

I didn't say a word as I stepped back and walked to the spiral staircase. I could hear my parents yelling for me as I made it over there. I slammed the door of Kaz's office shut, relieved to know that it could muffle some of the sounds of their voices.

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tears overflow. I stumbled away from the door.

I found myself curled on the floor at the foot of Kaz's bed. I clasped my hand over my mouth, trying desperately to keep any cries to myself.

I jumped when the door opened a little while later. Kaz was standing in the doorway. He took a deep breath, going to close and lock the door. He stopped in the archway.

"I'm sorry," I muttered in an admittedly pathetic-sounding voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"(Y/n)," he said.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Stop," he cut me off. "You are not to blame for what happened today."

I rolled my eyes, looking down at my lap. It was hard to not feel like it was my fault. It was my parents making a scene because of how I left.

"They left," he explained. "I'd like you to take a few days off. Let the dust settle. If they come back, I don't want them having access to you-"

"I thought I'd be happier to see them," I stopped him. I didn't even think about it. "I... I wanted to be happier to see them. But they were just... they were standing there and... they didn't even acknowledge- I know that I left suddenly, and I didn't tell them anything, but they've had years to figure it out. They were awful... and I missed them so much. And I feel so stupid for missing them."

I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes, urging the crying to just stop. I felt this sick feeling in my stomach. I couldn't collect my thoughts. I couldn't find a complete sentence to explain myself.

"(Y/n)..."

I pulled my hands away from my face only to be met with Kaz's hand being held out to me. I took a deep breath before taking his hand, letting him pull me off the floor.

His eyes studied me for a minute. I wondered if he was having as much trouble finding his thoughts as I was. Kaz wasn't used to comforting people, I knew that. But I knew that he was trying his best for me.

"You should lay down," he finally said after a while. "Try to rest."

I nodded, letting go of his hand as I stepped around him. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"I meant... here."

I froze for a moment as I looked back at him. "Here?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

We had made a lot of progress since we first got together. But sleeping in the same bed was entirely new for both of us. And this didn't seem like the time to try to push any more boundaries.

"I have paperwork to take care of anyway," Kaz acted like it was nothing. "Just lay down."

I understood the hint. "I'm not letting you sleep in your chair, Kaz-"

"I'm not letting you go walking around Ketterdam at night when I don't know if you're safe."

I didn't respond to that. I knew how much he cared for me. That didn't change how nice it was to hear it out loud.

"Please, just lay down."

I finally relented, nodding and walking around the bed. "Thank you."

Kaz grinned at me before walking back to his desk, just on the other side of the archway. I pulled off my shoes and tried to get as comfortable as possible under the covers.

The bed was nice. Nothing fit for a king, but nice. It smelled like Kaz. It made it easier for me to bury my face in the pillow and pull the blanket up to my chin.

That sickening feeling in my stomach finally started to fade. I was finally able to breathe evenly.

It was rough. And the next few days were going to be the same.

But I had Kaz and the rest of the Crows.

That made everything just a little bit easier.

-------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[hahnsplatinum]

Having completely normal thoughts about kim kitsuragi and how his seemingly meticulous presentation is also wildly contradicting. And how all of it ultimately feeds into his repression and denial of self. He describes himself as a “regular, garden variety Revacholiere” but is obviously anything but (racial minority, member of “the homosexual underground”, police officer, etc). Does he really believe himself to be “regular” or is that just the framework he’s molded himself to fit into over the years. If you say it long enough maybe it will eventually be true

Its implied by some of his pre- and in-game interactions that kim utilizes the authority/power of being a cop for not entirely “just” actions (taking the spinner hubcaps from a suspect pre-game, he joins in on bullying the would-be skulls for their jackets, etc). He’s a “moralist” because it allows him to follow commands and enforce the moralintern’s laws without taking full blame for the larger ethical picture of his and the rcm’s impact. He resents his time as a juvie officer, especially the “kimball” case, because it undermined and threatened the carefully curated image of authority he’s built for himself as a cop.

But in the same breath kim is also patient and often outright kind to harry with his mental breakdown and amnesia. He doesn’t disrespect The Smoker on the Balcony or harry’s obvious bisexual awakening despite his own tight lipped, reserved position in regards to his own place in “the underground”. Kim is kind to lilienne’s little kids and encourages harry to be as well. He fights against the mercenaries at the tribunal despite the fact that they are also throwing around their power not unlike the rcm is known to do (re: mention of harry’s pre-game shootout in a church)

God just, imagine being a war orphan looking around at the world. Your parents died due to their involvement in political movements. People view you as less than or even subhuman due to your race. No one gets married anymore, you’ll never see anyone like yourself out in the open or forget the colorful words people have for boys like you. If someone offered you the opportunity to have more authority over your own life and interactions with others than youve ever known, a community of brothers in arms willing to die for you, access to places and things and knowledge you couldnt get otherwise—what reason do you have not to take up that offer?

Kim kitsuragi wants to blend in with every other citizen in revachol. And yet, he dons his bright orange jacket and police issued ID card every morning. He listens to Speedfreaks FM on his way to work. He’s killed 8 people. Regular, garden variety Revacholiere

[outro-jo]

Caught in the X fire

pairing: ryo suzaki x delinquent reader (gender unspecified)

type: imagine

summary: you were in the fight of you life against the love of your life

warning: violence, not canon to the High and Low storyline

a/n: this was self indulgent and i really don’t know a lot about the High and Low universe. some of the information may not be right but i tried to go back and double check things. also these are probably boys schools in japan but like just ✨pretend✨ it’s not if you aren’t a guy. i just like yuta and his character. please read info before requesting 🤍

masterlist | info

———————————

this was certainly an odd place to be.

when you were called to fight today with Ebara, Oya, and surprisingly Housen highs you didn’t imagine you’d be fighting one of your best friends. you knew Ryo was working with Senomon and they had taken Tsukasa but to be the one going toe-to-toe right now doesn’t feel real. bruises and gashes littered your face and body which ached from the blows and exertion but you couldn’t stop now. by now, the fighters remaining from the other schools gathered around to watch the two of you battle. 

“This is the last one,” you rasped, “this one takes it.” 

Ryo nodded in understanding before lunging towards you in dueling blows, his making contact with your cheek and likewise yours with his jaw. quite a stark difference to how you were treating each other a few nights ago.

Ryo had just finished with Amagai and you met in your usual spot in an alley way where no one could see you. he leaned with his arm up against the wall. the two of you whispered sweet nothings like you weren’t supposed to hate each other. his hand on your cheek, stroking where the bone protruded. now that cheek was bruised because of him. the lips he kissed were now split and bleeding.

the entire fight you had to keep the flashbacks at bay not just from the other night but from years earlier. he still looked like the little kid you remembered all those years ago. Ryo was also fighting his past while also fighting you. Amagai joining him on the dock and handing him a drink, letting the bat he had just beaten those bullies off with hitting the ground. What Amagai didn’t know was just before he arrived you had left. you had held Ryo while he was upset after being bullied, you hugged him while he cried. he had never forgotten and he felt an immense guilt causing your injuries now.

but that’s what happens when you’re on opposing sides.

the final blow of yours landed and Ryo fell to the ground. it took everything in you not to be at his side. you stood your ground, raising your face to the ceiling of the dilapidated gymnasium but this certainly didn’t feel like a victory.

“i lost…” Amagai whispered to himself repeatedly. you and the group that surrounded you looked over at him. 

it all happened so fast. a blade was unsheathed and Amagai ran toward you. you didn’t have any time to react but your braced for the impact of the knife that… never came? your eyes opened slowly, brows knitting in confusion as you looked down. Ryo’s hand pressed into you stomach, keeping the knife from impaling you.

“what’s your problem?” Ryo forced out to Amagai before throwing the knife to the ground. “you know we shouldn’t use these things!”

you watched in awe as Ryo used the last of his energy reserves to remind his friend of the promises they once made. however you could hardly focus on the conversation as your mind began to race. 

he saved you. he saved your life. you considered Ryo your best friend and the love of your life, but you knew being from two different schools, mortal enemies, you would have to make a choice you didn’t want to make. Ryo never made that choice. 

a guilt washed over you. there’s a part of you that didn’t know if you couldn’t have done the same for him, as much as you loved him. you fell to your knees. those watching would probably just assume you were exhausted from all the fighting, but it was the internal struggle that made your legs give out. 

Ryo collapsed on the floor as he finished his apologies for failing Amagai when Fujio stepped away from the group to remind him that it wasn’t about being the greatest when he had gained friends who would fight for him today. he didn’t get it. none of them did. this was about a promise between two childhood friends. you were the only one able to see it.

“hey…let’s start over again.” Ryo asked Amagai.

together they made their promises to the other schools that they wouldn’t lose again, and they restored their friendship. the room began to clear out with the promises to do it again. Fujio walked over to you and extended a hand to help you up but you shook your head.

“Sorry… my fight is with them now.” 

Ryo slowly looked over at you with wide eyes. you reached over and laced your fingers between his indicating an unspoken allegiance. You earned some shocked looks from the other guys but Fujio just shrugged and began leading the pack out of the gymnasium.

the three of you fell back on to the wooden floor completely spent, your fingers still linked with Ryo. Amagai was the first to break the silence.

“Dammit… who said you were apart of this?” he asked you.

Ryo looked over at you with a small smile on his lips which you returned. “i did.”

Amagai sighed and groaned looking up at the ceiling and you and Ryo joined him. 

“this is stupid! we can’t even see the sky!”

“not yet…” you said. “one day we will.” 

the boys turn and look at each other. “let’s start again,” Ryo said.

[djarinbarnes]

me recordarás - five

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Mature - explicit themes

Word count: 4k

Summary: summer has come to an end. you find yourself thrown into a whirlwind of emotions, difficult choices and more adversity, like you’d never believed possible. someone is there to pull you out of it - but it’s not someone you’d ever imagined.

a/n: IT’S HERE! a quicker update this time!! I hope you enjoy! lmk what you think!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Read it on ao3 here

previous chapter

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

A few days after your conversation with Eddie, Javi finally made an appearance at your door again. You’d started wondering where he was - if he wanted to see you again. You surely hoped he would, based on the way he’d held you and almost kissed you.

Almost. The thought of him and his scent and the feeling of him against you had your mind wandering and your soul quivering in your entire being. You hated the impact he apparently had on you - the tight grip he held you in.

You had so much you wanted to say to him - scold him for leaving you when you needed it the most, scold him for not being there when you needed him the most and mostly scold him because he left you wanting more.

You’d been trying to figure out in which order you would say the things you needed to say to him, repeating everything over and over again to yourself, almost like you had to prepare a speech for an upcoming exam.

Your racing thoughts have done nothing but make you sweat and worry even more. You decided on a warm shower to 1. calm your racing mind and 2. wash off the sweat that had soaked your thin nightshirt. While you stand under the stream of hot water, you’re thrown back to Colombia, where Javi ate you out in his shower.

You let your head fall forward, and take a deep breath, feeling the heavy patter of drops of water on your back. It’s like you can feel it - his fingers igniting your every nerve end under the touch of them, and the way they felt so deliciously thick inside of you.

You wanted him. You wanted only him, and it scared you. It scared you, that in a mere two weeks you were so dependent on a man - a stranger, almost - that you had a hard time imagining your life without him and imagining your cunt clenching around anything else than his cock, fingers and tongue.

Your hands held you upright against the wall as your legs quivered beneath you, and you felt the slick coating your inner thighs. It was so filthy of you - being so easily turned on by the mere thought of him inside you had your cunt clenching around nothing and your slick leaving you in heavy amounts.

You let your hand trail down your body, only one hand now bracing you against the wall, and you saw stars the second your fingers came into contact with your mound. You knew it wouldn’t be long before you came to a climax, and it felt so freeing and pleasurable. You dipped a finger into your heat - it felt nothing like the way it had felt when Javi had buried his fingers in you.

You swiped your thumb over your clit, and you came in an instant on your fingers. “Oh fucking hell,” you breathe out, feeling your legs give in under the weight of your body. It had been in Colombia you’d had your last orgasm - and you didn’t even realize it before now. It was like you had been entirely too focused on so much else than bringing yourself pleasure.

With a sigh and the water on your skin turning cold, you rinse yourself quickly and step out of the shower to dry yourself off. As you were wrapping the towel around you, you heard a few knocks against your door. You throw your hair in a towel as well, and as you open the door separating your bathroom from the rest of the apartment, some steam escaping the small room.

You don’t think twice before you throw open the door, revealing your towel clad body to Javi. A few moments pass where you just look at each other, Javi’s eyes traveling up and down your exposed body. You sensed that Javi did have a physical reaction to the sight of you, and you already knew you were fucked.

You let him into your apartment, and he watched you as you trodded around your small space. You wanted to say something. Tell him how much you had missed him, how much you longed for his touch and his presence. Yet you found yourself wanting to scold him more. To yell at him, and give him a piece of your mind.

You feel the anger grown within you, feeling the warmth blossoming in your cheeks and the hairs rising on the back of your neck. Your nostrils were flaring, and you kept your back to Javi as you came to a decision on what to do. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you lack the strength to keep your emotions contained.

“Hermosa…” Javi started, and you felt yourself unable to breathe properly. “There’s so much I want to say, yet I don’t know what I can allow myself to share with you. It’s… hard for me. These feelings. I want to, but it’s been so fucking challenging to even look at you and see nothing but hurt and…” you don’t look at him.

You hear him as he shut the door - his steps louder than you imagined. “You gave me twelve days, Javi!” Your face was burning, your skin on fire with anger. “Twelve days for me to show you who I am. What you gave me was twelve days of tumultuous thoughts and worry!” It felt good.

“I worried so much about you while you were away those days. If you’d been shot, if you’d found someone else! And then you come home, and tell me you love me while you hold me. Then nothing. I hear nothing from you! I try calling you multiple times a day, desperately trying to come in contact with you! You brushed me off like I was.. a plague to you!”

“Was it all just a lie? Am I really that gullible?” It’s merely a whisper, but it stings in Javi’s heart nonetheless. He wants to say something. Desperately. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words dare come out. He lets his gaze divert from the spot on the floor in front of you. Javi was embarrassed.

It felt so strange - getting reprimanded by a woman close to 15 years his junior, but he knew he deserved it. He felt like someone finally had the courage to talk back to him. “You know, this isn’t going to work.”

Javi looked at you, still only clad in a towel after your shower. You had your hair wrapped in a towel, and Javi thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Javi rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he wasn’t supposed to be thinking of you like that in a situation like this.

“What do you mean by ‘this?” He reluctantly asked, and sighed. He rose from the bed to crack open your window. “‘This’ can be a lot of things.” His lips were starting to get chapped from all the biting of them he was doing. You let out a huff.

“You and I.” you whisper, actually dreading what you were about to say. “This thing we have between us. It’s not going to work. It was never going to work. I can’t live in a situationship where I know nothing.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Javi lit a cigarette by the cracked window, and you let him. You were too upset to say something. And you certainly didn’t care, since you were moving out in less than a week. Javi rubbed the hand not holding a cigarette against his pant leg.

“Excuse me?” You breathe, and Javi follows your silhouette in the window. He assumes you’ve seen him with his back to you, since you pick the towel off your body and put on your underwear. He feels like a creep, yet he can’t take his eyes off of you. He feels his tongue jerk in his mouth, and he takes a last puff of his cigarette before flicking the butt out of your window.

“I said,” he speaks as he slowly makes his way over to you, his eyes on the length of your back. “I’m not leaving you.” His front is right up against your back, and you close your eyes at the feeling and the thought of the inevitable that’s about to happen. “Not again. I’m staying right here.”

His warm hands seek out your hips, and your eyes widen slightly. His touch feels like lightning against your skin, his touch heating your flesh in the form of handprints. Your lips part slightly, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

You feel Javi move closer, and you close your eyes, the next breath you draw in trembling. “Unless you really want me to.” It’s a mere whisper against the skin of your neck, before he kisses your skin ever so lightly. If it wasn’t Javi, and if your skin weren’t already on fire and your senses heightened, you surely wouldn’t have felt it.

“Say the word, and I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone. No matter how hard it will be for me to stay away.” With a shuddering breath you turn to face him, his face still close to our neck and yours close to his. It feels like you’re playing a game of hide and seek - the thing both of you are hiding are your feelings for each other, and the portrayal of the same.

“I’ll give you forever, if you just let me.” Your eyes flutter open slightly, and you study his shirt, feeling your hands growing clammier with the continuous heating of your skin and the way his breath is still alighting your nerve ends. “I swear. I’ll do anything.”

A few moments pass where nothing but silence and your bated breaths fill the room. You both await the other to make the next move. You decide to break the thickening atmosphere with a statement.

“Don’t leave me ever again,” you breathe against his neck, and the hands resting on your hips tightens. Your fingers come up and stroke his arms languidly, sliding all the way from his bare underarms, over his covered biceps, coming to rest against the heated skin of his exposed neck.

You pull back slightly to give you both room, your hooded eyes finding his expression mirroring yours. You crane your neck slightly, your fingers following the flush of his neck to where it meets his jaw. You tighten your trembling fingers, your thumb resting against his cheeks and the remaining fingers toy with his hairline behind his ear.

You lean in slowly and slot your lips in between his, right where they belong. You feel Javi relax against you, and you draw him closer, encouraging him to do the same. You feel his arms coming around you, pulling you against him tightly. One of the hands resting on your hips travels down over the expanse of your ass, caressing the globe of it before the other one follows, testing the waters.

When you let him, and with a moan of encouragement, knees bend and deft fingers grab at the inside of your thighs, and he lifts you like you were weightless. This time, you don’t comment on the strain on his back as he carries you to your bed, following you down as he lays you against the covers gently.

His lips are still slotted over yours, your tongue gently meeting his as your lips part further, his hand traveling down the center of your chest to grasp at your breasts. With a moan you press your head back into your pillow, allowing you to fully look at Javi for the first time since you told him to stay.

He sits back on his heels over you, swiftly undoing his shirt before discarding it by the side of your bed. You lean up and let your fingers graze the scar on his shoulder where he was shot, before you raise yourself further and place a kiss against the scarred skin. His eyes are lecherous as he watches you kiss his skin, the wet touch of your kisses making his heart thud harder in his chest.

He falls in love with you all over again. There was a certain glow in your skin, and he contemplates if he’s ever found anyone as beautiful as you, right in that moment. He needed to claim you back. Because it did feel like he had already lost you.

“I need you.” You breathe against his skin, and he feels his mouth run dry. “I want you so desperately.” it’s almost a whine, and if it was any other situation, Javi would have found it pitiful. He couldn’t bring himself to think that way about you, though.

“I need you to tell me what you want.” Javi breathes, his finger lifting your chin to gaze into your eyes. You easily get lost in his chocolate depths, and you feel a shudder wracking your body. His fingers caress the length and curve of your jaw, and a sharp breath gets stuck in your throat.

“I want you to eat me out. Prepare me, take care of me. I need you to fuck me with your fingers, before you fuck me with your cock.” You barely believe the words leaving your mouth. You’d never had the courage to say something so sultrily before.

Javi’s throat constricted around a lump. He had trouble breathing, yet it was a wonderful feeling. He watched as you reached behind you and unclasped the bra you had just put on, before you laid back on your bed, a shy expression playing on your features.

He halted. Javi had never halted in sexual acts, ever. He’d always been the one to initiate sex, any kind of sex. And here he was - looking down at the most intriguing woman he’d ever met, intriguing only because she had a wonderful mind and a mouth not afraid to speak.

You felt your stomach drop when Javi didn’t act as you’d hoped. Had you said something wrong? And then he pounced on you. His hands gripped the back of your head and your neck, fingers tightening in your hair as he kissed you ferociously, leaving you breathless.

His tongue met yours, and you whined. Javi was turning you on so wonderfully. He trailed wet, hot kisses down the column of your throat, between and over your breasts, his tongue circling your nipples. You wince slightly, and he notices. He pulls back gently.

“They’re a little more sensitive than usual…” you trail off, and Javi understands instantly. He leans down again and places a firm kiss against the peaked bud, the rosy patch complimenting the bloom of your chest perfectly.

He pushes himself further down to stroke his tongue over the skin of your stomach, his thumbs caressing your sides as he moves down. He pays special, careful attention to where your small incisions were stitched up, and you watched in awe.

While he kissed the skin between your naval and mound, his hands glided down your hips, his fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them off expertly. He looked up at you through hooded eyes and heavy lashes, and you nodded with a deep, irregular breath.

Then he continued his venture down between your legs, the light touch of his hands around your thighs sending shivers up your spine and making you even more nervous about what was to come. You knew you had already been turned on a little less than half an hour ago, and the feeling hadn’t subsided yet.

Javi looked up and met your eyes as he leaned in, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling the soft skin of your innermost thighs, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive petals defining the middle of your vulva. He leans in and spreads your folds with his tongue gently, and you whimper.

You’d forgotten how it truly felt. How it felt to be so close to Javi, and so intimate with him again. All of your thoughts disintegrate into nothing as he sucks your clit into his mouth, lightning jolting through your veins, and making you gasp.

You push yourself up to look at Javi, the redness blooming under the skin on your chest making your whole throat flushed in a sporadic manner. You whimper at his assault on your clit, all while his fingers are massaging your thighs heavily, keeping your legs still as he tastes you.

You keep yourself raised on your elbows but throw your head back when he swipes his tongue down again, catching a bead of saliva that has made its way down the length of your cunt. Javi is focused on keeping your wetness contained, and the action doesn’t go unnoticed as he keeps everything centered around your clit and your opening.

You barely feel as one of his hands lets go of your thigh before it’s buried deeply within you, and you let out a guttural moan at the action. Your mouth falls open and you don’t hold back - whimpers and heavy moans fill your apartment as he twists and curls his finger inside of you before he adds another.

You’re sure by now that you’ve died and are floating around the universe. Stars are the only thing you see, lust clouding your vision as your second orgasm crashes into you at full force, your cunt gushing against Javi’s face as he curls his fingers against the front of your channel, and holding them there.

He retreats from your clit and he smirks, watching as your chest heaves while you try and catch your breath. “Squirting on me and all, hermosa.” he grins and you flush impossibly redder. It was hot, there was no denying it. You had only heard about squirting and you hadn’t figured out what exactly it was - but now you knew.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe and finally open your eyes as your breath settles. You look at him through hooded eyes and smirk, casting a glance down to where coarse black hairs met denim. “Do you have anything…” you breathe, all shy now that it was finally going to happen - you sure hoped it would.

Javi nods, before pushing off your bed and undoing his pants, pushing them down his tanned legs. You suck in a breath at the revelation of no underwear, and you bite your lip as you take in his size again, for the first time in months.

He reaches over to search his jacket, prying open an inner pocket before pulling out a whole 10-pack of condoms. You stifle a giggle - you wouldn’t hesitate to fuck him again and again and again…

You watch as he pries the package open with his teeth, before his hand comes down to tug at his length a few times before he rolls the latex over his cock while his eyes are making their way up your body, from your feet to your eyes.

You hold his gaze as he climbs onto your bed. You spread your legs for him and scoot a bit further down to welcome him in. He rests on his elbow above you, caging you in slightly before you lean up to kiss him. It’s wet and heated, and tongues collide soon thereafter.

Your hand travels down between the two of you, finding his cock and tugging him closer to you. He moans at your gesture, and you align his cock with your entrance. He pushes into you languidly, two moans mixing into one in the cavern formed with both your mouths.

It feels surreal having him inside you once again, and your hands don’t know where to place themselves. One ends up on the globe of his ass, making sure he’s staying close to you. The other tangles itself in the hairs at the back of his neck, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You feel his heavy, scorching breath against your collarbone as he starts a pace that has you whining for more. “More, Javi, please, faster…” It’s all words coming out of your mouth at what feels like the same time, and it encourages him to pick up the pace.

His mustache tickles your collarbone and the crook of your neck, all while he peppers kisses along your pulse point, his cock stroking against the utmost depths of your cunt. His hand strokes your side, grasping the skin of your waist, the other twirling your hair as he keeps himself upright.

He thrusts in long, heavy strokes, his balls drawing noise from where your skin connects, and you throw your head back at the overwhelming sensations overcoming you. It ripples in your belly, the coil tightening slowly but surely.

It’s like he can feel your climax approaching, because his hand travels down and finds the hood of your clit, urging your climax further, pulling you to the edge of euphoria quicker than you’d ever thought possible.

Your walls clench around him tightly as your climax overcomes you, your head craning itself further back as you gasp for air. Your body convulses unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the overwhelming feeling sending sparks through your whole nervous system.

He groans against your skin before he empties himself into the condom, before collapsing on top of you. Your arms wrap around him and you exhale, relaxing against him. He raises himself slightly, his lips finding yours gently as you both catch your breaths.

“I meant everything I said, hermosa.” He shifts slightly, letting his softened cock slip out of you before laying on his side beside you. You turn slightly and look at him with a soft expression, urging him to continue. “I love you. I do.”

Your lips tug slightly, feeling your heart flutter. “I want you, and I want to be with you. I’m still scared shitless. With everything that happened…” He trails off, and you feel another tug at your heartstrings. This time though, it’s in sympathy. “I never told you.” Javi breathes and you grasp his hand in yours.

“Lorraine and I… tried. We lost three times. And it broke us. It broke me…” Javi lets his gaze focus on a freckle on your torso. “It didn’t feel the same after that. I couldn’t give her what she wanted, and it hurt more than anything.” Your thumb strokes the soft skin of his hand, and you lean in and rest your chin on his head.

“I’m afraid the same thing is going to happen with you. That I’m never going to be able to give you a family.” You feel a lump form in your throat, and a heavy tear landing against the back of your hand, intertwined with Javis. “That I’m never going to give you everything you deserve.”

“Oh, Javi.” You feel yourself tear up at his revelation, and it touches you deeply. You lift his head by his chin, urging him to meet your eyes. He does, his chocolate eyes glossy with tears. You lean in and place a kiss on his lips. “I am so sorry.”

You barely have the words to explain what you’re currently feeling. Javi gets up and rids himself of the latex, before he’s coming back to the bed. You sit up, and watch him as he kneels in front of you. There’s a short moment of silence, where neither of you speak.

“You must believe me when I say…” Javi starts, and you feel his hands grasp both of yours. His words halt, and he shoots his gaze down. You beat him to it, and open your mouth to speak.

“I want this, Javi. I want you. No matter what’s to come. And I’m not giving up on us. I believe in us.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next

[magicshopaholic]

Trials and Temptation (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: You and Taehyung see each other for the first time in two weeks. Meanwhile, Jungkook finally gets something off his chest.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, minor smut

Word count: 9.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, mentions of car crashes, allusions to sex, making out

A/N: I have reached a point in my life where I just don't proof read anymore, apparently. Still, hope you all like this one. It's been a while, but hopefully it's worth it. Set two weeks after Zandvoort.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “madness” by muse

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

Dilara’s limbs feel like lead in the best possible way.

She feels around for her phone, trying to move her hand as little as possible. Barely opening her eyes, she checks the screen to discover she’s been asleep for thirteen hours, meaning she’s missed dinner and breakfast.

She doesn’t regret it, though. She needed this sleep. Flying weekly from the Netherlands to Russia, to Italy and now to Singapore, with two entire race weekends and a third one beginning has brought her body to its breaking point. 

But she has no choice now; it’s Thursday and the PR is always overdone in Singapore. The buffet is probably closed but the executive lounge is sure to be stocked with food even now. With a mighty effort, she slides out of bed and washes her face, choosing to head to the fancy executive lounge in the Hilton in shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and flip flops.

The lounge is mostly empty, which is expected. She sees the buffet at the end of the fancy room, a tempting sight against Singapore’s swanky landscape - and already surrounded by a few others. Her heart doesn’t have time to race in anticipation, because Yoongi spots her almost immediately.

All he does is raise his eyebrows in surprise and wave before the men around him spot her, too. She mumbles out a “hey” as they approach her, relieved smiles on their faces. Dilara can hear the sleep in her own voice and knows her face looks dull and puffy as hell. Still, it feels better than she can remember to see them and for a moment, she's worried her emotion will show in her expression.

"It's good to see you, Dilara," says Namjoon, hugging her and patting her back.

"Thanks," she replies, relieved. "I'm glad it's -"

Before she can finish her sentence, Jungkook emerges from behind Namjoon, knocking Jimin over on his other side, and hugs her as well. He's silent but his arms are tight around her shoulders, and once she's over the momentary surprise, Dilara gently pats his back and waits until he lets her go.

"Hey, JK," she murmurs as he slowly steps back. As though it's like a magnetic pull, her gaze finds Taehyung over his shoulder, head lowered and keeping a respectful distance. 

Their eyes meet and her heart jolts at the expression on his face.

The crash had been unexpected for everyone. The entire team had been taken off guard; for the best car on the grid to spin out the way it did and hit a barrier hard enough to break it, it had brought the entire circuit to a standstill. John, her engineer, had been muttering into the radio: “Dilara, you okay? Respond, please. Dilara, are you okay?”, over and over on a loop, voice getting tighter and tighter with every passing second of silence, followed by Christian’s voice. Dilara. Let us know you’re okay, please.

Of course, she didn’t know this at the time. The impact had been so strong that her earphones had slipped out of her ears and she’d heard nothing. Without any response from her, she could only imagine that everyone was assuming the worst. Her ears had been ringing, her head spinning, the only sound she could make out being the one of her tyres crashing into the barrier. 

The race was red flagged and the medical car had picked her up from the crash site. Despite the fact that she was walking, albeit slowly, she was taken straight to the medical room and checked out while the stewards fixed the barriers. 

The first person Dilara spoke to when she was handed her phone was her mother, her voice shaking with relief when she heard her daughter’s voice through the phone. Her stepfather was next, followed by Chris and Fred, followed by Lexie, followed by Mick Schumacher who’d run over from the Ferrari garage to check if she was okay.

The race was done and the car was totalled - there was nothing that could be done about that. The Red Bull travel team had pushed her flight from that evening to the next afternoon, giving her the rest of the day to heal before travelling. 

Her team helped her get back to the garage, her press officer helped her through the post-race interviews, her friends helped her back to the hotel, and the hotel staff in Tuscany went over and above to ensure that she was taken care of until she checked out the next day.

It made Dilara feel ungrateful, that despite the support she had, part of her attention was constantly on her phone, waiting for one call only. 

Yoongi messaged her right after the crash; it was clear that he didn’t care about whatever limbo she and Taehyung were in, choosing to only ask if she was okay and to let him know if she needed anything. Towards the evening, it seemed even Jimin couldn’t resist checking in and dropping her voice note, sounding distinctly as though he was whispering.

It was a mild sort of relief she wasn’t a fan of: they didn’t forget. Dilara knew why Taehyung wasn’t calling her, but it didn’t stop her from waiting for it all the same. Fortunately, by the time her mind started tending towards more dangerous scenarios, the week began and she had to fly out to Singapore for the last race in this triple header. The weekend after that would be free, and the weekend after that would be Suzuka, Japan - Red Bull’s last race in partnership with BTS.

Taehyung’s hair is black again, falling into his eyes, curling at the nape of his neck in the Singapore humidity. The ash blond from before - from before - is gone, leaving him looking like he did the first time they met. Dilara wonders briefly if this was deliberate on his part.

When it seems clear that he’s waiting for her to decide what to do, she makes her way towards him slowly, noting from the corner of her eye how the others awkwardly disperse. She notices the flicker in his eyes as she approaches him, of restrained relief. He swallows and his toes press into the soles of his slippers, as though stopping himself from moving forward.

The smell of lotion is what was missing in that medical room in Tuscany; Dilara knows it now. Taehyung swallows and she raises her arms halfway, nodding slightly and taking another step towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and feeling him envelope her instantly. 

It’s tight, bordering on uncomfortable, but she lets it continue. It’s desperate, just like it is for everyone who watches someone they care about crash a speeding car during a race. It’s not unexpected, and when he silently lowers his head onto her shoulder, face tilted and lips pressed to the collar of her t-shirt, she squeezes him tighter.

“‘M ‘kay,” she mutters into his collarbone, hearing her voice muffled against his skin. “I’m here.”

—

Singapore is hot and humid. The drivers will be expected to take an ice bath on Saturday and Sunday, an event that will usually be photographed for PR. Dilara isn’t particularly looking forward to it, especially since she knows it’ll be similar to last year: a hot tub filled with ice, and all four drivers from Red Bull and AlphaTauri shivering inside it for shits and giggles.

She prefers the pool - more when the executive pool is reserved just for selected guests. The view of the city is spectacular from this height; she moves her legs slowly behind her in the water as she peers out over the infinity pool, feeling the cool water across her shoulder blades.

Dilara turns when someone else joins in; she waves to Jungkook, who waves back before slipping off his T-shirt and gracefully diving into the water. He does an entire lap around the pool before slowly breast stroking his way towards her and joining her at the edge.

“It’s so hot,” he comments, smoothing back his wet hair and standing to his full height. The water reaches somewhere around his pecs, droplets of water gleaming on his honey coloured chest and shoulders. 

Dilara looks away quickly. “Better than Russia, though. But still,” she agrees, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. “This race is going to be hell.”

“I can imagine.”

He can’t, really, but that’s okay; she appreciates the sentiment. Jungkook’s always taken the most interest in racing; not in her racing career, but racing in general. The fact that he might be the only one to know just how hard she crashed in Italy and how bad it could’ve gotten isn’t lost on her.

“When did you guys get here?” 

“Last night.” Jungkook slides down into the water all the way to his neck and turns around so his back is against the wall. “Most of them flew from Seoul so it wasn’t that bad. Only me, Namjoon hyung and Taehyung hyung stayed in Europe.”

Dilara frowns, resting her elbows on the edge. “Why? You guys had almost two weeks off. Didn’t you want to go home?”

“We didn’t have it off,” he clarifies, snorting a little. “Suga hyung was in the studio the whole time and Hobi hyung and Jimin were filming for a commercial. Namjoon hyung had to go to the studio, too, but I think he rescheduled it. Wanted to stay with Kaya for a little longer.”

“And you and Taehyung tagged along? Third wheels much?”

“No! We went to Paris for a few days and only went to Amsterdam at the end of the week. We watched the race with them,” he adds.

“Uh-huh. What did you think?” She smirks a little from behind the sunglasses. “Was it all the entertainment the sport promises?”

Jungkook gives her a look. “Not funny.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Sorry.” She turns around and leans back against the wall like him, noticing how much longer his legs are under the water. “Where are the others?”

“Others?”

“Yes, all six of them.”

He chortles. “They should be up here soon.” He barely gets the words out of his mouth before Namjoon and Hoseok enter the pool area from inside, both of them wearing sunglasses like her, in swimming trunks and thin T-shirts. 

Dilara and Jungkook watch the rest of them arrive in relative silence, snorting in unison when Seokjin brings a gigantic inflatable duck with him. Jimin whips off his shirt as well and winks at her before heading to the bar for a drink.

Taehyung is the last to arrive, his face hidden behind huge sunglasses. She can still tell when he spots her; he pauses momentarily and raises a hand halfway in a wave before joining Jimin at the bar.

Dilara swallows, her heart jolting slightly. Her eyes follow him as he seemingly scans the menu, his hands loose in the pockets of his shorts. His black hair looks bright against the thin white T-shirt; despite herself, she imagines what it would be like to run her hands through it.

Next to her, Jungkook clears his throat conspicuously.

“Have you two…”

“No.”

He nods while she looks down at the water, trying to ignore her disappointment at his unenthused greeting.

“Do you want to…?”

“I don’t know.” Dilara exhales. “He seems… busy, anyway,” she adds, glancing at him, now seemingly discussing the menu with Jimin.

Jungkook follows her gaze and bites his lip. “Understood.” He leans forward and pushes himself into the water. “Got your back.”

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

But Jungkook has swum away. She watches in mild confusion as he glides diagonally across the pool like a shark and emerges almost soundlessly, dripping from head to toe. Then, with a yell in what can only be Korean, he barrels towards Jimin, who shrieks, as he pushes him and they both get thrown into the water.

There’s an outbreak of guffaws, followed by Jimin sputtering and complaining and Jungkook laughing loudly. In the confusion, Dilara swims over to the same spot that Jungkook had and climbs out, quietly joining Taehyung who’s now at the self-service counter next to the bar. A chilled water tank rests on it, with slices of brightly coloured fruit floating inside it.

Taehyung turns to her and his grin fades slightly, but he doesn’t look unhappy. He takes his sunglasses off the same time she does, swiping his hair out of his eyes the same time she lets hers out of its bun, ropes of wet hair falling loose around one shoulder.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey.” His gaze flickers down her simple red one-piece before meeting hers again. He holds it for a few seconds and then looks away, fiddling with the nozzle of the water cooler. “How are you?”

It takes Dilara a moment to process his words. I’m just swell, thanks. “Um… I’m okay. You?” she asks after a moment.

“Same.” He gives her a hint of a smile, polite. Formal. Then, as though he can’t resist, his gaze focused on his glass under the nozzle, he speaks again. “Are you okay? Did you… did you get hurt?”

“In the crash?” She notices him wince slightly. “No… not really. They checked for a concussion and stuff, but… all okay.”

“Good.” Taehyung nods, glancing at her. “Because… well, I heard that when something like that happens, they don’t show the driver on camera until they know the driver is okay. And they didn’t show you for a while,” he mutters, looking at the ground.

Dilara frowns. “You were watching,” she states, realising only now that she can’t actually picture him watching two and a half hours worth of a race.

“Yeah, I was,” he answers, sounding a bit confused at her statement. 

A memory tugs at her heart. Another crash, less dangerous than this one. A cloudy, grey afternoon on the paddock in Suzuka. I think I’ll be worried every single weekend from now on.

That had been less than forty-eight hours after they’d met. She’d been a bit cold towards him that day, annoyed at the thought of being a one-night stand who was being ignored. It seems ridiculous in hindsight.

“My earphones came off,” she explains, reaching for a cup so she can give her hands something to do. “So I couldn’t hear the team. How long was I off camera?” she asks, curious.

He’s still not looking at her properly, as though she’s going to blind him if he stares at her too long. “A few minutes,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

There’s another moment of strange, awkward silence. “And I’m sorry about the race, too,” he adds, as though it’s another bullet point he’d rehearsed and almost forgotten.

“Right. It’s okay. My main competition in the points right now is Charles and his engine failed so he couldn’t finish his race either,” she explains. “So it didn’t really make a difference.”

“That’s good.”

When he doesn’t say anymore, Dilara nods slowly, at a loss for anything more to say. 

The crash scared him. He was scared. That would explain the careful distance he’s maintaining- except, it wouldn’t. This is not scared Taehyung; scared Taehyung would start losing his cool even faster, his emotions bubbling up to the surface. But there’s none of that here. She thinks of the way he’d hugged her this morning, held her so close to him - that was scared Taehyung, or the closest to it that she’s seen so far.. 

Since then, however, it’s like he’s doing everything in his power to maintain a distance, one that’s just growing further and further.

Dilara licks her lips and glances up at him, watching him sip at his drink. Finally, she shakes her head.

“How come you didn’t call me?” she asks, unable to keep it in any longer.

Taehyung frowns and whips around to look at her, his eyes wide. “You - you told me not to -”

“No, I know,” she says quickly. “I know what I said. I just… I kind of expected you to do it anyway,” she remarks, realising it’s true. Most of her had no faith that he’d do what she asked, his own needs sure to overpower her wishes eventually.

He looks a bit doubtful. “Sorry?”

She cracks a small smile. “Don’t be. How did you restrain yourself, though?” When she notices the small frown, she amends her question. “How did you stop yourself?”

“Oh, uh…” Taehyung rubs the back of his neck, slender fingers gliding through his thick hair. “I mean, you asked me not to.” He shrugs lamely but then sighs. “I thought about it,” he admits. “After the - after the crash. But I didn’t want to make it worse… and Kaya agreed, too. She said I should give you space if you asked for it.”

Dilara struggles to picture it: Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon and Namjoon’s girlfriend, all watching the race, seeing her crash into the barriers and the race getting red flagged. Taehyung debating whether to call her; did he ask Namjoon for his advice, which prompted Kaya to give hers? Did they guess?

“You told her?” she asks, for lack of anything else to say.

“Not really… I guess Namjoon hyung did.”

She isn’t surprised, neither does she really care. She supposes it should make her happy, that he did what she wanted, but all she can feel is something akin to disappointment, especially when she looks up and sees him still standing a careful four feet away from her, as though afraid to get too close.

Dilara takes a step closer to him but before she can say anything, Taehyung places his empty glass down. “I’m going to swim for a bit,” he says quickly, shuffling backwards. “You can join us, if you want.”

If you want. It had seemed like fun before, being around friendly faces after two weeks of travelling mostly alone. But with Taehyung seeming so uncaring about it, inviting her just to be polite - suddenly she wants to be anywhere but here.

—

The next day is Friday, Free Practice day. Yet, nothing changes. She continues seeing him around, in the hotel, in the paddock, in the restaurant - and Taehyung continues acknowledging her from a distance and exchanging careful, guarded words when he has to. It’s confusing, but it’s also filling her with a sense of dread she can’t place.

Dilara doesn’t know if the other guys have noticed this weird change in dynamic; if they have, they aren’t reacting to it. Given Singapore’s real estate scenario, all of them are put up in a hotel this time in separate suites. The group has three, as far as she knows, and she has her own. For the first time since this PR stunt began, she finds herself wishing they were still living in the same house.

The weather is just unbearable. After the first awkward encounter at the pool, Dilara throws caution to the wind and starts heading out there for a quick dip whenever she can. She runs into Jungkook a couple of times, once into Namjoon - and once into Taehyung on her way back.

Their hotel rooms are on the executive floor, meaning no one but them has access to it. On Friday night, after a long day of free practice, debriefs with the team, the pre-race press conference and some PR, Dilara sneaks away for a late night swim. She doesn’t have the energy for more than a couple of laps, spending most of her time floating on her back.

She doesn’t even bother showering in the changing rooms. Pulling on a pair of shorts over her swimsuit and slipping into her flip flops, she heads back to her room, barely noticing the droplets of water from her hair dotting the carpeted floor. When she’s almost at her suite, the door opposite her own swings open and Taehyung emerges, adjusting a headband on his head when he sees her.

“Hi,” she says after a moment.

Taehyung looks almost like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes flicker and he glances up and down the corridor before giving her a formal smile and a nod. “Hey.”

Dilara tries not to grit her teeth too obviously. She stares at him and silently lowers her hands from where she’d been holding a towel to her chest, exposing the bikini top she’d specifically worn because she’d known she’d be alone at the pool. Leaning back against the wall, she holds his gaze.

Taehyung tries, really tries, to keep his eyes trained on hers, but eventually he breaks, swallowing as he takes in her appearance. 

“Are you going out somewhere?” she asks.

It takes him a moment. “I - no. I mean, kind of. I think I left something in the car so I’m going to my manager’s room to check if he found it or…” He trails off. “You?”

“Went for a swim.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.” Dilara nonchalantly sweeps her hair over one shoulder, stretching her side as she does so. “It was nice. Quiet. But you know -” she shrugs “- still public. Anyone could have come out there.”

She’s being extremely obvious now, but it seems to be a situation that demands it. She watches Taehyung nod jerkily and bite his lip, his gaze still lingering low on her torso before struggling upwards to her face. He is unbelievably handsome; her heart stutters when his eyes snap up to meet hers, dark and knowing.

“And it’s better than the ice bath tomorrow. I’m not really looking forward to sharing a tub with Max and those guys,” she adds casually, subtly watching him for his reaction and feeling her stomach sink slightly when he displays none.

“Might help with the heat,” he offers vaguely, looking at the ground now. “You should - you should get some rest. For tomorrow.”

Dilara stares. “Tomorrow is Qualifying. Not the race.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Still.” He takes a deliberate step back, hands in his pockets, and she notices only then how much closer they’d gravitated towards each other. “It’s late. I - have you had dinner?”

“Not yet. Do you want to -”

“Jungkook hasn’t either, I think,” he interrupts. “Or Yoongi. I think they have ramen in their room, too.” He points in the general direction of the corridor. “I should go.”

She nods, too frustrated to talk. With no interest in having dinner with Yoongi or Jungkook, she watches him strut down the corridor and turn in the direction of the elevator, out of sight. 

On Saturday morning, Dilara gets ready for the final round of Free Practice before Qualifying in the evening. It’s hot, as usual, but she can’t focus on that right now. The fact that she has roughly eight hours until Qualifying is weighing on her; in eight hours, the expectation from her will be to drive her fastest around the circuit, to push the car to its limit and beyond.

She’d done exactly that in Tuscany and her brakes had failed. Granted, it was the only time in ages that the Red Bull had ever been faulty to this extent, but it had still happened to her. A more flimsy barrier, a hotter track, a differently designed car - that’s all it would’ve taken for the crash to have been far more serious.

Dilara stares at the seat, feeling her mouth go dry. Climbing into the car, being strapped to the seat… she’d managed Free Practice yesterday, but today seems like a whole different ball game. Fully aware of the mechanics and team members milling around her, however, she rolls back her shoulders and brings her hair to the front to braid it, hoping to delay the process of getting into the car.

She wishes Lexie were here. The team was supportive of her recovery throughout, but this is different. They’re still the team and she’s the driver; after all the work they’ve put in all year, she owes them a good race no matter what. Lexie would’ve been here for her, for Dilara, with the race being the second priority.

Dilara looks up across the garage at where BTS will be seated during the race tomorrow, possibly during Qualifying as well. Taehyung might have been here for her only, but she can’t see him anywhere right now. He wasn’t there after the crash, and he isn’t here now - and Dilara has never been more aware of his absence. It scares her more than it should, but it’s not something she should be worrying about on a race weekend.

Taking a deep breath, she steps into the car.

—

“Fifteen minutes to the interview!” 

“Copy!” Dilara waves to Vicki before stepping into her changing room, relieved to be out of the heat for a few minutes. She lets her hair out of its ponytail, curling wildly in the humidity and shakes it out for some of the air conditioning to hit her scalp.

It’s pre-Qualifying interviews in a few minutes; usually she’d be out there in full race gear, ready for the pictures and the drivers’ parade after. But in this heat, she can’t imagine a single driver would be in their overalls. Lewis had shown up in a tank top last time; in an effort not to pass out from a heat stroke, Dilara makes the executive decision to wear half her team overalls with a sports bra, thin and white.

She jumps when she hears a knock on her door. “Come in,” she calls, frowning, which turns into shock when the knob turns and Kim Taehyung slips inside, immediately locking the door behind him.

“Oh, my God - how did you get in here?” she gasps as he tentatively enters the cramped changing room. “Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so.” He tosses his hair out of his eyes, walking up to stand in front of her and still keeping a deliberate four feet between them. “I just wanted to say…” He trails off, swallowing and looking around the room.

Dilara’s heart hammers, partly from the shock and partly from the scent of his lotion in such close quarters. His thin button-down, white and loose, makes him look like a character from a period film. His hair is darker than ever and perfectly soft and fluffy, apparently unaffected by the humidity. She clears her throat.

“Yeah?”

“Just… good luck.” Taehyung nods awkwardly and seemingly turns to leave but then stops. “And… don’t do what you did last time.”

“What do you mean?” It takes her a moment to understand what he’s referring to. “Wait, you’re talking about the crash? I didn’t do anything - Lando Norris blocked me and I locked up and then my brakes -”

“Fine,” he interrupts her, taking a step forward. “Just… don’t do that again. Don’t let that happen again. Please,” he adds tightly.

It’s not her ideal form of a confessional, but with whatever is going on with him right now, she supposes it’s the best she’s going to get. She places her hands on her hips, surveying him critically.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

The same disappointment she’d been feeling all weekend threatens to take over but she knows she can’t afford emotions like that before racing. So she simply shrugs. “Fine. I’ll do my best not to crash into a barrier and destroy my car. Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes and turning away when he grabs her wrist.

“Wait, Lara, are you -” He scoffs slightly. “Are you angry with me?”

She raises her eyebrows, noting how he instantly drops her wrist. “Why would I be angry?”

Taehyung tilts his head and gives her a look, and she can almost hear him say I can tell, you know. “I just came to wish you good luck.”

“Great.” She takes a step forward towards him. “Anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

Dilara could shake him. The sinking feeling is returning and she has to get rid of it in a few minutes or it could ruin her entire Qualifying. Vaguely recalling the last time they were in her changing room together, she steps up towards him and kisses him.

Taehyung seems surprised for a fraction of a second before his entire facade seemingly crumbles; he kisses her back instantly, holding her face and walking her back until she feels the wall. 

Finally, she thinks reaching up and pulling him closer by the shirt, feeling his slender torso against hers. It’s fast and messy; their hands roam across each other boldly and Dilara tries to breathe in as much of him as she can, desperate to retain this version of him that she knew was here this whole time.

She squeezes her eyes shut as his lips move across her jaw and down her neck, remembering that she has about seven minutes at best before she has to be at her pre-Qualifying interview. It’s too hard to focus on anything else right now, though; she runs a hand through Taehyung’s hair, feeling his arms tight around her. Her core tingles pleasurably as he goes lower and she moans, feeling him make his way down her chest and suck on her nipple.

Dilara realises a moment too late and gasps the same time that he pulls away with a jerk, as though electrocuted. They stare at each other for a second, their expressions identical ones of horror before she looks down to see the most incriminating spot on her white sports bra, right in the open for everyone to see.

“What - what did you do?” she stammers, glaring up at him. “I have to be on camera in five minutes!”

Taehyung’s still staring at it in shock, but his crisis seems to be wholly different. He swears softly in Korean and takes several steps back, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” He swallows and meets her eyes, and his face shutters over into the same smooth expression he’s had on all weekend. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, more formal this time. “Good luck tonight. And… be careful.”

Dilara watches him leave, waiting for the sinking disappointment again. But it never comes, which she’s glad for because it’s not an emotion that helps her in a race. The ideal one would be her love for racing, or her need to win. Any of those are preferable to disappointment or heartbreak.

But anger works just as well, too.

—

The debrief after Qualifying feels like the longest one Dilara has ever attended, even though her phone says it’s only been about forty-five minutes. She gets through it in a daze; for once, she has no feedback on the car. It worked perfectly well, she drove perfectly well and her result was satisfactory for everyone. No, this session is focused on Max and some inane aspect of track limits that he’s been complaining about since before Qualifying ended.

Dilara has nothing useful to contribute to this discussion, so the moment she gets an out, she takes it. Her car drops her back to the hotel and she takes the elevator straight to the executive floor, but doesn’t go to her own suite. Instead, she knocks on the door opposite it, noticing how her hand trembles just a little bit.

Her phone pings then and she sees an Instagram message from Lexie: a picture of herself from the paddock half an hour ago, wearing a black sports bra and cotton shorts, with a striped open shirt over it - the exact same thing she’s wearing right now. Under the picture is a message from her friend: Everything okay? Thought you’d be celebrating P3!

It’s a testament to their friendship that even though it’s a picture of her smiling, Lexie can still tell when it’s fake. Dilara locks the phone when she hears footsteps behind the door, making a mental note to reply to Lexie later; right now, she needs to hold on to the anger that got her to P3.

The door swings open to reveal Jungkook, in a sleeveless black t-shirt and shorts, holding a chilled water bottle. “Hey, Dilara!” he exclaims, a smile instantly appearing on his tired face; her guess is he’s just returned from the gym. “Congratulations on P3!”

“Thanks.” For some reason, the room is completely dark, save for a colourful lamp throwing shadows on the walls. It takes a few moments for her gaze to find Taehyung behind him at the mini bar, who doesn’t look too surprised to see her here. “Can I talk to you? In private?”

He says nothing, simply looking towards the living room where Jimin is sprawled on the couch, sitting in front of the TV.

“Dilara, hey! Wanna join -” 

But he cuts off abruptly, possibly at the sight of her expression. For a few seconds, no one moves. Dilara’s eyes flicker from Taehyung to Jungkook, hoping at least one of them will make the next move. It seems to be Jungkook’s cue.

“Right. Gotcha.” He strides into the room and beckons Jimin to get up. There’s some whining and complaining in Korean, but a few seconds later, Jungkook and Jimin brush past her to exit the room, the latter in a chokehold of sorts.

Dilara steps inside and waits for the door to swing shut behind her, turning to lock it for good measure. She walks slowly towards the living room; there’s an open bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and the TV screen is frozen on a dark shot of a Billie Eilish music video. 

“You guys don’t believe in using lights?” 

“Jungkook got a new lamp,” is all Taehyung offers in explanation. She turns to see him approaching her gingerly and stopping at the edge of the room; it makes her blood boil. “Congrats on P3. You drove really well.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I should’ve crashed. It seems to be the only way to get you to act like a real person.”

A shadow passes over his face. “Don’t ever say that.”

“It’s true.” When he says nothing, she scoffs. “I can’t believe you did that. I had no time to change - I was just lucky I had a black bra in my changing room or I would’ve had to wear that damn race suit for the drivers’ parade. I would’ve overheated before Qualifying even began! Do you care at all -”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t plan -”

“Then why did you even come into my changing room?” she demands, walking over to him and pushing him back by the shoulders. “Was it just to tell me to be careful? Are you serious?” 

“I came to -” But he breaks off, his gaze falling to the ground again. “I came to wish you good luck.”

“Bullshit.”

There’s a look in his eyes, one of agreement and pleading. “I’m sorry I got carried away. I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you,” he says quietly.

It takes everything in her not to scream. But that would be pointless. So far, only one thing seems to have worked in bringing forth the Taehyung she knows from behind this robotic stranger; without another thought, she kisses him again.

Dilara doesn’t wait for him to take the lead this time. The anger, the frustration, the confusion - and most of all, that dangerous, dreaded disappointment - takes over and she pushes him backwards on the sofa, taking off her shirt and straddling him. Taehyung doesn’t even seem surprised this time; his hands are already on her hips, pulling her closer so she feels his bulge underneath her.

It’s that same desperation again; it’s as though the outward, uncaring persona has been shed like a snake’s skin, revealing everything he truly wants to say. He’d said part of it back in the changing room and he’s saying the rest of it now. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least that she’s in control; all he seems concerned with is keeping her close, his lips on hers and his body reacting accordingly.

Their clothes are off in minutes - everything but the black sports bra. Pushing his shoulders back into the back of the sofa, mouths only inches apart as they breathe heavily, she slides onto him, groaning at the feel of him after so long. Taehyung grunts into her neck as she begins moving, trying with each second to find those blissful few moments where it’s just him and her, and none of the mess they’ve left in their wake.

The aftermath is worse. Sitting side by side on the sofa, half-clothed, in the dark and shadowy room, Dilara drops her head back on the sofa.

“How does this happen?” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes. “How does this happen every time? I’m angry with you and ten minutes later -” She breaks off and turns to him, his silhouette perfectly angular. “This isn’t normal, right? A normal person wouldn’t do this. How - how are you making me do this?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer, knowing he’s not meant to. He lets her get it out before exhaling. “Do you want a drink?” he asks softly.

It’s back. The distance, the tone - it’s back. But Dilara is too tired. “Yes, please.” She watches him as he leans forward and makes her a drink, complete with a pile of ice cubes before handing it to her. She takes a sip and winces.

“Sorry. We’ve only opened the whiskey so far. Do you want wine instead?”

“I don’t want anything. What do you want, Tae?” she asks him instead, standing up and going around the table. Not caring that she’s just in her underwear, she kneels directly opposite him. “You’re acting like you can barely stand me - except for when we fuck.” She tilts her head when he still doesn’t look at her. “Is that all you need from me now?”

Taehyung doesn’t take the bait. “You wanted space, Dilara,” he says. His tone is the opposite of hers; no sharpness, just plain and calm. “I’m just doing what you asked.”

Yes, you are. But this isn’t the way. He’s not just giving her what she wants - there’s something else there, too. She knows it, she could feel it in the way he backed away from her in her changing room earlier today, even in the way he held her a few minutes ago, as though savouring her for the last time.

Dilara sighs, biting her lip. All the anger she was holding onto has disappeared; the sinking feeling is all that’s left. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

The silence is loud. Then, Taehyung sits back as well. “Yeah, you do.”

Yeah, she does. She knows what he wants; despite his restraint, his distance, his guardedness, he’d let it slip earlier today when he’d snuck into her changing room, an hour after she was filmed in an ice bath with her Red Bull teammates. Dilara knew when she was being marked; unfortunately, Kim Taehyung couldn’t just give her a hickey like a normal person. No, his way was a step further as usual, but the message was just as clear.

“No, I don’t. So tell me.”

“I can’t, Lara,” he mutters, and his voice strains just a little bit. “It would be too selfish of me.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Taehyung finally looks up at her. His eyes look so soft in the dim lights, so unlike the blazing, laser-gaze he usually fixes her with. Then his eyes flicker to the floor, and he swallows.

“I want another chance. With you.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I know I hurt you, but I want to try again. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s something he’s asking her for. He says it like it’s a pipe dream, like he’s a child who’s asked what he wants to be when he grows up. An astronaut. A chef. Your boyfriend, again.

The sinking feeling, the dreadful disappointment that’s been following her all weekend - it suddenly makes sense. It’s not just about giving her space and it’s not about his fear over her crash. His distance is so much deeper than that.

Dilara scoffs, feeling her face start to sting. “Oh, God. You’re giving up.”

“Excuse me?”

She stands up, clutching the glass of whiskey. “I can’t believe you,” she mutters, shaking her head. “After everything that’s happened, after all we’ve been through, you’re just giving up? I told you not to call me, I told you to give me space - you got your feelings so damn hurt by that that you decided it’s just not worth it anymore?”

“I didn’t -”

“No, that’s not fair!” she exclaims. “You don’t get to do that, okay? This is - everything that’s happened is because of you! You did this to us, you’re the reason we’re here, so you don’t get to just give up!” She slams the glass on the wooden table and turns away when she sees him stand up as well.

“You don’t think I know that?” His deep voice takes her off guard, but she’s relieved. This is the loudest she’s heard him all weekend. “You don’t think I know that this is all my fault? I know I did this - and I’m still screwing it up! Even now, I’m still hurting you, so…” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m done. I’m just going to do what you want. Whatever you want.”

“Really.” She scoffs and folds her hands across her chest. “Whatever I want?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You want space? I’ll stay away from you as long as you want. You want to take it slow? You want to just fuck once a year when we’re in the same country? Done,” he states, his voice trembling. “I’ll do it.”

Dilara stares at him. His shoulders are broader than she remembers, and she relives for a moment how they felt earlier this week when he’d been transparent about his relief at seeing her alive and okay. 

“But that’s not what you want,” she reminds him. “You want to -”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he interrupts her, stepping closer to her. “That’s what I’m saying. Every time I do what I want, I end up hurting you and pushing you away. So it’s not about me anymore - I’ll do whatever you want to -”

“Then help me!” she implores. “Help me hate you more!” Dilara sniffs, turning away from his stunned expression. “And if you can’t do that… at least don’t be a coward. You don’t get to give up.”

She brushes past him to get to her clothes, strewn next to the sofa. As she pulls them on, she glances through her hair at Taehyung, boxers on and nothing else, with his head in his hands, looking defeated. The rest of the room looks remarkably the same; she remembers Jimin sitting on that sofa a half hour before she and Taehyung had sex on it, and she cringes.

“Lara, I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he says as she moves to leave. “It’s not fair.”

Dilara has no response to this. The last three weeks have been immeasurably useful in helping her realise how she still feels about him, but none of it matters if he’s no longer in the game. It occurs to her only now how much she was counting on him fighting for it; without that, it’s too overwhelming for her alone, like being in the middle of a car crash without a single person to pull her out.

“You should call for a turn-down service,” she tells him, gesturing to the sofa. “Before those guys get back.”

He nods. “Good luck for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Tae.” She steps out of the room and closes the door behind her, immediately gulping in bag loads of air. The first sob takes her by surprise. Her knees give way and she slides down with her back against the door, all with the knowledge that her own suite is just across the corridor. 

—

Sunday is all about the race. BTS is gone most of the day for PR that she’s not involved in, so Dilara takes the opportunity to ensure she has a clear head for the race. Last night involved a lot of introspection, a lot of crying and a lot of debriefing with Lexie, whom Dilara realises she misses the most. Even two continents away, Lexie’s primary focus was to help Dilara work through everything she needed to until she could compartmentalise it for the duration of the race.

It works, somewhat. Dilara goes for her interviews, her PR and the drivers’ parade with as much focus as she can and finally climbs into her for the race, adrenaline rushing through her veins and her focus singular. Taehyung’s good luck text (Good luck for today. Be careful. You’ll do great.) runs in her mind when she releases the clutch at the starting light.

Her flight to London isn’t until tomorrow morning, so after the race, Dilara heads back to her hotel and to the suite opposite her own. Jungkook opens the door and immediately welcomes her in.

“Good race,” he says as she slips in past him, noting a bowl of potato chips on the coffee table and a video game controller next to it. On the screen, a game of FIFA is paused.

“Thanks. Where’s everybody else?” she asks.

“Filming. I got sent back.” He rolls his eyes self-consciously when she frowns. “Had a bit of a heat stroke, so they told me to come back and rest.”

Dilara freezes. “What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he huffs, falling into the sofa and motioning for her to join him. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just got a bit de- basically, I need to drink a lot of water. That’s it.”

“Huh.” She raises her eyebrows. “You got dehydrated in Singapore? Rookie mistake.”

Jungkook shrugs, a little defensively. “I’m fine. You want to play?” he asks, changing the subject.

She considers it for a moment but then shakes her head. “No, I’m too tired. You go ahead.”

“Come on, one game.”

“Fine.”

They play a game, a half-hearted one where Jungkook wins but fortunately doesn’t gloat. Much.

“You need practice,” he advises her when they’re done. “You’re making small mistakes.”

She flicks his forehead which he tries to dodge. “I’m exhausted. Racing in Singapore is no joke.”

“I believe you,” he says easily, ruffling her hair. “By the way,” he begins, “Taehyung has been acting a little… weird today. Did you two talk or something?”

Dilara sighs, knowing this would come up. “Or something,” she mutters. “If he was being a pain today, I apologise.”

“He wasn’t a pain. He was just quiet,” he clarifies. “I’m just asking because when you came here last night, it looked like you were about to kill him.”

Oh, right. She supposes it would’ve looked like that, out of context, to someone who didn’t know what transpired in her changing room. “Well, at least that didn’t happen.” A moment passes where Jungkook doesn’t say anything, and she sighs again. “He wants to get back together.”

Jungkook nods expectantly; this is clearly not a surprise to him. “What did you say?”

“Oh. Well -” She shrugs uncertainly. “I don’t remember actually. The topic kind of strayed.” She rubs a hand over her face. “It’s… not an easy topic. Or an easy decision. I mean,” she adds after a moment, mostly to herself, “he didn’t call me last weekend.”

He frowns at her. “I thought you told him not to -”

“Yes, my God, I know,” she says loudly, rolling her eyes. “He was doing what I wanted - big whoop for him. “I’m not complaining, I’m just… surprised.”

“Do you remember Austin last year?” Jungkook asks after a few moments. “When those guys were on a live and you, me and Jimin got really drunk while waiting for them?”

Dilara chuckles tiredly. “Of course. I haven’t had tequila since. Don’t think I ever will,” she adds, grateful for the change in subject. “We were so wasted.”

“We were,” he agrees, leaning back on the couch and placing his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “Do you remember when we snuck out to the chocolate shop in the lobby and bought those two huge boxes of -”

“Truffles! Yes!” she remembers suddenly, her memories of that night fairly hazy. “And we brought it upstairs in a… I want to say a pillowcase?”

“It was my hoodie. We wanted to hide it for some reason - who knows. Oh, do you remember you ran into someone at the shop? Yeah, it was this guy and he said you hadn’t seen each other in a while,” he recounts, seemingly not noticing Dilara’s smile fade. “I think he was - did he say he was your ex?”

A little unsure as to why he’s chosen to bring this up, she nods slowly. “Yeah. Kyle. Not a good break-up.”

“Yeah, I think you told me that, too, when we came back up to the room. Oh, remember how -” He chuckles, sounding a bit forced “- remember how when we were back you said you needed closure once and for all and you wanted to call him? I had to wrestle you for your phone because you were so drunk and I kept it on top of a shelf so you wouldn’t be able to reach it?” He grins at Dilara, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

She stares at him, her heart pounding. She does remember it, unfortunately, just as she remembers her relief the next morning and how she’d quietly asked Jungkook to return her phone to her, hoping with all her heart that this would stay between them. It would’ve been a terrible way to kick off her relationship with Taehyung; fortunately, Jungkook had never brought it up. Until now.

He’s no longer smiling; he’s biting his lip and looking at his feet, as though worried he’s crossed a line.

“I get it,” she says quietly. “I got really drunk and almost did something that could jeopardise my relationship, but lucky for me, I had you to stop me. Taehyung didn’t. Right?”

Jungkook doesn’t meet her eyes; but he looks a little less nervous, now that his point has been made.

“Do you think I don’t know what I’m capable of?” she asks. “Do you think I don’t know, after all this time, that he made a mistake? I’m not unreasonable - he had a lot to drink and he did something really, really stupid. I know that.”

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and it’s cathartic. Her chest feels lighter; it doesn’t make her situation any easier, but at least it’s out there. It’s not just swimming in her mind anymore, keeping her up at night.

“I know,” she says slowly, “that he won’t cheat on me again. I think he’s learnt his lesson. I think I could put him in a sauna with Jennie - and literally any other girl - and ply him with all the alcohol in the world, and he wouldn’t cheat on me again. He cheated on me - but he’s not a cheater.”

Jungkook finally looks at her, frowning. “Then why -”

“Because he didn’t tell me,” she argues. “He messed up and he didn’t tell me because he was, what? Afraid of me? I told him things in twenty-four hours of knowing him that I haven’t told people I’ve known for years, and he’d done the same! I thought we could tell each other anything - even the worst, most shameful things. But he didn’t tell me,” she repeats.

He nods sympathetically, and Dilara finds herself being glad he isn’t defending his friend.

“He was afraid of me,” she repeats, shaking her head. “You know what it made me feel like? Like I was one of those wives or girlfriends in those dude-bro, frat boy, Seth Rogen movies where the guys are so afraid of them and go to these insane lengths to hide things from them, because they’re afraid they’ll have to sleep on the couch,” she says in disgust. 

“I… don’t think he was afraid of you,” ventures Jungkook, sounding hesitant. “I think he was afraid of hurting you.”

“Fine,” she agrees. “Let’s say he was. What’s stopping him from being too afraid to hurt me again? If he ever messes up again,” she says, feeling like they’re finally reaching the crux of the issue, “how do I trust that he’ll tell me? He tried, this time, didn’t he? He was too late, but he tried. If he does something like this again, especially after everything I’ve put him through…” She sniffles. “I don’t think he’ll tell me at all.”

Silence greets this statement, and Dilara drops her face into her hands before sitting straight and taking a deep breath. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Jungkook; despite the level of comfort between them, she feels he’d still be the most uncomfortable around a crying girl.

“I’ll tell you.”

Dilara frowns, wondering if she’s heard him wrong. “What?”

“I’ll tell you,” he repeats, turning sideways on the couch so he’s facing her. “Look, he’s not going to mess up again. He’s not stupid - he won’t do it. And if he does,” he allows, shrugging, “he’ll tell you the truth. You said it yourself, he’s learnt his lesson. But,” he continues, gently nudging her shoulder with the back of his hand, “if he doesn’t, I’ll tell you.”

“JK -”

“I’m serious. I’ll do it.” He shrugs. “I won’t need to, but if I do, I will.”

“Jungkook.” Dilara tilts her head. “He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my friend, too,” he says simply. 

“I -” She can’t argue with that; it would be too mean. “It doesn’t really solve my problem. I need to trust him.”

“And you can,” he insists. “This is just like a… what’s it called in English? Like when you have a back-up kind of thing -”

“Insurance.”

“Yes!” He claps his hands, making her jump. “Sorry. But, yes. This is just your insurance, kind of. If it ever happens again and he doesn’t tell you, then you know for sure that he’s a dick. And that you can just -” He makes a vague gesture “- move on.”

It’s a very Jungkook proposal. Impractical as it is, it’s the most convincing argument anyone has made so far. Dilara doesn’t know whether to be comforted or amused.

“Are you doing this for me or for Taehyung?”

“Can’t it be both?”

She narrows her eyes. “Cop-out.” When he grins, she rolls her eyes. “You would really do that to him? Betray his trust?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide and she can practically see the dilemma in his brain. “I - well, it’s not really betraying him if he’s betraying you…? Right? I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I should’ve done that this year. Just… just told you.”

Dilara nods thoughtfully, searching for the grudge she was holding but unable to find it anymore. “It’s a big commitment,” she says seriously, relieved to see him smile again. “Sure you can live up to it?”

“Hey, I told you,” he says, turning back and sitting normally again. “I got your back.”

“Yeah, about that. Do all of those involve Jimin getting assaulted in some way? Because if yes, then I’m going to have to decline.”

“Assault? I barely touched him. He’s just so weak.”

“He is so weak. I swear, last year I pulled him into the elevator or something and he screamed like I’d ripped off his arm or something.”

“Jimin hyung is strong in the gym and on stage,” states Jungkook with an air of finality. “Other than that, he usually needs me or Namjoon hyung to help him out.”

“Weak.”

“So weak.”

Dilara grins, glad she chose to come over. Truth be told, she didn’t have a plan. She’d been hoping to talk to Taehyung and wing it from there, but nothing ever went according to plan for them. The possibility that he might have given up on them seems much less likely now, despite his efforts to still keep his distance all day and leave the ball in her court.

She looks over at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through the different games on the Xbox for something they can play together. Jungkook hasn’t given up; for now, maybe that’s enough.

—

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

[flyingcakeee]

Posted enough happiness time for angst ^^

Tw for dead and car crashes :(

Before anyone could try to console the Canadian, Lance spun away on his heel as quickly as, yet unbalanced, as he could, nearly slamming himself into the wall. The hospital was not a nice place to Lance, not anymore. Nobody could console Lance, it's impossible to console a dead man.

Lance made one mistake, an over correction too big for the car, being sent into the barriers at speeds faster than anyone could have imagined. He would forgive Checo if he didn't immediately faint after the impact, never to awake again. Checo went for the overtake, Lance defended. Maybe both of them were too aggressive, Lance decided he was the most aggressive. It didn't help that Lance and Checo were televised in their battle, the cameras showing the entire world how Lance spun and slammed into the barriers so hard spectators were injured with debris on the opposite end of the track.

Lance remembers climbing out of that car, trying to find a marshal to lean on as his leg hurt so badly, but they ignored him. He turned to see where they were running to and his helmet was still in the car. That's when Lance realized, he never got out.

Lance spent the next four weeks in the hospital, watching as his dad would come and go with the races, his sister, Esteban, and Fernando also occasionally popping in. Mick came in once but it was too much for him, he couldn't come back. George and Max visited twice before bidding Lance farewell, as if they knew his fate.

They all know his fate before Lance did.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I've already told you, there's nothing we can do. He needs to be taken off life support, you're causing him more pain now than he needs."

That's all the nurse said before Lance tried to flee. Lance didn't know where he could flee, where he could seek comfort, he wasn't him.

The sun above beamed brighter and brighter as the seconds ticked, the sound of V10's and V8's roaring above, the occasional V12 and V6 wizzing past. Lance wasn't ready to race with his hero's yet but it seemed like he had no choice, Gilles there to guide Lance to a hiding spot he'll always be safe in.

[starryeyedadmirer]

“AAAHHH!!! Let me out of here! Let me go!” Jared continued to kick and scream — still attempting to break free of his bed restraints as he watched one of the doctors wheel their experimentation cart back into the room. “You’re crazy! You’re fucking crazy! Stay away from me!”

He’d been locked up in a padded room, and tied up to a small bed for hours — occasionally being poked and prodded by a trio of depraved scientists, all seeking to impregnate him with some sort of alien fertilization device. The cluster, they called it — this long, phallic, metal apparatus, stuck on the end of a wooden stick… an apparatus that encased thousands of alien eggs within its shaft, all of which would be implanted and incubated inside of Jared’s stomach. The cluster sat menacingly on the far end of the cart, staring him right in the eyes… just waiting to be shoved inside of him again.

It’s not necessary to make such a big fuss, sir. This is our final trial… and it will be over soon. By the time you wake up, your midsection will be swollen with up to a million alien children… all ready to be born. It shouldn’t take long.

“What? What are you talking a about? Stay away from me! No more trials! No more experiments!”

We will let you go once you’ve given birth to our horde of children. Only then will you be free, sir. We must monitor you, and make sure that your abdomen does not burst during the brief gestation period.

“Burst? Burst! AAHHH!!! Let me go!” Just before he could go into another frantic panic, he felt the doctor’s fingers yanking at his pants leg, to expose him once more. With ease, the blue scrubs drew down to his ankles. “No! No! Please! It hurts. Not again!” His toes curled up tight with angst and anticipation… as he’d been there long enough to know exactly what was coming next… and, just before he could brace the rest of his body for impact, the long, hard, metal apparatus was shoved deep inside of him once more.

Just like before, he felt an immense pressure in his stomach… then a large bulging sensation, just behind his navel… and then, a throbbing pain throughout his entire torso — only, this time, that pain was more intense. It was like he was a rubber balloon, being blown up past its air capacity — on the verge of popping — though his midsection was far too tight to burst.

“Good job.” The doctor congratulated him, having just violated his rectum for the third time in only a few hours. “This one looks like it’s taken. We’ve done it.”

“Done what, exactly?” Jared questioned, the metal tool still lodged uncomfortably within his guts — resting inside of him as his gut continued to swell.

“Brought rise to our alien race, here on Earth. You’ve done a good thing, sir. The creatures that you’re growing inside of your belly will change the course of this planet’s future, in ways that we can only now imagine.”

“What?” He could hardly believe the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth… they sounded like a monologue taken right out of a science fiction movie. “Change the course of the future? Are you trying to replace humanity with these things?” Suddenly, his words began to slur… and he was overcome with a wave of drowsiness — a strong desire to sleep. “You’re insane!”

“No. Not exactly.” Watching as Jared began to slip away, the doctor placed both of their cold, gloved hands on his stomach — rested on either side of his bulging belly button — and held them in place. “We’re not trying to replace anyone… just yet.”

It is done. Once again, we will leave the machine inside of you, until we are certain that you have been successfully impregnated. We know that it hurts you, sir… but this will all be over soon. Your body will knock you out in just a few seconds, in order to protect you from the pain. By the time you awaken again, it will be time for the birth… assuming that the insemination has taken. Thank you for your service, sir. Get your rest. You’ll be needing it… very soon.