#Meet my oc Kaya

[littledarlingbunbun]

Meet my oc name Kaya

She from Dragon ball Z/Super/Kakumei

She the daughter of the God of The destruction, she from the future where the fallen 6 Universes that were erase by Zeno came back destroy everything along with Angel Merno was brought back by the mother of Angel.

You can listen to the story about Angel Merno. Here ☝️

You can read Dragon ball Kakumei, here ☝️

[3vln]

Ravens and Stallions: Ch. 2

Pairings: D. Blackwood x Bracken!Fem!Reader

Words: 3.2K

C.W.: probably needs lots of revisions. lots of time-inaccurate privileges (modern dilly-dallying), OCs, enemies-to-lovers, Romeo & Juliet-esque, non-canon stuff, no smut yet (but MINORS DNI) usual banter, SLOW-BURN

A.N.: Would love an editor with this, fr; also, both need to learn how to fucking communicate

Summary: Reader is presented with terrible news, while still thinking about the raven-haired man. A quick and heated meet-up happens in the godswoods gardens in Riverrun during the Harvest Feast.

“Well? Do tell!”

You let out an exasperated sigh as your friend dragged you across the halls to the common room for the debrief amongst quartet.

“Bellena, you’ve become tiresome tonight,” you groaned. She stuck out her tongue.

It was a fortnight since the evening that was spent at Harroway amongst the girls. Neither of them had a moment to debrief on the specific evening, until now at Stone Hedge. You’ve been thinking about the time you spent by the distant trees of the tavern, and how you longed for the butterflies you felt in your stomach. More meetings with suitors set by your mother were spent in vain, finding an excuse or another to explain to your parents that none of them would work, and another sigh coming from them.

Greeting the guard outside the common room, you both found the other two ladies chatting away by fire.

“There you are!”

“We’ve been waiting for you!”

“We must debrief!”

You sighed quietly as you sat, wanting to ensure that the conversation didn’t fall on you to recount the memories of your evening with a certain Blackwood. You looked at Lyanne, recollecting, however, an interesting view, “Well? Get on with it. How was your kiss with the Northerner?” you wiggled your eyebrows, and then more seriously, “Did you also get ahold of that tea I mentioned?”

Lyanne’s stark contrast to her previous state was present, blithe and gushing as she recollected her evening with the man from House Locke - a rather improvement from the previous man she had been.

Kaya, the other from the friend group, had a nice chat, but nothing noteworthy. In actuality, they’ve never known Kaya to be one to gush or express interest in any of the men presented to her. But she’s always been one to wish the other girls well with any suitors, and was rather pleased if something went well. You liked Kaya, she was the most relatable one to you, even if she was rather distant at times.

Bellena, on the other hand, was most like Lyanne but less whimsical, and wasn’t taken away by the words of men. Her spirit was rather charming. Much like a siren, she knew how to turn an opportunity to her favor, and her evening at that tavern was nothing short of what she had expected with her time with Ser Aron.

“You’re awfully quiet,” one of them noticed.

“You did have us leave in haste,” the other added.

“Did you have a good time?” the last asked.

You breathed in, debating if you should explain your… dilemma? No, it was nothing noteworthy. “Nothing eventful happened," you sighed. "And I agree with Kaya, the man I spoke with was nothing of note as well. It was getting late, and I didn’t want my aunt to fret,” you shrugged. It wasn’t an absolute lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. It was a middle ground you were satisfied with.

Bellena wasn’t sold on this half-truth, glaring at you when the others weren’t looking. You rolled your eyes.

It was your experience to live in, and you were willing to swallow your emotions for the sake of preventing anything further from happening. None of them would understand. What could they possibly say that you didn’t already know?

This was an issue and feud that spanned generations-long between the two houses, and none of them would be willing to understand the intense dislike you carried for the Blackwoods, and how utterly wrong that evening was; you weren’t going to be swayed by mere words from your friends.

You quietly sighed, ordering more tea and snacks for the common room from the nearby maid.

-

The ladies bid themselves farewell in the morning after staying for the night, watching them go from inside the bailey gates.

Come nightfall, when supper was served, you couldn't help but feel a sort of tension in the air. Something was filled with a sort of anxiety, nervousness. A loaded silence waiting to explode.

Your father cleared his throat, gaining your attention.

“You must marry soon,” is all he says, rather uncomfortably.

Confusion falls upon you at his sudden and weird comment. You looked at him curiously, not understanding. You were out meeting suitors, but it wasn’t your fault the men were falling short.

Your mother grabs his hand, trying for a more eloquent explanation to his sudden request, “The Harvest Feast is upon us, and House Tully has already sent out their invitations to have us join them. It would be a great opportunity for you to meet someone,” she says. “We’ve been… rather… flexible with you –”

“And I’m forever grateful for the privilege, mama, but this is all so sudden. I don’t understand where this is coming from,” you frowned.

She looks at her husband, not meeting her gaze, and tries again as she takes in a breath, “Lord Greyjoy has taken an interest in you.”

“The old geezer?”

“The Red Kraken.”

“The Red Kraken? As if that makes things better! Does he not have a wife already? 4 others, in fact.”

“My sweet,” your mother reaches out for your hand, “we urge you to marry. His reputation, from what we hear… it’s not great. The ironborn… they’re a culture foreign to us, and we want to ensure you’re happy with your future beloved. But time is running out and Lord Greyjoy has plans to declare for you…”

“No daughter of mine will become a salt wife,” your father scorned, to no one in particular. You held your breath.

“You,” he said after some time, a distressed look in his eyes, “you are my one and only daughter. Love marriages are miracles, but not impossible,” blindly returning his wife’s caress on his hand. “However, I will have to marry you off to someone soon should you fail to secure a marriage yourself.”

Needing a moment to digest with too many thoughts running, nothing was said from your end, other than a nod of understanding.

Keeping quiet throughout supper, in the hallways leading up to your bedroom, and throughout the bath that was readied for you, the thought of having no control over whom you would soon wed terrified you.

You asked the maids to leave you in the warm water, breath becoming shallow as you thought about the prospect of marrying Dalton Greyjoy, and the thought of it boiling your blood. You would need to find your finest silks, finest jewelry, finest anything, to find a man that would make-do. Thinking conservatively, a love marriage wasn’t in the cards anymore, as much as your parents would like, but a decent marriage would at least grant you the freedom of a married woman. All you would need to do is give birth to an heir, and the best possible outcome would be that your future husband would leave you alone or flourish, pray to the Maiden.

You groaned.

You didn’t want something decent, you wanted a love marriage. You wanted one like your parents, and it was breaking your heart. Why Dalton Greyjoy of all people, why was this happening so soon? And why the Blackwood?

You thought back to the evening, promenading around the tavern, the shared laughter, the attentiveness and careful actions around you, the scar above his lips, the dark hair, the kiss by the trees, the grasp around your waist, the stirring in your loin. A hand ventured, your quiet sobs drowned out as you held yourself underwater, hoping no one would hear you.

The Harvest Feast was a celebration that often involved the overlord and their noble houses. Lord Paramount Grover Tully, although failing in age and growing weak, was not one to miss on these feasts to celebrate with his vassals. He was a man committed to his principles as Lord Paramount of the Trident, however weak or bedridden, and this was one of them.

Your Lord father made his rounds greeting the other lords in the Riverlands when the Harvest Feast came around, ensuring you got the opportunity to meet their eligible sons he thought were worth presenting. Swallowing embarrassment, polite smiles were exchanged, and sure enough, after the feast was served and the dancing ensued, their sons would come looking for you. None of them being the raven-haired male you were looking for.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” your mother asked.

You gave her a look, hoping she’d understand that No, you were not enjoying yourself, but you would at least keep trying as you sat down from a rather painful dance with one the many lord’s sons.

She only chuckled and continued her wine, keeping a worried expression for herself as she looked away.

Your eyes secretly scanned for the Blackwood boy, then focusing on your feast table when you'd catch yourself looking for him.

House Blackwood had feasted opposite of you. The seating arrangements were set up to prevent any unnecessary interactions between the opposing families, but no one knew for certain if such efforts were futile, seeing how many many feasts were set up similarly and one, imbibed with too much ale or wine (or even ego or pride for that matter) would always end up in a yelling match with the other. It was tradition at this point, in jest.

"M'lady?" one of the men had offered his hand to you, an invite to take up the upcoming ballad. As you did with the others, you paid little mind to the small talk the young lord would make, other than the small compliments and the "thank you"s that ensued.

No enjoying yourself, or the lack of conversation between you, you thought about ending the dance abruptly, excusing yourself with whatever excuse you could think of to go back to people watching.

"I'm quite parched," you fanned yourself in the middle of the dance, which wasn't a total lie. Catching on, he excused himself, fetching you something to drink and leaving you in the middle of the floor with others swirling to the ballads. The perfect opportunity.

You used the moment to get away from the crowd, get away from the Great Hall and get away from the bustling noises. You enjoyed such festivities, but you couldn't help but seek time for yourself in the middle of it all. When it all became too much, it would become emotionally consuming, having to show up for everyone and everything.

Finding the nearest balcony and a seat, you took in the evening wind, breathing in the musky and leafy scent of Riverrun in its autumn glory. You couldn't help but notice the detailings of the castle on the way to the balcony, the trout fish carved into the pillars, the clear sigil of House Tully. An appropriate sigil for the castle, seeing how it was built on land that separates two rivers--both streams flowing on both sides of the big castle.

Lost in thoughts and observances, you almost didn't see the figure out of the corner of your eye as it passed by the godswood garden below the balcony.

The raven-haired man. A sort of a pressure and a sigh of relief left you, finally finding the person you've been hoping to see all evening. Your curiosity peaked and a form of excitement brewed in you while studying him. Walking up to the godswood trees, he planted himself there, his back facing you. You saw the way his head bowed. Saw the way his jaw looked to be moving, as if praying. The moment seemed peaceful, curious about what he was saying.

Taking a seat in front of the weirwood tree, he sat there, as if finding solace. The Blackwoods were the only ones in the Riverlands who still only worshiped the old gods - something you weren't still sure if you admired from afar for being deeply rooted in their culture, or stubborn for not converting to the Holy Faith.

You debated reaching out, grabbing his attention.

But then what?

You shook your head, knowing it would only end in a terrible shouting match, and you'd be named the Harvest Feast Bracken this year. You had very little patience for nonsense with Blackwoods, and you were sure he would get on your nerves one way or another.

You decided to leave him be, and just admire his solace from afar for some time.

Back inside you sat back next to your mother after your little time away, wine cup still on hand as she looked at you. “Well? How are things going?”

You groaned, “Mother, please, must you always insist on how everything is?”

“Well, I think Lord Darry is a fine fellow. Rather handsome, I think,” recalling after the last man you danced with.

“Mama.”

“My Sun, I am trying my best to ensure your future…is with someone you want to be with. But you’re making this difficult,” she no longer was sympathetic, but a sad yet stern presence became apparent in her voice as she looked at you. “An arranged marriage can be done, yes, but I… I want you to be happy with whom you’ll be spending your time with.”

You mused at this as you paused on her words. It was a real priviledge for you to have this sort of freedom within the realm. Not many married for love, and more so for duty. You often times found it easier to give up and find a husband for duty. But this was a gift, and, althought frightening, you wanted to explore its options.

You hugged your mother for the comfort, and for wishing you the best in this scary part of every woman's lives; you debated if you should bring up a touchy subject. You hesitated, wondering how you’d phrase the scenario in a way that wouldn’t give suspicion. It was rather difficult.

“As long as they’re not a Blackwood,” you muttered coolly, studying your nails. Nice.

“Good gods, anyone but that treacherous family,” your mother laughed, a red glow in her face appearing from drinking wine.

Disappointment hides in your face as you feign a laugh. Not the response you were looking for. “Good. Wouldn’t be caught dead with a Blackwood.”

A figure from your peripheral view catches your attention, seeming to have been walking up to you.

Except, when you turned, you saw the raven-haired man storm away, and your laughter fades with every step he takes, a quiet panic taking over.

“Oh, posh, leave him,” your mother pouts in scowl. “He had no business here anyway.”

You start to think that she hasn’t assumed anything, which you thank the gods for, but your heart sinks for Davos. Eyeing him as he exits, you try to come up with an excuse to get away from your mother without her worrying. “Umm, have you seen father? I think he was asking for you before I came. I need to find Lord Darry for my drink, should I get ale or wine?” After taking a bit long to respond, you depart by telling her wine should be the better refreshment and Lord Darry should bring you another one, all while eyeing the exit.

Inside, you start to panic after not being able to find the raven-haired lord, turning around every corner in the castle hoping to see him, and only finding empty rooms, and in one embarrassing instance, a young couple needing their privacy, followed by profuse apologies from your end. After spending a lot of time searching, you thought about how it was getting to be too late to apologize, and you’d never recover from this moment.

Finally, outside, you saw a caped figure by the godswoods garden - of-fucking-course - and a lump in your throat starts to form as you approach him.

He turns to you and emptily chuckles to himself. “Well, if it isn’t the pride of Stone Hedge,” he announces to no one.

You frown, clearly starting off on the wrong foot, but taking a moment to form your words before you begin.

“Davos, I… I wanted to apologize,” you try in effort to veer back into diplomatic territory.

But he shakes his head, and something of disappointment appears in his dead eyes, “Tell me, Bracken, do you practice being insufferable, or does it come naturally?”

“Davos, I am trying to apologize.” You let out.

“For what?” he shrugs, maintaining the same dead eyes.

“For… for…,” you try, and think about how stupid everything was going to sound. For saying the truth out loud? For hurting his feelings? For lying to your mom? Why was she apologizing to a Blackwood in the first place?

He nodded with a frown, clearly disappointed. You groaned in exasperation, growing frustrated with everything, “Ugh! I-I don’t know, I don’t know Davos! I wanted to come and apologize! I don’t even know why I’m apologizing in the first place!”

Unamused, he shrugs again, “Can’t accept an apology if you don’t know what you’re sorry for.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Fuck me?” He points to himself, disbelief in his voice. “Fuck you! And your mother!”

Your hand meets his face and leaves him with a red print, both shock and adrenaline running through you as you point him a finger. “You leave my mother out of this,” you spit.

He stuns for a moment, astonished by the force of a woman before him, then recollects himself. He finds your finger pointing at him when he looks, grabbing your wrist to remove it from view with a grunt.

“Get your hands off me!” You try to retreat your hand from his grasp but he locks in, grabbing your other wrist as you try to fist the free hand and muster all the strength you have to hit him and release you. “Let me go!”

Heaving as you try to shake your wrists off him, you don’t hear him call your name, until he embraces you, leaving you in a confused state.

“I… I stepped out of line,” is all he says after things seemed to calm.

You pushed yourself off of him and met him with another slap.

Grabbing his jaw, all he does is nod. “Deserved.”

“Fuck you!”

Another nod, “I mean…”

“You’re so… so…!” you try to come up with the meanest, most profane, vile insult you can muster, but your thoughts run with the wind, not finding the correct words to fully explain him and his being well.

“I’ll wait,” he shrugs as he crosses his arms.

“Davos! Shut up!”

He bites back a smile as he looks down.

You groan, pacing back and forth, “Look, I’m-I’m sorry for… what you heard back there. I saw you walk up to me when I said that. And it was such a… a moment, I-I-I just kinda panicked, and… No, I'm not going to be elaborating anything further, but I just wanted you to know, and I know we’re in a relatively public space right now and we can be seen but I don’t care about that because it’s not even about what you think it was about!”

He says nothing as he studies you, arm still crossed, and you grow uncomfortable under his silence, wondering about what he’s thinking.

With a defeated sigh, you hang your head, “Davos, say something, yeah?”

But before he could answer, your father calls for you from a distance, announcing your early departure.

“I… must leave,” you look towards the distance, “but…” you look at him, hoping he says something, hoping to ask you to meet him somewhere, anything.

You leave him in the godswoods garden in Riverrun.

And for that, Davos will always kick himself for not telling you everything. How you stutter when you have a million things running through your mind. How you became the most magnificent woman when enraged, and how good you smelled when he embraced you. He, too, had a million thoughts, but none of them expressing himself in the way he wanted to, scared to push you away or the time not lending itself for him to say everything. Much less when you had to leave so sudden.

He looked at the weirwood tree they were both under, before you departed, and had hoped the gods would work on his favor and see you soon.

_____________________________________________________________

~ Tag list: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[magicshopaholic]

Paradise Interrupted (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: Namjoon's celebrity suddenly becomes a disturbing reality.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, angst

Word count: 8.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, implications of stalking and voyeurism

A/N: For those of you wondering what an unedited fic looks like, this is it. Set over a period of a few weeks, starting with a week after Los Angeles pt. 2.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "hold me" by fleetwood mac

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

“That’s fine. Next Wednesday’s fine.”

Kaya listens to her advisor’s request, phone to her ear, nodding as he lists down his expectations for their upcoming meeting. A cool breeze blows through her hair and she brushes the strands off her face, absently eyeing the tabebuia flowers blooming in the early onset of spring.

She hears footsteps behind her and smells the faint scent of soap a second before a pair of arms wrap around her waist. Leaning back against his chest automatically, feeling her heart flutter, she wishes this call would end so she can spend her boyfriend’s last day in Amsterdam in peace.

Namjoon drops his head onto her shoulder and presses a soft, lingering kiss to her neck. Kaya gasps quietly and transfers her phone to the other ear, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. She feels him laugh silently, his lips moving up to her jaw and her cheek, pressing chaste kisses to her skin before he straightens up and pulls her closer to him, patiently waiting for her to finish her call.

“Alright, see you on Wednesday, Adam.” The line disconnects and she brings the phone down. “Want my attention that badly?” she murmurs, tilting her head up slightly to look at him.

“Very badly.” He nods and kisses her on the lips, and she feels her heart skip a beat.

“Stay a little longer?” she asks as he kisses her forehead.

“You know I’d love to. But we officially start touring in a week,” he says heavily against her hair. “Just waiting for the day I won’t have to leave anymore.”

Kaya bites her lip; the thought makes her want to cry but she doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “I want that, too,” she says finally. “You can have full reign on the balcony,” she suggests.

“Promise?” He snickers and pulls away slightly to look at the row of small, potted plants on the railing of her small but pretty balcony. “It’ll look like a botanical garden.”

“What’s wrong with botanical gardens? As long as there’s a place for Aphrodite,” she says, touching the tabebuia, “I’m good.”

“What? This one isn’t Aphrodite. She’s the poppy plant,” he reminds her, pointing to the end of the row. “This one’s Ariadne.”

“No way, you’ve got them mixed up. The tabebuia was always Aphrodite.”

“Huh.” Namjoon pauses, his arms still comfortably wrapped around her waist. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Aphrodite is the one you pretended to help me plant because you wanted to feel me up against you,” she reminds him calmly, smiling when he chuckles. “Ariadne was the easy one.”

He rests his chin against the side of her head. “Whichever you want, then. Our balcony will be big, for sure. I’ll plant all the flowers you want.” He’s quiet for a moment as they take in his words together, a silent promise of their lives to come. “They look beautiful,” he says softly. “It’s officially spring.”

“Yeah.” Kaya raises her phone and takes a picture of the flowers. “I can’t believe that three years ago, all this balcony had was a bunch of lights and a mattress.”

“Wow. Three years.” Namjoon pulls her closer, dropping his head slightly again. “Happiest three years of my life,” he murmurs into her shoulder.

Kaya’s stomach flips. She turns around, leaning up to kiss him and feels him envelope her smaller figure in his arms. “Another few years and you won’t have to leave again,” she whispers against his lips. Hopes.

He nods, resting his forehead against hers. “Counting down the days.”

—

Dilara stares at her phone screen, feeling a looming sense of horror at what she’s seeing. She props herself up on her elbows and nudges her sleeping boyfriend next to her.

“Tae,” she says softly. “Tae, wake up.”

Taehyung doesn’t even stir, only frowning slightly as he continues sleeping. 

She clicks her tongue. “Tae, I need you to call Namjoon. I’ve lost his number. It’s an emergency,” she adds urgently, shaking his shoulder.

Taehyung still doesn’t move. Huffing, Dilara leans over him to grab his phone off his bedside table, ignoring him as he wraps an arm around her torso and pulls her to him. Typing in his password, she goes straight to his contacts to look for Namjoon’s phone number, only to be met by a screen full of Hangul.

“Goddamnit,” she whispers, chucking the phone on the bed and struggling out of his arms. “Sorry, baby,” she murmurs, kissing Taehyung on the cheek before hurrying out the room.

Namjoon arrives just then, wiping his neck with a towel and shaking out his hair. The moment he opens the door to the dorm, he’s met by a flustered Dilara, seemingly unbothered as she stands before him in an oversized hoodie and nothing else, her long hair falling down her shoulders in a mass of curls.

“Namjoon!” she exclaims, as though hardly believing he’s here. “I was just going to call you. What - what are you doing up so early?”

“Went to the gym,” he answers, raising his eyebrows. “Pretty jetlagged. You?”

“Um, same,” she says, a bit uneasy. “Sort of.”

Namjoon takes a seat at the kitchen island, reaching for a bottle of water. “What’s wrong?”

Dilara doesn’t speak for a moment; it’s clear she’s come bearing bad news. “I’m sorry… I really didn’t want to have to tell you.”

He stares at her, feeling wary. “Dilara, what is it?”

She licks her lips and hesitates before tapping something on her phone and handing it to him. Namjoon frowns as he takes it, his blood running cold the moment he lays eyes on the screen.

It takes two or three loops of the video for him to be able to properly register what he’s seeing. It’s definitely Kaya; he’d know her figure anywhere, even on a shaky phone camera that’s zoomed in on her in her balcony, clearly filmed from somewhere on the street. He’d know her long, slightly wavy hair anywhere; the hem of her shorts peeking out from below the oversized college t-shirt, the red iPhone visible in her hand, the way she nods as she concentrates on her phone call.

Kaya is only on screen for a moment before Namjoon sees himself appear from inside the apartment, running his hands through his messy hair and walking up to her to hold her and pull her close. His chest constricts as he watches it - them, her - on the screen, exposed and vulnerable.

Her face isn’t quite visible; it’s the only saving grace. Namjoon’s head is placed on her shoulder for the most part and along with her long hair and the angle of the video, it’s just a girl of average height in his arms, looking up at him, laughing with him, leaning into him.

He sees her touch the flowers on her balcony. Aphrodite. She’d been looking up at him with affection, love and trust - but he’d broken it. She’d been filmed against her knowledge, in her home, in clothes she’d worn to bed, after a phone call about her work.

The Namjoon on screen bends low and mumbles something; he spots his own dimple clear as day. They’d been talking about their own apartment some day, their future. Seeing such a private, intimate moment captured so voyeuristically - it makes his blood boil.

It takes him a moment to remember he’s not alone. He looks up at Dilara.

“This was on Instagram?”

Dilara nods hesitantly. “Yeah… but I only found it after about an hour of scrolling. It’s not plastered all over the app or anything.”

That doesn’t make Namjoon feel any better for he knows - and he thinks Dilara knows as well - that it won’t take much for it to be plastered all over the Internet anywhere. There’s no ambiguity here, nothing Big Hit can do to protect him - or her.

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut when he hears footsteps. He looks up tiredly to see Hoseok emerging from his bedroom, looking fresh and awake, along with Jungkook looking the exact opposite behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, as Jungkook ruffles Dilara’s hair sleepily.

Swallowing, Namjoon wordlessly hands him the phone, watching both of them as they peer into the screen. He stares as the video plays, hearing the shaky and abrupt ending just before they’d kissed on the balcony.

“Shit,” exclaims Hoseok, shaking his head. Meanwhile, Jungkook grabs the phone to watch the video again with Dilara, a tense frown deepening on his forehead.

“How could this happen?” Namjoon whispers, dropping his head into his hands. “How does someone do this? It’s so -“ But here, English fails him and he switches to Korean “- dickish.”

“Talk to management now,” urges Hoseok, sitting next to him at the island. “They can get the video taken down immediately and put out a statement. You can put out a statement, too.”

Namjoon hears him out, vaguely registering Jungkook swear before he places the phone back on the table. “What am I going to tell Kaya? This is - this is her apartment. She lives there.” His stomach churns painfully. “She didn’t sign up for this.”

“She may take it better than you think,” suggests Dilara, still sounding hesitant. “You can’t even see her face.”

“She’s right,” pipes up Hoseok, nodding. “In fact… do you even need to tell her? You may just worry her over nothing.”

Namjoon considers this. Kaya would be asleep right now and wouldn’t be up for a few hours at least. He could do damage control and probably clear it up before then. She wouldn’t have to get worried at all.

But then he shakes his head. “I have to tell her. I can’t keep something like this from her. Even if I figure something out,” he adds, grimly relieved to see Hoseok nod in agreement. “I don’t know how she’ll take it, though.”

After a moment, Jungkook speaks. ���How would you take it?” he asks, nudging Dilara.

Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Me? Oh, I - I don’t know. It’s not really the same, is it?” She looks over at Namjoon.

She’s right; it’s not. But Namjoon feels ready to take whatever he can get. “You already get photographed,” he agrees. “But what if it was this private? With Taehyung?” With his fans? But he doesn’t say it out loud.

Dilara seems to understand, though. “I - I guess I’d be…” She glances awkwardly at Hoseok and Jungkook as well, as though afraid of offending them, and Namjoon’s heart sinks. “… pretty concerned. And I get a lot of online hate with my job already.”

Namjoon wishes he’d stayed in Amsterdam a little longer, or brought Kaya to Seoul with him. It seems unfair, not to mention unprepared, to navigate this situation while they’re apart. 

He taps the screen again to see the video start, watching as his hand squeezes Kaya’s waist lovingly. Happiest three years of my life. He’d meant that with his whole heart, every word. But the memory feels tainted now, knowing that none of it had been just the two of them - that some stranger had been watching them the entire time.

“I’m going to get this shit taken down,” he mutters, standing up and striding towards his room. He clenches his fists to stop his hand from shaking. “Can you send it to me?” he asks Dilara as he leaves, seeing her nod before he heads in and shuts the door behind him.

—

Namjoon waits in tense silence, already assuming the worst.

“Kaya?” he says, unable to help himself. “Say something, baby.”

“Um…” She sighs long and deep. “Wow. I don’t - I don’t know what to say. This is online? Someone was actually -” She breaks off, and Namjoon wishes he could see her face. 

“Yeah. But I’m working to get it taken down. And - and these kinds of rumours die down eventually,” he says quickly. “Especially with our tour announcements coming out soon.”

Kaya is quiet for a moment. “But this doesn’t seem like a rumour. I mean… it’s pretty clear.”

Namjoon closes his eyes, knowing she’s right. “Yeah. I’m so sorry, Kaya.”

“Don’t be,” she replies, to his surprise. “Namjoon, don’t start blaming yourself for this.”

“I’m not.”

“It sounds like you are. I can tell,” she adds knowingly. “I love you but you take responsibility for things even when you don’t have to.”

“I -“ Namjoon is speechless for a moment. “That’s not true.”

“It is, sometimes. You didn’t make this happen.”

“No, but it happened because of me. I’m allowed to be pissed, Kaya. You should be, too.”

“Of course I am. I’m horrified,” she says clearly. “You think I wanted this? I chose to be with you, not the… public, pop star version of you.” There’s a pause on the line before Kaya sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Namjoon nods, his stomach sinking slightly. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

“Joon, come on. This is what I’m talking about,” she implores, her tone softening. “Babe, we knew this was a possibility some day. Isn’t that why we’re always careful when we’re in public?”

“Yeah, I know…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re being really great about this, you know?”

She chuckles. “You’re so lucky to have me.”

“Believe me, I’m aware.” Namjoon falls silent, leaning back in his chair on the balcony, his earpods the only thing connecting him to her at the moment. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Joonie,” she murmurs, and the use of the nickname tells him it’s more than she’s letting on. “It’s going to be a long day. Would’ve been great to come back to a glass of wine and some cuddles on the couch.”

He imagines the scent of coconut and vanilla and his heart twists with longing. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll try to get a few days off after the Asia leg of the tour.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m just being whiny. I think I’m PMSing.”

“I’ll still try.”

“Okay, then.” Kaya pauses again. “Cut yourself some slack, baby. Not everything is in your control.”

Namjoon knows she’s saying it to comfort him, but it does the opposite. “Yeah,” he says after a moment.

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later tonight?”

He sits up straighter. “Go where? Campus?” 

“Yeah. I have that meeting with Adam, remember?”

“I - is that safe?”

“Yes, Adam is my thesis advisor,” she says absently. “Oh, you mean because of the video? Come on, you can’t seriously expect me to stay indoors just because of this,” she says, sounding a bit incredulous. “I have work.”

“No, of course not,” he sighs, knowing how ridiculous it sounds. “Just - be careful, okay?”

“Always am.” There’s a sound in the background and he pictures Kaya gathering her bag and keys. “I love you.” When he simply nods, still troubled, she exhales deliberately. “Did you hear what I said?”

Despite the tension, Namjoon suppresses a snort of laughter. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

He runs a hand through his hair and leans forward, his gaze falling to his phone on the table. “I’ll take care of this video. I promise.”

“I know. I trust you.”

It warms his heart a little bit, even as he suddenly feels more protective of her. “I’ll call you later tonight, baby. Love you,” he repeats.

“Love you, too.”

—

Despite Namjoon’s best efforts, however, the situation only begins to get further out of hand. His demand from Big Hit to get the original video taken down somehow gets leaked, which only adds fuel to the speculation that the video actually is of him.

Within a week, more pictures start creeping up on the internet, including a picture of their silhouettes on the balcony at the Grammys after party.

“This was taken from inside the party,” notes Dilara in disgust. “Pathetic.”

Kaya nods wordlessly, watching the water boil away on the stove. From the corner of her eye, she sees Dilara on the screen of her phone which is propped up against the blender. She’s lying on her front on her bed and scrolling through her tablet, somehow managing to unearth incriminating pictures from the depths of the internet. 

“But your face is still not visible in any of them,” she concludes. “Not even the one in the restaurant in Seoul or the Tate in London. Whoever has taken these either has the worst aim or is deliberately waiting to reveal your face.” When Kaya slowly stares at her incredulously, she winces. “Sorry. That wasn’t helpful.”

Kaya shakes her head and drops a chunk of uncooked ramen into the pot. “Namjoon can’t possibly get all these taken down,” she mutters.

“He’s trying, though. I heard he lost his shit at some exec from the company yesterday because they won’t let him release an official statement.”

“What?” She whips around to look at the phone. “Why does he want to release a statement? What does he want to say?”

“Probably to tell these stalkers to fuck off?” Dilara shrugs but then frowns. “Or he could be… No, I don’t think he’d do that without talking to you first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well…” She looks a bit uneasy. “You don’t think he wants to go public with the relationship, do you?”

The thought has occurred to Kaya, but she truthfully can’t think of anything worse. Despite the fact that she is unrecognisable in everything that’s been leaked so far, it still feels like a massive invasion of privacy, as though someone has broken into her house, rummaged through her things and stolen a photo album from the back of her closet. 

“I don’t think he’ll go public,” she says finally. “They’re on tour; they can’t risk a scandal right now, can they?”

“I guess not. Probably why they won’t let him say anything about it either.”

“I wouldn’t mind him telling people to stop this, though,” she mutters. “God, when did these pictures even get taken? One of these is from a year ago!”

Dilara nods sympathetically. “It should die down soon. The Tae and Jennie thing certainly did. Not that I was keeping track,” she adds quickly. “Are any of these from your Instagram?”

“No,” answers Kaya, already having anticipated this. “That’s the good part. I don’t have a lot of him on my Insta but I archived whatever I did immediately. Namjoon did, too.”

“Yeah, I’m on his private account right now,” murmurs Dilara, scrolling through her tablet again. “They’re all gone. Ooh, except for this one. But it’s only your back so maybe he thought it was safe?”

Kaya scoffs. “I doubt it,” she mutters, turning the stove off and sprinkling the powder into the pot. “I wish he wouldn’t be so cagey about it and just… let it go. He can’t do anything about it, anyway. And he really thinks I can’t tell that he’s stressed about it.”

“Well, of course he’s stressed,” says Dilara in surprise. “These things can escalate so fast and you never have any idea what some fans can do. Some girl broke into Lewis’s hotel room once and stole his underwear,” she says in disgust, shuddering. “And that was someone who actually liked him.”

Kaya doesn’t need her to spell out the implication of that. “Yeah, Namjoon said the same thing. That it’ll escalate - but you said it yourself, that my face isn’t anywhere. Nobody knows it’s me, so why is he getting so panicked about me? If anything, he should be worried about himself.”

“You would think,” replies Dilara absently, still scrolling. “It’s the company that isn’t. Tae told me that somehow, they’ve got it in their heads that fans are fascinated with him now more than ever before because he’s been spotted with a girl. They’re all treating him like some kind of mysterious stud and Big Hit is just loving the publicity it’s bringing to the tour.”

Kaya frowns. “Stud? I mean, I love him and all, but that mirror picture out there from the winery? Two seconds after he took that, he dropped his phone into a barrel of wine. We had to go back home and dunk the whole thing in a bowl of rice.”

Dilara snorts. “Be that as it may,” she says, still laughing, “the picture itself just shows him looking classy and drinking  wine. You just got lucky your glass was blocking your face.”

“Super lucky.”

“What do you want to do, though?”

“Me?” Kaya deliberately pours all the ramen into a bowl right in front of the camera. “I want to eat. In peace. And pray that I’m right about this and in a couple of weeks, no one will care about these stupid pictures anymore. Oh, and,” she adds, interrupting Dilara as she opens her mouth, “that Namjoon will relax for a minute and not worry so much.”

“But he’s worried about you,” sings Dilara, sighing. “It’s actually so adorable.”

“It is not adorable,” argues Kaya, picking up a chunk of steaming ramen with her chopsticks. “Theoretically, sure. But I know him. When he worries, he only continues to worry. And then he keeps worrying and then he does something drastic.” She takes a huge bite with a flourish and immediately flinches when her mouth burns. 

“Well. Maybe he’ll see it your way soon enough,” says Dilara optimistically, rolling over onto her side to face Kaya. “I mean, their tour is spectacular already, even though it’s only been a couple of weeks. This should die down.”

“Maybe you can tell him that,” she suddenly suggests. “Yeah, you’ve been photographed with guys before and nothing happened!”

Dilara gives her a look. “You’re not seriously comparing my F2 dating news with his level of fame? And my fans don’t think they’re dating me.”

Despite her anxiety, a small surge of jealousy flows through Kaya at that. “They should be so lucky,” she grumbles, blowing on another mouthful before scooping it in.

“Look, I agree with you that it’ll probably just disappear from collective consciousness once the next mildly scandalous thing happens. But until then,” she adds, shrugging, “I’d suggest taking Namjoon’s advice. Just keep a low profile.”

“I’m literally either at campus or my apartment. I don’t know how much lower my profile can get.”

“That’s a good start,” says Dilara encouragingly. “The internet consensus seems to just be limited to the fact that you’re not Korean - they don’t really have much else to go on. I told Taehyung to try and talk to Namjoon and calm him down, but I think it’s backfired because now Tae’s started to sound randomly paranoid.” 

Kaya sighs. This scenario was something Namjoon had been upfront about early in their courtship, including the lack of privacy, the inability to be carefree together in public and even company interference in some cases. He’d been almost apologetic about it, as though expecting her to throw her hands up and ghost him due to his fame. She’d been far too infatuated with him, though, and the thought of losing him to a hypothetical possibility far in their future was something she’d refused to allow.

At the time, because they were still testing the waters, all she’d playfully said to him was that she’d let him know if it ever became a problem. But the next time it came up, right after they’d gotten back together after their break-up, she’d been far more direct about it.

You’re worth it, Kim Namjoon, she’d said simply, mumbling it into his shoulder as they hugged each other tightly before she left for Incheon airport. She’d meant it then and she means it now - except the memory has now given birth to the small, miniscule worry that he might not find it quite as worth it.

“You know he’s only being like this because he cares about you.” Dilara speaks carefully and deliberately, almost as though she can read Kaya’s train of thought. “The stress is nothing for him as long as you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” she says forcefully, but somehow it doesn’t translate. “I am,” she repeats, a little softer now. “I just need him to be okay. He has a million things to worry about already; I don’t want to add to it.”

“You didn’t,” points out Dilara, but says no more. “You’re probably the only thing in his life that’s keeping him sane right now.”

—

Kaya hangs on to that statement with a fervour. Namjoon being on a world tour is quite possibly the biggest challenge they’ve had to deal with thus far in their relationship; combined with the added mess of the leaked pictures and online tabloids speculating absolute rubbish, Kaya can only hope that Dilara is right and that she’s a respite from the stress - not an additional cause of it.

Three weeks after the video in her balcony was released, Kaya enters her apartment, tired but buzzing. Her phone rings just as she enters and with her heart skipping an excited beat, she answers instantly.

“Oh, my God, I’m so glad you called!” Kaya gushes as she turns on the living room lights and kicks off her shoes. “I was hoping we’d be able to talk today - God, I miss you so much,” she finishes with a playful whine as she falls on the sofa.

Namjoon chuckles on the other end. “I miss you, too, babygirl,” he replies, voice deep and calm and amused all at once.

It makes her heart zoom. “How come you got free so early? Or - wait, are you already in Los Angeles?” She frowns. “When did you land?”

“Just a little while ago. Everyone’s showering and taking a couple of hours to recover so I thought I’d see what you were up to.” There’s a ruffle that sounds like sheets. “You sound happy.”

“I am,” she agrees, lying down on the sofa and resting her legs on the arm. “I submitted the next phase of my dissertation today and Professor Llyod already says that my research is exceeding expectations based on my hypothesis alone. Also, Alex got a new class to teach so we went out to celebrate and we danced to all these 2000s club hits and because I found a rock in my Long Island Iced Tea,” she narrates with a flourish, “I got the drink for free.”

“Wow. You’ve had a productive day. Are you okay, though?” Namjoon asks after a moment. “You sound like you’re slurring a bit.”

“Don’t worry,” she replies immediately, rolling over onto her stomach and trying to ignore the small yet familiar burst of happiness at his concern. “I got dropped back home to the front of the building and I’m back home safe and sound, wallet and phone on my person.”

“Good girl,” he says teasingly. “I’m glad you had fun, though.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Just - just try to limit it to a radius, okay? For a little while.”

Kaya doesn’t answer, biting her lip and feeling the distinct steadiness of a buzz starting to wear off. “Namjoon, don’t start.”

“I’m not - I’m not starting.” He sounds a little taken aback, making her feel instantly guilty. “I just meant… just be careful. News spreads fast over the internet. We need one person to get suspicious and then before you know it, your picture will be all over -”

“Jesus Christ, I went out for one night,” she interrupts, sitting up and feeling her stomach squirm in annoyance. “I’ve been stuck in the library or at home for weeks and I finally get some free time and I have to hear this?”

“Kaya,” he says, but then pauses. “I said one thing. I’m entitled to be worried about you. Who else am I going to be worried about?”

“I don’t want you to be worried about me all the time!” she exclaims, standing up and pacing now. “You have so much going on - why can’t you just -”

“Because you don’t make it easy, alright?” Namjoon interrupts her this time, loudly. 

She freezes. “What?” 

“How many times have you left your wallet in a cab after paying?” he snaps. “Or forgotten your card in a restaurant? How many times have you forgotten to lock your front door? It’s happened at least once every time I’ve been there,” he points out, irritatingly logical. “Is it even locked right now?”

Kaya’s head whips to look at the door and feels a bolt of anger surge through her chest. “Yes,” she lies, stalking up to the door and clicking the lock into place. “You’re not seriously saying this situation is my fault?”

“Of course I’m not saying that! If anyone’s at fault, it’s me! But I need you to be more careful, Kaya,” he urges. “I need you to care a little more!”

“And I need you to care a little less! Namjoon, I need to be able to have a normal conversation with you without everything coming back to this!” Her head swims slightly but the words tumble out of her mouth anyway. “I can’t just - I can’t stop living my life because of a few pictures out there,” she reasons, staring out of the sheer curtains covering her balcony. 

She doesn’t want to admit to him that she hasn’t set foot in her balcony since he told her about the video. The faded college t-shirt, her bare feet - something about how homely she’d looked had irked her to the point of avoiding the area altogether, just in case someone is indeed watching her. 

She can’t admit these thoughts to him, though; it would be like confirming his fears and then where would that leave them? He would worry even more, despite not having the power to do anything, and she would be the cause of that. 

“I’m not asking you to stop living your life,” he says after a moment, and she can tell he’s trying to control his tone. “I’m just speaking from experience. Someone photographed Jungkook with a girl once and when the public found out who she was, they got to her job. She had to apologise, publicly.” He sighs and she can picture him shaking her head. “It’s ridiculous but that’s how it is. That’s the deal - why can’t you understand that?”

“Because it’s not the deal I signed up for, okay? I mean, if you’d told me three years ago that I’d have to be looking over my shoulder every two seconds, I would’ve -” She stops abruptly, her blood running cold.

The silence is deafening. “You would’ve what?” he asks evenly.

“I would’ve… I would’ve done everything exactly the same. Namjoon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she whispers in horror, feeling her face start to contort but not wanting to cry over the phone. “I’m sorry, I - I just got defensive, I’m -”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, after what feels like an eternity. “Okay.”

But it doesn’t make Kaya feel any better. All the inebriation has left her mind and her stomach sinks. “I really didn’t mean it,” she repeats, sniffling. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know.” He takes an audible breath. “I should go.”

“No! I mean -” She winces, dropping her head in her hands and knowing this is all so, so, wrong. “Don’t - don’t go. Not like this.” When he doesn’t respond but also doesn’t hang up, she scrambles. “Um, when - when are you in Europe again?”

“June.”

“Great. Um, maybe if you can - or - or I can probably come to where you are for a few days,” she stutters. “I think… we just need to be together again. You know? And the rest of it won’t seem so hard,” she says in a small voice, realising a moment later that it probably sounds extremely silly. “I really do miss you,” she confesses.

“I miss you, too.” This, at least, sounds like he means it. “And… you’re probably right. It’s been a rough few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Her apartment feels quieter than ever and in a rare moment, she hates that she lives alone.

There’s a few more moments of silence. “Okay, I really do have to go now,” he mutters.

“Okay. I love you.” She feels herself about to cry again but reins it in with an effort. “I really do.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He pauses, and there’s an unmistakable sniffle. “Bye.” There’s a click and the call ends.

—

Elena Varshavskiy stares at the lavender cardigan she’s put on and sighs. She examines herself from every single angle, ignoring the pile of discarded outfits on the bed, until she finally deems the cardigan appropriate for her first day. Of course, she doesn’t have a choice - she’s already late.

She takes a selfie in the mirror and rushes out, locating the correct tram line with some difficulty and entering the latest one just before the door closes. She likes Amsterdam, she does, but nothing in her eighteen years of life has prepared her for the level of change that moving to a whole new country requires.

All the seats are taken, so she stands in the corner, her earphones on and playing familiar comfort music she desperately needs right now. She goes back to the selfie she’d taken before leaving and immediately feels her heart sink in disappointment. It’s not bad per se, but it’s not quite good enough to send on her group chat. All her other friends posted about every possible college milestone, always tall and stunning in fashionable outfits, looking effortless. Her mother said it was just confidence and nothing else, but secretly Elena knows that confidence, or lack thereof, isn’t the cause; it’s merely the symptom.

She can’t imagine any of them would care about her first semester abroad, let alone the first day. In fact, she isn’t even sure they all remember that they aren’t in the same country anymore. She doesn’t know how or when it happened, but being absent for get-togethers here and there eventually escalated into a distance Elena can’t fathom bridging anymore. She would if they asked once in a while, but they never did.

Elena looks up to make sure she doesn’t miss her station and accidentally meets a boy’s gaze - a very cute boy. Her cheeks instantly heat up and she knows they’re reddening; it’s incredibly embarrassing to blush so easily but when she sees the boy smile, her heart races in a combination of excitement and anxiety. 

Hesitantly, she smiles back. Strangely, he shakes his head, his smile widening. Elena sees a movement out of the corner of her eye and turns to see a girl with the shiniest blond hair in the world and a winning smile directed straight at the boy. Absolutely mortified, Elena turns away immediately and prays no one else noticed. She stays turned away like that, shoulders hunched slightly, until her station arrives and she hops out and walks away, fast.

During orientation, sitting in the back row, Elena unlocks her phone to see the mirror selfie she’d taken this morning. She sighs; no one on her Instagram would care that it’s her first day either. The trouble is that she has nothing special to offer; not in terms of looks or fashion or travel or even witty captions. There’s nothing novel there, nothing even so hideous that it would make her infamous. She’s ordinary, and there’s something much more hurtful about that.

She’d tried to reinvent herself a couple of times; on her cousin’s suggestion, Elena had joined a couple of common interest groups online, which in her opinion had saved her the entire last year of college. With her real life friends too busy to care and her college friends only ever a group, it felt as though these strangers online were the only friends she had, the only ones who cared about her hobbies, about her family, about her observations.

Lately, however, they seemed to be pulling away as well. It wasn’t on purpose - it never was - but conversations just seemed to flow without her, with banter going over her head and inside jokes between pairs of people that she hadn’t any context on. It was daunting to enter these conversations, although she didn’t think they would exclude her on purpose. She just had nothing to say.

As everyone mills out of orientation and scatters, Elena sighs and pulls up the printed schedule they’d provided all the new kids when they’d entered. Meet your student buddy! was the next thing on the agenda, with a location mentioned underneath.

While following the signs, Elena briefly considers trying to make friends with her student buddy before remembering that the person has probably been assigned this job. It would be invaluable, she reflects, to have even one person who could make this unfamiliar city feel even a little bit like home.

She reaches the front of the lecture hall where the program tells her she is to meet her student buddy. She looks around, already feeling awkward at standing there alone while everyone else in the vicinity seems to be accompanied by friends.

“Hi - are you Elena?” A voice asks from behind her.

Elena turns around to see a girl, slightly taller than her and far more beautiful, in jeans and a loose off-shoulder top that looks like it’s been tailor-made for her. “Um - yes. Are you -” She glances at the paper in her hand “- Carina?”

“Oh, no, I’m not,” she says immediately, giving her a small smile. “Carina is actually out sick today so she asked me to fill in for her. But she should be back tomorrow,” she adds quickly, “and she has your number, so she’ll get in touch as soon as she’s feeling a little better.”

Elena can’t believe it. A person who hasn’t even met her yet has cancelled on her - it feels like a new low. She’s sick, though, she tries to tell herself. Maybe this student can be the one she forges a new friendship with - she’s clearly nice enough to help out a sick friend, so it’s probably worth a try.

“Okay. No problem,” she replies, smiling shyly back at her. 

The taller girl smiles and nods. “I’m Kaya,” she says, sticking out a hand for Elena to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. Actually, do you mind if we get a cup of coffee before we start the tour? I, uh… didn’t sleep too well last night.” Her smile fades slightly and her gaze falls.

Elena nods immediately. “Of course. Yes.”

“Alright - and first tip,” she adds as they begin walking, “is that the coffee cart by the other gate, even though it’s further away, is objectively better coffee.”

Elena nods mutely; she’s another one of those effortlessly beautiful girls, just like her friends on the group chat. If Elena tries, she can almost believe Kaya is one of them with an American accent.

“Is everything okay?” Kaya asks when they’re at the cart and waiting for the coffee.

Elena starts. “Yes. Yes, it is. It’s just…” Maybe this is the segue to an engaging conversation, she supposes. “You look familiar. Do you live in, um…” She struggles to pronounce the name of her locality. “Weesperstraat?”

“No, I live over at Prinsengracht,” she says, frowning. “Strange, though. There aren’t too many people in Amsterdam who look like me.” She chuckles.

Their coffees arrive and they begin walking. Elena watches as Kaya balances her cup and phone in one hand and rummages in her bag with the other. She stops in front of a notice board with the university logo affixed to the top and clicks her tongue, apparently not finding what she’s looking for.

“I’m sorry, this will just take a minute…”

Elena nods and waits with her. Now that she’s actually said it out loud, Kaya seems genuinely familiar. But she can’t figure out for the life of her where she may have seen her, or even heard of her. Just then, someone bumps into them and Kaya’s bag gets knocked down.

“Shit,” she mutters, bending to pick up her stuff. Elena offers to hold her coffee for her which Kaya accepts with a relieved flash of a smile. She begins scooping a couple of books and stapled sheets of paper, along with her wallet and other belongings. Her phone is lying on the side, the screen down, and Elena’s pulse races faintly; she’s definitely seen Kaya before.

“Thanks,” says Kaya, standing up and hitching the bag back on her shoulder before taking the coffee back. “Let’s see, where were we going…” She squints in the afternoon sun and turns to her right, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

And then it hits.

Elena feels for a moment as though she can’t breathe, for this can’t be true. The red iPhone, the same college logo but on a t-shirt instead, the exact motion of tucking her hair behind her ear that Elena’s seen played on a loop dozens of times by now. It’s her.

It’s her. Elena is more convinced of it than ever as the afternoon goes on. She’s getting a tour of the campus from her. It makes complete sense now: the effortless charm, the exotic appearance and the tall, slim figure - of course she looks like that because she’s with him. It makes Elena feel a little less self-conscious about herself; she shouldn’t be trying to compete with his girlfriend. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kaya asks after a while, bringing Elena out of yet another reverie of pure shock and mild admiration. “You’ve barely said a word.”

Elena doesn’t know where to possibly begin. She lives in Prinsengracht which is right here - meaning he could be right here. Not right now, of course; no, he landed in Los Angeles yesterday. But he could be here. It’s hard for her to picture him in an off-campus student residence but somehow it just works. Elena exhales shakily when she realises she hasn’t responded.

“No, I -” She clears her throat. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just - I don’t know…” I don’t know how this can possibly be real but unless I’m completely mistaken, it is.

“I get it,” says Kaya, nodding sympathetically. “It’s hard doing a semester abroad. I did one in Barcelona years ago and it was - well, it was great but it was hard, too. It’ll get better,” she adds, smiling encouragingly.

For a moment, all thoughts of who this girl might be or whom she might be dating leave Elena’s mind. Kaya is the only person other than her mother who’s said anything remotely uplifting to her since she made her plans to come to Amsterdam. Not her school friends, not the college group, not any of her friends online - just this one girl who’s filling in for a sick friend.

She’s a nice person. Elena swallows and hangs her head, secretly ashamed that while Kaya was giving her a tour, all she was thinking about was her famous boyfriend. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “That’s really very nice of you.”

Kaya’s smile widens. “Carina is even nicer. You couldn’t ask for a better student buddy.” Her phone pings just then and she glances it and winces. “I’m sorry, I have to go for a meeting. I hope you have a good day, though.” She touches Elena’s shoulder and waves. “See you around.”

Elena nods and watches her walk away, her long black hair blowing in the breeze. She watches as Kaya jogs over to the main building and joins a couple of students also entering, and they exchange a few words and laugh. Her stomach sinks a little bit; she’s alone again. With Kaya gone, the campus seems bigger, people seem more intimidating, and Elena feels more out of place.

She thinks about it on her way home, sitting by herself on the tram. Everybody on the train is with someone, and the ones who aren’t seem far more confident being alone than she feels. She picks up a sandwich from the cafe next to her building and goes up to her room, ignoring the groups getting dinner together. 

Upstairs, her roommate Zola, a gorgeous girl from Nigeria, has friends over. She invites Elena to join but when Elena sees exactly six people there and pictures herself as the odd seventh one out with nothing to contribute to the conversation, she politely declines and heads into her room to eat by herself.

She wishes she’s said yes to Zola. She wishes she could, but it’s too late now. She hears them laughing and eating outside while she watches an episode of Friends on her laptop and finishes her sandwich before changing and getting into bed, already dreading another day of being a lone wolf in a jungle of confident adults.

Out of habit, Elena goes to one of her common interest networks on her phone, hoping the friends who don’t know her as a shy loner might be of some comfort today. The Discord icon flashes and opens to one of the BTS chatrooms she’d joined a year ago. There’s already a conversation going on, though; it seems to be about some Twitter drama about a Korean actor she’s only vaguely heard of, but everyone else seems to have an opinion on.

She sighs, silently reading but never adding, only reacting to comments once in a while. Someone notices that she’s online, though, and sends a shoutout message to her.

TripTeasexxx [22:10] Elena! You’re back! How’s London darling!

Elena frowns before it dawns on her.

ElenaV99 [22:11] Oh, I’m in Amsterdam actually! It’s so amazing!

QueenBee4u [22:11] How was your first day of uni?

Absolute crap. I have no friends and it’s terrifying. My classes seem like they’re going to kill me and all the Dutch I learnt in preparation for this trip has been no help because no one seems to understand my accent except for one American girl who gave me a tip about the best coffee on campus. And I hate coffee!

Elena pauses. She has a window of about a minute in which to reply before someone else chimes in and the discussion derails.

ElenaV99 [22:13] It was fine. Except… guess who goes to my college? Hint: she has a poppy plant on her balcony.

—

Joon [20:55] [photo]

Kaya opens the picture and bites her lip, leaning against the wall of the hallway and zooming in. It’s Namjoon in what looks like a dressing room, looking dapper in a suit with his dark blond hair slicked back, with his camera pointed at the mirror. Jungkook has snuck into the picture with a dopey smile and a peace sign, but Kaya barely notices him.

Kaya [21:53] My man is such a dreamboat, ugh. 

She sends it, knowing he probably won’t reply for a while. He’d sent the picture an hour ago and if the outfit is any indication, he’s going somewhere fancy. She sighs, gazing at the picture for a few more seconds before locking her phone and trudging to her apartment.

It’s been an objectively bad day, mostly due to a lot of arguing with fellow doctoral students on a live project they’re collaborating on. Kaya hates being talked over; being proven wrong is the only thing that makes it worse. She wishes Namjoon were here, or that she could talk to him at the very least. As logical and direct as he is, she can always count on him to be on her side, especially when she’s angry.

It’s been a week since that disastrous phone call. Kaya had agonised over her almost-slip of tongue all night and most of the next day, until she and Namjoon had finally talked again later in the evening. She’d apologised again, over and over until he’d stopped her, admitting that he knew he was being paranoid as well. It was unsaid but completely clear that being apart was starting to get to both of them.

They’d ended the conversation by deciding to get together for a couple of weeks when the group would be in Europe. Kaya had offered to travel with them for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take the time off, and although Namjoon had tried to restrain himself, he hadn’t been able to hide his excitement. It heartened her, especially as even getting the time to talk over the phone was becoming more and more difficult with his schedule.

She enters and kicks the front door close behind her, dropping her phone into her bag and leaving it by the kitchen. Dragging her feet into her bedroom and not even bothering to switch on any lights, she goes straight into her bedroom and into the shower, tying her hair up and slipping her clothes off on the way. With another sigh, she welcomes the warm, clean water after a long day and stays there until the water gets cold.

As she steps out and towels herself dry, her stomach rumbles. It’s a decision between eating or falling asleep instantly; she wraps the towel around herself and is about to open the bathroom door when she halts.

Something is off.

Kaya frowns, feeling her heart faintly race. She tries to listen, but can’t quite hear anything. The quiet isn’t out of the ordinary, but it shouldn’t be this… still. A few more seconds pass but when nothing happens, she tries to shrug it off and steps out of the bathroom.

The bedroom lamp is all the way across the room; using the light from the bathroom, Kaya changes into joggers and a t-shirt when she hears it again. Silence - deliberate silence. Something is definitely off; she looks around the room, as though hoping to notice something. But there’s nothing; she turns back, her shadow moving along with her from the light under the bedroom door.

Kaya freezes. There should be no light under the bedroom door. She hadn’t turned on any light outside the bedroom. 

There’s an old anxiety, a horrible, piercing pain in her chest at the realisation. She stays still and begins retracing her steps: she definitely hadn’t turned on the light. Her stomach squirms as she retraces them even further back: she can’t be sure, but she’s almost positive that she’d forgotten to lock her front door.

As soon as the thought takes form, she sees it. A movement, outside. It’s unmistakable. So are the whispers; they’re softer than the wind, like students tiptoeing silently into a class and soundlessly talking when they aren’t supposed to. But they’re there.

Out of instinct, her hand goes to her pocket to find it empty. She covers her mouth to stifle her gasp when she remembers her phone is in her bag outside. Another voice outside; it’s a girl’s.

Something in Kaya’s chest eases ever so slightly. There’s a girl. She exhales as quietly as she can before taking a deep breath; she has to go outside. There’s nothing she can do from here.

Looking around briefly and finding nothing but a pen, she clicks it and positions it in her hand before silently walking up to the bedroom door. She puts her ear against the wood, but upon hearing nothing, she turns the doorknob and opens the door, her heart jolting in shock and fear.

Standing in her living room are three strangers, one by the bookshelf next to her television and two others peering with wide eyes at a framed photo of her and Namjoon in her parents’ backyard in Connecticut. All of them snap up to look at her at the same time.

One of them gasps, clearly expecting no one home. The other one immediately places the picture back, but the third, holding a beer bottle in one hand and a scarf in the other, grins slowly.

“Holy shit,” he says, as though hardly daring to believe it. “It’s her.”

---

Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

[unknowfeelings]

Parallel Universe Comic

Ello, I'm back! Here is the comic, I'm a little late and it's rushed but I hope you enjoy the little comic I made! Is there a continuation? No. I'm so tired bc it took me 3 days to finish this.

I just realized there's a writing mistake on page 3...It's supposed to say ''I have to get OUT of here''.

Nine meeting Kaya (my oc and Metal Sonic) for the first time!

And a huge thank you to my friends that helped and supported me through this!💞

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter One: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition - Katsuko accepts a mysterious mission that will take her to Azuchi.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this "all business" arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga... and by feelings.

Notes - Takes place after the ending of Nobunaga's romantic route, but before the epilogue. Slow burn (very slow burn). Friends to lovers. Canon typical violence.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari: A primary goal of military planning is to enable Generals to meet their manning objectives for force size, composition, and wartime capability. To attain these objectives, forces must be appropriately structured with motivated personnel who are deployed to jobs suitable for their talents, and given training to improve their skills, even when the country’s security goals evolve to meet new threats. 

On occasion, it may be necessary to contract additional personnel, often mercenaries, who are specifically trained to carry out special projects.

Personal comments: Lord Hideyoshi read the above notes and reminded me that the hiring of additional persons should be performed by himself, and none other. He also said something that I am not certain I heard correctly, but it involved Lord Mitsuhide and a word that I am not comfortable writing down.

“She likes you better – it should come from you.” I eyed the missive in Aki’s hand as if it were an unexploded bomb. Ok, technically it was the match. The UXB was Fume. “She hates me. If I give her this, it will make it worse.” Yes, I am a messenger. Delivering messages is my job. At the same time, I’ve managed to do this job for years without becoming victim to the cliché, ‘kill the messenger.’ I had no desire to ruin this streak of not-being-killedness.

“I’ve been travelling for what feels like a thousand years.” There was wry twist to his mouth, as if those imaginary years had stolen not only time but also something incalculable.

It had felt like a thousand years to me too – I’d been here all summer, with only Fume’s dubious companionship. I was so happy to see a friendly face that I was almost willing to do as requested. Almost. “Well then, the time it takes for you to go into the kitchen and hand her the letter will feel like the blink of an eye, won’t it?”

“I cannot handle what is sure to be an unending spate of feminine histrionics.” He grabbed my hand and stuck the letter in it.

“Are you forgetting that I’m also female?” I shoved the letter back into his hands.

“You, my dear child, are never histrionic.” He waved the letter in the air. “Did I mention it’s in Portuguese?”

Dammit.

With a sigh I took the letter back, my fingers closing around the unfamiliar weight of the European vellum.

He patted my shoulder. “Good luck.” Shouldering his travel gear, he turned toward his quarters. “I’m off to sleep until tomorrow. Don’t bother me unless the world is ending. Don’t bother me then either.”

His footsteps trailed off, then I heard him pause at the doorway to the kitchen and tell Fume that he was under no circumstances to be disturbed. He was also probably telling her –

“Francisco sent me a letter?” Fume planted her squat body in front of me (had she teleported across the room?) and reached for the message. She must have been cooking when Aki stopped in to talk to her, because she still had a kitchen knife in her hand. The entrails of whatever she had been dismembering shone red and wet across the blade.

I felt less optimistic about that messenger not being killed thing.

Fume snatched the letter out of my hand, I had the dubious joy of watching her smell it, then clutch it to her cleavage. Finally, she opened it, sighed, and handed it back to me. “Translate this, Kaya.”

No ‘please.’ I considered requesting that she say it, but the letter was going to infuriate her anyway. No reason to push my luck. I opened the letter and skimmed through it, hoping Aki had been wrong about the contents… and-

Aki’s never wrong.

I wonder if Nobunaga’s job offer is still on the table.

“Don’t stand there like a witless idiot, what does he have to say?” Fume glared at me, and a bit of whatever she had been cutting slid to the edge of the knife and dangled. It was almost hypnotizing to watch that bit of intestine swing back and forth and back and –

“Kaya!”

Once, in a forest in Echigo, I encountered the God of War, and I was less scared of him than I am of Fume. I took a discreet step back, knowing that the knife would be flung at me once she heard what Francisco had to say. I opened the letter and read it to Fume. “My Dearest Little Squash Blossom.” (It absolutely did not begin that way, but my bedroom was close enough to Fume’s that I was aware of every pet name Francisco had ever called her. I unfortunately knew the pet name he used for his penis – which was not information I had ever expected or wanted to know).

“And?” She stomped her foot, and that bit of meat finally gave up and fell off the knife, landing on the floor with a loud, squelchy splat. Sigh. I was going to have to scrub that. “I swear Kaya, some days I wonder why Aki bothers to keep you.”

“Sorry Fume-sama. His handwriting is terrible.” I pretended to squint at the letter, rotating it as if to find a better angle. Mentally, I scrambled to find a diplomatic way to rephrase this ‘Dear John’ letter. “He had to travel to Goa for a family obligation.” I took another tiny step back.

“When will he come back to Japan?” When she was upset, Fume’s voice often rocketed through several octaves to reach a glass shattering pitch.

“That, he does not say.” Aside from what amounted to ‘don’t wait for me to return, have a nice life.’ Basically, it was the Sengoku version of break-up-via-text-message.

Fume’s screech of dismay would likely have all dogs in the district howling. The knife came flying, but though Fume has a terrible temper, she has worse aim, and I ducked it. While she was still raining curses upon Francisco, I escaped to the training grounds behind the manor.

During Aki’s absence, in whatever free time I could squeeze from the maid work Fume gave me, I had been working on my archery skills. My self-assigned task had been to become adept at hitting targets while I was on a moving horse. I’d gotten pretty good at this (it had been a really long summer) and could hit the target while seated in the saddle and while standing up in the stirrups.

Unfortunately, my current goal of hitting the target while hanging off the side of my horse was proving difficult. I either needed an extra hand or a better saddle, because my knee kept slipping off the pommel and I inevitably ended up thudding to the ground. Still, I continued to make the attempt. Falling off my horse was better than dealing with Fume when she was #MOOD.

After each fall, Moonlight would halt, trot back to my side, and nudge me with her nose. “What are you doing, you silly human?” At least, that was what I imagined she was saying. Fume might hate me, but my horse was my best buddy.

On my third attempt of the afternoon, I’d managed to get off a shot that landed at the edge of the target before thumping gracelessly to the turf.

Euuf. That one almost knocked the breath out of me.

Even with Moonlight nosing me, I spent a moment on the ground, staring at the puffy clouds in the sky, and pondering my life choices.

“Katsu, was there a purpose to this exercise other than practicing your falling skills?” The dry comment came from the gate to the yard, where a man with long dark hair looked down on me from his position on his own horse.

“Kyubei!” I got to my feet and dusted off my rear end. I couldn’t remember my Azuchi contact ever coming to this part of the country. I always travelled there, not the reverse. “Has something happened?”

“That was my question for you.” He climbed off his horse and glanced back over his shoulder at where the path angled steeply down the mountain. “We haven’t seen you in weeks, and Mitsuhide has an urgent request of your master.”

“Oh. Nothing’s wrong. Aki’s been away for some time. He finally returned this morning.” I glanced back toward the manor, wondering if ‘urgent business from Mitsuhide’ would meet his definition of the world ending. “I’ve been mired here all summer.”

I looped Moonlight’s reigns over the fence so she wouldn’t wander into the garden and eat something that would annoy Fume even more. “In any case, it’s good to see a friendly face. Welcome to The Mountain.” Aki had never actually named his manor, but given its location, most people referred to it this way.

“Mountain is rather an understatement. The path to here is vertical.” Once again, Kyubei looked over his shoulder at the view.

“You ought to see it in winter.” There were times when it was impassible for days. “It’s really an adventure coming and going then.”

He literally turned pale at that. “I will take your word for it.” His hand went to his waist where the edge of an oilskin pack peeped out from the vee of his kimono. “Do you know if Akihira is available to speak with me?”

“Um. Well, he did say he didn’t wish to be disturbed until tomorrow. Is there anything I can help you with in the meanwhile?” I directed Kyubei around to the front.

Kyubei paused and scrutinized me from toes to the top of my head, and I suddenly had the odd feeling he could see right into my soul. “Actually, I believe you can. Katsu, pardon me if this is an intrusive question, but are you a girl?”

Whoops! When I was here at home, I usually didn’t bother with the leather binder I used to flatten my figure, and my hair wasn’t neatly hidden away. Oh well. Too late now. “Not intrusive, and yes – though I am still Katsu. My birth name is Katsuko.”

He smiled. “You might be the perfect solution to our problem, Katsuko.”

Oh? Please. Let me be a solution to a problem, and not-

Just then the woman who generally considered me her problem blocked the front door of the manor. “Kaya stop flirting with this vagrant and come help me clean up.”

“Fume-sama, this man urgently needs to speak with Akihira.” I gestured to Kyubei, who bowed politely, but not with any particular deference.

“He isn’t to be disturbed until tomorrow, and I intend to make sure of that.” She eyed Kyubei with suspicion. “If he must speak with Akihira, then he can spend the night in the stable. Where, I might add, your horse also belongs, and not tied to the gate.”

I can’t win with this woman. “Play along,” I murmured to Kyubei before returning my attention to Fume. “This is Oda Nobunaga’s ally Akechi Mitsuhide. His message is extremely important.”

Kyubei instantly underwent a top to toes transformation – his posture straightened, his eyes took on a sharp gleam, and he flashed Fume a mocking smile. I appreciated how quickly he had done that. Although I was used to passing as a boy, and occasionally as an old man, I’d never tried to impersonate someone particular. “I’m given to understand that Yamaoka Akihira is in residence at present.”

A similar transformation affected Fume, who went from condescending to obsequious in the same amount of time. She bowed low and long. “He does not wish to be disturbed, but I am certain he would wish you treated as an honored guest. Kaya! Prepare a room for Lord Akechi.” She stepped aside and shooed me toward the guest quarters. “My apologies my lord. Akihira has treated this one as a pet.”

A pet would have people to play with, but… details.

When Fume is in a #MOOD, it’s easier to stand back and take it (while imagining a creative revenge to be named later). I turned to go inside, but Kyubei stopped me. “You do me honor, but it is, as I said, a matter of some urgency. Is there any way I can convince you to disturb him?”

“No need.” Aki padded down the hall, dressed in his nighttime robes. “It’s impossible to get any sleep with all this commotion.”

“Aki,” I said, hoping to clue him in before he broke Kyubei’s cover. “Mitsuhide – oof.” Fume had elbowed me, none to gently. “That is, Lord Aketchi travelled all the way from Azuchi to speak with you.”

With a conspiratorial smile, Aki turned to Kyubei. “He did, eh? Well, Mitsuhide, it’s a pleasure to see you… again. Shall we discuss this matter in my receiving room?”

Kyubei inclined his head and followed Aki into the house. I made to join them, but Fume grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “The floor, Kaya. There is something on it.” She pointed to the meat that had dripped from her knife earlier.

With a glance back to me, Kyubei paused. “This involves your messenger. Can she meet with us as well? It would save time.”

The “she” pronoun caused Aki’s eyebrow to raise, but he simply nodded and motioned me along. I resisted the impulse to give Fume a look of triumph.

I hurried after Kyubei into Aki’s office, skidding to a halt to avoid running into him. He’d stopped just inside the door and was looking around. I tried to imagine how the office would look to an outsider: an eye-searing jumble of odds and ends, Western trinkets and Chinese artwork culled from his dealings with the Portuguese traders, a mismatch of both Japanese style and European furnishings, and of course two shogi boards – one of which consisted of his ongoing long-distance game with Mitsuhide. I was used to it… but it could definitely be sensory overload to a stranger.

Kyubei looked down at shogi game-in-process. “This at least, is a familiar sight.”

“One would hope that this visit isn’t simply because Mitsuhide is impatient for my next move.” Aki paused by the firepit to put the tea water on to boil.

“No, of course not. Although, I will admit to being tired of losing to him every night while we wait for your message.” Kyubei glanced back and forth between the chairs that were facing a large European crafted desk, and the cushions around a traditional writing desk.

Aki gestured to the larger desk and chairs, which he preferred to use, claiming height was better on his knees. In all the years I had known him, he had not shown any evidence of knee pain. Once I had pointed that out to him, he’d told me it was because he sat in Nanban chairs. I think he chooses to sit there because it makes him look like a king facing his subjects.

Once we were seated at the desk, with cups of te- wait. Was Aki drinking… coffee? I sniffed the air and glanced at his cup.

“My latest find from a Nanban merchant.” He took a long sip. “Who, I believe, purchased it from a Dutch trader. Do you wish to taste it?” He pushed the cup toward me.

I knew what coffee tasted like, but ‘Katsu’ would not, so I took a sip then made a face that was not entirely fake. “It’s rather strong. Slightly bitter.” I don’t mind bitter. But I like my tea.

I passed the cup to Kyubei who also took a taste. “I imagine it could be an acquired taste but…hm.” He tapped his fingers on the cup. “I wonder if I might have some of this to take back to my master to see if he can taste it.”

That was an odd turn of phrase, but Aki simply nodded. “I’ll send a package with instructions on how to prepare it back with you. Meanwhile, I understand you have an important message from him?”

Kyubei handed over the message. Aki unfolded it and read through it with a few absent-minded hmmms of his own, a chin rub, and sidelong glances at me. “Mitsuhide asks if I have an apprentice or messenger who can pass as a woman. It appears to me that having Katsuko pretend to be a boy pretending to be a girl would be unnecessarily complicated.”

I imagine Julie Andrews would have something to say about that.

“Indeed.” Kyubei glanced at me critically. “However, we can do as well with Katsuko as herself. True, there would still be a bit of a disguise involved, but no one expects there to be any danger.”

No one expects the Spanish inquisition either.

I’m not really bothered by the idea of danger. After the past couple of months, I’d gladly take a change of scenery and would welcome. The denizens of Azuchi couldn’t be any worse than Fume, and even if there was some danger, it wasn’t likely to throw a bloody kitchen knife at me.

Aki rubbed his chin. “Kyubei, do you mind giving us a moment of privacy to discuss the matter?”

Kyubei bowed. “Not in the least. I’ll find your, er, kind, chatelaine and ask for a place where I can wash the mountain off me.” It sounded like he and the mountain were not fond of one another.

Once Kyubei had whisked himself away with all the discretion and attitude of an upper crust British butler (or at least a Netflix version of same), Aki turned to me. “I suppose the first question is, do you wish to do this?”

“My first preference would be to go with you on your next mission.” Aki often took me with him on short jobs, but not the long journeys where he went away, only to return looking as if the fate of the world rested on his shoulders… I would like to share that burden with him, if he would let me. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped being just an apprentice to him, but he still shielded me from much of his work.

Aki smiled at me, but he looked … sad. Sad? Not an emotion that I usually associated with him. “That’s very … kind of you Katsuko. But these are missions that I must do on my own.”

“If that is the case then yes, please send me to Azuchi.” Not wanting to sound too overeager to be gone from home, I added, “If Fume and I spend much more time together, the next time you return, I cannot promise we’d both be alive to greet you.”

He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Alright my fierce… apprentice. Bear in mind you’ll be working for Mitsuhide who will not have as much tolerance for your brand of cheekiness as I do.”

I stole another sip of his coffee just to tease him. “You did teach me manners, remember?”

He groaned. “I do remember. That’s why I’m worried.” He looked out the window, but I had a feeling he wasn’t seeing lush summer greenery in the yard, but something less friendly…  something that weighed on him. Then he seemed to shake it off and looked back to me with that familiar professorial tone. “As it happens, you’ll also be spending time in the Hida region, and it suits me very much to have someone in that area, so I’m inclined to send you with Kyubei.”

I sat up straighter. Aside from the couple of weeks I had spent in the booksellers in Azuchi, I’d never had a solo mission. “What needs doing in Hida?”

Aki rustled around with the papers on his desk and pulled out a map. “There’s a great deal of mining in the area – many parties are very interested in those mines as the desire for Japanese silver exports increases. It goes without saying that Nobunaga wants control, but there may be people not happy for him to have that. I don’t expect that the area will destabilize – at least not quickly, but when you return, I would like to know your impression of the situation.”

Thrilled that he trusted me with this, I lifted my chin and fought back the urge to smile. Professionals don’t smile. “I won’t let you down.” Again though, there was part of my brain that had on repeat, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

“I know you won’t.” He took a large sip of coffee, savoring it as if it were the best beverage on the planet. “Or you’ll spend the next year solely under Fume’s authority.” He softened that threat with a smile. “I trust you know how to take care of yourself, but it goes without saying that I hope you’ll be careful and stay safe.”

Maybe it went without saying, but he had never before said it to me, especially not in that tone of voice that almost made me want to hug him.

And, so, I did hug him, and after a startled moment, he held onto me tightly, his palms pressed firmly into my back.

Although Aki encouraged Kyubei to spend the night and get an early and well-rested start in the morning, he preferred to leave right away, claiming that time was of the essence. Kyubei advised me not to bother packing any of “Kaya’s” clothing – advice that cheered me immensely, as Kaya’s clothing was a dreary pile of ugly kimonos in varying shades of mud. “Nobunaga will see that an appropriate wardrobe is provided for you. The Lady Mai is a talented seamstress and will be happy to outfit you.”

That didn’t provide much of a clue to what I would be doing, or what I should pack, but I simply threw together everything I would have brought along were I going on a trip with Aki, as well as my (sadly fraying) portrait of Toshiie, and the portable shogi set that Aki had given me on my most recent birthday. Though I knew I’d be dressing as a female, I chose to travel as Katsu – it was safer. Moreover, ‘Katsu’ was familiar, and I’d learned to keep as many familiar things close to me as possible, lest they disappear forever.

“I’m glad you were quick,” Kyubei said once we were on our way. “I do not want to make this descent after dark.”

“It’s actually easier if you can’t see where you are going,” I said, just for the fun of seeing him turn pale again. “At least if you fall off the mountain, you won’t see the rocks before you hit them.”

“I can’t wait for Mitsuhide to meet you,” he muttered as we led our horses along the steep path. Riding would have been faster, but I didn’t know how surefooted his horse was. Also, I doubted Kyubei even wanted to add another four feet of height to the equation.

“Why?” In truth, after delivering so many messages to him via Kyubei over the past four years, I was surprised that our paths hadn’t crossed.

“No reason… Katsu, can we stop talking until we reach flatter territory? I’d prefer to concentrate on not plunging to my death.” Kyubei sounded out of breath.

I glanced over my shoulder and felt bad for teasing him. I mean, put me in front of a tunnel, a cave or even a tiny windowless room, and I’d be a sobbing mess. “Alright, but to be honest, it looks worse than it is. Nobody’s ever fallen off the mountain in the summer. Well, not anyone who wasn’t drunk first.”

He grumbled something along the lines of about needing to be drunk to take this path.

It wasn’t until we made our way to flatter terrain that he regained his normal distantly friendly attitude. By the time we had camped for the night, he had relaxed enough to entertain me with some of his exploits.

“How did you manage to pretend to be Mitsuhide so quickly?” I set a copper tea kettle over the fire. “Oh, I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” I added as Kyubei shook some of the coffee beans into his hand.

He ignored my advice and bit into one but managed to keep a straight face while what I imagined was very bitter coffee attacked his taste buds. “Some of it is training – but I’ve also had a lot of practice. He and I have exchanged identities in the past.”

“Really? I thought Mitsuhide was… older?” I’d once seen the back of his head – in fact that was the only glance I had ever seen of him – and his hair was silver-white.

“No, we’re of the same age.” Kyubei poured the coffee beans back into their metal tin. “Put me in a silver wig and anyone who doesn’t know him well would be fooled.”

Wow – I bet that made them fun at Halloween. “Will I be in disguise too?” Please don’t say housemaid.

“We’ll be presenting you Oda Princess.” Kyubei had a faint smile on his face.

“A wha-” I paused, realizing I had spoken with an unprincesslike mouthful. I swallowed, the tried… and failed… to come up with an appropriately regal reply. “Er, not that I’m not flattered, but you could have gotten an actress and done just as well.”

Kyubei inclined his head. “Indeed. Our Princess might have some additional duties more generally assigned to personal guards. But truly, as I said, we don’t expect this to be very dangerous.”

In other words, Princess-slash-bodyguard. On one hand, that sounded pretty awesome… aside from that voice in my head had that had swelled to an eight-part chorale: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @katriniac @briars7

[bluemidnightmelody]

Little do you know - Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick x Fem OC

word count: 5,9k

Summary: She is a career tribute in training, but Finnick doesn't want her to participate in this death match. Even though he was the one who trained her, or just because of that, he couldn't bear to lose her like that.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of forced prostitution

also posted on ao3 and wattpad

The sea is restless and agitated, as if sensing his feelings and showing him his innermost self, like a mirror.

Finnick can't tell how long he's been sitting on the sand, looking out at the roaring sea, but it doesn't matter. For him, time has little meaning, but for someone else, every second will soon be precious.

The reaping will be held in two weeks and the 71st Hunger Games are just around the corner. It has been a full six years since his own name was called out in front of the entire district.

At this time of year he is always tense, it's only understandable, but this time it's different. Something has changed this year.

"Why are you pulling a face like that? You're going to get wrinkles on your forehead if you keep this up," comes Kaya's familiar soft voice from right behind him. Despite his ongoing paranoia since his games, he hasn't noticed her sneaking up on him.

She seems to be in a playing mood, but Finnick can't bring himself to smile. He stands up to face her, and at the sight of his serious expression, she looks at him questioningly.

"We need to talk," he announces tersely.

Kaya crosses her arms in front of her chest, visibly irritated by his cold demeanor. "Yeah, you mentioned that when you asked for this meeting, but you look like someone is dead. That worries me a little," she replies.

Finnick sighs and shakes his head. It's macabre that it doesn't even seem to occur to her that it's her life he's concerned about. He takes a deep breath, catches her gaze with his, and says in a prompting tone, "I want you to lose next week, you hear me?"

Kaya's expression is stunned, a mixture of shock, disbelief and annoyance. She snorts in irritation and counters loudly, "Are you serious? I have been training my whole life for literally nothing but this and you have the nerve to ask me to lose on purpose at the selection tournament? Have you gone completely insane?" She talks herself more and more into a rage until she's almost yelling at him.

Finnick squints his eyes and runs his hands through his bronze blond hair. "I know all this, but you don't understand. I'm just trying to help you," he tries to reassure her, but with little success.

Kaya throws her arms to the side in a dramatic gesture and laughs a little sarcastically. "Help me? You were supposed to help me win, remember? We've done nothing but prepare me to win for the past year. I'm among the best in every discipline and absolutely everyone has high expectations of me. Not only do you want me to let down the teachers and coaches who have invested so much time and effort in me, but you want me to let down my entire family who is hoping and counting on me to bring honor to them and the rest of District 4," she complains in agitation.

Finnick frowns and counters," Have you listened to yourself? I know that many people in 4 glorify the games simply because we get preferential treatment from the Capitol as well by winning the games. But you are smarter than them. We both know that all of this was never your desire. You're just doing it to please your parents, who seem to be so desperate for recognition."

Outwardly, she seems unimpressed, but Finnick can see in her eyes that he's hit the mark.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," she counters. "I thought you were on my side, I thought you had faith in me. If you think I'm too weak to pull this off, then you're underestimating me."

"You're the one who doesn't understand anything," he replies loudly. "You, the people at the academy, your family, as well as all the rest of District 4 don't know anything about the games."

With a firm grip, he places his hands on her shoulders and looks deep into her eyes. "If you think I'm asking this because I don't think you could win, you're wrong. But look at me. Even if you manage to get out of the arena alive, do you really want to end up like me? You're about to throw your whole life away and I know that for sure because I stopped having one a long time ago. There's so much more for you without the games. Kaya, please."

Her conflicting emotions are clear on her face now. Inside her, a battle is brewing between the part of her that wants to please everyone and not disappoint the expectations placed on her, and the other part that has wanted nothing more than to break free for years.

She can see the desperation in Finnick's beautiful sea green eyes. She has always been able to see that seemingly alone among many blind people, so she knows he is telling the truth.

Kaya lowers her head to escape his intense gaze, because she can never withstand it for long. "I can't just decide something like that. I'll think about it," she whispers, taking a cautious step backward.

His hands release her shoulders and he gives her one last pleading look as she hesitantly turns and leaves, no doubt back to the academy.

At home, he sits motionless again, this time staring at the painting in his living room.

On the big canvas, a gigantic old sailing ship maneuvers through stormy waters. The waves are rearing up high, powerful and threatening. The wind tears at the numerous white sails and he can almost hear the creaking of the masts that have to withstand these forces.

In the distance, an opening gapes in the blanket of dark clouds, and rays of sunlight fall brightly on the troubled water. Like the light of a lighthouse, it seems to pull the ship toward it, in the hopes of escape from the angry sea.

The longer he looks at it, the more it seems like the picture is actually moving. It was a gift from Kaya after he accidentally discovered her talent.

It wasn't that long ago, but it feels like an eternity. All this happened only because, against his beliefs, he decided to take an academy student under his wing, as many other victors from 4 do year after year.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with any of this. He rarely went to the academy unless he was ordered to by his coordination team for more video footage or the like. He never intended to actively participate in preparing children for their almost certain death.

Most of the potential tributes he disliked from the start anyway. Arrogant and smug creatures who glorified killing for the amusement of the Capitol and lost all respect for life. But she was different.

The first time he really noticed her was on a deserted beach, like today. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, but there she was suddenly, kneeling in the sand, her dark blond hair disheveled, her hands full of shells, staring unflinchingly at him with her gray eyes.

It was as if she could freeze time with her gaze, so they eyed each other without a word or even so much as one twitch of a muscle. Her face was completely unreadable, like a stone mask hiding any hint of emotion.

Without a single word or any other reaction, she turned and walked away from him, further along the beach, as if he were invisible.

As a result, he also noticed her the next time he was at the academy. While the others vied for his attention, she kept to herself. She was always quiet and seemed as if her mind was somewhere else.

The more he watched her, the more he wished he could see the world she wandered in. This world where apparently no one exists but her. Perhaps he would be able to find the same peace there that was inherent in her, if only he could enter that place.

She was 17 years old at the time, and had her last year at the academy ahead of her before things would get serious. When she was first told that no one other than Finnick Odair would personally take care of her training until then, she was visibly surprised and confused.

She didn't seem to trust him very much, and his usual charm, with which he had also wrapped the Capitol around his finger, didn't seem to do anything with her. She followed all his instructions and did everything he told her to do without objecting, but no more.

Her persistent reticence and reservedness drove him ever more strongly to want to unravel her. She was like a treasure chest that promised him the most beautiful riches, if only he had the key to unlock it.

And at some point, as time went on, he succeeded in opening it. At first they just happened to run into each other outside of training, then at some point chance encounters turned into planned meet-ups.

It was as if two kindred souls had found each other. Kaya was just as lonely as he was, and being lonely together is better than being lonely alone. He was drawn to her like the ship in the painting to the end of the storm.

At some point he began to pay her occasional visits at her quarters at the academy. Actually, he wasn't even allowed to be there, but he has become better than anyone at getting people to let him have his way with sweet words.

Once he caught her by surprise just overpainting a beautiful picture of the beach with white paint.  His admiration for her talent, hitherto unknown to him, was only overshadowed by his horror at witnessing this act of destruction.

When he asked her about it, she only answered naturally that she can't afford dozens of canvases and therefore paints one picture over the other. She said this without any regret, as if it would not bother her in the least to destroy her artworks, which she had created with so much effort, just like that.

He did mind, and the next time he returned from the Capitol, he would bring her not only canvases of all sizes, but also tools and paints that she had previously mixed herself from crushed shells and other natural products.

At first she strictly refused to accept such an expensive gift, even after his repeated assurances that he really has more money than he could ever need.

As a compromise, he suggested that she then use the things to paint a picture for him. Then it would not be a gift, so to speak, but they would benefit in equal parts.

After a short back and forth, she finally accepted these conditions, and the result has decorated Finnick's house ever since. Since then, a few more paintings have been added, but this one means the most to him. He can't say if it was intentional, but he often feels as if he were also on board of this ship, caught in an eternal raging storm.

____________________

A week has flown by and Finnick finds himself lined up with the rest of the victors and instructors at the academy.

He notices his fingernails digging into his skin because of his clenched fists, but he can't relax. It is the day of decision, today will determine which students will be allowed to volunteer as tributes.

There is always more than one applicant, and all of them are equally eager for the opportunity to gain glory and prestige in the Capitol, for themselves and their district, by winning the Hunger Games. None of them even suspects what they are actually getting themselves into.

A week before the reaping, the students compete against each other for the privilege of enlisting as tributes, first the boys, then the girls. For those who are already 18 years old, like Kaya, this event is compulsory, but the younger ones are allowed to participate, even if the older ones usually have clearly the better chances.

The future male tribute has already been decided, a tall broad-built boy, who overpowered his competitors mainly with his strength.

For the girls, the decision is getting closer. Out of 6 possible candidates, only two are left, and Kaya is one of them.

The girl she faces is taller than her, with raven black hair and emerald green eyes. Finnick recognizes her, mainly because of her standout brutality in training, even to her classmates.

He secretly hopes that if he couldn't convince Kaya with his words, maybe her opponent will make sure she is spared, even if it means making the other girl a victim. Kaya is his protégé and he should not wish for that, but he hopes from the bottom of his heart that she loses.

Unfortunately, it was he himself who trained Kaya for the past year. He did it with the goal of enabling her to stay alive on her own, should the worst case scenario occur with her actually ending up in the arena. He taught her everything he knows, and by now she is good, downright outstanding. She was talented before, too, but through him she has learned to use her abilities to the full.

None of her opponent's wild attacks really succeed, and while Kaya keeps blocking and gracefully dodging them, her opponent loses more and more patience. Kaya skillfully uses a careless moment to disarm her opponent and puts her out of action with a grip from behind.

Finnick freezes to ice as he watches the scene, where the worst possible outcome is about to unfold. Just a moment longer and the fight would be over.

For a split second, her eyes meet his and Finnick, for the first time in a long time, has to suppress the tears that threaten to gather in his eyes.

He can't tell if it is his undoubtedly pitiful sight that make her change her mind at the last second, or if she had made that decision before. Before the fight can be declared over, Kaya lets go of her opponent, who elbows her in the side as she struggles desperately.

It wasn't a blow hard enough to actually force her to let up. Her opponent recovers quickly and it seems like she turned the situation around before Kaya could do anything.

If you look closer, you would see that she isn't even trying at all. She lets the black-haired girl pull her to the ground, where she presses the knife to her neck, which Kaya knocked out of her hand earlier.

The fight is over, the winner cheers along with her male partner as if they hadn't just won a trip straight to hell, and at least one of them without a return ticket.

Kaya remains motionless on her back for a few more seconds before slowly standing up and wiping the imaginary dust off her clothes. Her expression is completely neutral, as it often is, and she shares a long intense look with Finnick before turning and disappearing into the locker rooms.

He feels his petrification loosen and his muscles, which had been almost painfully tense all this time, slowly relax again. He draws in a deep breath and it's as if it's the first one after he almost drowned.

The happy winners and the dejected losers end the day with a celebration at the academy, because after all, it's also the end of the training period for all those who have already turned 18 and will therefore not get another chance to participate in the games. Despite his relief, Finnick doesn't really feel like celebrating; after all, the games are still coming up.

He retreats to the deserted hallways of the building and, after wandering aimlessly for a while, slumps against a wall somewhere. He leans his head back and closes his eyes as he listens to the silence. Soft music and laughter can be heard from the foyer below him.

"You actually have wrinkles on your forehead, that's bound to make headlines at the Capitol."

Finnick startles and finds himself facing Kaya, who is eyeing him with the smallest of grins. Again, he didn't hear her coming.

"Are you surprised? Sneaking up on me like that is starting to become a really annoying habit. One of these days I'm going to die of a heart attack," he replies with a sigh.

Kaya copies his stance leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway and casually crosses her arms in front of her chest. "You sound like an old man."

"I feel like I've aged 20 years today, too. If I'm actually getting wrinkly, I'm sure it's thanks to you," he murmurs.

She drops her gaze to the floor and surveys the pattern on the old tiles. "Is this how you wanted it to be now?" she asks softly.

"You're safe, that's all that matters," he replies with a confident voice.

The look she gives him is hard to interpret, but he recognizes something gentle in it that warms his heart. This has been happening to him more and more lately, and he observes this change in himself with both concern and pleasure, the origin of which is a mystery to him.

"Sandy could still back out, or my name could be pulled," Kaya says in a composed voice. It has always been tradition at the academy that if a student's name is pulled, they are entitled to the spot as tribute, even if someone else has been chosen for it.

"That's not going to happen," Finnick replies with conviction. "And even if Sandy changes her mind, they can't make you volunteer in her place. We'll get through the reaping and then it'll be over once and for all," he explains hopefully.

"We?" asks Kaya urgently.

"Of course," Finnick counters, "We're a team, aren't we? I promised you I would do everything I could to keep you alive, and I meant what I said, even though our ideas about it probably weren't the same originally."

"What will happen when the reaping is over?" asks Kaya tentatively, looking at him with wide expectant eyes.

Finnick sighs and replies, "I was chosen to be a mentor this year. I'm going to have to focus on that for now. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but when I get back, my time will be yours alone, I promise. Then we can talk about everything else."

Kaya chews the inside of her cheek. "So there will still be a we?"

Finnick looks at her for a moment, then breaks away from the wall. He crosses the distance between them in two big steps and pulls her into his arms.

"Always."

It's not the first embrace they've shared, but this time is different. Without a hint of resistance, she nestles against his chest and buries her face in his shoulder. She wraps her arms around his torso and Finnick can feel the warmth of her hands where they rest gently beneath his shoulder blades.

Now, finally, he has managed to spend a small moment with her in this other world she lives in, and he feels an all-encompassing peacefulness like never before. There is no one else but the two of them, and nothing else matters.

One of his hands buries itself in her hair as he pulls her even closer, even though it's barely possible.

"Is it because you mentor that you don't want to see me there?" asks Kaya into his shirt.

Finnick rests his chin on her head and closes his eyes. "I definitely don't want to have to see you in the games at all, the circumstances don't matter in the slightest. I just want you to be here when I get back," he whispers.

Her hands bury themselves in the fabric of his shirt and she whispers a barely audible, "Okay."

____________________

By the time Finnick is finally back in District 4, the games have been over for almost two weeks. His tributes have already been dead a while before that, but the Capitol, not to mention Snow, always finds enough ways to keep him busy.

As usual, he has had to spend more time than he would have liked with a wide variety of people from the Capitol elite. It was a long and tiring stay as always, but this time his restlessness was far stronger than usual. This time there was something to look forward to upon his return.

It is already evening and the sun is sinking into the waves on the horizon. Kaya will have moved out of the academy's living quarters by now, but today it's already too late to go looking for her. It will be the first thing he takes care of in the morning.

His destination for the evening is the bar down by the harbor. The place is usually well frequented by the fishermen who stop in after their work on their way home. Finnick often spends the first few hours there after he returns home, not because he would want to get drunk, but because it's a good place to shed the skin he wears in the Capitol.

He finds an unoccupied table in a corner and settles there. While he appreciates the presence of the good-humored sailors near him, he is not yet in the mood for friendly conversation. He prefers to keep to himself for the time being.

The unexpected sound of glass hitting wood snaps him out of his thoughts, and before him suddenly stands a generously filled glass of golden-brown rum. It's commonly the drink of choice in District 4 and is usually home-brewed in one or the other basement.

"I didn't order anything," he says, confused, but as he looks up at the person now standing beside him, his heart stops for a moment.

"You know why I love sneaking up on you? That puzzled face you always make is just fantastic, in a way almost cute. Sometimes I wish I could paint it so I could hang it in my apartment and enjoy it all day long."

It takes Finnick an uncomfortably long moment to sort out his thoughts sufficiently to form coherent sentences again.  Completely out of nowhere, Kaya stands in front of him and only now does he realize just how much he actually wanted to see her.

"You do realize that you just admitted that you want to look at me all day, right?" he asks with slight amusement.

She gives him a grin and coquettishly replies, "I said I wanted to see the stunned look on your face all day."

"It's the same thing to me," he counters.

This makes Kaya laugh and she sits down across from him at the empty seat at the table. Her amusement gives way to a gentle tone as she asks, "How are you?"

"Better than I was two minutes ago," he replies, playing with his fingers on the rim of the glass she has set out for him. "So, you're working here now? To be honest, that surprises me; after all, so much hustle and bustle and close contact with people isn't really your thing. Especially always having to be extra nice to everyone," he remarks.

Kaya props her head in her arms and explains, "Well, while the others are busy just flirting with people, it takes someone to actually do the work. It's a functioning distribution of tasks." At this, she nods subliminally in the direction of another waitress who is standing by a group of men with a broad smile, playing sheepishly with her hair.

Finnick snorts a laugh. "So you're not flirting with me? That's too bad."

"Don't people do that to you all day long? Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"That depends on who's doing it," he says in a calm tone, watching her chew on her lower lip to suppress a grin.

"This is just supposed to be transitional," she finally says, making a vague gesture around the room. "It's hard to get a useful job in the city or at the port. I've spent the last few years just training. I have pretty much no contacts here anymore and people don't know me. It's like I didn't even exist until now," she sighs, somewhat dejectedly.

"Maybe I can help you with that," Finnick replies, taking a sip of the rum. The taste takes some getting used to, but he is by now.

Kaya gives him a skeptical look and replies firmly, "I don't want to just be accepted by anyone because you talked them into it."

"If I just go and talk in front of some acquaintances about an overly hardworking and capable friend who's looking for work and maybe gush a little bit about your very real talents, it's not persuasion," he laughs.

She mirrors his laughter before sighing and murmuring softly, "I really missed you, Odair."

Before he can say anything back, however, a gruff male voice roars across the room. "Hey, I don't pay you for talking," the bar owner grumbles before disappearing between people again.

Kaya drops her head back and groans, "You'd better rave about me as soon as possible. I really need to get out of here." Hesitantly, she rises from the chair again.

"That's too bad," Finnick remarks, amused, "because I think dresses suit you. I don't remember to have seen you in one before."

She looks down at herself for a moment and then does a graceful turn for him that sends the skirt of her navy blue dress flying. The smile on her face might as well be the most beautiful one he's gotten from her to this day, and his heart jumps a little in his chest.

"When do you get off work?" he asks.

Kaya stretches her neck to catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall and replies, "In about an hour."

"Well, I'll wait," he says before she hurries off to take care of the other guests.

Time passes as if it were only a few minutes, while he doesn't take his eyes off her for a second. He would look at her all day long, too, if he could.

When she finally arrives at his table again with her jacket under her arm, they waste no time and leave the bar.

Out on the street, where it's dark by now, Finnick asks, "Same place as always?"

"Sure," Kaya replies. She looks at him with a grin and pulls her jacket aside to let him catch a glimpse of the full bottle of rum she's hiding underneath. "I brought us a little something."

Finnick snorts and raises his eyebrows. "Aren't you going to get in trouble for this?"

"Nobody will notice. And besides, it's poetic justice. I've caught him more than once helping himself to our tips," Kaya explains dryly.

They climb over the rocks on the coast and finally reach the old lighthouse. Since fishing stopped in the area around the reef, it is no longer used and is therefore abandoned. Finnick long ago declared it his personal favorite hiding place, and Kaya is the only one he has brought here since.

They climb the steps and finally arrive at the upper platform. Along the way, Finnick has pulled a bundle of blankets from one of his hiding spots, which they now spread out on the ocean side of the platform, but far enough away from the railing.

So they sit up there, backs against the wall of the light chamber, their shoulders touching, watching the roaring waves that are hard to separate from the dark sky.

They pass the bottle back and forth a few times before Kaya speaks up. "I saw the games," she says carefully. "I'm sorry."

Of course, he knew they'd have to talk about it sooner or later, but the subject still triggers a deep trepidation in him. What exactly she is sorry for he doesn't know. Maybe that two young people had their lives stolen, or that they were the ones who, in a sense, victimized Sandy so that Kaya could live. Basically, they were the ones who stole from her.

"Me too," he replies, but then recognizes the fearfulness in her eyes. "But not because of you," he adds, holding her gaze.

She seems to understand what he is trying to tell her, that if someone has to become a victim, he doesn't regret saving her from it.

Kaya lowers her eyes and after a while she asks, "The one who won, the girl from 7, did you ever meet her, after the games."

"I did."

"What's she like?"

"Angry," he replies with raised eyebrows.

"What a surprise," Kaya says sarcastically.

"Not just normal angry," Finnick corrects, "Angry in a very intense, really scary way. The kind where any second you expect her to pull an axe out of her jacket and throw it at you."

Kaya laughs heartily and replies, "Sounds like you like her."

He sighs and admits, "She's all right."

There's silence for a while before Kaya whispers, "Do you think I could have stood up to her?"

"That's something I'd rather not think about," he says wistfully, taking his eyes off the horizon to turn his head toward her.

Her face is much closer than he expected and her eyes search for his. The light of the moon is enough to make out her delicate features, and his gaze slowly wanders over the figure that has become so familiar to him.

"What would you like to think about?" she finally whispers into the darkness, breaking the dam once and for all.

The answer is that he doesn't want to think at all, and he doesn't when his lips meet hers in the next moment. It's just an innocent caress, gentle and hesitant, before he pulls back again.

Kaya doesn't let him, and chases after his lips as they leave hers. She gently places a hand on his cheek and pulls him back to her, demanding, but tender, into a slightly firmer kiss.

The same feeling as when they embraced at the academy is back, only a thousand times stronger. It's like he's stuck in a perfect dream with her, noses touching, lips brushing together, completely lost in that comforting warm feeling he only gets when he's near her.

Any hesitation is gone and he wraps his arms tightly around her as he steals her breath away, pulling her close until she's nearly straddling him. She is similarly entwined with him and one hand plays with the hair on the back of his neck.

Only when their breath becomes scarce do they detach from each other a little, foreheads touching and breathing heavily.

As his mind slowly catches up with him again, his thoughts are racing. Everything is abruptly back in his head, the things he does while he's in the Capitol that Kaya has no idea about, what Snow is threatening him with to make him do all that, the fact that Kaya is now also another chink in his armor, and the fear of what she would think of him if she knew everything.

"Maybe we shouldn't ..." he begins, but he can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Uncertainty spreads across Kaya's face. "Why would you say that?" she asks, visibly confused.

Finnick gently rubs her back where his hand rests. "There are things you don't know about, bad things that ..." again he can't find the words, or maybe he just can't bring himself to say them.

"I don't know what you mean by that," she says hesitantly.

He'd love to turn back time so he wouldn't have to have this conversation, but as much as he wants to keep what he has with Kaya, he's not going to be able to just keep her in the dark forever. It feels like he's deceiving her, and by his next forced visit to the Capitol at the latest, he'd be betraying her, too, albeit not willingly.

He averts his gaze, for he will never bring the words past his lips, while she looks at him with wide eyes. "There are people that I ..." he begins, "They're not like you but ..."

"Are you talking about your visits to the Capitol?" she asks slowly, with a questioning look. His behavior worries her, because as long as she's known Finnick, she's never seen him so nervous and anxious. What she's noticed over time, though, is the sadness he's always hides proficiently under a smile or a playful comment, and she wonders if whatever is bothering him so much is the cause of that, too.

Finnick takes a shaky breath. "I know you have to get to see what they say about me on Capitol TV at least once in a while," he finally counters.

Kaya gives him an airy laugh and asks, "You mean all the people who like to hang on your arm to feel somehow significant?"

"You say it like that, but that's not all, not by a long shot," Finnick replies seriously.

"Is there someone else?"

"No one like you, never anyone like you," he announces firmly. "But the things I have to do at the Capitol...I'll never be able to...I won't be able to stop, you know? I'm afraid that I'm bad for you. I think you deserve better, someone better than me, someone who can give themselves to you completely."

Kaya looks at him so insistently, as if trying to decipher the riddle of his being only with her eyes. "The people you're with at the Capitol, do you really feel anything for them?"

"Heavens no," he exclaims, "I would like nothing better than to simply forget their existence."

"Then do it," Kaya retorts, adjusting her position above him until their noses are almost touching. "Forget about everyone and everything else. Tell me I'm the only one, and we can just stay exactly like this, because you're my whole world. You're the one who saved me, so my heart beats only for you, do with it as you please," she announces softly.

It takes him a moment to collect himself, but after a deep breath, he looks into her eyes again and whispers softly but with seriousness, "You are the first and the only one for me."

"That's enough for me," is her only reply before she presses another tender kiss against his mouth.

And for now, it's enough for him too, enough to temporarily ease his conscience and sink back into her loving embrace.

They sit like that for a long time, snuggled close together, her head on his shoulder while his arms are wrapped around her.

"Whatever it is that weighs so heavily on your heart, you can tell me if you want. Maybe someday or never, it won't change how I feel about you. Just promise me to be honest when you do," is the only thing she mumbles to him later.

He will tell her, he will have to, even at the risk of her being wrong about this. But no matter how it turns out, he could never continue to do Snow's bidding while Kaya sits unsuspectingly at home waiting for him. But not tonight, just this one night he wants to spend in peace.

"I promise."

~~~

Image source for my divider: freepik

[butterflydemons]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miya agrees with Kaya and decides to invite Chan to her house so he can officially meet his daughter.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bangchan x biracial!oc ( Miya )

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,536

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 & 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗎𝗉𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖧𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @michelle4eve @lovesunshinefelix @resi4skz @kaciidubs @linosazuna @dandelions-143

⇢ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ——— ɴᴇxᴛ

Chapter III🧸: Everything To Me

『 July 21, 2022 』

MIYA SAT UP all night thinking about her conversation with Kaya the previous day. Although she knew her best friend was right, she was still skeptical about having Chan in Noémi’s life. She knew what came with being involved with a K-pop idol. There were the fans, paparazzi, and those people who secretly took pictures of them. Along with came stalkers and dangerous individuals, and now that she has a child, she would NEVER do anything to put her in harm's way.

In her mind, Miya knew that Chan had every right to be in Noémi’s life no matter what. She is part of him as she is part of her. His blood ran through her. Miya knew that if news got out that she had a child with a known idol, their fandom would be in an uproar. Hell, World War III might even start.

The sound of Noémi’s cries made Miya snap out of her thoughts. She threw the blankets off her, slipped on her house shoes, and headed to the infant’s room. Noémi stood up wide awake with tears rolling down her face.

“Oh, Mimi, why are you crying?” Miya cooed, picking up her daughter only to gag at the smell of the cause of her daughter's tears. “Oh my god, that’s why.”

Miya took the baby to her main bathroom and ran Noémi a bath. She went to the bedroom and cleaned her up before returning to the washroom. Before Miya washed up Noémi, she put her hand in the water to ensure it wasn’t too hot. Noémi played and babbled, making funny noises to her mother as she splashed around.

As Miya began styling her daughter's hair, her ringtone echoed off the walls. She glanced at the screen to see Kaya calling before setting the soft bristle brush on the bed and tapping the green answer button.

Hello?

Bestie🤍🥤- Hello, my love, what are you doing?

I just got Noémi dressed for the day. What’s up?

Bestie🤍🥤- I was wondering if you wanted to meet Karsyn and me at a restaurant for brunch.

Yeah, I’ll meet you there. Just send me the address.

Bestie🤍🥤 - You got it. Love you.

Love you too.

Setting her phone to the side, Miya finished doing Noémi’s hair before placing her in her playpen with a pacifier. She got up and took a brisk shower before dressing in light blue jeans, a pink strapless top, and white Air Forces. Miya did her tresses in a slick half-up, half-down style before adding a little makeup. When ready, Miya grabbed her belongings and Noémi before heading to her white Mercedes Benz G-Wagon. After strapping her daughter in her car seat, Miya entered the driver's seat and drove away from her house.

As Miya drove, she put the address Kaya had sent her into the GPS and followed the directions. Arriving at the small cafe, Miya parked, exited her vehicle and went to the backseat to grab her daughter. As she walked inside, she immediately spotted Kaya and Karsyn. She smiled, placing Noémi in the high chair, and sat down.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” Karsyn grinned at Noémi, holding her arms out. The baby reached out to Karsyn and held onto her neck.

Karsyn placed repeated kisses on her cheek, making her giggle, before sitting her in the high chair.

“Did you guys order yet?” Miya asked, opening her menu and scanning the different dishes it had.

“No, we got here not too long ago,” Kaya replied, sipping on the ice water.

A few minutes went by before the three friends started looking over the menu. Everything looked and sounded terrific, but Miya couldn’t decide on what to get to eat. Soon, a waitress approached their table with a notepad already in her hand to take their orders. She smiled at the young women, and they returned the same gesture.

“Welcome to Savor Street. What can I get you?” The young woman asked Miya and her friends.

“I’ll have the Street Toast Sandwich and an iced chai latte, please.” Miya politely ordered, smiling at her. “Also, can you add a small strawberry oatmeal for the little one?”

“I want the gyeran bap with an iced americano,” Kaya replied, closing her menu.

Once Karsyn placed her order, the waitress left the friends to talk again.

“Has Chan contacted you since yesterday?” Karsyn asked, looking at Miya.

“Not yet,” Miya answered, shaking her head. “He’s supposed to call me to talk when he has free time.”

“At least he’s taking the initiative to want to be in her life,” Kaya replied, tapping her nails on the table.

By then, the waitress had arrived with their food and drinks. Miya smiled at her daughter, who had a gummy grin when she went to feed her the strawberry oatmeal. When the toddler had enough to eat, Miya sat the spoon down and gave her daughter a bottle that Karsyn fed her. The girls were talking about random subjects when Miya’s phone vibrated with a text. She saw it was from Chan and clicked on the notification, taking her to their conversation.

(850) 961-3198 - Hey, are you busy today?

No, why? What’s up?

(850) 961-3198 - I’d like to know if we can meet at your place to talk.

Okay, at what time?

(850) 961-3198 - How about in an hour and a half? I have a few hours of free time.

Alright, I’ll send you my address.

(850) 961-3198 - Thanks.

“Chan wants to meet at my place to talk, should I?” Miya asked, looking at her friends.

“Do we have to have this discussion again?” Karsyn asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course you should. As the father, he deserves to be in her life.” Kaya replied, biting into her fluffy pancakes.

“You’re right, but I’m nervous. Imagine the uproar if and when the K-pop fandom in general finds out.” Miya expressed, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

“I understand, but you can’t worry about the what-ifs. Like my mom always told me, people will talk about you until the day you die, and there’s nothing you can do about that except to live your life the way you want to.” Kaya explained, and I knew that she was right, like always.

Miya knew Kaya was right in her statement. That was the reason why they were friends. Kaya was always Miya’s go-to person for advice.

“Damn it. I hate it when you’re always right.” Miya huffed amusingly, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face.

“It’s the truth.” Kaya laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let Chan come over.” Miya sighed, giving in to the temptation.

Miya grabbed her phone, went to the messages from Chan, and sent him her address. Suddenly, she felt a sense of nervousness in her chest. Why was she anxious? I mean, it’s only Noémi’s father, who’s also a K-pop idol with billions of fans, who is ruthless. She had to admit, though, that she was a fan of Stray Kids, not precisely a Stay, but a fan, in her opinion.

From the moment Noémi could see, Miya would watch SKZ Code and listen to their music. At the moment, Noémi’s favorite song was Charmer, and whenever she’d hear her daddy’s voice, she’d dance and smile. It warmed Miya’s heart to see her daughter get excited when seeing Chan on TV. It made her glad that she gave birth to her. And she loves spending every second with her.

The girls continued talking amongst each other before paying their tab and leaving the establishment. They got in the vehicles they arrived in and decided to shop for a little bit before driving to Miya’s house. It's good that Miya kept a basket of non-slide socks in every size by the front door so people can wear them since she has tile flooring. After the girls entered the house, they removed their shoes, walked to the living room area, and sat on the couch. Noémi sat on her playmat, playing with her toys in her world.

“Are you nervous?” Karsyn asked, looking at Miya from her phone.

“Honestly, yes, I am. I don’t know what to say.” She responded, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve never done this before, but I’m nervous about talking to Chan.”

“That’s understandable because he’s an idol, famous worldwide, and his fan base is savages,” Kaya explained, leaning her head against her hand.

“Oh, I’m not worried about them. You know me, but I’m worried about my child. I know someone will take it too far behind a phone screen and talk about my child.” Miya softly expressed, running her fingers through her hair. “You know how I can get when I feel like someone has crossed a line with me.”

“Girl, I'm the same way. My mouth starts going when I’m at that point, and it’s hard to get me to stop.” Kaya said, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly, and I don’t want that to ruin his image.” Miya sighed, feeling her chest tighten with anxiousness.

Suddenly, the doorbell echoed throughout the house, making the girls look at each other. Miya sighed, rubbing the sides of her head as Karsyn and Kaya went outside while she answered the door. She stood before the door and sighed heavily before grasping the handle and opening it. On the opposite side of the doorway was Chan, who looked scrumptious in her opinion.

Miya smiled at him, showing respect and manners by bowing. “Hi, Chan.”

“It’s good to see you again, Miya.” Chan greeted her, smiling at the one with whom he shared a passionate night.

“Come in and welcome to my home.” Miya grinned, stepping aside to allow the father of her inside.

Chan entered the house, looking around at the design from the ceiling to the floors. He followed the young woman to her living area and sat across from her on the second sofa.

“I love your house.” Chan politely complimented, fiddling with his fingers.

“Thank you.” Miya smiled, blushing a little as Chan grinned.

“How long have you lived here?” Chan asked, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

“I’ve been here for eight months.” She answered, bringing her knees to her chest.

As Miya went to speak, she heard Noémi’s whines coming from upstairs, followed by Kaya’s voice. “Miya Noémi wants you.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She replied, standing to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Miya walked upstairs, following her best friend’s voice to her bedroom. Kaya had Noémi in her arms as she tried to get out of her grasp, reaching for her mother. The mother held the baby in her arms and carefully walked down the stairs. As she entered the living room, Chan looked up and fell in love. There she was.

His baby girl. There was no denying her because the resemblance was uncanny. Noémi had his eyes and mouth but had her mother's nose. Chan was hesitant initially but held his arms out to his child. She stared at him, taking in his facial features before reaching her arms out to him.

Chan let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding in as he held his child for the first time. Noémi stared into Chan's eyes, studying his face, every tiny freckle and every pore. Suddenly, she smiled, making her father's heart swell as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Chan laughed, rubbing his daughter's back. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, but now that you two are side by side, you guys look like twins.” Miya complimented, smiling at the pair. Seeing them together made her heart also swell, and it made her feel something.

Chan sat on the sofa, sat his daughter on his lap, and started cooing at her, loving the sounds she returned. He ran his finger down her chubby, soft cheek before kissing her forehead. Many emotions ran through Chan, and he honestly wanted to cry.

“Hi, baby girl,” Chan said, smiling funny at the toddler. Noémi looked at him and gave him a wide grin, showing her gums. “You’re so cute. Do you talk to her in Korean, too?”

“Yes, I do, so she knows both languages,” Miya responded, running her hand through her hair. “One thing about Noémi is that she loves your music.” Miya laughed, grabbing her phone.

“Does she?” He questioned, widening his eyes in surprise. “What song does she like?”

“She’s hooked on Charmer.” She smiled, scrolling through her music.

After finding the song, Miya turned up the volume, and immediately, Noémi turned toward her mother. The second the music started playing, the toddler began dancing, wiggling her hips and bouncing up and down. Chan laughed, seeing his daughter wiggle around to his music, and couldn't resist taking his phone out and recording her.

“That is so adorable. Thank you.” Chan praised, staring at Miya with a sense of admiration. She was allowing him to see his daughter, and not many women do that when they get pregnant on a one-night stand. “Now that I’m seeing Noémi, it’s surreal. When I saw the picture, I didn't believe it at first, but I started adding the dates.”“Believe me, I understand. When Noémi was born, I stared at her face for five minutes in disbelief that I have a baby now.” The young woman explained, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I’m a whole mother, and the fact of who her father is, my world will flip upside down.”

“I was wondering if you knew who I was.” He grinned, watching his child play with her toys.

“I didn’t realize it until the next morning. I was shocked and embarrassed that I would do that.” Miya admitted, covering her face as her cheeks flushed a pink color.

“If it didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have her now, would we?” Chan inquired, smiling at Miya, making her heart flutter.

“No, but I am worried about what would happen if and when this gets to your fans worldwide.” The young woman confessed, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, it will make Stays go into an uproar if that makes sense. They’re going to ask questions and want answers.” Chan responded, understanding her fears. He wasn’t wrong, though. If and when Stays finds out about Noémi, they will want answers on who the mother is and ask numerous questions. “If you’re worried about Stays bombarding you and Cheon-Sa, I can step back some-”

“No, I don't want you to do that because I want you in her life. I fear for her.” Miya avowed, glancing down at her nails. “What if something happens to me or god forbids Noémi if we’re walking down the street?”

“Miya, listen to me. I won’t let anything happen to you, let alone Noémi.” Chan promised, grasping Miya’s hand softly.

“You’re not always going to be there, Chan. Sometimes, you’ll be across the sea touring while I’m here.” Miya truthfully stated, shrugging her shoulders.

“I know, but I’ll do my hardest to be there for you and Noémi.” He assured her, gently rubbing the back of Miya’s hand with his thumb.

“I don’t doubt that you will.” Miya smiled, cocking her head to the side.

The pair continued their conversation as Miya discussed Noémi’s likes and dislikes. Chan was glad he had this time with Miya to learn about her concerns and worries. He enjoyed sharing the moments with Noémi because he already felt a bond with her the second he laid eyes on her little body. After a while, Chan checked his phone and saw the time on the screen.

“I have to go, but I’ll call you tonight,” Chan said, standing to his feet. Miya did the same, picking up Noémi and following him to the front door when he put his shoes on. “Bye, baby girl.”

“Say bye to Appa.” The young woman cooed, kissing her baby girl’s cheek. The toddler smiled at Chan, waving her tiny hand at her father.

Miya waved goodbye to Chan as he got in the car with his bodyguard and drove off. As she closed the front door, Kaya and Karsyn came downstairs and walked to the living room.

“So, how did it go?” Kaya asked, sitting on the sofa.

“It went well. We talked and agreed on some things.” Miya replied, setting Noémi in her play area.

“That’s good. Chan seems like he’s a good guy.” Karsyn nodded, smiling at her friend.

“He is.” Miya grinned as her mind couldn’t help but wonder about the what-ifs and what could happen.

Chan arrived at the dance studio where he was meeting the others. On his way there, his phone blew up with messages from his group members. When he entered the room, the guys groaned and hollered that their leader finally appeared.

“Yah! Where have you been?” Changbin yelled, jumping to his feet.

“I need to talk to you guys,” Chan replied, scratching the back of his neck. The members knew something was off by Chan’s demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked as the guys gathered around and sat on the sofa. Seungmin, I.N., and Han sat in front of them on the floor.

“Do you guys remember the restaurant we went to for my birthday that my friend Caleb paid for last year?” Chan questioned, looking at each of his members.

“What about it?” Minho inquired, shrugging his shoulders.

“Do you remember the girl that wore a blue dress? She was Hyun-Jung’s friend.” He responded, leaning his elbows against his knees.

“I remember her. She sat at the opposite end of the table.” Felix replied, realizing who Chan was talking about.

“So, um, after we went to the club that night, we returned to my hotel room, and one thing led to another,” Chan explained, rubbing his hands on his jeans. The group stared at him with wide eyes, not believing he would have a one-night stand with someone he just met. “Today, I went to her house because she became pregnant, and now I have a daughter.”

Silence filled the room as the group processed what their leader just stated. Bang Chan a dad? No, it can’t be. Suddenly, Hyunjin screamed and started running around the spacious room.

“Wait, are you serious?” Felix asked, staring at Chan wide-eyed.

“Very.” Chan nodded, pulling out his phone and showing them the picture he took of Noémi.

“Wa, geu salam kkog dangsin-ilang dalm-assneyo.” Han gasped, looking back and forth between his leader and the picture. ( “Wow, she looks just like you.” )

“There’s no denying that,” Felix responded, laughing at the video of Chan’s child.

“What’s her name?” Seungmin asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“Cheon-Sa or Noémi,” Chan answered, rubbing his chin.

“Geunyeoui eomeonineun ban-eun hangug-in-ingayo?” Hyunjin questioned with a wide grin on his face. He didn’t know whether to be excited that his leader was a father or that he was considered an uncle. ( “Is her mother Korean?” )

“Yes, she is.” The group leader nodded, answering his third oldest member.

“JYP is going to go nuts.” I.N. laughed, staring at his leader.

“Nuts? He’s going to have a heart attack.” Seungmin laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“I’ll handle JYP regarding that, but just keep it between us for now,” Chan responded, looking at each of his members. “She worried about when that time would come, but for now, keep it hush.”

The group nodded, understanding Chan's situation, and decided to keep it hush. They’ll get through dance practice for now, but they would want to meet Miya and Noémi eventually. However, one thing's for sure. The guys were happy for Chan and even excited. Now that his group knows, all he has to do is tell his family.

Outside in the backyard area, Miya, Kaya, and Noémi splashed around in the pool. It was a warm day, so they decided to get in the water. Noémi was a water baby. She loved being in the pool and bathtub. So much that she never wanted to get out.

Karsyn smiled, watching the toddler interact with her mother. She adored the way Noémi giggled and laughed. It made Karsyn want a baby, but was now the right time? Maybe or maybe not, but eventually, she’d want one. Thinking about her future with Caleb made her begin missing him.

It made her glad that she met him on Valentine’s Day in 2017. Karsyn walked inside the house, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and called her longtime boyfriend.

02/14/17🖤👅 - I was beginning to miss your voice.

What are you doing?

02/14/17🖤👅 - Getting ready to do a tattoo.

Can I come over?

02/14/17🖤👅 - You know you don’t have to ask.

I know, but I like to.

02/14/17🖤👅 - Can you bring me gimbap and bibimbap from the restaurant by the apartment?

Okay, only because I’m hungry.

02/14/17🖤👅 - Miya didn’t cook?

No, she had a meeting with Chan.

02/14/17🖤👅 - How did that go?

Miya said it went well. They talked and got on the same page regarding Noémi being a secret from the public.

02/14/17🖤👅 - That’s good. Noémi deserves to have both parents in her life.

Exactly. Well, I’ll be on my way when my Uber arrives.

02/14/17🖤👅 - You know how I feel about you using Uber.

Well, you’re prepping for a tattoo.

02/14/17🖤👅 - I still don’t like it.

Whatever. I’ll see you in a bit.

02/14/17🖤👅 - You’re lucky I have your location.

I love you.

02/14/17🖤👅 - Love you too.

Hanging up the phone, Karsyn ordered her Uber before heading back to Miya's backyard. “My Uber is on its way. I’m going to see Caleb.”

“No, don’t leave,” Miya whined, holding her hand out to her best friend.

“I’ll call you later.” Karsyn laughed as she received a notification from Uber saying her driver was arriving.

“Yeah, right. Knowing Caleb, you’ll probably see him for something else.” Kaya teased, playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

“Whatever, and he’s doing tattoos today.” Karsyn defended, placing her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, but not all night.” Her best friend grinned, making Miya splash her with pool water. “I’m just saying.”

“Anyways, I’ll call you guys later. My ride is here.” Karsyn replied, waving at her two best friends.

“Be safe and careful!” She heard Miya yell from the pool.

“Always, and you have my location!” Karsyn responded, exiting the house to the red sedan.

She climbed in the backseat, smiling politely at the middle-aged female driver. Before arriving at Caleb’s tattoo shop, she stopped by the restaurant in their shared apartment and ordered his food. Karsyn also bought herself something to eat before returning to her Uber and heading toward her boyfriend’s location. Arriving at Caleb’s tattoo shop, she grabbed her food bags and exited the vehicle. The bell above the door dinged as she entered the building, signaling her arrival.

Caleb walked to the front, seeing his beautiful girlfriend with food. A smile appeared on his face as he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled away from Karsyn before planting a kiss on her luscious lips. Their smooch lingered on, but before it got heated, Karsyn pulled away.

“Hana deo.” Caleb breathed heavily, trying to kiss Karsyn’s lips once again. ( “One more.” )

His girlfriend giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips, but he wanted more as he pulled her closer. “No. You have work to do.” She finally pulled away and held up the bag of food.

Caleb poked out his bottom lip in a childish pout before grabbing the bag and heading towards the back room. After a ten-minute wait, Caleb’s client finally arrived. The man greeted Karsyn as she sat at the reception desk before doing the same to the tattoo artist. Her boyfriend led his client to the tattoo station and got to work. Karsyn sat in the front as hip-hop music echoed throughout the establishment.

Karsyn admired Caleb and his eye for creativity. She supported him when he suggested opening his tattoo shop. She got his initials tattooed on her right ass cheek, and he had hers on his pelvis on the grand opening day. On Valentine’s Day in 2017, Karsyn was stood up by the man she thought loved her, but it turns out he didn’t when she received a message of him sleeping with another girl. After watching that video, she became devastated.

She rushed out of the restaurant, and right when Karsyn exited the door, she ran straight into a hard chest. Karsyn looked up, and low and behold, she saw the sexiest face known to man, in her opinion. Caleb had the prettiest smile she had ever seen and instantly started melting. They talked, exchanged numbers, and started dating after a year because of Karsyn’s new relationship issues. Now they’re two peas in a pod and are inseparable.

Approximately three hours later, Caleb finished tattooing his client. He wrapped up the new ink in plastic and thanked the man as he walked to the front and paid. Caleb turned to Karsyn, who was finishing a drawing she was working on. Wrapping his arms around his girlfriend, Caleb pressed his lips to the top of her head before pecking her cheek, making Karsyn giggle.

“Was that the only client you had today?” Karsyn asked, smiling at the taller male.

“No, he was the third one. I helped Tae-Woong with his client who got a back tattoo.” Caleb explained, playing with the nape of Karsyn’s neck. “And another client got a small rose on her forearm.”

“You must be tired.” Karsyn smiled seductively, wrapping her arms around Caleb’s neck. He could see the list clouding her eyes.

“Well, not tired enough for you.” He responded, leaning down to capture her plump lips.

“Well, if you hurry up and close, we can get home faster.” Karsyn grinned, biting her bottom lip teasingly.

Caleb quickly pulled away from his girlfriend and sanitized his equipment before grabbing Karsyn’s hand and keys and locking the door behind them. As they entered his car, Caleb started it up before holding his lover's hand and driving away from the building. When they arrived at their shared apartment, Caleb was instantly on Karsyn. Their lips smacked against each other as his hand gripped and groped anything he could. Karsyn moaned as Caleb pushed her against the nearest wall.

As the couple went to their shared bedroom, clothing came off. Caleb tossed his girlfriend on the bed before climbing on top of her. Once the barrier keeping them apart vanished, Caleb’s back was marked with bright red scratches as he explored Karsyn’s inner walls. He covered her neck and chest in hickies. Their sound of lovemaking echoed throughout the dark apartment.

After their escapade, Karsyn lay in Caleb’s arms as they stared at nothing in particular. She wanted to talk about what she was thinking of earlier and decided that now was as good as any time. Caleb knew she had something on her mind, so he wanted her to say it.

“Speak, dove,” Caleb said, tapping his girlfriend’s forehead with his finger.

“It’s nothing.” Karsyn denied, shaking her head. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Tell me.” He replied, squishing her cheek and making her laugh.

“What would happen if I were to end up pregnant?” Karsyn questioned, looking into her boyfriend’s brown eyes.

“Are you?” Caleb responded, staring at her.

“No, I’m not, but I wondered if I was. I was watching Noémi earlier and was wondering what it would be like if we were to have a baby.” She explained, playing with the silver chain around his neck. “Would you still be with me if I fell pregnant?”

“Of course, I would be with you, Karsyn. Nothing or no one would change that.” He responded, rubbing her shoulder.

“I kept picturing what our child would look like. Would they have your features or mine?” Karsyn commented, smiling at him. “I want them to have your smile. It’s beautiful with curly dark hair and a cute button nose, but I'm scared.”

“Scared of what?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Of being a good mother. With my relationship with mine, I wonder if I’d end up like her.” Karsyn confessed, picking at her fingernails.

“Baby, listen to me,” Caleb said sternly, grasping his girlfriend’s face to make her look at him. “You are not your mother. In no shape or form. You will be an awesome mother to our babies one day. Understand?”

Karsyn nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. Caleb pressed a kiss to her lips as they lay there in each other's embrace.

“Your dream will come true one day,” Caleb said, giving her a reassuring smile.

He kissed her forehead as she cuddled up to him, soaking in his body heat. In his mind, Celeb wanted the same thing Karsyn did. Since Noémi was born, he has wanted a baby of his own. It did not matter the gender. He just wanted one shared with his sweetheart.

Miya hummed a lullaby as she rocked her daughter to sleep. It was 8:45 pm, and Noémi had gone to bed ten minutes earlier. She carefully placed the toddler in her crib before quietly leaving the room but keeping the door open. As Miya entered her bedroom, she went to her attached bathroom and turned on the shower. Once it was ready, she stripped out of the clothes she had on and stood in the glass enclosure under the water.

The hot water felt amazing on her skin, soothing her muscles. Caring for a one-year-old was hard work, but she managed to do it. After her shower, Miya stepped out and wrapped a towel around her body. She changed into a white seamless plain rib lingerie set for bed since she was the only person in the house. Before settling in bed, Miya did her nighttime skin routine.

As Miya walked out of the bathroom, her phone started ringing. She raced over and saw Chan’s number flashing on the screen. Before answering the call, she found a white oversized t-shirt, put it on over her body, and pressed the green button.

Hello Chan.

(850) 961-3198 - Is this a bad time?

No, I'm just relaxing my brain. It won’t let me fall asleep.

(850) 961-3198 - We have the same problem.

Yeah, I understand. It sucks.

(850) 961-3198 - That it does. Is Noémi asleep?

Yes, she is. She had a hard time falling asleep tonight.

(850) 961-3198 - Aww poor baby.

I know, but she finally gave in and went to sleep.

(850) 961-3198 - Does she stay asleep all night?

Yes, unless she’s sick or something.

(850) 961-3198 - I want to ask you something.

Ask away.

(850) 961-3198 - How did you become friends with Caleb?

I met him through Karsyn when I moved back to Korea. She introduced him as her boyfriend; we’ve been like siblings since then.

(850) 961-3198 - That’s nice.

Yeah, Caleb’s always been like the protective brother I never had. He was there when Noémi was born and cut her umbilical cord, but since that day, his protectiveness has intensified.

(850) 961-3198 - That's good. Someone is there to protect you when I can’t.

Exactly, but it’s out of love. He doesn’t like it when I go out with Noémi by myself.

(850) 961-3198 - I can understand that. Caleb wants to make sure you two are safe.

Yeah, and I love him for that, as do the others. I love them with all my heart.

(850) 961-3198 - I like that for you. I like your friends who will do anything for you and Noémi.

Yeah, I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

(850) 961-3198 - Tell me about you.

What do you want to know?

(850) 961-3198 - Anything. What’s your favorite food?

Kimchi fried rice.

(850) 961-3198 - Do you like sweet or spicy food?

Both, but mainly spicy.

(850) 961-3198 - I'm not fond of spicy or bitter foods.

Why spicy food is the best.

(850) 961-3198 - My spice tolerance is very low.

Well, we’re going to have to work on that. I make the best spicy tteokbokki, as my friends say. They love my cooking.

(850) 961-3198 - Who'd you get your recipes from?

My mother and grandmother.

(850) 961-3198 - I’d have to try your food one day.

It’s — amazing.

(850) 961-3198 - You’re cute when you yawn.

Thank you for that compliment.

(850) 961-3198 - I’ll get going and let you go to sleep.

Goodnight Chan.

(850) 961-3198 - Night Miya.

After the call disconnected, Miya added Dimples🤗 to Chan’s contact and laughed as she charged her phone. She was glad Chan called, beginning to miss the sound of his voice. His profound yet alluring voice honestly made her throb down below.

“Go to sleep, Miya Giselle,” Miya spoke to herself, sighing as she turned over.

Before Miya knew it, she was asleep, dreaming about these brown eyes, deep dimples, and husky voice that belonged to her daughter's father.

[ginevrastilinski-ocs]

Everyone meet My New Bridgerton Babies! (Some of them at least lol)

Everyone meet the Fontaine family and their friends! Aka why should I start with a much simple story idea with just one oc when I can start with a whole universe full of people?

Vivica Fontaine - The Eldest Daughter Syndrome walking; basically the mom of the family, especially bc Malcolm's health problems ngl; Anthony Bridgerton ship FC: Dakota Johnson

Erwin Fontaine - Elinora's twin brother; Adventurous Boy; is not the oldest but he will inherit everything and he lowkey hates it bc he knows Vivica is way smarter and more suitable than him for the leading role in the family; Kate Sharma Ship FC: Jonah Hauer King

Elinora Fontaine - Erwin's twin sister; the definition of "I want to be great or nothing"; little perfectionist baby; ship TBD FC: Kaya Scodelario

Malcolm Fontaine - Baby Boy; very low immune defenses (basically none) so he's always sick; grew up basically locked in his house and has social anxiety for this so... yeah, the most unlucky boy in town; the only person he often talked with growing up outside of his family was Amelia bc they're neighbors; Amelia Sayre ship FC: Timothée Chalamet

Hestia Fontaine - youngest Fontaine sibling; she and Francesca are friends and debut the same year; the talkative and loud half of Francesca's quiet side lol; ship TBD FC: Josie Totah

Amelia Sayre - the Spirited Young Lady of the group lol; she gets along well with Eloise for this; actually a secret hopeless romantic ngl; already knows that she will marry her childhood best friend and she loves it; Malcolm Fontaine ship FC: Mia Wasikowska

Philomena Declair - Elinora's best friend; little lesbian and we love her for that; fashion lover (she's always at the modiste not only bc she likes her lmao); Genevieve Delacroix ship FC: Rosamund Pike

[best-siblings-ever]

(This blog is a roleplaying blog and a blog for posting about my OCs. Don't take RP posts seriously. Also, you can ask about my OCs if you want to know more about them.)

Meet My PJO OCs!

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

Their name are Alp and Nuray. Alp is son of Ares and Nuray is daughter of Apollo. They're siblings even though their godly parents are different because their mother, Sema Kaya, is mutual. And Here's more info about them.

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⚔︎Alp Kaya⚔︎

This is Alp Kaya, he's 16 years old and a demigod as a son of Ares, god of war and violence. He originally lived in Turkey but then was brought to Camp Half-Blood with his demigod sister Nuray(daughter of Apollo) by Apollo(because it was really far away that satyrs couldn't come to take them). His pronouns are He/Him and he's heterosexual.

He has red creppy eyes which are a gift from his dad. If someone looks at his eyes long enough, they can see the pure violence and its variations in his eyes even if he's harmless at that time. Because of that people would be scared of him and he would have to hang around alone but luckily he still has his sister. He is a protective, funny, introvert, curious and quick-tempered boy.

He has anger issues that is also a gift from his father and it causes him to not be able to control his anger and get angry easily. This is also one of the reasons for him to be alone. He's actually a good boi deep inside but shows it only to the people who are close to him.

He has Dyslexia and ADHD like the most of other demigods. He's good at fighting and using weapons like the most of the Ares demigods. He knows some of the martial arts. He has his own weapon which is an celestial bronze one sided battle axe.

And Here's Some Funfacts About Him:

He has abilities of odikinesis and telumkinesis

"Alp" name means "Hero, brave" in Turkish

He likes listening to music and playing video games

His favorite music genres are alternative rock and Anatolian rock.

His favorite game genre is physiological horor

His Zodiac Sign is Taurus

His MBTI Type is ISTP

His voice sounds like Zuko from ATLA

His favorite color is red

He hates Maths

His birthday is 9th May

(And here's a doodle of him that has pure chaos in it :3)

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☀︎Nuray Kaya☀︎

And this is Nuray Kaya, she's 15 years old and a demigod as a daughter of Apollo, god of sun and art. She's sister of Alp and they were brought to camp together. Her pronouns are She/Her and she's heterosexual.

She has brown hair with yellow stripes on it like rays of sun that is gift from her father, so she has those stripes naturally. She's an optimistic, friendly, creative, curious and emotional girl. She has Dyslexia and ADHD like the most of other demigods.

She's good at art and archery like other demigod children of Apollo, she even has a sketchbook for drawings. Unlike her brother, she's a social person and has a lots of friends. She's more succesful than her brother at school, so she's the most loved one in their family and sometimes her brother envies her.

She also has her own weapon which is a celestial bronze sword and a bow.

And Here's Some Funfacts About Her:

"Nuray" name means "bright moon" in Turkish

She likes listening to music and drawing

His favorite music genres are Indie and Dreamcore aesthetic

Her Zodiac Sign is Virgo

Her MBTI Type is ENFP

Her voice sounds like Entrapta from She-ra and Princesses of Power

Her favorite colors are white and yellow

Her birthday is 21th September.

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(Sorry if there are grammar mistakes)

[kaya-fandom]

Angel : Hey~ Kaya, can I ask you a question?

Kaya : Of course Angel, what's can I do for you?

Angel : So like, you're an overlord right? Do you possess any souls?

Kaya : I do have a few yes.

Charlie : Really?? Do you think we can meet them???

Kaya : Sure, I will ask when they are free.

*Later*

Kaya : Everyone, please meet, Justice and Dolly.

Justice with a little smile : Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, you can call me J.

Dolly with an empty face : * leans to greet everyone*

Charlie : Oh my god hi !!!

Vaggie : Hello.

Alastor : Justice, Dolly ! What a pleasure to see you again!

Nifty : HELLO!

*in the distance*

Angel : Wow, they look cool, not exactly demonic, type but who are we to juge, right Husky?

Angel : Husk?

Husk : *Looking at Justice talking to Vaggie with a smile on his face, with flowers and hearts behind him*

Angel with a grin face : Hoo~

Husk putting his head in his hands : I'm fucked.

Here are two other oc of mine, Yes I ship Husk and Justice, yes in the AU where my Oc exists Husker and Angel doesn't date. (Which doesn't mean I don't ship them, I'm just a mutlishipper)

And yes, Dolly, have someone too, technically.

Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language :(

[auxiliarydetective]

The Evil Eye

or: Zoro crushing on Lux Jirou far too hard and being a mosshead about it

Now that I've written fic for all of my OCs except one, I figured it was high time for Lux to get a fic for himself too! This is set during the garden scene in OPLA episode 3 and tells of the first meeting between two dumbasses. This is Zoro's perspective, but I might write Lux's in the future.

Also, quick note: Lux is still referred to as Jirou here because this is before he broke away from Kuro.

Enjoy!

Suddenly, the man on the other side of the pond threw his knife at Usopp, lodging it right between the legs of the “VIP guest”.

“The hell are you doin’ here, Usopp?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Buchi, buddy,” Usopp said quickly, somehow managing to sound both smug and anxious at the same time, “uh, Kaya’s expecting me.”

In his mind, Zoro repeated his statement from before: This guy’s full of shit.

Armed with a mop, the blue-haired woman – maybe she was a maid or something? – came towards the pond as well.

“Another one of your lies,” Buchi growled and grabbed Usopp by his vest.

He easily lifted him off the lily pad, holding him in the air with just as little effort.

“You ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Usopp disagreed. “I’m here to give Kaya an extra-special gift!”

Just when Zoro wondered if he was going to have to save the idiot from getting himself beaten up, a female voice called Usopp’s name. It was a young woman with pale skin and light blonde hair, struggling to walk down the stairs towards the pond as she held on to her butler’s arm. Immediately, the maid respectfully straightened her posture and Buchi put Usopp down, but he didn’t let him go.

“What a wonderful surprise!” the young woman gasped.

With a smug smile, Usopp shook off Buchi’s hands and turned towards her.

“Kaya! Happy birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

That was when the butler lightly cleared his throat. Judging from his expression, he wasn’t even half as thrilled as Kaya to see Usopp there.

“Usopp,” he said in a voice one might use to gently scold a child. “We’ve had this discussion. You mustn’t show up unannounced.”

“Nonsense, Klahadore,” Kaya disagreed in her soft-spoken tone before turning back to Usopp. “Have you come to tell me another story? I do love hearing about your adventures.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Usopp declared. “I brought some of my crew!” he said, gesturing back at where Zoro and the others stood.

“Is he talking about us?” Luffy asked in confusion.

Of course he was, Zoro thought, and of course he was going to keep bragging and lying the whole time. At this point, Zoro just wanted to talk to Kaya about the damn caravel – no, he wanted Nami to talk to Kaya about the damn caravel because he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it – and then he wanted to leave.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Kaya said. “You all must stay for dinner.”

Oh no. Well, at least that meant free food. Maybe free booze, too.

“Miss Kaya,” Klahadore cut in, “it is a bit last minute. I’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“Please, Klahadore… It’s my birthday. Can’t be too much trouble, can it?”

According to the looks on the staff’s faces, it definitely could.

“Of course, Miss Kaya,” Klahadore said. “Anything for you.”

“All right!” Luffy called out. “When do we eat?”

Of course, that was all he could think about…

“You don’t,” Klahadore stated. “Not like this. For now, you’re not going anywhere. – Sham!” he called the maid. “Where is Jirou? He should have seen these intruders coming from a mile away.”

“I gave him the day off,” Kaya quickly cut in. “You know he needs to rest and… there haven’t been any attacks on this house in years.”

“Just because I have the day off that doesn’t mean I’ll let a man with three swords just waltz right in.”

Zoro suddenly felt his heart stop and his face turned hot. Stepping out from behind a hedge was a young man with slightly messy hair that was neither blonde nor brown and white splotches across his skin. Sitting above a white shirt was a black leather holster, keeping a black-gripped revolver strapped to his body. Somehow, Zoro’s brain seemed to have completely stopped working, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the man. At least his heart was beating again, but it was racing in his chest. Jirou swung a black jacket over his shirt, covering part of the holster. It helped at least a little bit, but Zoro’s mind was still somewhere in a far-off place.

“Your weapons,” Jirou demanded with an outstretched hand, finally knocking Zoro out of his stupor. “Come on, don’t make me search you.”

“I don’t have any,” Luffy shrugged.

Then, Usopp came up to Jirou and placed something in his hand, bright green and looking more like a toy than anything. A slingshot.

“Oh bother,” Jirou scoffed with a slight smile, a smile that sent another shiver down Zoro’s spine. Jirou knocked Usopp against the chest with his slingshot, making him take it back. “Real weapons, Usopp, not this nonsense. You won’t hurt anyone with this.”

Nami sighed heavily, then handed Jirou her staff. Now, Jirou turned fully to Zoro, his hand only directed at him, his eyes feeling like they were piercing Zoro’s heart.

“Your swords, sir.”

“I won’t give them to you,” Zoro declared, his voice hoarse, his mouth having gone dry.

“Then I’ll take them,” Jirou responded.

Really, he reached out for Zoro’s belt without as much as hesitation. Somehow, Zoro was still partially stunned and his reflexes kicked in a little later than he had intended. Still, he managed to grab Jirou’s wrist when he was only mere centimeters away from his goal, his fingers already grazing the Wado Ichimonji’s hilt. But then, Jirou managed to twist his hand and break free, catching Zoro by surprise and now holding him by the wrist. Shockingly enough, he was able to match Zoro in strength! Once again, the shivers were back, and Zoro felt like his legs might just give out underneath him. What was this guy doing to him?!

“Jirou, don’t!” Kaya called, breaking the tension in the air. “He’s on Usopp’s crew, he’s not dangerous.”

“That’s the devil talking, Miss Kaya,” Jirou said, not breaking eye contact with Zoro for even a moment. “I think I know this man and, believe me, he is dangerous. – Listen, ronin,” Jirou hissed, clearly addressing Zoro now, “you either hand me those swords or you leave.”

“Can’t you find another alternative?” Kaya asked. “Please? As a birthday gift?”

With a sigh, Jirou let Zoro’s wrist go and took a step back. Immediately, the air around Zoro seemed a little colder to him, even more so when Jirou stopped looking at him as well.

“There is one,” he told Kaya. “If I can’t take his swords, I’ll have to watch them—” he finally turned back to Zoro “— which means I’ll have to watch the man. You won’t get even a second of privacy, understood? Now, do you still want to be stubborn or will you finally give in?”

Zoro’s mind was running hot, as was his entire body, yet the shivers across his spine kept coming back just the same. It took him too long to process the situation before he said:

“Fine. Watch me then.”

“Excellent,” Klahadore said in Jirou’s place. “Jirou, if you’ll be watching the man either way, would you kindly show Usopp and his friends to the guest suites? – You will bathe and change before dinner.”

“A bath does sound nice,” Nami said with a sly smile, elbowing Zoro – which hurt more than it should have since he was, once again, caught off guard – and nodding towards Jirou, her smile turning into a grin in the process.

Then, she followed Jirou’s gesture towards the mansion, where Luffy had already eagerly walked off to. Usopp followed next – though not after sticking his tongue out at Buchi— But Zoro was somehow stuck in place. It was only when Jirou grabbed him by the arm and almost shoved him forwards that he moved. The spot where Jirou had touched him felt like it was on fire. What was going on? And what scheme had Nami come up with now? Zoro hoped he wouldn’t have to find out. But with Jirou walking behind him, both of them in silence, for the first time, it felt truly, anxiety-inducingly awkward, making Zoro worry even more that the man had the evil eye. No, that was bullshit. Without thinking, he said the first thing that came to mind, which was:

“You gonna watch me shower too, you creep?”

Jirou let out something that sounded almost like a squeak. “No!” he scoffed in a high-pitched tone before taking a deep breath and growling: “What makes you think I’d wanna see that?!”

Zoro failed to scoff back, all that came out being a small, displeased hum. Why did that answer disappoint him?

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Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[ar-agon]

The Princess

Note: Hallo, this is for one of my lovely mutuals. @uniquemekylieb

Summary: A medieval au

Length: 2707

Characters: Dwayne x Kaya (OC)

He was the sworn sword of Princess Kaya since he was eighteen. His only job was to follow her around and ensure she was always safe. So, that was why he was standing off in the corner during a royal ball. His hand held the hilt of his sword, always ready to defend if needed. His eyes followed the princess on the dance floor. She was dancing with some High Lord of a neighboring kingdom. A fine suitor. Seeing such a beautiful woman dancing with someone so unworthy of her made him clench his teeth. He always felt he could be a much better match for Princess Kaya. After all, he spent every waking moment of the last ten years protecting her, and he was always willing to put his own life on the line to defend her. He couldn’t help but wonder why she didn't see how much he cared about her. Was it simply that he was just her loyal knight, and she couldn't see him as anything more than a servant?

He continued to watch as the princess danced with the High Lord, feeling more and more frustrated with each passing moment. Once the dance was done he watch as the Princess took her rightful place next to him again. He looked down at her as if waiting to hear her thoughts of the Lord. It was something she had always done. He was always curious to hear her thoughts about the men she had just danced with. She had been his lady for years, and he knew that she always had something to say about everything, so it was surprising when she didn't say anything now.

   He waited for her to say something, wondering if she was just tired from all the dancing or if there was something else on her mind. However, she just continued to stare ahead, silently watching the other dancers.

“Are you alright, M’lady?” he asked her softly.

He glanced over at the princess to find her staring silently in front of her, as if deep in thought. She didn't seem to be paying attention to anything around her, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about.

  "My lady, are you alright?" he repeated, this time with a bit more concern in his voice.

   At the sound of his voice, Kaya looked up finally, seeming to come out of her thoughts. "Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said quickly, as if trying to downplay whatever had been on her mind.

"Do you wish to get some air?" He questioned. "I'm sure the party will not miss you for a few moments."

Kaya looked up at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I think some fresh air would be nice," she said.

"I can escort you outside, my lady," the knight said, offering her his arm.

She took his arm and let him lead her outside, where the air was much cooler and quieter. They soon found themselves alone in one of the garden pathways, away from the crowd inside the castle.

"Are you positive that everything is alright?" He says once they were out of the ballroom.

"Yes, I'm fine," Kaya said quickly, but he could tell there was something wrong.

"Kaya," he said, stopping in the path and turning to face her. Dwayne only used her first name when they were alone. She had told him years ago that was what she wanted rather than hearing her title all of the time. Her eyes were downcast, as if trying to avoid meeting his gaze.  

"You can tell me if you're worried about something," he said gently. "You know I would never judge you or think less of you."

  Kaya raised her head, and he saw a tear in her eye.

"M'lady what is ever the matter?" he asked concern lacing his voice.

"It's just-" she said, then cut herself off as she tried to find the right words to express how she was feeling.

"I just feel like..." Kaya let out a sigh as she struggled to articulate her feelings. "I just feel so alone, you know?" 

She looked up at him, her eyes still teary, and he was reminded of the little girl he had sworn to protect all those years ago. The scared little girl that used to hide behind him whenever nobles visited. The one that used to put flowers in her armor. The girl he had sworn to protect.

"You will never be alone," Dwayne tells her as he takes her hand in his, "not when I am by your side."

Kaya looked at Dwayne, and for the first time, she noticed the way he was holding her hand. It was gentle and caring, as if he really meant what he said. The two of them stood there in the garden path, and she felt safe and protected in his arms. The knight's words rang true now, and she couldn't help but wonder if she had been blind to something right in front of her this whole time.  

"You're right," she said softly. "I will never be alone as long as you are here with me."

"Would you like to walk the gardens?" he asked her. He did not want to think about what the look in her eye meant. Not now. Not when she had so many worthy suitors still in the ballroom waiting for their chance to dance with her. Wanting to marry her.

"Yes, I would love to," she said, relieved that he didn't try to press her for information. She walked with him, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. She felt calmer and more relaxed than she had in a long time, as if all of her worries had dissolved away in the cool night breeze. "Thank you for taking me out here," she said after a while. "It's so peaceful compared to how rowdy things were inside."

"Of course, Princess," He says with a bow of his head, "You've danced with quite a lot of men already. No harm in taking a moment to yourself."

"Yes, and I'll have to dance with many more," she said lightly, but he could hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

"You do not seem very enthusiastic about the idea of dancing with anyone else," he said, turning to look at her with concern in his eyes.  

She was quiet for a moment, before she finally replied, "I just..." she said, stopping and taking a deep breath. "I just don't want you to be offended if I dance with another man."

"Why would I be offended?" Dwayne tilted his head as he turned to look at her.

"I'm supposed to be looking for a suitable husband," Kaya said, seeming nervous even to discuss the subject.

"I've been invited to dance with several other men, and I wouldn't want you to feel upset if I accepted a dance request from one of them."  

She looked at him, worried about his reaction to the idea of her dancing with someone else. He was, after all, the one whom she was closest to at this ball.

"I am your worn sword, m'lady. Your protector. It is your duty to find a suitable husband and that can never be me," he tells her, "so, you must dance with every noble to see who is your perfect match."

"I know, and I will," Kaya said, still feeling uneasy at the thought of him seeing her dance with someone else.

"I'm just glad to have you on my side," she said, smiling at him earnestly. "I always feel safe when you're near.” They walked in silence for a few moments, savoring the peace of the night sky and the quiet beauty of the garden. The flowers were blooming and their sweet scent was in the air.

"Can I ask you a question?" she finally said, after a while.

"Of course, Princess," he nods.

"Do you think it's possible for someone to feel a true and deep love for another person without ever getting married to them?"

Kaya looked up at Dwayne, waiting for his answer with bated breath. She didn't know how he would respond to her question, and she was terrified that he wouldn't understand what she was trying to say. She hoped he would understand, because she felt like he deserved to know how she really felt about him.

"Yes," he nods, "I think it is possible. Why do you ask?"

A smile spread across Kaya's face, as if she was relieved to hear him say that, "I guess," she said, "I was afraid that if I married someone else, I would be abandoning the person I truly love." She looked at Dwayne, seeing the expression of confusion on his face. He was clearly confused by her words, and she realized that she had to be more clear. "I think I love you."

"M'lady," Dwayne whispered. He stopped walking and turned to face her. He took her hands in his gently. "I will follow you anywhere you go. I will not leave your side for my love for you runs too deep for me to leave you alone." He confesses.

Kaya suddenly felt her cheeks turning red as she took in Dwayne's words. He was confessing his love for her, and it was almost too good to be true. "Dwayne, I-" she started to say, but was cut off as he leaned in and kissed her. They stood still for a moment, both of them frozen in shock. Kaya felt as if she was in a dream. She had never thought that she would find someone who loved her like this, and she was so incredibly happy that it turned out to be the one she had been with all this time.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked. They were in the middle of the garden now. A spacious place surrounded by hedges to keep prying eyes away. Candles that a few servants lit at the beginning of the night still cast a soft glow around them.

Kaya smiled warmly at his question, feeling happy and excited as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her towards the center of the garden. The sound of the nearby fountain could be heard, and the candles in the area cast a warm glow over everything. The air was still, and there was no one else around, creating a peaceful and romantic atmosphere. "Yes," she said, turning to face him. "I would love to dance with you."

Dwayne placed his hand on her hip as the other hand laced their fingers together, "Forgive me if I fumble. I am not as graceful as your other suitors." He pulled her close as he moved them around the garden slowly. They could still hear the faint music coming from the ballroom that they had just left.

Kaya let out a soft laugh as he began to move her around the gardens. "Do not worry, Dwayne," she said as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "You're doing fine. You're a much better dancer than most of my suitors." She looked up at him, feeling happy to be spending this time with him. She could see the passion in his eyes as he danced with her, and she felt like they were sharing something special. "You know, I'm beginning to think I already found the man I wanted to marry."

"M'lady, your father would never approve," he tells her softly.

"I know," Kaya said, feeling a pang of sadness as she remembered that her feelings would never be approved of by her father. "He's always wanted me to marry someone from a powerful family," she said bitterly. "He's never cared about what I wanted or who I loved. He just sees me as some kind of pawn in his political games."

  She looked up at Dwayne, feeling a tinge of sadness as she thought about the situation. "I'm sorry, Dwayne. I know I shouldn't be talking about this."

"You are not just a pawn Kaya," he tells her, "You are a princess. A highborn who should be marrying someone with the same status. I was never worthy of you but being by your side is enough for me." He twirled her around as he continued to lead their dance.

"You've always been worthy of me, Dwayne," Kaya said, her voice taking on a tender and sincere tone. "Just because you weren't born into some noble family, it doesn't change who you really are." She looked up at him, feeling happy as she continued to dance. "You're the most selfless person I've ever known, and you always put my needs and feelings above your own. If anyone is worthy of marrying me, it's you."

"I wish I were able, M'lady but I cannot ask you to leave everything behind just for some lonely knight," He tells her.

"Dwayne, I would leave everything behind for you," Kaya said, feeling a tinge of pain in her voice as she remembered that her father would never approve of her marrying someone like him. "You're not just a lonely knight, you're the man I love," she continued. "I don't have a choice in who I love, and I can't make myself stop loving you just because of our difference in stations." She looked up at him with pleading eyes, trying to make him understand.

"Princess," Dwayne whispered, "we would always be on the run. Do you think your father is ever going to stop coming after us if we do this?"

"I do not know," Kaya said, feeling a pit in her stomach as she realized that she was proposing a radical idea. "But I also know that I can't keep pretending to care about those pointless political games as if they matter more than my own happiness," she continued. She looked up at Dwayne, realizing that he was right and that they would always be on the run. But she felt like it was something she had to do. "I refuse to let my father dictate how I live my life anymore. I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

"Princess," He stops dancing with her for a moment, "this will be dangerous but... if we pass the boarders of the neighboring kingdom he would have no power to stop us."

"Then let's do it," Kaya said, feeling like she had made a decision that she wouldn't regret. She took Dwayne's hand and pulled him towards the edge of the garden. "We might not get a chance like this again," she said, looking up at him with a determined expression on her face. "Let's take this chance and run away together."

"You will have the luxuries that you have now, princess," he warns, "we will be peasants and we will have to find work." 

"I don't need luxuries," Kaya said, feeling more and more certain that she was making the right decision. "All I need is you."

She looked up at Dwayne, feeling a newfound sense of freedom as she finally left the life of a princess behind. They were going to make their own way in the world now, and she felt like they could do anything as long as they were together. He wrapped his arms around her before he kissed her pouring all of his love into the kiss. Kaya felt her world melt away as Dwayne's arms wrapped around her and she lost herself in the passion of the kiss. She knew that they were taking a risk, but she didn't care. All that mattered to her right now was being with the man she loved. She pulled away from the kiss eventually, looking up at Dwayne with a dreamy expression on her face. "Let's go," she said. "Let's run away together."

“Come we can take a horse from the stable,” He pulls her out of the garden away from the castle, away from her father, and away from her duties. He led her to their freedom. To their life where they would be able to love each other without worrying about status. Where their love would be able to flourish.

[endingsmakeroom]

eyo, i’m eli! i’m a 21 year old non-binary dude, and use he/him pronouns. my main is @justeliiijah. i have so much lore about my ocs that if i attempt to hold it all in me i will explode. so my dear friend @thecatamaranlad held me at gunpoint, and now i have an ask blog.

the art currently used in the pfp and background is from my good friend milo (carrd linked here)

rules

Please try to keep asks on topic! That said, if it's funny enough, I make exceptions for almost anything.

Don't be a dick. I'm pretty lax on what that means, so, uh... have fun figuring out what's 'too assholey,' 'cuz I know I will.

If you spam asks, I will delete them. And you, from the face of the earth. Hope this helps.

One of my characters is a genocide advocate, I'm not. Shocker. Don't conflate my actions with that of my characters.

This is not a general RP blog. Do not treat it as one, please.

Do not, for the love of god, bring real world politics into my stupid fantasy blorbo world. PLEASE.

characters

[to be linked]

Aeren Kaminski-Pierce

Daeun Choi-Pierce (Kaya)

Zahra Jahani

Kade Embras

Leora and Cora Solariis, Micah Levi

The Sixteen

lore

the meeting (age of the universe)

[timeline post to be added]

FAQ

[to be added]

playlists

[to be added]

[magicshopaholic]

The Reason (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: After a moment of unexpected nostalgia, Taehyung and Dilara have a talk.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, minor smut

Word count: 15.3 K

Rating: 18+ for language and brief smut

Warnings: crass language (I mean it), mentions of infidelity and blowjobs, jealousy, kissing, nipple play, fingering, sex, masturbation, minor physical altercations

A/N: It hurt to write this one. Begins a little over a week after Melbourne in the present day and contains mentions of Namjoon and Kaya. The soundtrack to this fic is one of my all-time favourites 🖤

For my disclaimer regarding the other idol who plays a role in this fic, please read the sidenote in Melbourne.

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

Listen to: “the reason” by hoobastank

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

It doesn’t escape Dilara’s notice that one by one, all the members are getting back on her good side. It happens so gradually and so circumstantially that she doesn’t think much of it, not until they’re back in Italy a week later, this time in Imola, and she realises she’s not dreading seeing them as much as she was after the summer break in Belgium.

Even with Taehyung, it’s not dread she feels anymore. After the initial horror, awkwardness and forced avoidance, after seeing that absolving himself seemed to be his top priority, all the sadness and pain somewhere transformed into anger and borderline disgust. Being around him isn’t exactly difficult anymore, not the way it was before. Now, she’s just determined not to give him what he wants: a chance to apologise.

It's not easy. He's still he and she’s still she, and their history doesn't disappear just because she’s decided to torture him. There are still moments where it feels as though she might break down at any moment, demanding an explanation from him in a haze of tears.

Where the rest of the members are concerned, Dilara is still wary. Jimin is still far too loyal to Jungkook and Taehyung, the only two members she’s still consciously avoiding, to interact with her beyond pretty smiles and the occasional greeting when he catches her alone. Yoongi was never one to actively approach her anyway, choosing to talk to her only if the situation presented itself. Seokjin still seems to feel rather guilty and keeps a respectful distance, only ever asking her, for some reason, if she’s eaten. 

Namjoon is the one person Dilara honestly wishes would be less guarded around her. After the shower incident in Austria, she’d awkwardly given him an actual travel size bottle of her cocoa butter conditioner as a thank you. He'd blushed and initially refused, but eventually taken it with a bashful and dimpled smile. She doesn’t know if it's the leader in him or if, like Seokjin, he's still feeling guilty, but either way, his absence is one that genuinely feels like a loss.

That leaves Hoseok, the only person in the entire house that speaks to her completely normally, calling out her name, asking her questions, offering her food and even offering to train with her when she offhandedly mentions how much aerobic training Lexie usually did with her. It's a beautiful offer and she’s almost considering accepting it when Jungkook enters the room and conspicuously loses his smile, looking from her to Hoseok before muttering something and stepping out of the room.

It's a different kind of awkwardness with Jungkook. For one, he's the only member younger than Dilara which makes the subtle power distance that exists with the others disappear. His guilt also feels different; his hesitation in meeting her gaze, his hurry in Austria to make sure that she knew the one detail she wanted the most… all combined with the fact that they silently work out together almost every day without a single word passing between them proves it. He didn't just help his friend dump his girlfriend; he also betrayed a friend on the way - and he knows it.

On Wednesday in Imola, after a hot and tiring day consisting of way too much PR with Netflix and unnecessary paddock drama, Dilara arrives at the house. The sun has set by now but the air isn't any cooler. Even in a tank top and sweatpants with her hair tied up, the heat is palpable. All she wants is to strip, get into the shower and stay there, possibly drown herself while she’s at it.

But when she nears the house, Dilara spots the group through the window in the living room. She can’t hear them from this distance but it looks like karaoke, with Namjoon and Taehyung holding mics while Jimin and Hoseok laugh and do a ridiculous routine in sync, all four of them facing the same direction. If she enters now, she’s guaranteed to ruin the mood. It's exhausting, being this Grinch-like figure, especially after the news Max gave her today.

Somehow, amidst all the relationship drama and racing incidents, Max Verstappen has managed to find a loophole and worm his way out of this PR shitstorm they have with BTS. Apparently his contract has a clause, allowing him to cut down on PR and endorsements if he's in the running for world champion.

It's foolproof, especially since Max is very much in contention for the title. But, selfishly, it means he's gone from here, choosing instead to live out of the luxury motorhomes most of the drivers usually use around Europe. As much as she tries to resist the urge, she ices him out enough to make it known to him just how much she resents him for leaving her alone in this house.

For the icing on the cake, Christian and Helmut give her a stern lecture on "taking one for the team", partly about this stupid PR nonsense and partly because they want to switch out her power unit for this race, which can only mean an insane grid penalty.

"You're a Red Bull driver," said Helmut, thick Austrian accent sounding more severe than ever. "If you can't make it through the field from P12, you have no business being here." He'd brushed her off after that, followed by Christian who'd simply shook his head at her. Now, standing outside the house, Dilara finds she has no desire to go inside and be the odd one out once again, darting through their taller figures and shutting herself inside her room for the rest of the weekend.

Suddenly overwhelmed by how fucked up everything is, Dilara rams her fist into the punching bag hanging outside. Her knuckles sting and for a fraction of a moment, she forgets about everything else. She punches it again, and again, and again, before she takes off her stupid backpack and swings it, hitting the stupid sack with it. Every punch is punctuated with a grunt or a scream of annoyance, each more satisfying than the last. Finally, she chucks her bag down and kicks the sack, once, twice, and collapses on the ground, facing the sky and not moving, trying to catch her breath.

She sees stars. Not in her head, but actual, real stars in the sky. It's too peaceful a sight for her mood at the moment so she shuts her eyes, wondering briefly if she can just sleep here and not wake up.

A soft sound does that for her, though. It's right next to her head, like something being dropped. She opens her eyes to see Jungkook looking down at her, wearing a t-shirt and shorts which are predictably all black, hair messier than ever and his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation. He doesn't say anything, so she turns her head to see what he dropped on the ground.

When she notices the boxing gloves, she scoffs quietly and looks back up at him again. He has another pair in his hands, his long fingers fiddling with the strings in what she imagines is nervousness. His offer is clear, even if he isn't saying anything. Dilara considers it, replaying an array of phone calls and how Jungkook had ignored each of them, until she’d finally tricked Jimin into answering her.

From the way his gaze falls momentarily, huge doe eyes meeting hers, she can tell he’s thinking the same thing. After another moment of considering it, she sits up and grabs the gloves, silently getting to her feet and following him to stand in front of the punching bag. They put on the gloves and he demonstrates a few moves to her, showing her how to stand, how to move her arm, how to use her back, where to concentrate her strength.

"No, try turning from here," he corrects after a while, coming up behind her and tapping her side before holding her shoulders and turning her. "Use your back. The force should come from here so that your arm doesn't get too tired," he explains, showing her how to do it and delivering a strong punch to the bag.

"Right," mutters Dilara, nodding and brushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead. She tries the move, and all the other moves he's shown her. It works for the most part; the strength and the adrenaline keeps her mind from going towards the suckfest that was today, especially when Jungkook brings out the pads and she tries to keep up with him.

"Don't go easy on me, Jeon," she warns him breathlessly, before throwing a surprise punch that he just catches. 

Jungkook cracks a smile and for a moment, her stomach does a backflip at the world famous smile she hasn’t seen in weeks. "Not at all, Komyshan," he replies, tossing his own sweaty hair out of his eyes. "I know it’s not easy being the second strongest person in this house."

Dilara scoffs, not stopping. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean,” he mutters, eyes locked on her fists as he moves the pads in quick succession. “It’s a compliment. Oh, come on - you call that a punch?”

She doesn’t reply, partly unable to speak and partly unsure of what will come out of her mouth if she opens it. Instead she punches faster, her bangs falling in her eyes, her breath now coming in ragged bursts.

“Yeah, that’s better. Faster, faster - use your shoulders to - oh, fuck!” Jungkook’s hands, pads and all, fly up to his face, his eyes screwing shut as he covers his nose.

Dilara’s hands instantly fall to her sides, her jaw dropping. “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

He mumbles something incoherent before nodding and holding up one pad again. “I’m okay. Come on, keep going,” he instructs, his head tilted up with the other pad still covering his nose. “Come on,” he urges, waving his free hand, looking like some kind of demented windmill.

She looks at him incredulously. “Are you insane? I may have broken your nose.”

Despite the awkward angle of his head, he gives her a look. “You’re not that strong.”

“Shut up. You need to ice your face or something, Jungkook. We can do this some other -”

“No, come on, I hate leaving workouts midway.”

“We’re not going to keep boxing now.”

Jungkook groans, gingerly letting go of his face. “Why not?” he whines.

“Because I don’t want to get sued, you idiot,” snaps Dilara, knocking his hand away as he tries to stop her and moving closer to study his face. It looks alright from where she is, and she feels an unexpected bit of relief when he tries to move his nose and winces only a bit. “Can we just… I don’t know. Do something with less physical contact? Before someone thinks I did this on purpose?” she mutters.

Thankfully, he doesn’t respond to the last statement, only rolling his eyes and heading back into the gym. He returns with a shotput ball, easily four or five kilos, and they start tossing it back and forth, each catch working her arms, her back, her glutes and her quads. Finally, when they’re done and Dilara can't possibly move another muscle, she sighs and bends down, resting her hands against her knees.

"You're good," he comments after returning the gloves to their original place, running a hand through his jet black hair.

"Of course I am," she pants, straightening up. "Do you know how much strength we need to resist the G-force through every turn?" She frowns and tilts her head. “How’s your face?”

"Fine. The pain’s almost gone.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m telling you, it’s not that bad.” He smirks. “You’re not that strong,” he repeats.

She gives him a look. “Next time, catch me when I’m actually working out and not after a shitty day in the paddock, little boy,” she informs him. “We’ll see who’s the second strongest.”

“Deal.” Jungkook flashes her a toothy grin, and this time she can see relief in it as well. It reminds her instantly of why he might be feeling relieved and once again, the air is awkward.

“Anyway,” she begins after a moment, picking up her bag from where she’d abandoned it. “Thanks, for, uh…” She gestures to the workout gear.

Jungkook nods, eyes wide and anxious as he watches her leave. Just as she’s climbing the porch, he speaks again. “Dilara,” he calls. When she turns, he visibly hesitates. His expression reminds her of Jimin’s when he’d apologised, but a moment later he changes tacks. 

“Yeah?”

“Don’t box without gloves.”

“Got it. Go ice your face.”

—

Tae [01:34] Jungkook

Jungkook [01:35] Yeah

Taehyung [01:35] Are you awake?

Jungkook [01:35] No, I’m sleep texting

Jimin [01:36] What’s happening

Jungkook [01:36] Why are you texting from the other room

Taehyung [01:36] Because Yoongi hyung is asleep in my room

Jimin [01:37] Yeah Hobi hyung is asleep in mine

Jungkook [01:37] So? Jin hyung is asleep in mine And how did we all end up in different rooms??

Taehyung [01:38] Unimportant I think Dilara is in the living room so we have to text

Jungkook [01:39] You’re avoiding her now?

Taehyung [01:40] No She’s avoiding me And if I have to watch her leave a room because of me again I think I might kill myself

Jimin [01:41] Since when do you call her Dilara?

Taehyung [01:41] Since she asked me to

Jungkook [01:41] Ouch

Jimin [01:41] She did?

Taehyung [01:42] Yeah, when she hurt her ankle So she was a bit preoccupied to realise she was ripping my heart out

Jungkook [01:43] Damn hyung

Taehyung [01:44] Forget it Are you two friends now?

Jungkook [01:44] I have no idea honestly But I’m leaning towards no

Taehyung [01:45] You were boxing with her

Jungkook [01:45] I was just helping her out

Jimin [01:45] Wait whaaat? Seriously?

Taehyung [01:46] Yeah, before dinner

Jungkook [01:47] That’s it though She was having a bad day and taking it out on the punching bag But she would’ve hurt herself the way she was doing it With bare fists

Taehyung [01:49] Why did she have a bad day?

Jungkook [01:49] I didn’t ask

Taehyung [01:49] Why not?

Jungkook [01:50] She hates me hyung

Taehyung [01:50] Apparently not

Jungkook [01:51] She’s still mad at me though The hyungs apologised to her which is why she’s sort of talking to them

Jimin [01:52] I apologised too

Taehyung [01:52] You did?

Jungkook [01:53] Wait what?

Jimin [01:53] In Austria

Jungkook [01:53] 😱

Taehyung [01:54] Why am I only hearing about this now?

Jungkook [01:54] What did you say?

Jimin [01:55] That I was sorry I was the one that lied to her face Well, on the phone And I hate it when people are mad at me

Taehyung [01:57] What did she say?

Jimin [01:57] Nothing really I don’t think she was really prepared for it But she still seemed mad

Taehyung [01:58] At you?

Jimin [01:59] Not me so much

Taehyung [02:00] So... me What else did she say?

Jimin [02:00] Nothing

Taehyung [02:00] Really?

Jungkook [02:01] Jimin hyung

Jimin [02:02] She thought Taehyung sent me But I told her he didn’t

Jimin [02:03] I told her you still love her

Taehyung [02:04] You did?

Jungkook [02:04] Hyung 😬😬😬

Jimin [02:04] It’s true isn’t it?

Taehyung [02:05] What did she say to that?

Jimin [02:05] I don’t remember

Taehyung [02:05] Liar

Jimin [02:06] She didn’t believe me

Jimin [02:07] Taehyung She was angry and confused It doesn’t mean anything

Jungkook [02:10] Taehyung hyung?

Taehyung [02:12] So you don’t know why she had a bad day today?

Jungkook [02:12] Um no I didn’t want to make it worse by asking her

Taehyung [02:13] But she might need to talk

Jungkook [02:13] Not with me

Taehyung [02:14] Who else is here? You two were friends Although it seems like she and Jimin are too

Jimin [02:15] Taehyung It’s not like that And I don’t even know if she’s forgiven me

Jungkook [02:16] She has other friends hyung Her trainer Lexie?

Taehyung [02:17] She’s not here Have you seen her around? One of her parents is sick so she’s back home in America

Jungkook [02:18] How do you know

Taehyung [02:18] She told Namjoon hyung Apparently she’s telling everyone everything Except me And yes, I know it’s my fault

Jungkook [02:20] What about Max Verstappen?

Taehyung [02:21] He’s her competition, she would never talk to him And anyway, his solution is probably just to get her drunk

Jimin [02:22] Taehyung I think you should try talking to her again

Taehyung [02:23] That’s the worst idea

Jungkook [02:24] I think Jimin hyung is right You’re so worried about her She’ll know you still care It might even be a good thing

Taehyung [02:26] How could I fuck up this much? How could I do it? How did I put her in this position? Fuck fuck fuck

Jimin [02:29] Taehyung, don’t She’ll forgive you eventually Even if it takes time

Taehyung [02:30] What if she doesn’t?

Jungkook [02:30] She will hyung A few weeks ago she wouldn’t even look at any of us Now she’s talking and all

Taehyung [02:31] Will you box with her again?

Jungkook [02:31] If she wants to

Taehyung [02:31] She won’t ask Did it seem like she felt better afterwards?

Jungkook [02:32] Yeah She smiled and said thanks

Jimin [02:32] She smiled?

Jungkook [02:32] Like a tired smile

Taehyung [02:33] I don’t even remember what her smile looks like

Jimin [02:33] Taehyung…

Jungkook [02:33] Wait

Jungkook [02:34] [picture]

Jungkook [02:34] It’s a nice smile

Jimin [02:34] Jungkook!!!!

Jungkook [02:35] What?

Taehyung [02:36] I can’t do this Goodnight

—

Pain. It's pain, but a good pain. It's a stretch, like muscles that haven't been used in a while, like a stinging on the brink of turning sensual. She tightens her fingers and feels her nails sink into skin, followed by a hiss, partly of pain but mostly of pleasure. 

She’s wet. So wet. Her thighs feel sticky and the soft, almost silent sound of fingers against her clit are barely audible over the sighs and moans. The stretch is worse this time but she’s filled up, so filled up…

"Taehyung..."

He pauses only long enough to toss his long hair out of his eyes, before looking down at her with such lust in his gaze that she wonders for a moment if he’s even aware of what he’s doing to her. 

"Say it again." His voice is deep as he commands her softly. His hips move faster now, and every thrust is a whole new sensation of having her walls wrapped tightly around him.

"Say - say what?" She knows what. She can say it - she wants to say it. But she wants him to ask again.

Swiftly, in one movement, he picks up her left leg and throws it over his shoulder before lowering himself onto her. The stretch in her hips feels so good, so wonderfully colliding with how he's fucking her in this new angle, that she lets out a whimper.

"You know what. Say it. Tell me who's fucking you so good." In contrast to his lewd demands, his voice is soft, like deep velvet, his lips brushing her earlobe and his warm breath on her neck.

A particularly deep thrust makes her moan, her fingers threading through his thick hair and clutching at it. "Fuck, don't stop…" 

He doesn't, but he moves his head lower and takes her hard, slightly sore right nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, lips brushing it, kissing it… everything apart from what he knows she really wants.

She pulls his hair slightly, urging him. When she feels his hair brush her breast, she looks down to see him gazing up at her, big eyes challenging. She sighs and drops her head back on the pillow. "God… Tae, please," she begs, admitting defeat. She just wants the sweet finish.

She hears his satisfied hum at her voice before he lowers his head again and sucks on her nipple. She moans louder as he increases his rhythm, straightening up a bit to support himself better. His hands reach up to knead at her breasts before he lowers one of them to between her legs, long fingers finding her clit again.

"Fuck, you're -" He grunts, breaking off to momentarily close his eyes, and she knows he's close, too. "You're so beautiful, Lara, fuck…" 

His fingers move faster now and she knows she’s seconds away. "Tae, I'm - "

He nods, long hair falling into his eyes. "Cum all over my cock, baby… fuck, I want to see you cum…" He squeezes her nipple with his fingers and she lets out one last -

"Min Yoongi!"

Like the sound of a gunshot, Kim Seokjin's voice wakes her up with a jerk. She sits up suddenly, wondering for a moment if something’s wrong. Her breathing slows down when she registers silhouettes through the curtain on her window, recognising Seokjin, Yoongi and Jungkook, running around with what looks like a basketball in the backyard.

Sighing in relief and annoyance, she realises her legs are still trembling. With a throbbing in her core, she recalls the dream, shutting her eyes when she remembers who the subject was… and what he was doing to her. The thought alone sends another wave of heat through her and she involuntarily squeezes her thighs together.

Dilara checks her phone for the time and sighs. She doesn't need to be at the paddock for another hour and a half - or, rather, they don't. Today is another day of rigorous PR, both with F1 and BTS. They are to accompany her to the paddock, where this time, they will take turns driving fast cars. Thankfully, all she has are a few interviews and a couple of quiz-type things, mainly with Max, so as far as she’s concerned, he's the only person she needs to really interact with.

The tingling still hasn't gone away… she closes her eyes and, before she knows it, she’s lain back down on the bed. Just for a moment, she tells herself, snaking her hand down into her underwear, cursing softly when she feels how wet she still is. She hasn’t got properly laid in ages; he may have started her off, but there's nothing that says he needs to be there while she finishes, right?

But that resolve goes to shit fairly quickly, especially when the moment she closes her eyes, a familiar, beautiful face comes into view, jaw clenched, eyes heavily-lidded under his bangs, lean and golden torso within reach…

Dilara finishes in under a minute, biting back a moan and feeling only partly spent. The other part feels a bit glum, if she’s being honest, not to mention disgusted that after everything, he can still make her climax faster than ever. When she thinks about what his reaction would be if he knew, all traces of her orgasm disappear and she hurries out of bed, needing to shower this whole sex dream away.

It doesn’t get better after that. When she reaches the paddock, trying to brush off Max who comes at her with an apologetic hug for abandoning her with the group, but eventually giving in, she discovers that while she’s brought BTS, he’s brought Kelly Piquet. It takes a chorus of aahs from the bunch of the boys behind her to realise that not only has she arrived in a blur of shiny hair and red lipstick, but Penelope Kvyat has made her first appearance in this half of the season as well.

Predictably, all through filming the PR gimmick, Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, and Taehyung most of all, are obsessed with her. Penelope is an adorable, lively child and the undivided attention she’s getting from the boys just makes her more so. Kelly is beyond thrilled, too, showing off her daughter and beaming with heartwarming pride, especially when any of the boys does something to make her giggle and laugh.

Dilara tries her hardest not to pay attention. She’s not particularly drawn to kids and neither, ironically, is Max himself. P is sweet, though, so Dilara can’t help but engage with her a bit when she first arrives, especially since she recognises her and runs towards her, squealing “Dilala!” before hugging her legs with her tiny arms. Even though Dilara prefers dogs doing it, she kneels and hugs P back, asking her exactly two questions she always asks kids before relying on the more kid-friendly people to take over.

Even after the PR shoot, the boys hang around, playing silly games with P, dancing with her and just making her laugh. Towards the end it’s just Jimin and Taehyung, both of whom look at her with such wonder and affection that Dilara is half-tempted to film it and release it on Twitter, watching the carnage around the world as she stands back and watches.

It’s the first time that Dilara has been around Taehyung for this long since Spa without him trying to approach her. He already seems so in love with Penelope, his boxy grin permanently etched on his face as he plays hopscotch with her. Nearby, Kelly looks on fondly as her daughter runs around.

She’s never seen him around kids, but now that she is… it doesn’t surprise her at all. Dilara watches him while she waits for the reporters to set up their cameras for her and Max’s interview, a strange ache in her chest. She can’t fully put her finger on it; it’s not love, or any kind of sadness. It’s almost nostalgic, as though if the smallest domino hadn’t caused a landslide of events, this exact moment would see a world of difference. She searches, half-heartedly, for the anger in her but it’s just too tiring.

Eventually, she gives up on hating him for a few minutes, watching with a tightness in her throat how happy he sounds when he laughs, his gigantic smile when P reaches up to fiddle with his fringe, how tall and limber he looks when he picks her up and spins her around. 

“You know, you can still talk to him.”

Dilara snaps her head around and almost pulls a muscle. Next to her, Yoongi casually sits down on the pavement and stretches his legs out, giving her a brief and unreadable look.

“I don’t -”

“You were smiling.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she says immediately, suddenly realising he’s right and hoping no one else noticed. “And it doesn’t matter. Talking’s not going to change anything.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe you’ll feel better. You know he’ll keep trying, anyway.”

She does know. He’s stubborn, so he’ll keep trying. He doesn’t want to feel like a bad person, so he’ll keep apologizing. He gets jealous, which explains the flash of blond she’d seen in the kitchen window when she and Jungkook were boxing together. He loves kids, so he’ll indulge them all day long. 

“He hasn’t changed,” she murmurs, realising too late that she’s said it out loud.

“People don’t change in a few months,” says Yoongi. “Even people who’ve done the stupidest things,” he adds in a mutter, his eyes on Taehyung.

It’s not exactly what Dilara means, but she doesn’t voice it. It’s a dull, slightly painful realisation for her, because acknowledging her feelings doesn’t make them any less over. If anything, she’s looking forward to hearing him out even less now, now that she’s actually let herself think about him for more than thirty seconds without cursing him or crying.

At that moment, another familiar figure comes up behind them.

“Dude,” says Max, taking a seat on her other side, “are you just going to keep staring at your ex until your uterus explodes? Because it’s getting really obvious.”

Dilara chokes, ignoring Yoongi’s roll of the eyes; she doesn’t think he particularly takes to Max’s brand of frat boy commentary. “What are you - I wasn’t looking at -” Her stuttering only makes things worse and when Taehyung suddenly glances in their direction, his face softening when his eyes meet hers momentarily, she feels her heart skip a disproportionate beat. “Don’t be an idiot, Verstappen,” she mutters, standing up and dusting herself off before tugging at his t-shirt. “Come on, the interview’s starting.”

It's impossible to stop thinking about it, though. Even when they get back, the image of a carefree, happy, almost childlike Taehyung haunts her. It stays with her all day and before she knows it, Dilara’s heading to the lounge in the evening where she knows all the guys are.

Standing outside, she takes a deep breath, wondering if she’s really about to do this. She forces herself to think about how he looked earlier today with P, happy and laughing, so similar to how he’d looked in a field of puppies once upon a time. Before she can change her mind, she knocks.

It takes a few moments; the door opens to reveal Jungkook, eyes wide in surprise. Behind him, the others are frozen, barring Namjoon and Yoongi, the former shaking his head and the latter sparing her a glance before going back to his phone. Giving Jungkook a nod of acknowledgement and a polite hint of a smile, she looks straight at Taehyung in his white CELINE t-shirt, standing behind the sofa.

“Can I talk to you?” Dilara is careful to reveal nothing in her question or her tone. Judging by his frown and momentary hesitation, she’s succeeded.

“Yeah,” he says finally, as though pulling himself out of a trance. She nods and turns around to leave, glancing back when she reaches the front door to see him right behind her, pulling on a black jumper.

They head out to the backyard - or she heads out and he follows her, trailing a couple of steps behind. Dilara stops where the path to the gym begins and leans against the railing. He leans on the one opposite her, a good ten feet between them. Now that she’s finally in front of him, her words seem to fail her. She has to remind herself that right now, she has the power in this dynamic. 

“So… why did you want to come outside?” he asks after a moment. He sounds doubtful, and she realises she hasn’t said anything yet.

Dilara shrugs, not knowing where to look. “Too many ears in there. And out here for that matter,” she adds. When he frowns, she raises her eyebrows and tilts her chin towards the house. He turns and they see three or four faces hurriedly disappear from the window.

She half-chuckles while Taehyung curses under his breath, slowly turning back to her. “How are you?” he asks. The question is innocent enough, but his tone burns with curiosity and - she isn’t sure - concern.

“Same old,” she answers. Before he can use this excuse to chit-chat, she exhales. “You said you wanted to explain.” She nods. “So… explain.”

All traces of his smile fade and he swallows, clearly knowing that this is where they were headed all along. For a few moments, he says nothing, just looking at the ground as he presumably gathers his thoughts. Then, he looks up, looking nervous but determined.

"Dilara, I -" He breaks off, sounding rather like he hasn't thought of what to say beyond these two words. She’s in no hurry, though. For once, she feels calm.

"First of all, I'm… God, I'm so sorry, Dilara, I'm so -"

"Stop," she interrupts, shaking her head. "Just… stop. This isn't… I don't want to hear you apologise." Dilara looks up to see his devastated face looking confused. "You said you wanted to explain. I assumed you meant… how it happened."

For a moment, it seems like he's going to argue. But then he licks his lips and nods, and she braces herself for the worst.

"I… we -" He huffs in frustration, and she knows it's because he's unable to think in English in a situation like this. "It was - it was a bad few months, Dilara. We were being overworked to death and you and I couldn't - we weren't… we didn't get time. Ever."

She says nothing. She knows what he's talking about but the last thing she wants to do right now is agree with him and give him an out he doesn't deserve. 

"I know that doesn't make it okay. I know that." He shakes his head and runs his hand through his messy blond hair. "And I didn't - I wasn't… I had no intention of cheating on you, Dilara. I didn't want anyone else, ever. It was just… it was so busy and I was so angry that I couldn't talk to you and I missed you and it was just -" He breaks off, pressing the heels of his palms to his forehead. "I started feeling so far away from you and I hated it, I hated thinking we were going to be one of those couples that just - just drifted apart and fell out of love or -"

"So this was better?" Dilara can't help it. It almost sounds like an excuse and she’s not about to accept one.

"No, that's not what I meant, Dilara… come on, you know it was hard. And I was trying everything I could but it wasn’t enough and I didn't know what else to do and then… and then…"

The tone of his voice tells her what's coming. She swallows and pulls her hoodie tighter around herself, suddenly wondering if she’s ready to hear this.

Taehyung sighs shakily. "Jennie and I -" He breaks off abruptly and Dilara realises she’s automatically looked away at the mention of the name. "She - we've known each other for a while. Not well, of course, but… we've met at award shows and stuff and - and we were at a party and we were all drinking and…" His voice cracks and it looks like he's about to cry. "It was - it meant nothing. Not a thing. I promise you -"

"What happened?" she interrupts. When he frowns, she stands her ground. "What happened with her? What did you do?"

She can see it dawn on his face, what she’s asking. "I - are you serious?" he asks in horror.

"Yeah. I want to know." I want this to be as hard for you as it is for me, Kim Taehyung.

“I - that’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t care. I want to know.” Dilara holds his gaze. “You kissed her. Did you use tongue? Did you take off her top? Suck her tits?” She’s being brutal and extremely crass, but it’s the only way she’s going to make it through this confrontation without breaking.

Taehyung looks tortured. “Dilara, don’t…”

“Fine. I’ll go first. You know I went out with Jaden, right? Do you want to know what I did with him? Well, he actually did suck my tits when we went back to his room, but before that he kissed me in -”

She gets interrupted when Taehyung swears loudly, eyes blazing and looking livid. “I don’t want to fucking know!”

“Then tell me.”

"Dilara…" He warns through gritted teeth and she knows she’s lit a fuse. Good. Get angry. Bring it, Kim. When she doesn't respond, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs before opening them, glaring at her as though telling her she’s asked for it. 

"You really want to know? We - we made out, okay? She kissed me and I - I wanted to push her away but… I kissed her back and my hands, uh… went up her -” He breaks off, wincing, but Dilara doesn’t say anything. “... and I… and then she started unbuttoning my jeans and then she got on her knees and sucked me off until - no, Dilara, I’m sorry, please don't cry, baby…"

The tone of his voice changes instantly and she can hear the guilt washing over him. She feels him gently pull her by the shoulder to face him but she flinches out of his grasp again. 

"Don't touch me!" she snaps hoarsely, sniffing and stepping back. "I’m just… God, I fucking - hate you!” she shouts suddenly, pushing him back by the shoulders. “I hate you so, so much!” she sobs, continuing to push him backwards, hating how he takes it in silence before his hands come up to hold her wrists, his strength overpowering hers for once. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby…”

Dilara can’t hear him. Physically, his voice sounds like she’s underwater because all she can do is picture it, picture the tall and beautiful idol - she can’t recall her face for the life of her, but imagines her tall and slender -  getting down on her knees, adjusting a flowy dress, looking up at him with sexy eyes as she unbuckles his belt and pulls down his trousers… Dilara barely registers Taehyung bringing her into his chest, murmuring wrecked, desperate apologies in her hair, languages blurring into each other. 

She can’t stop; it’s like a movie rolling in her head. Did Jennie palm him through his underwear first? She pictures him straining against black material, head tilted back as he lets out a throaty groan, a glass of whiskey in one hand. Dilara imagines her pulling his underwear down, taking him in her mouth, his large, angry length, bobbing her head, his fingers tangling in her hair… she lets out another shaky sob before she realises what she’s doing and with a strength she rarely uses outside her car, she pushes him away.

Taehyung stumbles backwards, taken off guard. Ignoring the shocked expression and how the tip of his nose is already reddening, Dilara angrily wipes whatever tears have escaped down her face. “Go on,” she snarls. When he sniffles, she stomps her foot. “Goddamnit, Kim! She sucked you off - what happened after? Did you fuck her? And you may as well tell me the truth because believe me, this can’t get any worse.”

He swallows. "I didn’t. I - I swear,” he says immediately, and Dilara believes him. When she raises her eyebrow at him expectantly, he shrugs. “Well, I - I mean, that was it," he says lamely, shrugging and stepping away. "I realised what I was doing and - and I just got the hell out of there. I felt so terrible, Dilara, you have no idea."

“Did you cum?” she asks quietly, looking at his feet. The silence is so long and deafening that the answer is obvious. She closes her eyes as her heart sinks.

“It meant nothing,” he whispers dismally. “I don’t even remember it. It didn’t mean a thing, Dilara.”

"Meant enough to date her after,” she mutters, unable to get the image out of her mind of him finishing in someone else’s mouth, eyes closed, a frown on his forehead, mouth open in ecstasy, emitting a low and raspy grunt that always echoed in the room...

"It wasn't like that… Dilara, I didn't know how to face you after that. I was so ashamed - I felt like such an asshole." Taehyung pauses, as though expecting her to agree with him. When she says nothing, he continues, bottom lip trembling now. "I couldn't believe what I'd done and I just needed - I just needed some time to figure out how to tell you and I…" He looks up at her and shakes his head, looking completely devastated. "I'm so sorry, Lara, I should've -"

"Jesus, stop apologising!" Dilara turns away from him, more angry than sad right now. "What the hell was I supposed to do while you were figuring it out? That didn’t matter to you?”

"I handled it horribly, I know. I knew I was going to hurt you and I -" He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "I know I did anyway. But I swear, Dilara, I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you and do whatever it took to fix it. I didn't want to end it… I didn't want to lose you."

But you have. She doesn't need to say it - he knows. It lingers, unspoken, between them. 

"But I guess I took too long…" His gaze falls and she hears him sniffle. "Jennie came to our studio and everything and we talked about it and we decided nothing more was going to happen, that we weren't… but then the article came out and I knew I was fucked. The moment I saw it I told Big Hit to put out a statement and I called you but I could never get through and then I got your package and -"

"And then you started dating her," she finishes for him, not finding it necessary to tell him that his tokenistic phone call means nothing to her, that blocking him achieved more than just rejecting his calls. 

"I…" Taehyung rubs the back of his neck, looking uneasy. "It wasn't like that. It wasn't… a relationship. Like a real one. We just - I mean, it was already public and I - I didn't want everything to have been for nothing."

Dilara stares at him. "You - what? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I just mean that -"

"What the hell do you mean by everything?" she exclaims, dropping her hands to her sides. "Nothing happened to you - you're the one who -"

"I know and I hate what I did, but I never wanted us to be over, Lara -”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” she shouts, wanting to throw something. From the corner of her eye, she sees figures at the window again but she can’t be bothered about that right now. “You thought dating her was going to - what? Make the whole thing worth it?”

“Of course not - how can you say that? I fucked up, but I - I want to make it up to you, I - I know this couldn’t have been easy for -”

“Make it up to me?” she repeats, cutting him off again. “How? With your Starbucks coffee runs and pity trips to the medic? Save it, alright? I don’t want you to make it up to -” 

“That’s not what I mean, Dilara! Come on, you - you won’t even let me apologise!” Taehyung cries, and this time the tremble in his voice is unmistakable. He’s frustrated and crying and, she realises right then, that she’s crying too. He walks up to her and tries to hold her face. “Dilara, I’m so sorry -”

“I don’t want your apologies,” she snarls quietly, pushing him away again. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t you get it? Not after what you did.”

To her surprise, he nods and takes a step back. “I know,” he admits, sounding crestfallen. “I know what I did was unforgivable and - and cowardly and…” He meets her gaze, eyes glistening. “Lara, I love -”

“Fuck you.”

He breaks off abruptly and she feels his hand grab her wrist, stopping her where she’s walking away already.

“This was a mistake,” she spits, yanking her hand out of his. “Just… leave me alone.” Ignoring his shout of frustration, Dilara runs back inside, furiously wiping away her tears at the realisation that no matter what, nothing is going to change for her when it comes to Kim Taehyung.

---

The next morning, on the first day of Free Practice in Imola, Dilara is out of the house before anyone else has even woken up. She reaches the paddock at seven a.m in workout gear and goes for a run around the track; even in the empty circuit, she feels far more at home here than back at the house she’s actually living in.

Dilara blasts the music in her earphones to the highest volume, wanting to give herself no opportunity to think because she knows exactly where her mind will go if given the chance. She’d already spent an hour last night crying into her pillow before finally falling asleep - without dinner. When she’d woken suddenly to a notification from Lexie in another time zone, she’d sneaked out to the kitchen and scarfed down a bowl of cereal with cold milk, reflecting forlornly about how much of a disaster the previous evening was.

One round of the track is as much as she can manage without exhausting herself too much. She reaches the Red Bull garage, satisfyingly sweaty, and takes off my earphones as she heads to the water cooler for a drink before her shower.

“Hey, stranger.”

She whips around, startled, and her stomach flips uncomfortably. “Jaden… hey.”

Jaden gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I scare you?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Dilara shakes her head, suddenly conscious of what a mess she must look like. "I just didn't expect anyone else to be here this early."

"We're tweaking the power unit on Max's car," he explains, rocking back on his heels. "We need to get started early if we plan to get it done by FP."

She nods, realising a second later that she has no response. It's not that it's awkward, per se; one date is too less of a history to warrant anything other than cordial friendliness, especially when she’d broken things off with him so long ago. Right after the Korean GP, to be precise. She’d run into him in the paddock right after receiving the horrific news of Red Bull’s latest PR plan, and she’d decided to just nip this thing in the bud before it got too complicated.

Jaden had displayed more surprise than Dilara thought warranted. Since she couldn't tell him about the ex-boyfriend drama, she’d had to rely on simply sticking to the date and the fact that it wouldn't reflect well on either party if it got out that a driver and mechanic were a thing. He’d tried to argue, citing that they’d sneak around if they had to, that he'd help her through it.

She hadn’t thought much of the offer, especially since she’d succeeded in hiding her relationship with a BTS member from the whole world, but eventually Jaden relented. She could tell he was disappointed even if he did try to hide it, attempting to remind her that should she change her mind, he was right here.

Now, being alone with him for the first time since then, Dilara genuinely can't remember if she was ever really attracted to him at all. She’d snogged him… but then again, she’d been in a very vulnerable state of mind, with a lot of her thoughts occupied by a different man.

"No gym at the hotel?" He gestures to her physical appearance and she realises she hasn’t replied to his previous statement.

"Oh, um…" Nothing good can come of telling him the truth. "Yeah, no, there's just something about running on the track, you know? Almost like a mini track walk," she adds, confident in her fib.

"Huh," he nods, but she can tell he isn't really listening. "So… how have you been?" 

"Same old," she answers safely, feeling a rush of deja vu. "Not a lot going on for a twenty-two race calendar."

"No boyfriend?" He asks teasingly, but she can sense the curiosity behind the question.

"That would be a no," she tells him, now shuffling away. “Look, I need to go and - and shower,” she says quickly, gesturing to herself and pointing vaguely in the direction of the changing rooms. “I’ll see you around.”

Dilara leaves before he can say anything else, but he finds her again later, less than an hour before FP 1. It’s a bit weird this time, though; he’s not mean in any way, but the friendliness seems much more staged. 

She’s warming up in the back, earphones in with one eye on the screen and barely paying attention to the commentators debating today’s session, when she looks up and sees him at the doorway. She frowns, still in a plank position. 

“Oh. Hey.” When he doesn’t say anything, she prods hesitantly. “Did you need something?”

Jaden shrugs. He’s dressed in his fireproof suit, just like her, with the overalls unzipped and hanging around his waist. “I was hoping to…” He trails off and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m not… sure, really.”

Dilara swallows, resting her knees on the ground and standing up. “What’s up, Jaden?” she asks cautiously.

He licks his lips, apparently considering his words. He still looks like Kai from EXO; she’d thought that when she’d first met him at the fashion show in London and she still can’t shake the comparison from her mind.

“I wanted to know if… if you’d maybe want to go out again… with me.”

“Um… Jaden, we - we talked about this,” she reminds him, the anxiety already making her heart race uncomfortably. “It’s just not a good time and it’s - it’s not a good idea. So, I’m sorry, but… no.”

Jaden shifts on his feet, a frown creasing his forehead. “I hear you. But,” he begins, and her heart sinks, “those reasons… I just don’t know what they mean. I mean, did I, you know… did I do something that wasn’t -”

“Jaden,” she interrupts, now feeling really hassled. “It’s nothing to do with you, alright? I’m just not dating.”

“It’s just kind of confusing,” he continues after a moment. “Walking around the garage. Being a mechanic and seeing the driver every day, not knowing what’s going on inside her head.”

Dilara wants to frown incredulously but she holds herself back. “Good thing you’re on Max’s pit crew,” she points out finally.

Jaden gives a hollow chuckle and takes a step forward. “I just want to know -”

At that moment, the door behind her opens. 

“Dilara, can I -” Taehyung stops when he sees she’s not alone and from the slight shuttering of his eyes and hardened jaw, she can tell he recognises Jaden. Standing in the doorway in just tan trousers and a black t-shirt, Taehyung looks absolutely breathtaking. He recovers in a second, slipping his hands casually into the pockets of his slacks and face going blank, smooth and impassive as always. “Can I have a word? It’s about PR.”

He’s lying. She’d know it even if she wasn’t sure they have no PR right now. Kim Taehyung’s a good actor, but she knows what the slightly upward tilt of his chin means, or the normally big eyes that are suddenly half-lidded. But right now, Dilara doesn’t care if he is. They may be as estranged as ever, but right now she’d choose being around him over Jaden.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Dilara turns back to Jaden, registering just before doing so that Taehyung didn’t even seem surprised at her agreement. “I need to, um…”

“Right, of course.” Nodding and looking slightly annoyed, Jaden backs up and goes out the door he came from, closing it behind him.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, only to turn back and see Taehyung standing three feet away from her. “Jesus, you know, I just - I don’t have time for this right now. I have free practice in a bit,” she informs him hurriedly, starting to walk towards the coffee machine, but he stops her.

“Wait, what?” He looks confused. “You just said okay.”

Dilara scoffs. “Please, I just did that so I could get away from him,” she mutters, picking up a paper cup from the stack.

“Why?” Taehyung’s tone is sharp this time and, if she’s not mistaken, laced with concern. “What did he do?”

She finally looks up at him, eyes widening. “How is that any of your business?”

“Okay, fine, it’s not,” he agrees quickly, coming to stand next to her. “I just want to talk about last night, okay? Can we - “

“No, absolutely not.” 

“Dilara, please, I just -”

“No. Just stop, okay? Look, you have to -”

A third person enters the room just then in the form of Max Verstappen, who nonchalantly moves to her other side to use the coffee machine. Dilara turns her attention back to Taehyung.

“You have to stop this. You have to stop talking to me like we’re together because we’re not. So can you -” She breaks off when his gaze darts to Max and he bites his lip before looking back at her, shaking his head a little. 

Dilara scoffs in disbelief. “What, are you afraid Max is going to hear? Do you really think he gives a fuck? Hey, Max,” she says loudly, turning to him. “Do you care that I was stupid enough to date a world famous popstar who got his cock sucked by another girl and then ghosted me till I got the message?”

Next to her, Max’s eyes flit up above her head to Taehyung momentarily. “No,” he says dryly, sounding like he genuinely means it, before reaching for the milk.

She turns back to Taehyung. “See?”

“Dilara…”

“No, stop. Stop seeking me out, stop giving me those eyes,” she says firmly. “Just stop talking to me. We’re done.”

Taehyung simply sighs as she picks up her coffee and moves around him to leave. Just before the door closes behind her, she hears Max mutter, “Race weekend is tough on everyone, mate.”

Thankfully, the most stubborn man Dilara has ever known actually listens to her this time and doesn’t approach her again the rest of the day. FP 1 goes about as well as she can hope, but the heat is something she knows is affecting all the drivers a fair bit. Dilara heads outside during a few minutes of rare breeze, sitting in the shade with a bottle of cold water.

She’s there for less than a minute when she sees a different Kim approaching her, expression one of chaotic calm. Dressed in a checked shirt over a white t-shirt, sneakers and a baseball cap, Kim Namjoon looks like he’s ready to go on a hike at a moment’s notice. 

Even though they’re in a part of the paddock that isn’t accessible to the public, Dilara spots a couple of girls in Aston Martin uniforms point and break into furious whispers before running away. From Namjoon’s embarrassed chuckle, she knows he’s seen them, too.

“Does it ever get tiring?” she asks wryly, shifting slightly to make room for him as he sits next to her. “Knowing that wherever you go, there’s a thousand girls who’d like to show you a good time?”

“Nah, I kind of just ignore it now,” he answers, voice deep and comforting. “I have a girlfriend. Kind of eclipses the thousands of girls,” he says sincerely.

Dilara nods, the semi-romantic deep, deep down inside her knowing what he means. “It would break their hearts if they knew.”

“Guess it’s a good thing they don’t.” He shrugs. “It’s not worth the hassle.”

“Are you here to defend your friend to me?” she asks him, trying not to sound too wary and keeping her eyes trained on a grassy patch on the ground.

Namjoon bites his lip and looks at the ground, long hair covering his face. “No. I want to apologise,” he says after a moment. He waits for a few seconds, as though waiting for her to process the words. “I know I didn’t directly do anything to you. But I didn’t… not do anything either. And I’m sorry, Dilara.”

No, you didn’t. But she doesn’t feel like saying it out loud. Having him admit it… it feels different, unlike how Jimin’s apology felt. Jimin had guilt - plain, simple, heartbreaking guilt. Namjoon sounds disappointed, a soul-crushing image when she thinks about it.

“I’ve known Taehyung for over a decade, you know,” he says, looking up. “And we’ve had our share of disagreements and problems and stuff, but I’ve never been this disappointed in him before,” he confesses, surprisingly echoing her thoughts.

"You and me both," she murmurs after a moment. "But thanks."

"And also…" Namjoon clears his throat. "I hope you know that you can always… you know. Talk to us. Or me, at least. I kind of get the feeling that you think we're all on his side."

Dilara frowns. "Aren't you?" Isn’t that why this whole disaster happened?

"No," he clarifies immediately. "I mean, we're his - we're his friends, his brothers, his family, but… that doesn't mean we give him a pass for everything. What happened with you two…" He sighs, looking truly troubled. "I know we - the rest of us - played a part. But we're not choosing sides."

Dilara doesn't realise until this moment just how much she needed someone to say this, for someone to acknowledge that Taehyung fucked up and that she has questions - at least a hundred. But something holds her back.

As though picking up on it, Namjoon tilts his head to catch her eye. "You can trust me."

The paddock is emptier in this area than a usual Friday. She wonders briefly if it's because Namjoon is with her, or if everyone has flocked to where the rest of BTS is.

"You know, at first I didn't believe it," she begins, voice low and playing with the rings on her fingers. "I thought maybe he lost his phone or maybe he was angry with me or - or maybe he was hurt. Anything but this. I thought he loved me too much to do this.” She can’t keep the irony out of her voice. She swallows, her throat hurting when she relives that horrible week in March. “But Jimin is a bad liar, and I knew that if he had you guys lying for him, I didn’t stand a chance.”

“And then I saw the article and…” She sighs, remembering how everything had suddenly felt so empty. “And it proved everything I said to him when I told him we shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You anticipated this a year ago?” he asks, and she can tell he’s trying not to sound too sceptical.

“Maybe not the part where he ghosted me,” she allows, shrugging. “But Jennie? Sure I did,” she admits, feeling humiliated even saying it out loud. “I’m not blind, you know. They look perfect together.” She’s quiet for a moment, not trusting herself to speak anymore. “And it’s not even that. They’re both idols, they’re Korean, she’s… tall…” She trails off, finding it far too depressing to talk about. “It just makes so much more sense.”

Namjoon is chewing on his lip. “You know, I meant it when I said that I’m not here to defend Taehyung, but…” He gives her an apologetic look when she rolls her eyes. “You can’t possibly think it’s that simple,” he says, barely masking his incredulity.

Dilara doesn't like his tone. “Why not? What has he done to make me think otherwise? And besides," she continues when Namjoon simply sighs, "it's not even about her. Do you know how stupid I felt when I saw that article? That I was waiting for an explanation, getting worried about him, while he was too busy screwing k-pop’s ‘it girl’ to drop me a text to tell me he was done with me?" She shakes her head. "And… yeah, I know that's not exactly how it happened. He told me… something. Doesn't change the fact that I can’t stop picturing it, though," she mutters, rubbing at her eyes.

Nearly a minute passes, but Namjoon says nothing. 

Dilara raises her eyebrows. "Seriously? You're really not going to help him out?"

He chuckles, a little nervously. "I think this is something he needs to fix himself," he says wisely. "That being said… I do think you should know that he wasn't quite as cavalier as you think," he adds. "I promise I'm not defending him. And I won't tell you if you don't want to know." He pauses, as though waiting for her to confirm.

Her resolve ends in about five seconds. "You're an evil man, Kim Namjoon. Alright, out with it."

Namjoon laughs. "Well, we were there, but… we didn't really know what was going on. We knew something was wrong and we found out about Jennie because we walked in on a fight between Taehyung and Seokjin. He'd actually caught them at the party, apparently…"

Dilara recalls Seokjin's face when he’d made her a sandwich, how his guilt had been plastered all over his face. At the time, she’d thought it was guilt by association. But he knew… he knew the whole time.

"... and he'd confessed to Jimin as well - did you know it was the first time in years that we'd ever seen them fight like that?" Namjoon shakes his head, as though trying to get rid of a bad memory. "But… apart from that, we had no idea. Honestly, until you started calling us, we didn't even know he was avoiding you. We thought he was being Taehyung, keeping things to himself, dealing with it in private… we kind of didn't feel like it was any of our business." He sighs. "And then the article broke."

She chuckles without humor. "That damned article."

"Yeah. Of course, it exaggerated everything - they actually weren't dating at the time. The pictures looked bad, I know, but she was speaking to YG and we made Big Hit put out a statement and everything and we kind of thought that was it." He shrugs apologetically. "We thought he'd finally call you, you'd be angry, he'd apologise and somehow you two would be okay." There's a frustration in his voice. "He would never do something so stupid to risk losing you like that.” He gives her an apologetic look. “But then your package came."

Dilara’s heart skips a beat; she’d almost forgotten about that. "So he got it, huh?" she asks quietly, remembering the ring he's still wearing on his index finger, the one that had hung around her neck for over a year.

"Oh, he got it." Namjoon bites his lip, as though suddenly wondering how much to tell her. "It arrived in our dorm and when he opened it and pulled out… I think it was a t-shirt? He didn't say anything. He just picked up the box and went into his room and didn't come out again for the rest of the night, not until we had to leave for the airport the next day. He was…" He shudders. "He was a wreck. I don't think he spoke to us for nearly two days. Then Jungkook tried to call you but when it didn't go through, we realised you'd blocked us. And Taehyung, presumably, which explained how he was acting. And, no, we couldn't even blame you," he finishes quietly.

Dilara doesn't know what to think. Her chest feels tight; she doesn't know if it's the thought of Taehyung in pain or that everything she thought she knew may just have been different. "So… what are you saying? All this happened because he was too late? I should forgive him because he was going through a hard time, too?"

Namjoon frowns. "Of course not. He still fucked up. Massively. And forgiving him is your decision. It's not my place to tell you what to do."

She’s quiet. She can tell he isn't lying about being disappointed. He sounds like he is, the slight edge in his voice, his determination that Taehyung deserves whatever she’s throwing at him. 

"Do you miss Kaya?" Dilara asks him after a moment.

He frowns curiously, clearly not expecting it. "All the time," he answers. "Why?"

She shrugs. "Is it worth it? The distance and the secrecy and all that?" When he simply tilts his head slightly, she sighs. "Sorry, I know it's none of my business. Just thought a different perspective could help."

Namjoon nods slowly. "Well, then, yes. It's totally worth it. It's hard, for sure, being apart for so long, missing birthdays and stuff…" He trails off, and she’s worried for a moment that she’s ruined the mood - if that's even possible at this point. He exhales and shakes his head. "But… man, she keeps me sane. I’d probably have a breakdown once a month if she wasn’t there. Right now, even the worst day ever can't be that bad if I can still call her at the end of it." An automatic smile spreads across his face as he looks at his lap. "And she’s doing her Ph.D. Sometimes she feels way out of my league."

Dilara nods slowly. "Well, now I'm waiting for BTS's next hit, Ph.D.," she says wryly. When he chuckles self-consciously, she waves her hand in apology. "Sorry. She sounds great."

"She is," he agrees, nodding. "That's the part that's worth it. When you find someone like that, you really do anything you can to make sure you hold on to it, even if it means taking extra flights or staying up to video chat and stuff." He pauses, swallowing. “Seriously, I mean anything.”

Ah. Namjoon’s disdain for Taehyung’s actions is clear now, understandable even. For a man in a long distance relationship with what sounds like his the one, watching his friend screw up a similar situation while he himself is working so hard to maintain it has to be frustrating. Dilara wonders if that means he's equating her with Kaya, but she’s too afraid of the answer.

"Are you ever afraid it'll stop working?" she asks quietly. "And… feel free to tell me it's none of my business."

Namjoon considers it for a moment, and his face darkens as though battling with a memory. "I'm not… afraid of it. I'm worried, if that makes sense. I think it'll always work for me; my job would mean a long distance relationship no matter where my girlfriend lived, even if it was Korea. It's a drawback of the entire role, with BTS, producing, touring. But it's not her life," he admits, and I think he sounds sad. "She lives a normal life, with normal friends and a normal job and if she ever decides that she needs a boyfriend she can see more than once every couple of months…" He shrugs, but it seems tired. "I can't stop her. I'd want that for her, if it's something that she wanted. If it made her happy."

"Sounds… rare," says Dilara honestly, finding it hard to meet his eyes. She can feel him watching her and she thinks he knows what's on her mind.

"You know, Taehyung didn't really talk to us about this at all so I don't - I can't really pretend to know what he was thinking. But I do know what he was like during that time. With you versus without you," he clarifies. "With you… he was happy. Like, really, annoyingly happy. Without you… God, it was like living with the grinch. A mean, petty, heartbroken… and very handsome Grinch," he allows grudgingly. "He was moody, would barely talk to us, picked fights for no reason until Hobi finally had enough and threw a banana at him."

Dilara snorts at the image and Namjoon’s face breaks out into an exasperated smile as he shakes his head, as though reliving how he had to manage that fight.

"It was pretty funny, if you ignore why Taehyung was being so irritating," he concedes. "In any case, he improved a bit after that. Still kept to himself and was a bit sharp if the topic ever came too close to you… but he at least started trying again."

"Bet Jennie helped with that," she  mutters.

"Dilara, it wasn't…"

"No, you know what?" Dilara pauses, wondering how to phrase this without sounding too pathetic. "You're not the first person to tell me that he didn't just forget me out of the blue. Jimin tried, but I told him I'd leave if he started talking about him. I think Jungkook wanted to say something but I accidentally… punched him in the face," she mutters, wincing slightly at the memory, and Namjoon snorts. 

"It's just hard to believe, you know? Especially because I know he started dating her right after. And don't bother telling me Big Hit denied it, Namjoon. I know some fans don't give you guys your privacy but that was literally the only way I found out anything."

Namjoon shrugs. "I'm not denying it. They did date - technically. But - okay, you know what?" He changes tacks abruptly. "I don't know what happened in their relationship, I don't think it's right for me to talk about it."

She stares at him. "You're kidding me, right?" When he doesn't answer, she shifts to face him. "Namjoon, you just told me the story of how one of your members threw fruit at my ex-boyfriend and this is where you choose to draw the line?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You're sure you want to know? Because I don't know much either, to be honest," he declares, holding up his hands. "He didn't talk about her too much and we didn't really pry after a point."

That doesn't sound too good. But Dilara is weak. "Yes, I'm sure. Please, please tell me about the gorgeous, skinny pop star who was important enough to get him to throw away a year's worth of history."

Namjoon winces. “Not a great start.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t say anything.”

“Well, in short," he begins, “I think both of them were just dating on paper, for the most part. Maybe they intended to do it genuinely but at least Taehyung I know wasn’t in the mental state to move on.” He pauses. “It never seemed like Jennie was following up too much either.”

Dilara frowns, confused. “So… what? You’re saying it was staged?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think…” Namjoon’s eyebrows scrunch and he looks like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I think he just wanted something to come out of the shitstorm that happened with you. Like he didn't want all of that to have been for nothing. I guess it would've been harder for him to deal with, that he lost you over one incident, as opposed to losing you over something that turned into a relationship.”

So… Taehyung wasn't lying. He'd sort of said the same thing but not nearly as eloquently, and she’d had no patience for anything he was saying in any case.

“Didn't really work out, though,” he adds, unaware of her begrudging revelations. “One fine day he just told us at breakfast that he and Jennie were over and immediately changed the topic. A couple of weeks before the fashion show actually."

That fashion show. The day she’d spotted Jungkook and Jimin at the airport, and later seen them be received as the guests of honour at her work event, like some sick joke. 

"Is that why he's trying so hard all of a sudden?" she asks after a moment. "Because it’s pretty fucked up that he cheated on me, broke up with me, dated the other girl, spent months without a word and it's only when I'm actually in front of him that he even tries to talk to me? What about those three months before the fashion show? What about all that time after the fashion show? Is he just after me to apologise because we're in the same house and he's bored or something?"

Namjoon gives her a look. "You know he tried to call you before, too," he reminds her in a tone that suggests sheI shouldn't forget. "But you'd blocked him - and you were completely within your right to do that," he adds hastily when she opens her mouth, murderous. "He was too late. It was his fault.”

She raises her eyebrows. “But…?”

He sighs. “I think he assumed that you'd moved on. When you sent him back all his stuff, including gifts, and then blocked him, it looked like you'd, you know, cleanly cut him out of your life," he explains, slicing his hand through the air. "You did a fantastic job ignoring us in London and then again in Yeongam, so most of us really did think you didn't care anymore."

"Good," she snaps savagely. "That was the point."

He nods, a little humbly, and Dilara immediately feels a bit guilty. "But then when we started this PR thing, it became pretty clear that you did care. He was devastated about your break-up, of course, but seeing you so broken up about it changed everything." 

It's a lot to digest. "So what does he want now?" Dilara asks finally, feeling tired. "Does he just want to get it off his chest, feel like a good person again? What is it?" She’s baiting him. She wants him to confirm that Jimin's theory is wrong. 

Namjoon does no such thing, however. He frowns at her in a manner that suggests he knows exactly what she’s doing and that he isn't going to spoon feed her the answer. "What do you think he wants?" When she simply huffs and rolls her eyes, he chuckles. "Come on, Dilara, I think it's fairly obvious what he wants, don't you think? How he feels? What he's trying to do to prove it? You're a smart girl," he says patiently, like she’s a schoolgirl.

"God, you must be one hell of a leader," she mutters, annoyed.

Namjoon laughs and stretches, dimples popping on his cheeks. "That's why Kaya keeps me sane, because I'm not her leader."

“Would’ve been cool to meet her.”

“I think you’d get along. You have a lot of things in common.”

“Yeah? Like our conditioner?”

 “Well, that. And, yeah, she didn't think we'd work out at first either," he allows, shrugging.

"Yes, well, at least in your case you proved her wrong."

"So far," he agrees. "But that's what I mean, anyway. When you find someone like that, you do everything in your power to not mess it up. Or you grovel and grovel until she forgives you. It really takes a special kind of person to be able to date someone in BTS, you know? With this job and the fame," he says innocently.

Dilara stares at him. "What a sweet and incredibly manipulative thing to say."

He laughs. "So dramatic. Sometimes you and Taehyung make so much sense together."

She chokes. "Don't try to sweet talk me into forgiving him,” she warns, ignoring his grin. "And, anyway… I told him to leave me alone." A thought occurs to her. "He's stubborn, though. Do you think he really will?"

Namjoon looks thoughtful, then shrugs. "Like you said, he's stubborn. And if he sets his mind to something, he usually does whatever he needs to to get it." He looks down at her, but she doesn’t respond, sensing that he isn't done. "But at this point, I don't think there's anything in the world you could ask him for that he wouldn't give to you. Even if it kills him."

—

One fallout of Dilara’s conversation with Namjoon is an unexpected one: a slow, unexpected concern for Taehyung’s feelings. Most of what Namjoon said she could believe; all the moodiness and snapping, something she’d witnessed many times herself. The fact that it had apparently hurt him so much… she thinks she can believe it, but somehow it doesn't help the anger any.

But it's not really anger anymore, though. She wants it to be; it was far easier when it was just pure, unadulterated fury at his actions and disregard for her feelings, something she’d partly unleashed in Monza. But now there are different emotions creeping up, ones she had tried so hard to suppress for months, each of them reminding her that even though their relationship is over, they aren't.

Dilara replays their conversation - or their fight or whatever it was - over and over in her head. She’s barely able to concentrate on the actual words, though, each time stopping to relive how his hands had felt around her wrists, how the familiar scent of lotion had felt like summer, how his voice sounded when he accidentally called her Lara… and how helpless he looked when she’d cut off his apology. Even now, thinking back, she doesn’t know why she did that, why she stopped him from apologising. She just knows she doesn’t want him to.

The next race is at the Nurburgring in Germany, a cold and foggy track where everyone is in multiple layers and the only talk is around how the drivers are expected to ever warm up their tyres on this frigid track, let alone race. Dilara is on her way back from a rather pointless drivers' briefing with Max, Lando, George and Mick, all of them bundled in team gear. She’s the only one who looks like a potato, though, in her opinion, while the boys, all lean and tall, look like Burberry models.

She and Max lose the other three when they reach the Red Bull garage, entering the screening room to immediately be engulfed by the scent of chocolate. She’s confused for about a second before a cup with steam rising from it is thrust into her hand and she yelps when she feels how hot it is.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" The blonde intern, Hannah, immediately withdraws the cup from Dilara’s hand. "Sorry, sorry… it's hot chocolate! And guess whose idea it was!"

She sounds far too excited about hot chocolate; Dilara catches Max's eye who gives her a confused frown and she can almost hear him go what the fuck. She suppresses a snort, even though it’s not much of a guess, though. Hannah Kumpen had joined the hospitality team at the beginning of the year, and while her initial claim to fame had been her insistence to be positive, no matter the fuck up, the fashion show in London had brought forth another aspect of her personality that she seemed to want to suppress, but Dilara could recognise from a mile away: fangirl.

Dilara watches as Hannah skips over to where other Red Bull-clad people are standing, all clutching steaming mugs, along with the tall figures of BTS themselves. The first thing she spots is Jimin with a hat on his head, looking so much like a freezing cherub that she involuntarily smiles. The next thing she notices is the member next to him, her one and only ex-boyfriend, with the blonde intern standing much too close to him.

She feels a stab of anger at the sight, although she can't immediately pinpoint why. She doesn’t know if it's because Hannah is pretty, or if Dilara wants everyone to hate Taehyung as much as she does,  or if it's just because he's her ex, or if the words that she's saying right now basically credit him with the idea of hot chocolate for everyone.

"... and he just decided, just like that," she gushes, clearly trying to keep her admiration under control but failing. "And then he wouldn't take no for an answer, even when Christian offered to at least split it! It was so generous," she declares, looking up at him like he's hung the moon before looking directly at Dilara."You would know, though, Dilara," she says knowingly, making her heart stop for a moment and she spots Taehyung do a double-take as well, "I'm sure that's why he's your favourite, isn't he?"

"I - I don't think I've ever said that," she stutters, but Hannah apparently isn’t looking for confirmation. 

"No, I know you haven't," she says teasingly, still annoyingly chirpy. "But it was really generous.”

There’s a moment of silence where her eyes dart from Dilara and Max, both of whom looked mystified, to Taehyung whose head is bent low, to the rest of the group, who look like they’re on the verge of bursting a blood vessel as they try not to guffaw.

When no one responds, Taehyung exhales silently and looks up, apparently relieved his ordeal is over. Then -

“He rescues animals, too,” chimes Hannah, looking rather proud of this fact, as though he’s the child she raised to have such wonderful values. “He has a dog with health problems,” she says to no one. “His name is Yeontan.”

Dilara doesn’t know which to focus on: the exaggeration, because as far as she knows, Kim Taehyung has only ever adopted one rescue animal, or resisting the urge to throttle this girl and snarl that she fucking knows who Yeontan is. However, John, one of the mechanics who’s standing next to them with a mug of his own, glances up briefly at that.

“Oh, you adopted a rescue, that’s fantastic. I have a couple myself,” he adds. “One’s a terrier and the other -”

“Oh, Taehyung’s is a shitzu,” she says immediately, and even John looks a bit miffed at being cut off. “He's always featuring in lives and pictures and stuff. I think it takes a really good person to adopt a dog with health problems, don't you think? Pets are a huge responsibility and with an idol’s job… I mean, it's admirable…"

Dilara looks up at Taehyung, a little disbelieving that he hasn't told her to get a grip yet. He does look pretty mortified; he'd started off with mild bashfulness when they’d walked in, but now looks like he's rather regretting the hot chocolate entirely. 

He gives Dilara an apologetic look when she meets his eyes for a moment, as though reassuring her that he knows she knows who Yeontan is, that he'd tell Hannah the truth if he could. It's actually hilarious, but she’s far too annoyed at how Hannah is now holding his arm casually, as though she hasn’t even realised. Next to him, Jungkook, Hoseok and Seokjin are red in the face from the cold - or from trying not to laugh. Jimin has disappeared behind Hoseok entirely, shoulders shaking with what is clearly laughter. 

Even Max looks unbelievably amused, and Dilara notices Taehyung catch his eye and shake his head slightly in embarrassment. Thankfully, Christian joins them then and Hannah tones it down a bit with the personal information, to everyone’s relief. 

"Oi, why don't you two have drinks?" Christian asks, raising his own mug, and Hannah seems to suddenly realise and immediately calls for two mugs when Max and Dilara shake their heads.

"It's a race weekend," she explains, mostly for Taehyung’s benefit, for no matter what their situation is, it actually was a nice thing for him to do. 

To her surprise, his eyes light up at her comment and he opens his mouth to say something, but Hannah beats him to it.

"Oh, don't worry! Tae actually got you guys low sugar ones!" 

While Dilara internally fumes at her nerve to call him Tae, right on cue, two mugs appear before them. She looks at Max, who shrugs and reaches enthusiastically for one of them. 

"Works for me," is all he says, sighing when he takes a sip. Dilara takes that as her cue to accept as well, a not altogether unpleasant squirm in her stomach when she realises that Taehyung remembered that she prefers not to have sugar on a race weekend. 

"Isn’t he wonderful?” Hannah repeats for what seems like the hundredth time.

Next to them, Christian nods in assent, studying his drink. "Stellar bloke," he agrees absently, raising his mug slightly. Max agrees, too, but the dry amusement is more than evident.

"Yes, Taehyung's the best," says Yoongi, straight-faced.

"He's just great," agrees Namjoon, while the others only silently shake their heads. Dilara sees Taehyung give them a murderous look, just before multiple pairs of eyes turn to her and she feels a terrible sense of foreboding.

There's an expectant silence in the air, and it takes her a moment to realise it's because everyone is expecting her to say it next. How Taehyung’s a good person, so generous and so thoughtful… she looks away from him, suddenly unable to say anything. Once three, five, ten seconds pass, Dilara knows the group at least have picked up on her hesitation. She’s deliberately not looking at Taehyung, but even in her slight peripheral vision, she sees his face crumple and she knows her lack of response is breaking his heart.

Next to her, Max nudges her quietly. She looks up to see Christian frowning at her and she knows she’s lost. "Yeah, of course he is,"she agrees finally, unable to stop a note of irony from creeping into her voice.

Dilara doesn’t say another word until everyone starts leaving the room. Predictably, Taehyung stays back. She knows what she did, how uncalled for it was, but she has no way of making him realise just how hard it is being around him - especially when she knows he hasn't changed, when his lapse in judgement becomes more and more apparent as a lapse, when she can see him doing and saying things that remind her of why she fell in love with him at all.

She feels him standing behind her, close enough that if she stretches her hand backwards, she’d be able to touch the soft beige coat he's wearing. Her heart drops when he says her name. 

"Dilara…"

It still sounds like a song coming from his mouth, a sad but treasured song. He’s just wonderful. She wanted to scream when Hannah said it, wanted to demand that if she really thought so, what about all the shit he did to her? How did it matter that he bought everyone hot chocolate, that he had a special needs dog who meant the world to him, or that he was wonderful with kids when he still loved Dilara and hurt her anyway?

“Dilara, I know I -”

“No, they were right,” she interrupts, stepping away and not meeting his eyes. “You’re just awesome. And you’re wonderful and - and you’re perfect. Everyone thinks so,” she adds icily, swallowing when her eyes start to sting. “They can’t all be wrong. Guess I must have done something really awful for you to do what you did to me.” She finally looks up at him, scoffing slightly when he immediately shakes his head.

“You know you didn’t,” says Taehyung, voice low. He takes a step forward and she immediately steps back. “This was all me.”

He’s probably right, so when Dilara is in the library of the house later that evening, looking for a book Namjoon had recommended after their heart to heart in Austria, and she sees Taehyung enter from the corner of her eye, she doesn’t walk away. She shivers, but she doesn’t know if it’s because of the cold breeze through the open window or him coming up to stand behind her again, keeping his distance but still feeling so, so close.

She thinks she knows why he’s here. She hears him take a deep breath, completely steady. 

“I’m sorry, Dilara.” His voice is heavy with regret, and her knees almost give away. “I’m so, so sorry. For everything. What I did… I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me or never talked to me again. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I know that means nothing because I did anyway but… I’m so sorry.” 

She can’t tell if he’s crying yet. His voice gives nothing away; he sounds oddly exhausted, but she knows what that’s like. It’s the only thing keeping her from sobbing, from snarling at him and stopping him from apologising again. 

“I ruined it. The best thing that ever happened to me. Because you were, you know?” He sniffs, and she has to grit her teeth from making a sound. “You are. But that’s not… I’m not going to talk about that now. This is… I owe you an apology. And I’m sorry. More than you’ll ever know.”

Dilara can feel him behind her again. He’s so close and for a moment she wants to stop being strong and stop hating him and stop being angry with him. She’d almost done that when they’d fought in Austria, except then the explanation had been too raw and too fresh, and all her focus had been on the hurt and betrayal. 

Now… now it’s just him. It’s the warmth of his body inches behind hers, heat radiating off of it even in the freezing cold, his deep voice like velvet, and his words coursing through her veins, bringing up all the emotion she’d felt months ago when she’d seen him in Yeongam and broken down in front of Lexie.

“What did I do?” The words are out of her mouth before she even realises. “I thought…” I thought you loved me. But she stops herself  just in time. “What did I do that was so bad that you chose to - to leave me behind like that?”

Taehyung sighs, a guttural sound, and she knows he’s hanging his head; his hair brushes her shoulder. He’s so close; she can practically feel his breath on her neck. She pictures, for a moment, what it would be like to turn around and kiss him, feel those lips on hers again, lips she genuinely thought would be the last ones she would ever feel. Her eyes flutter shut momentarily; irrespective of how she feels, her body clearly reacts to him the way it always has.

“Nothing. If I’d known you still -” He breaks off, taking a deep breath. “I was too late. If I’d known you still cared, I would’ve flown anywhere in the world to explain everything to you. I was too late,” he repeats, almost to himself. His bangs brush her neck ever so slightly as he takes a step back, and she feels the cold breeze on her skin again. 

“Trust me, Dilara,” he says softly, and she wants to sob at how her name sounds on his tongue, reverential and intimate all at once. “You can’t possibly hate me for hurting you as much as I hate myself.”

Dilara sighs. She doesn’t know that she will ever be able to explain to him the real reason she wasn’t letting him apologise. Harbouring the anger, watching his frustration as she avoided him, the grim satisfaction that he was now the one being ignored; they helped - until they didn’t.

She doesn’t know that she will ever be able to put into words just how her chest is loosening up, now that the weight of the anger is shedding, but also how her heart feels heavier than ever because now that the anger is gone, she’s finally forced to acknowledge what’s underneath all that… what’s still underneath all that.

Dilara exhales and slowly turns around, the book in her hand. Taehyung's standing closer than she’d expected and she has to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. She’d always loved how tall he was, but she shakes the thoughts away. His blond hair is tousled and she has to resist the urge to brush it off his forehead. 

"That's the problem, though," she tells him, catching herself before she says his name, "I don't hate you." With one last look at his slight frown, she brushes past him and leaves the library.

—

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

wip asks: purple and/or x-p?

Purple:

"I'm Tori," she blurted. "You just said," Aleron said. Tori swallowed. Carelessness like that would get her--wait. No. It was already too late for that. It didn't matter what she did. "Can we just... talk?" she asked. "I don't care about what. Just--anything." Aleron looked at her for a very long time. Tori didn't dare to look away, not even to move. Finally, he sat up a little straighter, his wings shifting until he could lean against the wall and they were folded on his back. "What do you want to know?"

This is set within a fantasy/dystopian sci-fi world. Humans used to have wings, Tori grows up as the first generation who never got to see them anymore. Wings used to be closely linked to dreams--creativity, independent thought, that sort of thing. In this dystopian hellscape, true creativity is highly discouraged and actively worked against. Despite all of that, she grows up a very avid dreamer who yearns for the past and wings, and is constantly paranoid because dreamers still exist, they just tend to... disappear.

She isn't an exception. She's just, like, 15, and it's getting increasingly hard to hide who she is. So, one day, she's kidnapped off the street by the government, meets one of the very last dreamers who still remembers the world as it was, and has to figure out how to find some hope despite everything.

X-P:

[no excerpt because it's in a physical notebook i don't have with me rn]

This story's main character is Kain. Kain is having a bad time all the time.

I haven't done much worldbuilding because really I just desperately wanted to use the X-Punk section of my character development book and create a fucked up character, and it worked!

Kain is... hm. It spends its entire time fighting against the oppressive government, with more and more drastic measures. It's the only right thing to do--it's the only way to change anything, permanently, but hardly anyone understands. Regardless, Kain fights for a better future, even though he knows he won't live to be a part of it.

Enter: Kaya. Kaya was having a normal day and then got dropped in a vaguely different place. He's... well. He's a little too calm, considering everything, but maybe that's the shock. Fact is, there's this older guy willing to help him along a little. He's not sure if he can trust Kain, but he doesn't exactly have other options.

Kain, meanwhile, is having an even worse time than usually. The thing is, Kaya is him--from the past. And if Kaya ever figures out what Kain had to do, he's going to hate it. Or, Kain just found even more ethical dilemmas along with the lurking realisation of what he's become.

Oh, and as if that wasn't enough, an old friend decides to kidnap them both. For "Kain's own good". They refuse to accept the path their friend has gone down.

Literally none of them are okay though, and things will get worse, and nobody is even close to safe, either. They're also very silly and I love them and I will torture them relentlessly. (Also if you remember my OC, Clethra, ze's a background character in here too hehe)

Thanks for asking! I love rambling abt my WIPs. Even though both are going very slow (especially purple, there just isn't enough plot/action yet to keep the story going and it's infuriating)

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 40: Alternate View: When it comes to time travel, it’s good to have a moderately awesome ninja in your corner.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

As it turns out, it is not possible to grow penicillin in the kitchens of a feudal Japanese castle. Granted… I had no idea what I was doing, and as easily as things had molded over in my fridge in modern Japan, it is not as simple as leaving food in a warm place and hoping for the best.

“What are you trying to do, Kats… er, Kaya?” Yuki peered at the bowl of yuzu peel that … hadn’t developed any mold in the three days it had been sitting out.

“Ummm, hopefully something medicinal.” At Yuki’s expression of complete skepticism, I added, “It’s better than doing nothing.” By this point, Aki had been delirious for over a day, and prior to that had had little energy for much talking. The evening he and I had arrived, Katsuko had managed to claim his attention for one, long private meeting. As much as I knew she deserved her time to be with him, to rebuild whatever it was that made things awkward between them, I didn’t miss out on what might be his final days. I was the one who pulled him off that battlefield. I was his daughter too.

“I don’t know. When Shingen was still sick, some of the medicines he tried made him sicker.” He poked at the hardened peels. “Seems like a waste.”

“It’s not like anyone eats this part of them anyway.” Probably they just would have been tossed into the baths to make them smell pretty. “And don’t touch them. I’m trying to grow penicillin, not boy germs.”

“Peni… um, boy what?” He made a face. “You’re weird. You look like Katsu, but you don’t really act much like her.”

Well, we hadn’t been the same person for seven years. Or eleven, depending on which date we were using, and… “This whole situation is weird.”

He scraped his hands through his hair. “I’ll say. But you’re still weird.”

“Did you come in here just to poke at me, or was there an actual reason?” Although at least he was willing to talk to me, even if he was kind of rude. The way most people here at Tsutsujigasaki castle avoided me, I was beginning to feel like the Yokoi that my sort-of nephew had accused me of being. Even the servants, who thought I was Katsuko’s younger sister, did their best not to look at me.

“Oh. Yeah. I was right. Sasuke got here already.” And then, because I was already halfway across the kitchen, he yelled after me, “Does this mean I can throw these out?”

By the time I caught up with Sasuke, he was just about to enter Aki’s room. “Greetings and salutations, Alternate-Katsuko.” His face was as impassive as the Sasuke from my timeline, but I was just happy to connect with someone who didn’t treat me like I was a demi-demon. “Katsuko-prime and Shingen have filled me in on the situation.”

“Um, hi, Alternate-Sasuke… um… do you have any idea how to make penicillin?” If anyone could, it would be Sasuke. Well, or Toshiie, but he wasn’t due back from China apparently for several weeks. Aki could not wait that long.

“Er… no, it’s not something I’ve thought to attempt. I have considered making a battery out of a potato, but it’s going to be another fifteen years before potatoes are cultivated here… so… hashtag time travel goals.” He glanced through the doorway where Aki was fitfully sleeping. “On a more serious note, I am happy to meet another Katsuko, even though it’s not under the greatest of circumstances. Has there been any improvement?”

I shook my head. Two days before, Shingen had fetched another healer – one who hadn’t fainted at the sight of Aki’s shoulder. She had packed the wound with some sort of poultice, which stabilized him somewhat, and the other-me had proven skilled at getting him to swallow willow bark tea, explaining that she had had a great deal of practice with that.

But now, even the effects of the poultice were gone, and no matter how much tea we forced down his throat, Aki’s fever still raged. “It feels like we’re running out of options… here.”

“I can hear you.” Apparently having one of his moments of lucidity, Aki signaled us to enter. “Hello Mister Mikumo.”

Sasuke greeted Aki formally, which was all the conversation that my father had energy for. Immediately he dropped off into sleep again.

“Ah. I see the need for antibiotics.” The smell of Aki’s wound permeated the room. "Although I am a theoretical physicist, not a doctor." The joke was stated with just a slight quirk at the side of his mouth to indicate the humor. "Have I made that joke to you before – your timeline’s alternate version of me?"

"No." I was not in the mood for humor. "What about modern medicine? I mean, I’m not a doctor either, but doctors in our time can cure infections, right? You can help me get him home, can’t you?”

After all that had happened, I refused to let Aki die.

"I've already checked." Sasuke pulled out what looked like a hand sewn notebook and flipped through it. It was full of numbers and calculations. "Honno-ji won’t open until the winter solstice – Togakushi a month later." He didn’t mention that Aki couldn’t wait that long, but the unspoken words hung in the air.

"So Shingen and Katsu didn’t tell you about the device?" A device, that during Aki’s lucid moments, he explained was a prototype. Maybe they’d forgotten (unlikely) or decided to leave that story up to me. “It… I’m not sure how, but it opened the wormhole that dumped me onto that battlefield.”

"Device?” He slapped his forehead. “I didn’t even think to question how you ended up here. But of course, if there had been wormhole activity, I would have known.”

“There was a wormhole, but before that, it wasn’t.” Once again I explained how I had ended up in 1586, this time to an audience who had scientific questions that were far beyond my patchwork high school attendance. After my third ‘I don’t know,’ I gave up and turned the device over to him.

“Fascinating.” Sasuke pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He cautiously flipped the thing over in his hands, but it still just looked like a somewhat advanced version of a cell phone. He glanced at Aki. “He said it’s a prototype? That suggests that it’s still a beta. Do you have any objections to me studying it?”

“As long as you don’t zap us all into prehistoric Japan. I don’t think my heart could take the Jurassic period.” I paused, waiting for Aki to interject whether or not he had problem with Sasuke taking control of the device, but if he did, he wasn't saying. “This” I waved my hand to indicate my alternate’s home, “is already unsettling enough.”

"You mean the rare experience of meeting another version of yourself?" Sasuke seemed almost envious. "Have you noticed any unusual physical phenomena? Do you find yourself fading, or do you feel like you are losing parts of your memory?"

"No. In fact it feels like I'm instead gaining memories I've never had." I wasn't sure how to explain it further, although it had been a relief to confirm my theory that those odd moments of deja-vu-esque images were not my memories, but some kind of multiverse effect.

"Yes." Katsuko entered the room carrying another pot of tea. "Me too. Like the memory of a spider crawling down the front of a pink kimono - and I don’t even own one."

"I've not had that one, and I do have a pink kimono." Well, I did have one. I'd left it behind with Mitsuhide. "But a spider never crawled down the front of it." Just a kitsune. "Aki yelling at me for jumping out of a tree."

That one had been pretty vivid. Katsuko tapped her chest. "Actually happened. And then he abandoned me there." She sent Aki a look that was half anger, half exasperation. "It turned out to have been a con, but of course he didn’t warn me first."

"How very Mitsuhide of him." That dang kitsune. We’d been apart for over a week (not counting that one hour at Genba), but he was still hacking my brain.

The ninth thing I hate about Mitsuhide, even when I’m four years and an unknown number of timelines away, I can’t stop thinking about him.

She looked at me. "I have questions about that but-" She sighed. "It feels so surreal to talk to you."

Ah. That's why it had been so easy to avoid her. She'd been avoiding me, too. "I know. We're not twins, or clones. I've been trying to think of you as an older sister." Since this Katsu would have to be four years older than I am. Or maybe just three? Yuki had told me she'd been stuck in the wormhole (or a wormhole) and missed a year.

"Could you guys not talk over me?" Aki muttered, in another moment of lucidity. "I haven't departed this Earth yet." His eyes flicked over to Sasuke and greeted him as if he had not done so just twenty minutes before. "Hello Mister Mikumo. Still climbing things?"

Ok, not as lucid as all that then.

Sasuke bowed to him again, as if he had not done so before. "Professor."

“Katsu. I told you. Don’t bother me unless the world is ending. Don’t bother me then either.” He closed his eyes again.

"Not yet old man," Katsuko set the teapot down with a clonk, and poured a cup of willow bark tea. "Time for your medication." With Sasuke's help, she propped him into a sitting position and got him to swallow the tea, before he slumped back on the bed with a moan.

Again, I swallowed that feeling of envy that she, my other-self, had managed to get Aki to obey her. It wasn’t important. The important thing that was he had drunk it. That everyone was doing whatever we could to keep him alive until Sasuke could figure out how to get the device to open the wormhole.

Stand back! He’s trying science.

“I wondered where you were hiding.” I looked up from my failed experiment (Yuki had not thrown out the yuzu peel as threatened), to see my other self, my older self, who had returned to the kitchen with the empty teapot.

“Well, I figured it would just be easier if I stayed out of everyone’s way.” I sat back and watched her bustling about with some kind of wooden contraption, before I realized that it was a pulley system that retrieved fresh snow from outside without anyone needing to trek out into the weather to get it themselves. “That’s pretty cool.” I’d never seen anything like it before.

She smiled. “Shingen built it. He’s really good with his hands. Er… in an engineering kind of way.” The blush on her face suggested he was good with his hands in all kinds of ways.

“Of course he is.” Oh shit. I said that out loud. My sarcasm turned our moment into something seriously awkward.

“I’m jealous of you too,” Katsuko eventually said.

“Me? Why?” This version of myself seemed to have it all figured out.

“Because Aki told you he was our father. He didn’t leave you on the side of the road, feeling like everyone had abandoned her.” She slammed the now full of snow kettle on the brazier. “I mean, I know he did it to fool Shingen into taking me. I learned pretty soon after that he didn’t mean it. But it was cruel, and … he’s said a lot of hurtful things to me that he apparently never said to you.”

“Oh.” I reached in my kimono and pulled out Aki’s letter. It was the one thing I had on me when Iekane pulled us into the wormhole. “He didn’t tell me. He disappeared, left me holed up in an Inn for weeks and when I finally went in search of him, I found this letter at Francisco’s. I imagine, that if you were to go to Sakai, you might have this same letter waiting.”

I sat back on my heels, and watched her read the letter, noticing when she smiled – she must have hit the ‘cloud city moment’ line. Finally she folded it up and gave it back to me. “Thanks. I don’t know why it helps… but it does.”

“Well, good. I’d hate it if I hated me. Er, well… you know.” Yup. Still surreal.

“Yeah. I do.” She paused…. Then. “Um I sort of don’t want to know, but I also do want to know. What is up with Mitsuhide and you?”

Ugh, I can’t even pass the Bechdel test with myself! “It’s a long story that probably doesn’t even matter, because he’s in love with Mai. Unrequitedly, but it’s still not something I want to hang around to watch.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I kind of thought he was in this timeline too. But, I only met him for like two hours, during which he threatened to kill me, beat me at shogi, then turned around and gave me some really good advice.”

Well…. That’s on brand at least.

It was another day before Sasuke emerged from the room where he was mad-sciencing it all.

Once again, we were gathered in Shingen’s private office, and again drinking tea that Yukimura had prepared and Katsuko had helped to distribute. Shingen also produced another basket of pastry that he claimed was from his private stash. Given that he always seemed to be able to produce a basket of pastry from somewhere, I suspected his ‘private stash’ was actually a sweatshop full of bakers kept prisoner somewhere on the castle grounds.

“First of all, some background on our wormholes. It isn't merely that the atmospheric conditions need to be correct, for the wormhole to actually form, there needs to be enough charged ions to, in layman's terms, shock it open." Sasuke took a moment to to gulp down some tea, and rubbed the corner of his eyes. "That’s what Iekane's device does, it concentrates a jolt that opens up a corridor to the closest wormhole."

It kind of sounded like something out of Back to the Future…

"A mini flux capacitor?" There went Katsuko, voicing aloud what was in my own brain. Aki aside, I needed to get out of this timeline for my sanity.

"Flock's capacity? You want to bring birds into this?" Yuki bypassed the pastry and glared a bit at the double serving on Shingen's tray. "What will that do?"

The others ignored him beyond giving him a fond smile.

Katsuko nodded to Sasuke. "Makes sense. Thunder-snow. Yuki, do you remember there was thunder and snow when we encountered Iekane at Togakushi? But our timeline’s Iekane didn’t have a device – or I suppose he didn’t need it. We were already expecting that wormhole to manifest."

"And unfortunately, we don’t have time to wait for the solstice. Therefore, I believe our best course of action would be to try to use the device to send Kaya and Aki to the future. Her timeline." Sasuke pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Theoretically, this timeline’s Iekane does not have the prototype, or one would think he would be using it often.”

Shingen looked at Sasuke and nodded. “I trust your best guess. That said, we don’t know where ended up after he and Katsu went into the wormhole, so my spies will keep searching for Iekane."

"As will mine." Katsuko grabbed a scroll and brush and jotted down a note.

“You have your own spies?" Not only does this timeline's Katsu have what appears to be a perfect partner, she gets her OWN spies?

"Birthday present," she murmured. Ok. That might blow Mitsuhide's gift of a lock pick set out of the water.

He also got you that pretty robe, and he played the flute for you when you were unconscious…

My inner voice was apparently feeling especially snarky today.

Sasuke brought out the device. "I've managed, theoretically, to override the device’s initial coding." Sasuke proceeded to go in to a technical explanation that was at its basis, a pretty sophisticated form of hacking. "So, Kaya, all that I need is your thumbprint and you can use it to take Aki into the future."

That’s all?

I was a bit nervous to have control over the device. "You don't want that honor for yourself?" After hearing about Katsuko’s terrifying experience, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be the pilot on this adventure.

"While I would, in fact be otherwise thrilled to do so," Sasuke exchanged glances with Katsu and Shingen. "I’m afraid I could set it off course."

Oh right. If Sasuke had control over it, we'd just end up going to his future - which would be fine for Aki, but would keep me in the wrong timeline. Although at least if that happened I would never have to run into the version of Mitsuhide who was in love with Mai (although apparently he loves her here too, so… I was kind of SOL no matter where I went).

The thought was brief, and somewhat selfish. Who knew what kind of chaos would come about if I continued to stay in the wrong timeline? And, I still needed to return to my timeline’s Sakai and follow up Aki's information on Toshiie.

“For a similar reason, I have come to the conclusion that I will be unable to accompany you on a journey to your own timeline.” With a slight attitude of reluctance, he set the device down on Shingen’s desk. "I would relish the opportunity to have a long discussion with another version of myself."

Was I imagining that everyone else seemed a bit scared of that idea?

He looked down at his paperwork. "However such a conversation could present a danger to the balance of the multiverse, and with no guarantee of returning to this particular timeline-" He gave a sideeye to Shingen, "although I am relatively certain between myself and I, I could figure it out- I have decided not to make the attempt."

Subtext: he had been planning to go anyway, and Shingen talked him out of it.

With Aki’s condition worsening by the hour, we decided not to waste any more time waiting. Shingen and Yuki helped carry Aki to a deserted area behind Tsutsujigasaki Castle. In the distance were some archery targets, so I figured that was what it was normally used for. Good plan to leave from here – the castle inhabitants would avoid this area when Katsuko was out here, to avoid getting hit by stray arrows.

Although, since she was me, there wouldn’t be any stray arrows. We’d both learned accuracy one stable wall repair at a time.

Sasuke handed me a packet containing his contact information and a letter I was to give to his other self. "I hope, that at some point, he will be able to figure out how to communicate with me – or however many versions of me there are."

Unlike me, Sasuke seemed not at all weirded out by the prospect of a multiplicity of selves.

While Katsuko took a private moment to say whatever she needed to say to our father, I gave my goodbyes and thanks to Lord Shingen and Yukimura. "It must have been strange for you two, thank you for putting up with me."

"Surrounded by another vision of my devil? Not strange at all." By now, I knew Shingen well enough to know that the flirting was second nature, as was a dry sense of humor, so I simply bowed to him again.

Yuki just grinned at me and punched me in the arm. "You’re not so bad, dummy." High praise from that one.

Katsuko left Aki’s side and I found myself in a long hug with my alternate… no this isn't weird at all. "Good luck. With everything." That was all she said. But maybe she figured I would know what she meant by 'everything,’ since she was me.

Then, per Sasuke's instructions, I put my arms around Aki, activated the device, and once again, hoped there wouldn’t be any dinosaurs.

There was that sharp buzzing noise, and the world dissolved into grey once again.

All sounds muffled, then faded out.

@selenacosmic

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