#Truck Race Trophy

[radracer]

Roger Mears Nissan D21 Hardbody

[dak91]

[optimabatteries]

#OPTIMAbatteries sponsored #TrophyTruck racer, Christopher Polvoorde won the 2024 Toyo Desert Challenge at the King of the Hammers! http://www.powerpacknation.com

[masoncarr2244]

[johnnykillmore]

A Winter Earned, A Summer's Call

It’s a strange thing when nothing material in your life has changed, but your perspective has. I like someone’s example of being pulled over by the police on your way to work, but the officer decides not to give you a ticket. You feel like you had Continue reading A Winter Earned, A Summer’s Call

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober 7 - Slasher Chase

Slasher Ghoap x Reader

CW: Anxiety/panic, minor character death, Brandon mention, confusion, Final Girl Actions, no smut, a tiny smooch

Note: This is unrelated to the existing slasher universe, because Slasher Ghost is rude and has been fighting me all month.

Mind the tags

You can see road. The parking lot of the little general store, it’s right there, you just have to keep running. Your lungs are screaming at you, but if you can just get to the lights -

You almost don’t believe it when you spill through the tree line. There’s only one truck near you, but a man is there, putting paper bags into the bed. Brandon. For once, you’re glad to see him. You’re too breathless to shout, so you just stumble toward him while waving one arm wildly.

When he sees you, his usual smarmy smirk falls, just a touch. He doesn’t approach you, though, just puts his hands in the pockets of his stupid, puffy jacket and watches you stumble closer.

“Damn, Kitten,” he calls, that damn pet name, but you’re so close to safety. “What happened to y-”

You’re halfway to him when a crack echoes off the mountains and the brick of the building. Brandon’s head snaps backwards. The rest of his body follows, crumpling at the same time as you do. You barely feel the concrete scrape up your hands as you collapse. You watch as the front right tire pops from another shot, and then a hole pierces the body of the truck. It doesn’t take long for you to smell gas.

You’re not sure how long you’re there, panting and shaking on your knees. Your mind is racing so fast it feels quiet. Your heart pounds like it’s arrested. You don’t have any tears left.

“Ghost did tell him naetae talk to ye again.”

You can’t even flinch as Soap strides past you, whistling a jaunty little tune that will haunt your nightmares, if you survive this. You watch him crouch over Brandon’s body, the red skull of his mask cocked to examine the damage you can’t see. You don’t feel anything when he lifts Brandon’s slack arm, until he strips his wrist of that stupid, fancy camping watch.

That watch was two and a half thousand dollars, and Brandon had ruined your life over it.

That’s the only thing you can focus on, as you clamber to your feet. Your hands hurt, but not as much as that watch. You’re exhausted, but nothing is as exhausting as that watch. You need to run, but not as much as you need that fucking watch.

Soap watches you approach with that infuriating smirk. “Aw, hello, hen.”

Your knuckles crack against his jaw. You know that the only reason your fist connects is because he isn’t expecting it. You expect the way he laughs, but that doesn’t matter. You snatch the watch from his hand.

What you don’t expect is the huge hand that closes around your throat from behind. You flail, catching Soap in the thigh with a desperate kick, but Ghost has you well in hand before you can do anything else.

He pries your fingers open, but lets you keep your thumb gripped around the band of the watch. “Well, well. Kitty’s first trophy.”

Soap makes a disgruntled noise, even as he catches the rifle Ghost tosses his way.. “Finders keepers!”

“Don’t get greedy,” Ghost growls. The arm he’s wrapped around your upper chest gives you a squeeze. “She ‘elped line up the shot, she gets to pick ‘er prize.”

“Wasnae hardly a help,” Soap grumbles, kicking Brandon’s sprawled body. “Fucker lined himself up.”

You feel like throwing up as Ghost turns you around and pets a huge hand over the top of your head. The edge of his skull mask is hard against your eyebrow when he dips down to kiss your cheekbone through his mask.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Everyone starts somewhere. We’ll make an 'unter of you, yet.”

[nyoomfruits]

‘shush’ maxoscar or lestappen!

[ shush ] for a kiss to silence the other party

“The lease on my apartment is ending,” Oscar says, drops it in the middle of Max’s weirdly fond rant about the cats having developed the ability to open doors and using it mostly for evil. They’re sitting on the couch in Max’s apartment, Max’s toes tucked under Oscar’s thigh, Oscar’s feet resting on the little pouf in front of the couch. They’re both holding a half-eaten plate of stir fry, one of the few dishes Max can make without making Oscar wince repeatedly, half-watching an old episode of Friends on the TV.

“Oh,” Max says, frowns. “The Monaco one, you mean?”

Oscar nods. He got it last year, when he was in his second year of F1 still, and even though he’d just signed a multi-year contract with McLaren, it had felt presumptions, to assume this was going to be his home for a long time. And so he’d rented an apartment, just for the year, and see how he felt after.

And then Max had happened, right after the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar had bumped into him at the party, mixed feelings about his own win, Max angry about his race, and they’d collided in something that was really only meant to blow off steam, on both sides really.

But then it had happened again. And again. And again. And then Oscar had started sleeping over at Max’s place more and more. They started spending time between races together, they started spending all of their time between races together. Oscar has a key now, to Max’s place, right next to the keys to his own apartment. One he hasn’t really been to in the past three months or so.

One of which the lease is ending soon.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. And he’s not asking any questions, because he’s bad at asking these questions, but Max has always been exceptional at reading him, so.

“Well, we will have sell most of the furniture, I think,” Max says, placing his fork down, because he still refuses to try and eat noodles with chopsticks. “Unless you want to keep some of it. But I hope not. That couch is quite ugly.”

“Thanks, Max,” Oscar says, but he can’t help but smile behind his own bite of noodle. It is a bit of an ugly couch, truth to be told. He hadn’t put that much thought into styling his apartment, just let the stylist at the store decide what he needed.

“You’re welcome,” Max says, smiling. “Anyway, do you think we would need a truck? Your clothes are mostly here already, we’ll have to take some of the decorations and stuff, the trophy’s obviously. Do you still have those plates from the one time I actually came over to your place for lunch? I quite liked those, maybe bring those. Maybe a truck is a bit much, I can ask Lando, he has this ridiculously large Range Rover for some reason, he might let me borrow it, we can shove all the stuff in the back. It’s not that far from your apartment to here, so it’s shouldn’t take us that long-“

And that’s, belatedly, when it hits Oscar. What Max is talking about. Why he’s so concerned about Oscar’s furniture and how he’s going to move it all and what he’s going to keep. Because to Max, the only really logical explanation is that he moves here. All Oscar had wanted was to open the conversation, talk about their future maybe. But to Max, their future has always been crystal clear.

It’s them. It’s here. It’s forever.

Oscar purposely puts his plate aside, leans forward, slow deliberate, takes Max’s plate away from him as well, and then, right in the middle of Max’s rant about Oscar’s decorative bed pillows, kisses him full on the mouth.

“Hey,” Max says, when he pulls away, looking slightly confused. “What was that for?”

“I love you,” Oscar says, because he doesn’t really know how else to say ‘I want that too’ and ‘thank you for everything you are’ and ‘you are my favorite person in the whole world’.

Max smiles, slow and soft and fond, and presses another kiss to Oscar’s lips. “I love you too,” he says, and then, just because he’s Max, adds, “Roomie.”

Oscar laughs, one that releases all the tension he’d been feeling about bringing this up, let’s his head fall forward against Max’s chest, takes in the familiar scent of laundry detergent and Max. “Don’t,” he warns.

Max laughs too, rubs his hand over Oscar’s back as Oscar picks his head off of Max’s chest and leans in for another slow, long kiss.

Roomies. Oscar will take it, if that means he gets to have this.

[zippidi-dooda]

So, years ago I was rewatching Cars and since the Bakugou brainrot was strong, I suddenly got the idea that "Hey, Lighting's a bit of a prick at first ... what if I made a story based off this movie with Bakugou as McQueen?" I was specifically looking at the scene where McQueen gets the white-wall tires, y'know his "suit change to impress Sally, and that one drawing someone made of Bakugou in a white suit occupied my brain and it solidified my "this is a good idea" thoughts (ps can't find that specific image no matter how I search it, but if I do I'll add it here sometime)

I had planned to take notes, rewatching the movie over and over to see what I could replace some scenes with since the characters for this story would be human racers and stuff.

Now, I never got around to it

But I took mental notes only writing the important things (what characters would best fit as who) and imagining scenes between Y/N and Bakugou (but not writing those down for some reason??? Still remember bits of some of them though) And wrote half of the first chapter

Here they are to finally see the light of day, (I'll explain why I wrote the characters as who if I remember why):

Summary

Life going was perfectly for the speed racer, Bakugou Katsuki. He had it all, the speed, the fame, the money, and was just one race away from becoming Japan's number one racer. But life seemed to have other plans in mind for him.

***

Speed.

That's what was always needed of Bakugou on the track. And Bakugoy always delivered. Today would be different though. 

He was speed.

He'd push it to the limit - no. Past the limit.

He would win this race and Deku would no longer be number one.

Deku . . . .

Man how he hated the curly haired, green eyed freak. Deku would never amount to nothing, all of those days Bakugou spent playing in the backyard with the kid, racing their remote control cars and playing video games taught him that.  

He never once lost to that loser and made sure to let Deku know that would never change. Ever. Bakugou would always be on top. Number one.

Boy did karma hit him hard.

"Dynamite! You gotta get out there already!"

"I fucking got it!"

Bakugou opened his red eyes, looking around his trailer. 

He was sitting on top of a cabinet with his eyes closed, waiting for show time.

Being alone in his trailer doing nothing was a ritual he always did before a race.

No reason why. He just did it.

The trailer had space for tools and such in case he needed to tune up his car on the go. But there were also shelves lined with his trophies from past races and merchandise featuring him or his car. A single picture waited for him on top of a small cabinet, which held snacks and an extra pair of clothes for him. A mini fridge was next to it holding drinks and such in case he got thirsty on a long drive.

Bakugou practically lived in the trailer. Always having to travel here and there to get to races. He sat in his car the whole time. It was a little cramped sure, but he preferred it to taking a plane, flying to his hotel, having to deal with paparazzi, possibly bumping into Deku or other competitors and having to talk to them.

Bakugou had a short fuse and often ran his mouth to the point rivals would try to fight him. And when that happened Hakamada would force him to have grade school lessons for manners and etiquette and all that to teach him how to "play nice."

That was useless. (And for some reason he was always forced to wear jeans and over-brush his hair?)

Katsuki Bakugou didn't need to be treated like a kid. So the trailer became his favorite place.

Through the tinted windows he could spot the extra from his pit crew who yelled walking away, past the other trucks. He rolled his eyes at them, he knew he could finish every race without a crew but it was required in order to race. So he (had to) let them stick around. They never got along, but it was fine by him since it meant no unnecessary interactions outside of the racecourse.

His manager, Hakamada, did chew him out for it saying he needed a good relationship with the team in order to get a better performance. But they did just fine now so there was no need to try with them.

Bakugou tightened his gloves, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then got ready to walk out the trailer door. He took a second to pick up the photo sitting on the cabinet. He looked at it for a second, memorizing again every detail on the piece of paper, his grip tightening before pressing a chaste kiss to it and tucking it into his chest pocket.

It was a good luck charm you could say. Never raced without it on him.

It was go time.

He was instantly blinded by flashing cameras clicking away, mics up in his face, people waving at him, and shouting - from both the reporters and the crowd.

"Mr. Dynamite!"

"YESSSSS!"

"DYNAMITE!"

"Over here!"

"Tulsa from Konto News, can I get a statement?"

"SIGN MY FOREHEAD!"

"Do you think you'll win this race?"

Bakugou held back a groan.

He always had to walk with a crowd of reporters towards his station. Still, he hadn't entirely warmed up to all the randos always in his face but he indulged them with some words.

"Sit down and watch the damn race for your answers."

"Mr. Dynamite, over here!"

"Dynamite, I'm with Dai Press-"

"I LOVE YOU DYNAMITE!"

"MARRY ME!"

He paused in his walk and addressed the people around him.

"All I have to say to you is, I'm gonna win. That is one sure thing you can get from this race so stick around."

They grew louder. Bakugou ignored them and continued walking until he heard one thing.

"You and Deku have been neck in neck since the start of your career, Dynamite, and you've only been first in the beginnings of every race. You've never actually ended any race in first. Never went home with a first place prize. How do you expect to come out on top today?"

Bakugou turned on his heels and scanned the people, "Who the hell said that?"

He wasn't sure and everyone continued speaking over one another. So, he yanked a random mic out of someone's hand.

"Deku's had his undeserved moment in the sun long enough. I can promise you this: his lucky streak ends with me. Got that? Put that in the papers."

Shoving the mic into whose ever hand, Bakugou continued to his spot, picking up the pace and blocking out everything else anyone had to say.

***

"Alright Dynamite, if you want to win this race for once you need to get your ass over here for a pit stop. Every time we call you over. Can you do that or are you enjoying eating greenies dust all the time."

Bakugou scowled at the extra handing him his helmet.

If they really wanted him to listen maybe they shouldn't be such assholes to him all the time. He wasn't the problem here.

"Fuck off extra, I don't need to stop for you losers every lap. You're just here freeloading off my success so sit down and shut the fuck up."

Bakugou snatched his helmet and shoved the guy out of his way. Right into another extra dressed in aquamarine. 

The two fell down, knocking over a dresser full of tools on the way. Tools were scattered all across the ground.

Bakugou couldn't be bothered to help.

He took a waterbottle from another extra's hand and took a big sip.

"What the fuck man!'

"My bad ... man ... I'll help clean this up."

"Get the hell out of here, I got it."

"What's going on here?"

Bakugou scowled at the last voice. 

It was Deku. And he had no business coming over to him like this. Every goddamn race. The two were always stationed next to each other meaning every pit stop and start and end of the race Bakugou had to see his rival's annoying face. 

And every chance they were near each other, Deku felt the need to say hello.

Idiot.

"Nothing just fell down."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I got this."

"Are you sure cause we can totally help out."

"Don't worry about it, it's our station we'll handle it."

"Get the fuck out of here Deku, you got stuff to do and so do we." Bakugou said.

"You're right, but I only came over for a second. Just to check up on you."

"I'm fine. Now leave. And keep pink cheeks out of here. I don't need her or anyone else distracting my crew, got it?"

"Got it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess," The short, brown haired, brown eyed girl walked over to him with a pen and paper in hand. "I just wanted to see if I could get an autograph. It's for my nephew, you're his favorite racer and it's his birthday next week so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for him."

Bakugou rolled his eyes before taking the page and getting ready to sign it. It had a crudely drawn image of himself besides a little boy, the girl's nephew he assumed, the both of them holding up a trophy as confetti rained down on them. 

Bakugou froze for a moment.

The picture, though ugly, warmed his heart. He knew he had fans but this drawing just showed that they believed he would win a race. And the fact that he had a fan that probably knew Deku, met with him face to face (there was no way the dumbass didn't like pink cheeks since she was always around him, so he probably went to her house once or twice) and they still picked him over the momentary number one . . . It made him feel good inside. 

Maybe one day he'd have a kid of his own and they could cheer for him too . . . .

He smirked and began to sign.

"What's the extras name?"

"Hiro."

"Tell him he's on the right team." Bakugou gave back the paper. "There you got what you came for now leave."

"Thank you so much. C'mon Deku."

The girl began to drag him away.

"Hold on, Uraraka. Kacchan . . . ?"

Bakugou frowned again. "What now?"

The boy's mouth opened and closed for a bit as he searched for the right words to say.

He held out his hand to him. "Good luck out there today."

Bakugou scoffed and slapped his hand away.

"You'll need the luck more than I do cause I'm gonna beat your ass this time."

Deku smiled a bit as he watched Bakugou walk away. He may not have said it the normal way but at least he'd told him good luck back for once.

Deku turned and walked back to his own car.

***

Notes

McQueen: Bakugou - main character, acts like him and their traits align, need that Life Could be a Dream scene to happen with him

Mater: Kiri - the best friend that will make him realize things, who else could fill thus roll, their energy would match well

Chick Hicks: Todoroki - he's not a hick and personalities don't match but he fits as a well known figure that Bakugou would hate yet want to race, Todo will remain calm and aloof and claim BK is his best friend

Dinoco: Midoriya - BK hates him and would also want to beat him as a racer so of course he's here, could be switched with Chick but since the Dinoco brand was a dominant figure/sponsor in Cars I imagine the brands they race for as the old Pro Hero's and the biggest retiring Pro is All Might and he trains MD so obviously it'd be the same in this universe and so Dinoco's Dad: All Might - for those reason's

Doc Hudson: Aizawa - the mentor figure, he does watch and help BK so I think it's fitting, their personalities and morals seem to align and they both stay away from the cameras so despite Jeanist also being a good choice here, I thought that AZ fits better (Jeanist ended up as BK's current/first sponser)

Sherrif: President Mic - (I was today years old when I realized it's Present Mic not President) since he also helps watch and guide these kids I think he could work this role, using police sirens would make sense considering his quirk, can't separate him and AZ

Army Dude: Shinsou - also one who can't be separated from AZ, not particularly a connection to the character but the Radiator Springs residents kinda seem like they don't like McQueen at first so they'd need to hate BK as well and Shinsou would be good at that, he can also cause some drama by being close with Y/N if so desired

Red: Eri - another who can't be separated from AZ, Red is shy and timid which can be applied to Eri especially since she may be scared upon seeing BK wreck the town as a first introduction, Red listens to Sally's requests which can apply as well

Filmore: Mineta - uhm, why? I honestly don't remember but he may be subject to change, Filmore is kinda another form of comic relief I think and Mineta can be useful to create certain situations, a reason to stir up protectivness in BK, and since Denki will be in here I'd like to put them in shared scenes since I think they're funny together

Guido & Luigi: Sero & Kaminari - need the BakuSquad here and I think it'd be interesting to have these two co-run a store, Guido and Luigi are interested in McQueen at first but then aren't (cause he's not a Ferrari) and Sero and Kaminari seem to have no trouble poking fun at BK so I think it could work

Flo: Ashido - again the BakuSquad, their personalities really seem to match, sassy confident Mina is a must and I think she'd run an amazing dinner, so fun, she would also be one of the only gal-pals for Y/N and vice-versa

Sally: Y/N - MC and love interest, I can make personalities match a bit and BK would need people that question and prod him, lots of liberties here

Granny: Y/N's grandma - honestly who else is this gonna be, loved this lady in Cars and would derive most dialogue and scenes using what was in the movie, could write scenes where Granny is no longer out of pocket and senile and gives serious advice and warnings to BK when they're alone (delivered through one line of dialogue and she's immediately back to appearing crazy as if nothing happened)

I never wrote anything about the flame sticker car Ramone and honestly don't know who could fit as him now, maybe I'll search for suitable characters or write up a specific one if I decide to continue this.

If you'd be interested in reading a story like this, feel free to tell me and I might pick this up again

And if you do want this, also share suggestions for who in mha can fill in for the role of Ramone

[umgeorge]

"Spa Counts As A Victory For Me"

In an interview with auto motor und sport, George Russell reveals why Spa counts as a victory for him, why the Mercedes has become a winning car again, and how he sees his new teammate Andrea Kimi Antonelli.

Was the denied victory at Spa your greatest race? Russell: Absolutely, for a number of reasons. I trusted my gut feeling that I could get through the second set of tires. I protected the tires where I had to and attacked where the tires didn't mind. Four corners still had the old aggressive asphalt. I had to be careful, more so in left-hand bends than in right-hand bends. It felt like I was sitting in the simulator. I didn't see any cars in the rearview mirror or in front of me. That happens very rarely. There weren't even lapped cars there.

When were you sure that you would no longer be caught up? Russell: On the two large video walls on the track I could see my lead over Lewis, Leclerc and Piastri lap after lap. I counted every round. With ten laps to go I had 13 seconds to spare and they were gaining seven tenths per lap. I knew then: If they caught up with me, it would only be at the very end. And overtaking was harder this time than usual. That gave me confidence. When I saw the checkered flag it was an indescribable feeling. Let's be honest: For me, this race counts as a victory, even if it was taken away from me. I was first across the finish line. I stood on the podium and celebrated with my team. Everything you do when you really win.

How big was the disappointment after the disqualification? Russell: She was limited. I'm not fighting for the title this year. The 25 points I lost might end up costing me third or fourth place in the World Championship, but I'm not racing to be third or fourth. If it had still been about the World Cup, this disqualification would have haunted me longer. Together with the defect at Silverstone, I've already lost 40 points.

When was the frustration digested? Russell: Pretty quickly. It helped that the very next day I went on vacation with my girlfriend, my sister, my brother-in-law and their newly born child. I'm an uncle now. It was easy for me to leave the Formula 1 world.

When did you hand the trophy to Lewis? Russell: I didn't. I don't even know where it is now. I found out just 25 minutes after the end of the race that there was a problem with the car. That's why I didn't take the trophy with me.

Would a full victory lap to pick up tire shreds have saved you? Russell: I think so. This is a procedure that you already do in the kart. My set of tires weighed over a kilogram less than Lewis's. We've never had such a big difference. I was 500 grams lighter than my usual fighting weight. And the plank under my car had worn more, which also added up to a few hundred grams. These three factors led to the underweight. A tire with a pickup truck easily weighs 400 grams more. With four tires that would have been enough.

We have already seen a few times that one-stop strategies led to success even though they were not actually thought to be feasible. Is this a lesson for the future? Russell: I think that during the race you have to examine the circumstances even more and react to them if necessary. In Spa on race day there was suddenly a strong tailwind on the long straight. That made overtaking very difficult. You have to adapt your strategy. The route itself also plays a role. With the little grand pianos in Spa, the DRS gave you two and a half tenths. In Barcelona it would have been six tenths. My tactics from Spa would never have worked in Barcelona.

Four cars can win a Grand Prix. A mistake on Friday can cost you victory on Sunday. Is that in the back of your mind? Russell: The smallest detail can make a huge difference. Saturday and Sunday. In the last two years it wouldn't have mattered whether we qualified two tenths faster or slower. The starting position would have been the same. Today there is a difference of five starting places. In Zandvoort we made a mistake with the setup. We only realized that afterwards. That's why we ended up in the middle of nowhere. But that's how racing should be. That's how it was in karting, in Formula 3 and Formula 2.

Can the Mercedes win on every track? Russell: We surprised ourselves in Spa, but we showed less than we can do in Zandvoort. In Monza we were strong on one lap, but we lacked the speed in the race. We still struggle to understand why we are fast or not. But the big swings are no longer there. But the others aren't doing any better either. But I think McLaren is still slightly ahead.

What still needs to be improved on the car? Russell: We struggle more when the rear tires are under a lot of pressure. This increases the hotter it is. Then the traction suffers. The problem is not easy to understand. Our predictions are true in reality. We know what we gain or lose depending on the temperature. But it doesn't do us any good to compare ourselves with ourselves. We lose more relative to the competition when it's hot. The question is: Are our opponents particularly good in the heat or are we not good enough? The same applies to cooler conditions. Either we are particularly strong or the others are bad compared to us. And these are exactly the little things that can have huge effects.

Hamilton and you praised the current car from the start, even though Red Bull dominated at the start of the season like last year. What gave you the confidence that the W15 could be made into a winning car? Russell: For the last two years we've had a car that's been extremely moody. When we pushed to the limit in the corners, the rear started to slip at the entrance to the corner. No matter what vehicle setup, we simply couldn't get rid of this problem. When we tested the current car for the first time in Bahrain, we were confronted with the opposite handling. But we knew we could solve this problem much easier and faster. That was the turning point for us. That's why the upgrades worked. Each change put the car in a better window. The old problem was essentially in the DNA of the chassis and therefore could not be eliminated.

From your perspective, the last two years have probably been disappointing. In the end, did you learn more from the difficulties? Russell: The last two years have flown by, and I feel like I still have 15 to 20 years ahead of me. That's why I don't see it as wasted time. As a racing driver, you always want a perfect car. You learn that this is not possible. When you have success over a long period of time, people think it lasts forever. This is a fallacy. When Vettel became world champion four times in a row, you couldn't imagine that someone else would win. The same with Lewis and now maybe with Max too. If the season had started after the summer break, nobody could say who would be world champion. These wave movements are the nature of this sport.

This is the third year now that you have been racing on an equal footing with Lewis Hamilton. Did it surprise you that you can consistently keep up with one of the best drivers of all time? Russell: I never had any doubt that I could compete with the best. And I have been working towards this opportunity. I became champion in all junior categories. The results spoke for themselves. When I entered Formula 1 with Williams, over three years I always beat my teammates in qualifying, with two exceptions. That was confirmation, but not headline news. That's why I wanted the opportunity to assert myself against Lewis because that was the only way I could show what I can do. Toto Wolff and Mercedes knew it beforehand. They didn't need that confirmation. Lewis is a complete racer and I learned a lot alongside him. But I knew that I could keep up with him in terms of sheer speed.

The qualification duel, which ends 12:4 clearly in their favor, also speaks for this. Russell: I'm really happy with my performance in qualifying this year. Mentally I have never been as strong as I am now. Qualification is purely a matter of your head. Every driver on the grid knows how to drive fast. But it is important to show this at the crucial moment. You sit in your car for 45 minutes on Saturday afternoon and everything revolves around a lap in Q3. You have exactly one round in which it's all or nothing. In which your weekend is decided. Then no one cares anymore how fast you were in FP1, FP2, FP3, Q1 or Q2. I have worked for a long time to ensure that I can perform optimally at the right moment. But it's always extremely close between Lewis and me. There is only one driver pairing that is even closer together in terms of lap time.

You will be the veteran and team captain at Mercedes in 2025. Are you ready for this? Russell: This is the next step in my journey. I'll be in the team for four years and part of the Mercedes family for eight or nine years. I feel ready in every way to fight for the World Championship in 2025. I also feel ready to be a little better together with the team every race and to help develop the car further. Next year we will build on what Lewis and I have sown over the last three years.

Your new teammate Andrea Kimi Antonelli is joining a top team straight away. Is it easier or harder for him than you, who was able to study with Williams for three years? Russell: When you're thrown in at the deep end, you learn faster. From my experience I can say that I learned more in my first year alongside Lewis than in my three years at Williams. Every driver who has won championships in their career is fast. You can put him in a top team in his first year, like Lewis once did at McLaren. I'm sure that Charles at Ferrari or Max at Red Bull would have done a good job in a smaller team even without the pre-season preparation. Maybe at the expense of one or two mistakes, but that's part of it. Kimi will learn from this. You either have the speed or you don't. Kimi has it.

[roe-and-memory]

at some point, when he runs out of projects to work on and things to fix, lightning mcqueen takes on the brilliant idea of getting a late model car. what better is there to do in the middle of the week than get out racing — again.

he runs races in kingman at the local track, towing his car on a trailer behind his good ol’ 75’ chevy k10.

its familiar for him. he used to race these cars, he used to race against young drivers and old drivers alike — sometimes, he even got a chance to race against real cup drivers. those were the coolest days of his life at the time.

he recalls the victories and the championships he won in his years as a super late model racer, the only childhood pictures he has being the ones from when he was 15-17 that hang on the wall of macks truck with such intense pride. the idea brings him nostalgia, and the very real realization that he can afford to build a new one — his old one sitting comfortably in the rusteze racing museum — and, since hes done working on his truck, he has all the time in the off season to waste.

his first order of business is a chat with rusty and dusty to work out a sponsor deal.

rusty and dusty are excited at the idea, but being a primary sponsor IS expensive.. so, they tell him that they’d be willing to partner with tex to work out some sort of team and dual primary situation. they KNOW tex has always wanted to sponsor lightning, so why cant he do it now on his lower league car?

tex is delighted by this idea. he gives lightning funds to build the car, as well as works with rusteze to make a middle ground, hot paint scheme that’ll ignite the track and catch everyones eye.

once he has all the materials, his second order of business is putting everything together.

having been his own mechanic for quite a while before his radiator springs racing team came in, he knows the inside and outside of his car like the back of his hand. with minimal instructions, hes got the chassis and frame together in less than a week.

he never told doc about any of this — so imagine the mans surprise when he steps into his garage one morning, lightning is still asleep inside, and he finds the skeleton of a brand new racecar propped up on a bunch of cinder blocks.

he interrogates lightning, finally getting a confession of ‘oh, right…. uhhh wanna be my crew chief in a second series now?’, and he agrees. he helps lightning build the car too, happy father-son bonding time as they discuss what this kind of racing would look like as doc isnt too familiar. when theyre done, ramone paints her, and she’s ready to be entered in a race.

tex essentially covered the entire cost of the car itself, all lightning has to do is pay the small fee of entering it into the local track and everything is settled..

these races turn into a sort of therapy for him. he can race without all the big crowds, and he can have more personal connections with fans this way. it brings the track in kingman more publicity.

lightning is LOVED by the owners of the track. he decides it’d be in his best interest to do autograph signings and fan days there, bringing the track more publicity and more funding — cause all money from these events goes right to them.

aside from that, lightning also cant find it fair for him, a cup driver, to be racing against younger people and teams that arent as wealthy.. each win he gets there results in donation of the money.

sometimes he gives the money to second or third place finishers/their team, depending on who wants it. other times, he donates the winnings to the 50/50 raffle right before its called and he ups the pool — hell, sometimes he’ll just straight up donate the money to a local charity or school. on some random and perhaps slightly rare occasions he gives the money back to the track. its nothing against them, obviously, but he donates a ton already and he thinks other people should get chances — and they completely understand.

the only thing he would ever keep from these wins are his trophies, and even if he doesnt run ever race or he doesnt win every race, being able to get trophies reminiscent of those from his beginnings in the sport brings a smile to his face.

but… imagine one race he just gets Walled. it’s bad. his car is fucked and suddenly the world is spinning — as his car rolls down onto the apron of the track and the caution lights come on, he makes a poor attempt at crawling out of the car. its ends up with him half-sprawled across the pavement trying to remove his helmet and firesuit, racecars going by at a still high speed just meters away from his head.

it sucks, its stupid — the impact broke a bone in his knee and hip that he’d already experiences issues with from a past crash from a similar situation.. he doesnt wanna admit hes hurt, so, he avoids as much contact with medical services and doc, and just insists he’ll walk off the godawful limp hes fighting with — the one sending shudders and tremors through his whole body with each new step he takes — and he wants to fix his car.

this secrecy cant last long, obviously.. i cant imagine what a piston cup race would do to him that same weekend.

[crystal-moon-101]

Species: Silapace Homeplanet: Speluniferous Life-Span: 2000-2050 Habitat: Forests, Plains, Jungles, Wetlands Diet: Herbivores Breeding: Sexual Reproduction

Sexual Dimorphism: Males tend to be silvery metallic, while females are golden metallic. Kids are born with their colours, though genetic mutations with their colours have been known, but these are very rare.

Behaviour/Bio: The silapace is known for being one of the most successful trading plants in the galaxy, and their specie is known for being drowned in riches. However, unlike other races that show off their wealth in obvious ways, the silapaces are known to be down to earth. They are rather chill farmers who pull off a lot of hard work, mostly due to their background.

Their planet is filled with rich soil and minerals, causing a lot of vegetation to grow decently fast and large, whether that be trees, vegetables or fruits. The silapaces evolved to harvest these sources of food and material, their bendable sharp wires perfect for cutting and cleaning the flora around them, and their tusk-like appendages used to dig up the ground, especially when dealing with roots.

They even evolved to hibernate on command, allowing members to sleep through the waiting period for their plants to grow. This also means they reserve a lot of energy easily and thus don’t need to overeat their harvests. So, when they began making connections to the outside world, they were open to trading due to how many resources they had. Their easy-going nature made them easy to make deals with and willing to be reasonable.

They also make a lot of money due to their shedding, as this species will keep growing until the end of their days, becoming too big for their bones to handle. The metal they shed from their body is highly durable, and many species are eager to buy it. However, as their income grew, along with more people wanting their shells and metal skins, they started investing their money in security measures, including bodyguards and mercenaries. It’s not uncommon to see other aliens working on this planet.

To this day, they are still one of the most successful trading groups in the galaxy, and somehow haven’t had the money get to their heads, many hardly using it to buy big mansions and trophies, preferring to live that farming life style. A lot of family businesses can be found around the planet, and even with a decent tech level, they have been able to keep their environment clean and healthy.

Abilities:

Wires - Seeping out of openings in their shells, the silapaces have wire appendages they use for both protecting themselves and doing work. These wires can act as limbs, but due to how sharp and quick they are, they can easily cut through things, a clean cut at that.

Metallic Shell/Skin - While the insides of them are relativliy normal organs, their outside shell and skin are made of a naturally growing metal. This material is high durable and sturdy, being hard to break through and allows them to tank alot, like an oncoming truck. They can also tuck into the shell for added protection, including their wires.

Tusks - They have tusk like pieces on their faces, often used for digging or cutting up stuff, along with being useful when ramming into something. They are mostly used for working, but can be handy in a fight.

Deep Sleep - In just a few seconds, any member they fall asleep within a blink of the eye with ease. A part of their brain is aware of how much time is passing to allow them to wake up by choice, even if some members have been known to sleep for a couple of months.

Heavy Set - The older a member is, the bigger and heavier they are, though even children are known to be a decent weight. It makes it hard to move them by force, and they can use their weight to benefit them in certain situations.

Weaknesses: Due to how heavy they are, they are unable to swim, and it is not recommend for them to step on unstable grounds, making it easy enough for them to be stuck. While the wires can grow back, it will take time if someone is to break them off, or they shed. Big enough wounds or cracks on their shell and skin can not regenerate. They are very slow, and require time to get to places.

[moonshynecybin]

Ok elaborate on the white water kayaking if you would like bc that’s incredible

this is. maybe the thing i think about most lol. NO idea how much people know about kayaking but uh. ask me!

so whitewater kayaking is interesting as a sport bc while there ARE major racing events (the green race!! the north fork championship!! go look them up they’re SICK) it is generally not a formalized racing series that culminates in a trophy like in motorsports. like there’s no seating for spectators even. you get to these races by hiking two hours through the woods and parking your ass on a rock by the river and hoping you don’t fall in bc you are BLASTED drunk. they’re big parties most of the time!

so while the best kayakers in the world DO compete in these things and win them, the sport is frankly more about doing sick stunts with your friends on beautiful rivers all over the world than like. cutthroat fanatical competition. which bezz (who HATED racing against people as a kid never wanted to fight on the track to go fast) would LOVEEEE imo. also literally it is bad practice to go boating alone you NEED a homie with you at all times that’s how you run shuttle that’s how you set safety that helps you scout rapids it is a homie-based activity!!! and bez loves his friends SOOOO bad and especially loves to do dumb life-threatening stuff with them. that’s what big water boating IS.

and it’s just. some aspects of the stuff happening at the ranch and the broader culture of whitewater is very similar in terms of vibes to meeeee. like the adrenaline addiction the injuries the constant threat of death the long hair the dumb tats the earrings the SAME fucking sunglasses kayakers get just cheaper ones. the energy drink sponsorships the going skiing 24/7 in the off-season…. that’s a fucking kayaker to me lol. i look at him and genuinely question why he is not in a dry suit bombing waterfalls in chile. #beater #steazy #booflife he’d love it so bad.

and i AM saving all of my narrative thoughts on bezz kayaking for a fic one day maybe. problem is i don’t know shit about the whitewater scene in italy so i’d have to make these boys like. appalachian. but i do know cele would have the world’s most atrocious rookie crush on hot trip leader bezz and when cele dump trucks a raft and has to do a swim beer out of his nasty bootie (whitewater has like. a reverse shoey system where you only do them if you fuck up) and bezz like, puts his big hand on the back of cele’s neck as he chugs this nasty beer (for maximum crazy this is bezz’s shoe bc cele is a rookie and didn’t want to shell out for the whitewater specific shoe and is wearing chacos) and cele has a small religious experience and flushes BRIGHT RED.

anyways if you want to check out some sick kayakers and are curious regarding the vibe i recommend following aniol serrasolses (catalan legend), nouria newman (badass. has yelled at my brother), and evy liebfarth (from my hometown!). liebfarth is going to the olympics this year in kayaking slalom which IS a formalized racing series but one that generally takes place on closed courses and such and is a small niche in the broader culture of the sport. still very cool and very hard to do. there is also dane jackson who is the arguable GOAT of the sport i just think he’s kind of swagless and one time he put my brother on youtube after he dislocated his shoulder when they were paddling the royal gorge like. cmon man. also his daddy owns a major kayaking manufacturer booooo. he does win the green race like literally every year which IS annoying. to me.

[optimabatteries]

Christopher Polvoorde's OPTIMA Batteries-sponsored Trophy Truck racing in the 2024 SCORE International Baja 500!

[masoncarr2244]

[k0juki]

Jesse x female!reader headcanons but jesse is actually one of the best in F1?🏎️🏁

A/n: OMG YES?! Jesse in Ferrari?

F1driver Jesse x Fem!reader any reader

Words: 242

Warnings: none just fluff!

English in not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

F1driver!Jesse :

- Him flexing when you're in the paddock and almost killing himself in the process as he tries to impress you.

- Definitely "if you hurt yourself, I'll kill you" relationship.

- "Wait! I need my good luck kiss" before the race.

- "if you win, I'll give you a surprise tonight..." Always hit him like a truck when you whisper this in his ear right before the race.

- F1 Jesse would be driving so recklessly that you always have to remind him to not kill himself on the race.

"Just promise me you will be careful there...not driving with your head in the sky" you threatened as you wrapped your hands around his neck. "Of course I am gonna be careful, how could I not be?" He replied with smug on his face. "Yeah, right"

- Everyone knows that he will stand at the top of the podium with the trophy above his head. Feeling proud, knowing he's best out of everyone else, but when he looks down to cheering crowd he only looks for one person there, you.

- When he finally finds you he will blow you a kiss with that beautiful smile you love. And you smiling up at him with stars in your eyes.

- And when you finally have privacy, you will do what you promised him later that night.🫢

---

It's so short 😭 I'm sorry!

The picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

Please do not copy or translate my work!

[magicshopaholic]

Double Take (Hoseok x OC)

Summary: Years after telling the neighbourhood brat to get a life, Hoseok does a double take when he realises she’s no longer the skinny kid who worshipped him once upon a time.

Pairing: Hoseok x OC

Genre: Angst, unrequited love

Word count: 11.7 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Parental death, heartbreak, allusions to sex, mentions of alcohol

A/N: It's finally here! I've been waiting so long to finally put this on paper and to get Hobi's storyline up and running. Hope you enjoy one of my favourite OCs and her story. Since this is more of a prologue than anything else, it can be read standalone.

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

Listen to: “you can't hurry love” by phil collins

hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

When Chaeyoung was a girl, the best person she knew was her older brother. Chanyeol was everything; he was smart, he was kind, he was fun and popular, he was one of the best tennis players in the school and didn’t so much as have a spat with anybody his entire life. He was perfect; in fact, if there was one weakness he had, it was his little sister.

Chaeyoung worshipped him. He was her protector, her best friend, her role model. Every time her parents told her to be more like Chanyeol, it annoyed her only to an extent because why wouldn’t all parents want their kids to be like Chanyeol? He was perfect. From birth to present day, Kang Chanyeol was perfect.

The shift was subtle but crept up on her quickly. Sometime around the time when Chaeyoung was in her last years of elementary school, her mind began to expand. She observed more, listened more, and even started to question herself, but it wasn’t until the middle school sports day that year that it hit her: if there was one person in the world who was cooler than her older brother, it was his best friend, Hoseok.

She would never forget that day. She’d been dragged along by her father and the Jungs to watch the middle-schoolers partake in various sports. She hadn’t been in a good mood; Chanyeol hadn’t been forced to come to her sports day because he had school, and enforcing the reverse had felt grossly unfair. Still, she’d huffed and silently watched the taller kids run around, begrudgingly cheered for her brother when he’d won his tennis trophy, and even taken pictures of various combinations of their family and friends.

By the afternoon, Chaeyoung was becoming tired and cranky. At six years old, she felt ridiculous sitting among adults all day while the other kids hung around with their friends. The day couldn’t end fast enough and when it was finally only the two hundred metre race that was left, she’d breathed a sigh of relief. All her irritation went out the window once the race began, however, and she’d found herself unexpectedly engaged in how close it was. When it ended with Jung Hoseok running through the ribbon, sweaty and victorious, it was like she was seeing a whole different person.

Chaeyoung had known Hoseok for what felt like her entire life. His family had moved to their street when she’d been five, a little over a year after her mother had died. There was the older sister; she looked like an angel the first time Chaeyoung saw her, descending the porch staircase to jog down to catch the school bus. There were the parents who were welcomed to the neighbourhood by her own father who was gardening while a loading truck was parked by their house.

“Chaeyoung! Come and say hello!”

She’d been startled, for she’d been waiting for her own school bus when her father called, but she’d walked over with the confidence of a five year old anyway - when she’d noticed him. A young boy, no older than her brother, was standing silently by his mother’s leg, but with a bright smile on his face. He was scrawny, and slighter than Chanyeol, but seemed taller. Chaeyoung was still staring at him when her brother joined them and when both boys ran into the back of the loading truck at Hoseok’s father’s request, Chaeyoung followed without a second thought.

“Is this yours?” Chanyeol had been asking Hoseok, a gameboy in his hand. Hoseok nodded, the same smile appearing on his face again.

“I got it for my birthday this year,” he’d volunteered almost apologetically, as though needing to provide an explanation for why he had it.

“Cool,” said Chanyeol, sounding impressed. “I just got one, too. For doing well on my exams.” He’d turned the video game in his hands. “Is this the X400? It’s supposed to have Level 12 of the Alien Invasion version…”

Chaeyoung had been watching Hoseok, how his eyes shone as he talked about his video game, how easily her brother had made a new friend. Most importantly, she’d recalled the moment Chanyeol had received the aforementioned gameboy - and how she’d received nothing, because her report card hadn’t been as good as his. She’d gone to bed angry and in tears that night, until her brother had sneaked into her room with his brand new present after everyone had gone to sleep and let her play with it until she’d had her fill.

But this was not the time to dwell on that. There was not a chance in hell that she would be left out of the group because of a gameboy, or lack thereof, and she’d needed to cement the first impression before that happened. So, without thinking about it, Chaeyoung had skipped forward and snatched the gameboy right out of her brother’s hands.

“I’m really good at Alien Invasion, too,” she’d begun to say, interrupting the conversation and starting Chanyeol. Hoseok had broken off mid-word and was staring at her, which made her lose focus for a moment, and somewhere in the commotion, the gameboy fell to the ground and broke in two.

“No!” Hoseok’s face had dropped and he’d rushed to her feet to pick it up, frantically picking up both pieces and turning them around in his hands. “What - what did you do?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” she’d murmured, suddenly feeling very small and short between the boys as her brother stepped closer to Hoseok, calmly taking the smaller piece and looking for where to fix it. Chaeyoung had stood there, motionless, while Chanyeol calmly figured out how to slide the loose piece back on the game.

“There,” he said after a moment, shaking it gently to see if it was fixed. “I think it’s okay.”

Hoseok’s face had been white as a sheet as he confirmed it, pressing one of the buttons and swallowing thickly as she screen lit up. “Yeah,” he said finally. He’d looked up at Chanyeol, eyes wide and grateful. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Her brother had then looked down at her and tilted his head. “Chae, you want to say sorry?”

She already had, but at that moment, Chaeyoung had obeyed him. “Oh - um, sorry.”

Hoseok had glared at her suspiciously. “It’s really expensive,” he’d blurted, his voice a little wobbly.

“I - I know. It was an accident.”

He’d looked like he wanted to say more, but her father’s voice had floated over to them then, informing them that their school bus had arrived. Both boys, as though they’d been doing it every day of their lives, walked out together like the cool, older nine year olds they were and Chaeyoung was left to trail behind them, boarding the bus just as the door closed behind her.

She’d been peering at the different seats, knowing that no matter what, she and Chanyeol would sit together. He always let her sit with him, even if his friends were there. “Oppa, where do you want to -” But she trailed off when she looked up, her chest feeling funny as she watched her brother introduce the new boy to his group of friends at the back of the bus. As the group mumbled their names and started chattering about mundane things, Hoseok took the seat next to Chanyeol.

It had taken a few seconds for Chaeyoung to realise that she’d have to find a seat of her own, for the first time in her life. Her eyes fell to the gameboy in Hoseok’s hands; he was still fiddling with it as he listened to the others talk to each other. His gaze had met Chaeyoung’s then, and his wide, friendly eyes immediately narrowed, letting her know he wasn’t about to forget what she’d almost done anytime soon. With a jerk, the bus began to move.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to become an inevitable part of her life; he and her brother quickly became inseparable, and Chanyeol clearly thought highly of him. He fit in seamlessly at school, he was fun and loud and cheerful, and no one she’d met so far had a single bad thing to say about him.

The only person Hoseok seemed to get annoyed by, apart from his own sister sometimes, was his best friend’s sister. Chaeyoung had noticed how he rolled his eyes every time she tried to hang out with them, how she wanted to be included while they were playing video games or when they wanted to ride their bikes to school. At school, Chaeyoung watched her brother and Hoseok grow further and further away from her, both of them in different buildings of the school, in separate cafeterias and with completely separate groups of friends.

But it was a point of pride for her that despite Chanyeol’s growing popularity, she was still his sister. His friends knew it, her friends knew it - and the only person she allowed to be as close to him was Hoseok, only because he was Hoseok. 

At the sports meet, almost a year after the Jungs moved in next door, she felt like she knew what that meant. When she’d seen the waves of cheering for Hoseok when he won the final race, when she watched how his friends gathered around him, how her brother was the first one to hug him, it occurred to her how badly she wanted to be one of them. So, naturally, since no one stopped her, Chaeyoung ran down to the field with the other kids, ready to congratulate him.

She fought her way through, feeling just as proud of him as everyone else seemed to be. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, after all - he was family. With his damp hair, white jersey and infectious smile, it was like she was seeing the sun. He hadn’t seen her yet, though, but once she made it to the front of the crowd, he finally did. 

Chaeyoung didn’t think she’d ever forget the moment their eyes met. How, for a split second, the euphoria seemed directed at her and she felt stirrings in her heart she’d never felt before. Her legs moved automatically and she rushed to hug him, noticing only just before she reached him how his face went slack and his eyes went wide with horror. 

He stepped back the same moment she reached him, causing her to trip and fall onto him as they both crashed to the ground. It was sudden and unexpected, but Chaeyoung hugged him anyway.

“You were amazing!” she started to squeal, only to be roughly pushed away. She fell on her backside with a soft “oof!”, completely confused for a second until she looked up to see Hoseok scrambling to his feet. His expression was one of immense irritation, a direct contrast to what it was a minute prior, as he dusted his hands on his shorts.

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” he snapped, and it was only then that she realised the noise around her hadn’t died down - they just weren’t cheering anymore. They were laughing.

Chaeyoung sat there on the ground, motionless, too stunned to even cry. It wasn’t at all the reaction she was expecting, until she noticed how Hoseok, his face red, was backing away from the crowd as though trying to make himself invisible. It occurred to her only then what was happening; Jung Hoseok, the coolest boy she knew, was shy.

It made her stomach flutter, that she’d made him shy. Even though Hoseok only glared at her after that and wouldn’t even look at her when their families went out to dinner that night, Chaeyoung knew. She knew she’d seen something on Hoseok’s face she’d never seen before, and she was the only one who’d made him look that way. At six years old, Chaeyoung knew she was in love with Jung Hoseok.

—

Chaeyoung couldn’t remember her mother very well. She hadn’t been barely five when the aneurysm had suddenly been detected. There were some quick hospital visits, the walls white and the sheets crisp, before one evening, her father had come to both her and Chanyeol at the house of the neighbour who’d been babysitting them to tell them that their mother had died.

At the time, Chaeyoung hadn’t quite been able to comprehend it. All she knew was that her father was crying - her father - and Chanyeol was trying his absolute hardest not to. She’d sneaked over to her brother’s room that night to comfort him - after all, he did every time she cried - but when she’d reached the doorway and heard his muffled sobs, she’d broken down as well. It was that, even more than her mother’s sudden death, that had made her succumb to tears that night: the fact that for the first time in her memory, her brother - her tall, perfect nine year old brother - was crying.

As the years went by and Chaeyoung began growing up, she’d realised that losing her mother meant more than just the fact that she would have to dress herself for school. There were conversations with friends, playdates at others’ houses, even casual words between Jiwoo and her mother every time the Jungs came over for dinner, that would give Chaeyoung pause and make her wonder what exactly it was that was lacking in her life without a mother.

Of course, given that she hadn’t really known much about her mother, and remembered even less, there was only so much she could speculate about. Then, about four years after her mother’s death, their father had told them about Seoyoon. He’d been very nervous, she’d been able to tell, but everything he’d said after that made no sense to her at all. Next to her, Chanyeol hadn’t reacted much at all until the end, when he’d simply shrugged when their father asked them if they were okay.

“But what about mom?” Chaeyoung had blurted out, not even realising that from the moment the new lady’s name had left her father’s mouth, these had been the only words in her mind, going round and round on a loop.

Her father had tilted his head and looked at her sadly. “Mom…” He’d trailed off for a moment. “Mom will always be your mom. Nobody else will ever be able to take her place. Even in my life,” he’d continued, and he’d reached out and held Chanyeol’s hand, “no one will ever be able to replace her. But Seoyoon is…” He’d blinked rapidly for a few seconds. “At a certain age, sweetheart… it gets too hard to be alone.”

At the time, Chaeyoung had taken this to mean that this new woman, this Seoyoon, was something of a playmate, someone for her father to chat with on the phone and watch movies with once in a while. It still wasn’t the best feeling but she didn’t know how to put it into words, the feeling of seeing something slip through her fingers and being powerless to catch it. She’d looked up at Chanyeol, who was staring at the ground and finally nodded. A moment later, Chaeyoung nodded, too, for if her brother was okay with it, so was she.

When she went up to her room, she suddenly felt terribly lonely. It was too dark and she felt that if she were to cry as loudly as she could, no one would hear her, and no one would care. She thought of her mother, a face she only knew from pictures, a voice she scarcely remembered, and whose touch she could only imagine. She pictured her mother right beside her, understanding everything she was feeling and murmuring quietly, as quiet as the wind, that everything would be alright.

Call me if you need me.

It was one of the only things Chaeyoung had any memory of her mother saying, a vivid picture of her scribbling her cell phone number next to her husband’s on a piece of white card and tucking it safely inside Chaeyoung’s pocket. It was what she said now, sweetly, silently.

I will, Ma.

It was the first night she dreamed Ma into existence. 

Ma stayed after that. She felt like a mother whenever Chaeyoung thought about her, but better than all her friends’ mothers. She never told Chaeyoung to finish her vegetables, she always realised it was unfair when her father would compare her marks to Chanyeol’s, and she always, always took Chaeyoung’s side. When Chaeyoung was annoyed or angry, Ma would be there. Sometimes, even when she was happy, like when she made it onto the football team, Ma was there - not with the other parents in the stands, but right there next to Chaeyoung on the field.

She didn’t know whether to tell Chanyeol. On the one hand, she trusted him more than anybody else in the world - and wasn’t she his Ma, too? But when she tried to broach the topic of their mother once, when he’d been studying and she’d been bursting to tell someone, Chanyeol had been uncharacteristically abrupt with her.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Chae.”

He’d interrupted her when she’d been mid-sentence, and she’d fallen silent. He seemed to realise this, for a moment later he looked up at her and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I really need to study for this test.” When she only nodded and said nothing, he continued. “Also, now that dad has… now that Seoyoon is here, I just don’t think it’s right to talk about mom.”

If Chaeyoung had been older, if she’d realised that her brother, too, was a child who was doing the best he could, she would have seen this statement as evidence that he was coping with the loss of their mother, just like she was. But in her nine year old wisdom, she took this to mean that Seoyoon was the reason no one could talk about her mother anymore.

Seoyoon was invited for dinner later that week, and again the week after that. After that it became more and more frequent, to the point that she was there when Chaeyoung and her brother returned home from school, and Chanyeol at least stopped seeming surprised.

A couple of months later, her father sat them down and told them his plan. He’d looked nervous yet hopeful, until relief washed over his face when Chanyeol gave him a small smile and nodded in assent.

He’s lying! Chaeyoung wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn’t work, not when her father turned to her and his expression changed from relief to anticipation, as though he was expecting a fight. Chaeyoung didn’t disappoint, and even though she knew he’d do what he wanted anyway, she bit the inside of her cheek and exhaled sharply.

“You promised you wouldn’t forget about mom,” was all she said and at nineyears old, it seemed like the crux of the issue. No matter how much her father tried to convince her he hadn’t, Chaeyoung knew that she, at least, would do everything possible to keep her mother with her.

Later that week her father finally pulled the plug and proposed to Seoyoon. The following weekend, he threw an announcement dinner with the Jungs from next door, where Chaeyoung watched this woman throughout. Her stepmother; this new woman who was sitting in her mother’s kitchen, laughing with her father and giving presents to her and her brother like she’d known them forever. 

Chaeyoung was too startled to do anything but quietly accept it and echo a thank you along with her brother. No one will ever be able to replace your mom, her father had promised. Chaeyoung didn’t know what that meant anymore; all she knew was that there were eight people in the room, four in each family, and that her mother was not one of them.

Sometime during dessert, when there was music playing and the adults were chatting with drinks in their hands, Chaeyoung slipped out of the front door and sat on her porch. Chanyeol was busy with something inside and, anyway, she had no interest in hanging around with him right now. It was rare but it happened, and right now she simply wanted away from all the music and energy.

It was a reasonably chilly night, and she involuntarily shivered when she sat down on the porch. It was quiet as she waited for Ma, and she closed her eyes in wait. A sudden rustling made her eyes snap open, followed by a groan.

“Chaeyoung?”

Her heart instantly zoomed, which seemed to be the default reaction for her body every time Hoseok entered her mind space. She looked up to see him come into view, standing at the edge of the front yard.

“Yeah,” she said immediately, hearing the forced upward lilt in her own voice.

He sighed loudly. “Seriously? Are you following me again?”

Chaeyoung felt herself deflate. This, too, seemed to be a default reaction every time she entered his mind space. 

“No,” she mumbled. “What are you doing out here?” she asked after a moment.

“I lost my keychain this morning. I think I dropped it here.” He sighed, glancing at her begrudgingly. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen it? It’s a Manchester United one.”

Chaeyoung bit her lip. She knew which keychain he was talking about, for not only had she seen it, she had it. She’d seen it fall out of the side pocket of Hoseok’s backpack this morning when all three of them walked to the school bus. As usual, she’d been walking behind both boys, trying to keep up with their conversation as they chattered about something hilarious that had happened during their class field trip yesterday.

Every time she’d tried to interject, they either continued their conversation like they hadn’t heard her, or they would tell her to stop interrupting. When Hoseok finally snapped at her (“Can you please shut up for a second?”), she’d sulked but obliged, feeling rather annoyed again. The final nail in the coffin had been just before they’d been about to board, and a girl in the window - a beautiful, popular thirteen year old girl with pretty curls and blue ribbon - smiled out the window. Chaeyoung had followed her gaze and swallowed as she realised she was smiling at Hoseok - and he was smiling back.

Chaeyoung had felt her heart drop and her teeth grit. As she followed the boys into the bus, she’d spotted something shiny on the ground. Bending down to pick it up, she’d realised what it was and who it belonged to. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pocketed it, knowing that no matter who he smiled at, Hoseok’s favourite keychain with his favourite football team on it belonged to her.

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

Hoseok sighed loudly and dramatically, climbing the porch stairs and about to sit down, before apparently thinking better of it. He remained standing, as though afraid of being too close to her and while that would usually break Chaeyoung’s heart enough for her to cry herself to sleep, tonight she simply felt a dull throb and a whole lot of impatience for his snark.

“Why aren’t you inside?” he asked.

“I want to be outside,” she answered defiantly. 

“Okayyy.” 

“Chan’s talking to Cruella in there,” she muttered after a moment. The image of her brother, smiling and graciously welcoming Seoyoon into the family, made her sick. If she’d spent another moment in there, she swore she would’ve thrown up.

Hoseok scoffed. “Chan? Didn’t you get in trouble for calling him by his name?”

She flushed. “Not trouble. Just… it doesn’t matter, okay?” 

“Fine. Whatever.” There was a pause. “Did you just call her Cruella?” When Chaeyoung didn’t answer, he shrugged. “Chanyeol says she’s nice.”

“Well, bully for Chanyeol.”

“God, must you whine?”

“I hate this sweater,” she said, tugging at the brand new gift her father had made her put on. “And I have to wear it because she gave it to me.”

“So? I hate these pants but my mom made me wear them.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. This was Hoseok’s new thing lately: that’s life. She didn’t know where he’d learnt it, but his eventual response to everything was “that’s life”, which irritated her beyond belief. He especially said it to her all the time, as though she was a child that needed reminding about the facts of the world, and it made her blood boil.

“She’s not my mom.”

“All moms are the same. Your mom would’ve told you to wear it, too.”

“You didn’t even know her,” she snapped. 

There was a few seconds of silence as Hoseok presumably processed this, including her unusual tone. “You’re right,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically sober. “Sorry.”

Chaeyoung grit her teeth and hoped she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She would look weak and any hopes of getting him to notice her would go straight out the window. Also, Ma wasn’t here yet and she would only cry to Ma.

“Chanyeol didn’t like her at first either.”

She didn’t know if she’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“Your… Seoyoon. Cruella,” he added, an awkward sort of smile appearing for a second. “Chan didn’t like her when she first got here.”

This was news to hear. “Really? He - he told you?”

“Yeah. Said she talked weird.”

It wasn’t on the list of things that annoyed Chaeyoung, but she took it. It didn’t escape her notice that Chanyeol had failed to mention this to her while confiding in Hoseok about it, but for now, it made her feel just slightly less alone. She turned around to look in through the window again.

“He seems to like her now,” she mumbled. 

“Maybe you will, too. Or he’s faking it.”

Chaeyoung snorted. It felt good to laugh for a moment, even if the situation sucked. “I hope he’s faking it.”

“Really? Why?”

She frowned. “Because… I don’t…” She didn’t know how to put it into words that she didn’t want to be the only one missing her mother. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t like her.”

“Then maybe you should try to like her.”

Chaeyoung bristled. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. “I don’t want to like her.”

“But why? I mean, aren’t you glad your dad is happy?”

The way he said it, it sounded like the most obvious thing in the world. But when Chaeyoung turned around to look inside again, for the first time all night, her gaze shifted from her brother to her father. There was something heartbreaking about how happy he looked, but Chaeyoung didn’t know just how to express that while it was a nice sight, it only made her miss her mother even more.

She said nothing, though, resolving only to keep Ma her secret forever. Her dad and brother didn’t need nor want Ma, and Chaeyoung was fine not sharing. 

Next to her, Hoseok sighed. “It’s cold. I’m going inside.”

All thoughts of her soon to be stepmother vanished. “Wait!” When he halted and turned around, eyebrows raised, her heart thumped against her ribcage. “Why - why are you being nice to me?”

Even in the darkness, she could see the hint of a blush on his face. But his next words wiped away any scenarios her imagination may have created. “You’re Chan’s sister,” he said, shrugging, his hands in his pockets. “I have to be nice to you.”

—

The day Hoseok left for Seoul, Chaeyoung thought she would die. 

Everyone was thrilled for him, it looked like. He was going to follow his dreams, they said. His parents seemed nervous but proud, his sister called from Australia, telling him to take care of himself. Even Chanyeol, who she’d thought would be distraught since he’d be losing his best friend, was irritatingly supportive.

“He’s going to be an idol,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing. They were at the dining table in their house, a week before Hoseok was meant to leave. “He’s meant for it. Haven’t you seen him dance?”

Chaeyoung stared at him, incredulous. Seen him? She lived and breathed him - of course she knew how he could dance, that he was meant to be an idol and whatnot. 

“That - that’s not my point,” she stuttered, her chopsticks feeling like water between her fingers. “How is he - his life is here. His school, his friends, his… everyone.”

Chanyeol, now sixteen, squinted at her. “He’ll make new friends. He’s good at that.”

“Yes, but he’s your best friend. Won’t you - won’t you miss him?”

He chewed his food thoughtfully. “I mean… sure. I guess. We’ll text and stuff.” He shrugged.

Chaeyoung blinked. “Text,” she repeated.

“Yeah. What’s the big deal? You’re acting like he’s dying.”

“Chaeyoung,” said Seoyoon, her voice soft and melodic, “it’s okay to miss him, too. He’s like family.”

She met her stepmother’s eyes. “Yeah. Not really what I was getting at.” 

Next to her, Chanyeol rolled his eyes, while her father said her name sternly. Seoyoon simply placed a hand on his arm and muttered “it’s okay”, while Chaeyoung was left to silently resent how, out of everyone at the table, including Ma, Seoyoon was the one who had the nerve to say it out loud.

It felt like the worst thing that could happen, and it felt directly targeted at her. His parents would always be his parents, his sister had already left for Australia a year ago, and Chanyeol was his best friend in the world. Chaeyoung was none of these things, however, and it felt like if he left now, he’d be gone from her life forever.

The first night, she cried for hours. It was as though she could feel his absence next door. She fell asleep gazing at a picture of she, Chanyeol and Hoseok on her nightstand, taken during a family trip to Jeju Island. The next day at school, she walked around like a war widow, with puffy eyes and her books clutched to her chest. At lunch, she sat surrounded by her friends, feeling like they would never understand, never know true heartbreak and true pain.

A week later, things were easier. Chaeyoung made the middle school football team, just like her brother had, and after-school practice meant less time to miss the love of her life. Then exams happened, and birthday parties, and before she knew it, it was next year.

Hoseok was forgotten by no one; the Jungs came over for dinner just as often as they did before, but only two kids out of four meant that the dinner was more for the adults to stay in touch than anything else. Chanyeol got busy with applying to colleges, while Chaeyoung, for the first time, had her life laid bare in front of her. With no Chanyeol and Hoseok to follow around, her own friends, her own studies and her own life were suddenly at the forefront.

Hoseok was still on her mind, though. She looked at the picture on her bedside table every night, kept his Manchester United keychain in her backpack, and told all her friends about the day she would date an idol. “He’ll become an idol and then he’ll come back,” she said, for it seemed incredibly obvious. Her friends, no strangers to her lifelong crush, were part supportive and part envious, which only thrilled thirteen year old Chaeyoung even more. 

Chanyeol was right about one thing, though. He and Hoseok texted - and only texted. She hadn’t a clue if and when they actually spoke, and she spent hours daydreaming about the day he’d call her, because as much as he pretended like he couldn’t stand her, one day he would surely wake up and realise how much he missed her. They were family, after all.

He finally did call one day - or rather, he was called. It was his seventeenth birthday, and they were at the Jungs’ house for lunch when Hoseok’s father decided to call his son, putting it on video as everyone said hello and wished him. The first thing that Chaeyoung noticed was how narrow his face was; it was unexpected, but he still looked as handsome as ever and she only hoped that he’d notice her new haircut, too.

It was chaotic; Hoseok was speaking hurriedly, saying he didn’t have much time. The phone was passed down from adult to adult, everyone wishing him and making typical grown-up comments about what a big man he was, living by himself in Seoul. The phone was then swiftly passed to Chanyeol, who simply stood up and began walking away into another room, going “Dude, you won’t believe what happened at Eunwoo’s party last week…”

Chaeyoung knew she had to wait before it was her turn - but it was just so hard. She was almost giddy with happiness; she’d missed him so much. There was so much she had to tell him and so much she wanted to know, including when he was planning to come back. But when five minutes passed and Chanyeol didn’t return, and the adults had moved to some boring topic of conversation, Chaeyoung decided to take matters into her own hands.

Hopping off her chair, she retraced her brother’s steps and found him in the pantry of the house, sitting atop a stool and laughing into the phone as he held it up in front of him. He caught her eyes above the phone and she tried to signal to him to give her the phone.

“- and it was… what?” He frowned before apparently catching on. “Oh, uh… do you, uh, want to talk to Chae? She -”

But Hoseok’s voice interrupted him, shrill through the speaker. “Oh, God, no.”

Chanyeol’s eyes flickered to his sister. “Hey, man -”

“Dude, no, not today. I’ve had a bad enough day so far,” he said, sounding more weary than ever. “Don’t make me talk to your sister right now. Let that be my birthday gift,” he quipped, clearly oblivious to how Chaeyoung stood behind the phone, frozen to the ground.

“Oh, um…” Chanyeol sighed, tilting his head sympathetically at his sister as Hoseok said a hurried goodbye. “Yeah, yeah… have a good day.” There was a beep and the call ended. Chanyeol took a few moments before meeting Chaeyoung’s eyes again.

“I don’t - I don’t understand,” she said, feeling like her voice wasn’t even hers, like it was coming from somewhere else. “Why - why doesn’t he want to talk to me?”

Chanyeol opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, standing up and moving to walk past her. “Just ignore it. Come on, let’s go back -”

“No, wait.” She stopped him. “Tell me. I - I thought… I thought he missed home. You said he missed being home,” she repeated, hearing her voice tremble. “Why didn’t he want to talk to me?” And why did it look like you understood?

“Chae, just - just let it go, alright?”

“No! I’m his family! Why doesn’t he want to -”

“Because you’re telling everyone that you’re his family!” Chanyeol blurted, looking fed up. “Jesus, Chae! Everyone knows you have a crush on him, but you don’t have to make it so damn public!”

Her face reddened. “I don’t have a crush on -”

“Oh, please. It was okay when you were younger but then you started following him around school and stuff… come on, can you blame him for being embarrassed?”

Chaeyoung shook her head. Nothing he was saying was making sense. “What are you talking about? He wasn’t embarrassed, he was - he was shy. He didn’t -”

“Seriously?”  This time, even Chanyeol looked incredulous. “Chae, you told your friends that you were going to marry him when his crew won that inter-school competition in ninth grade. One of them told her older sister and suddenly everyone knew. You really thought that would make him shy?”

It took everything Chaeyoung had in her to not cry. “But - but he never said anything. He - he always…” But that wasn’t true. He said a lot of things. He was perpetually annoyed with her, and every time that she ever wondered why he was so sweet and sunny with everyone but her… it seemed she finally had an answer. “Why didn’t he ever tell me to stop?” she asked in a small voice.

“Because you’re my sister,” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What was he going to say?”

You’re Chan’s sister. I have to be nice to you. At the time, it was proof to her of how close their families were, of how they were family. But now she realised it was none of those things, just Hoseok admitting what he and everyone else apparently knew: were it not for his best friend, Jung Hoseok would have absolutely nothing to do with Kang Chaeyoung.

She found it hard to meet her brother’s gaze. There was a stinging on her lower lip where she tasted blood, and then a stinging in her eyes. It was a time in her life when she and Chanyeol weren’t as close as they once were, and she was faced with a sudden and irrational fear that if she cried right now, he would tell Hoseok about it.

Chanyeol took a step towards her. “Chae -”

She started to shake her head when they were interrupted, and she turned to see Hoseok’s father approaching the pantry. 

“There you two are,” he said cheerfully, sounding far too much like his son for Chaeyoung to handle. “I need my phone. Oh, Chanyeol, help me bring down the barbecue for tonight, come on…” He brushed past her and patted Chanyeol on the back, who nodded respectfully and made way for him. “Oh, Chaeyoung, your mother was asking where you were - there’s strawberry cream for dessert and she says it’s your favourite…”

Chaeyoung nodded in a daze, turning away from Chanyeol and walking out of the room. The dining area felt miles away and every step made her feel like she was on a treadmill. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she reached the dining table and took her seat. She ignored Seoyoon when she offered her dessert, her eyes on her empty plate the whole time. Even when Chanyeol returned and tried to get her to look at him, muttering “Chae? Are you okay?”, she simply nodded once but didn’t dare look at him.

That night, the first thing Chaeyoung did when she went to her room was take out the picture from the frame on her bedside table and slip it into one of her books. She hunted through every photo album she had and finally chose a picture of her with the rest of her football team, a group of thirteen year old girls holding up small gold trophies and grinning into the camera.

It felt like a step in the right direction, for if she needed to stop embarrassing Hoseok, it needed to begin right here in her bedroom. As she stared at the picture, trying to talk herself into liking it, into realising that these girls, her friends, were more important than a guy who wouldn’t even let her wish him a happy birthday, she felt the first sob wrack through her body.

She imagined what Ma would say. Ma didn’t appear to her like she did before; it was just her voice now, saying things that Chaeyoung wanted to hear. Right now, she imagined Ma would tell her that Hoseok hated her, that there was no point loving someone who hated her. He’s only nice to you because of Chanyeol, she said, her voice soothing and familiar. So why are you nice to him?

“Because he’s perfect,” she cried softly, feeling like her heart would break. She’d never felt this horrible, she knew. Even Chanyeol couldn’t make this better; in fact, he’d only made it worse. How long had he known? How could he have gone all this time, knowing what he did, and continue letting her make a fool of herself? Did he laugh about her with Hoseok? Did she embarrass him, too? 

She thought of her father, how he’d sigh at her every time she got into trouble at school. How he and Chanyeol would both give her a look when she didn’t fake it with the stepmother. Hoseok’s face as he rolled his eyes floated through her mind. It was a kick in the gut as she thought it: How many people was she disappointing at once? 

—

Bangtan Sonyeondan was a cool name. It was a fact, and even though Chaeyoung was very careful to not let it show on her face, their debut single was really cool.

Chanyeol’s class had long graduated by now. Chaeyoung, at fifteen, was at the peak of her school career so far. While she’d been initially wary of Chanyeol graduating, leaving her completely alone for the first time, it turned out to be just what she’d needed to step out of his shadow once and for all. No one had forgotten him, but they remembered just enough to know she was.

Everyone in the school knew when Hoseok debuted. It was a huge point of pride for the school that one of their former students was now an idol and for a good few weeks, every single person in the school was humming No More Dream. It was catchy as hell, and Hoseok was amazing in it - not that Chaeyoung was noticing.

Ever since the phone call that was not meant to be, Chaeyoung had attempted to distance herself from everything Jung Hoseok. It was the hardest thing in the world at first, but eventually real life took precedence over daydreams, studies took importance over doodling his name, and her real friends ended up being more fun to hang out with than a fictionalised version of him in her mind.

Once she’d managed to let him go, she’d been pleasantly surprised to find how much of a life she was able to have outside of him. It turned out that, for the most part, people seemed to like her. In one of her birthday cards, the most frequent words used by people was “fun” - she was fun, apparently. She wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, until one day in ninth grade when she’d convinced a few friends to skip a class. They’d gotten away with it, and she’d been hailed as “so fun”.

Life continued, fun and everything. Chanyeol left Gwangju for Seoul when he went to college and, she imagined, got back in touch with Hoseok. She still texted her brother reasonably often, whenever they had the time. Now that they’d reached a certain age and stage of their own lives, their initial relationship had started to become slightly more distant. 

It wasn’t something that even occurred to Chaeyoung except for in certain moments, like their mother’s birthday. On those days, she missed Chanyeol more than anything. To his credit, he was mostly there for her when she needed him, but to her credit, she tried not to need him too much.

A few months before her sixteenth birthday, Hoseok returned to Gwangju for three days. It was a huge deal, for he’d apparently had to negotiate a lot for even those days off. Chanyeol was back then, too, and naturally both families wanted to make the best of it.

Despite the fact that Chaeyoung, for all intents and purposes, was over her crush on Hoseok by now, it still evoked a sense of quiet excitement in her stomach. She didn’t seek him out, but she made sure not to leave her room until she was perfectly dressed and her hair was impeccable, ready to breeze past him without a care in the world, determined to show him how much she’d grown without him.

As it turned out, she didn’t see him that morning. She didn’t see him that evening after school, or that night. In fact, she didn’t see him all weekend; Hoseok seemed to have a ton of friends to visit, and he and Chanyeol were gone for practically the entire time.

Chaeyoung wished she’d just catch a glimpse of him - not because she missed him or anything, but because the longer it took to see him, the higher the anticipation got. She’d managed to put their last humiliating not-interaction to the back of her mind eventually, but the longer she waited to see him, the more she ended up reliving it.

On Hoseok’s last night, there was a dinner at the Jungs. Unlike the last time he left for Seoul, when no one knew what his future would hold, this time he was leaving as a successful debuted idol. The dinner, therefore, was more of a farewell party, with a few more of his friends invited, all of whom Chaeyoung remembered from school.

Chaeyoung tried her hardest to stay out of everyone’s way. She didn’t trust herself around Hoseok, particularly because now that he was here, actually in the flesh, she was begrudgingly being reminded of everything that she’d once loved about him.

Don’t go down that rabbit hole, Chae, Ma said, as Chaeyoung hovered near the kitchen, nibbling at her nails. Hoseok had brushed past her once or twice, giving her a perfunctory “hi” which only served to make her feel ridiculous, because it was clear that he wasn’t devoting even a fraction of the mind space to her that she was to him.

Towards the end of the night, given that it was a Sunday, Chaeyoung knew that she would be sent home soon. It was a school night and the older kids were chattering about going out for a while longer, so she knew that if she didn’t speak to Hoseok now, there would be no telling if she’d ever be able to get this out.

Finally, around ten pm, when she saw him go upstairs to his room, she followed him. She tried hard to ensure that no one saw her but when she finally reached his doorway, she realised that none of it mattered because she had no idea what to say.

Chaeyoung cleared her throat. “Hoseok oppa?” she said gingerly.

He whipped around, turning away from the bag he seemed to be packing. She didn’t fail to notice how his face fell when he realised who it was; she tried not to let that get to her. 

“Uh… what are you doing here?” he asked, sounding almost wary. His eyes darted around the room as though expecting to get caught by someone.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she managed, her heart racing. He looked… incredible. Nineteen became him. He looked thin but fit, and his hair was cut stylishly so it fell across his forehead. Swallowing, she continued. “And… I wanted to apologise.”

“Uh, okay - look. You’re in my room. Anyone can see you,” he informed her. “So you should probably -“ He gave her a knowing nod and gestured towards the door.

It stung, but she held her ground, stepping inside his room and shutting the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she exhaled. “Is that better?”

Hoseok’s look of pure horror was enough to tell her that it was, in fact, not better, but she’d had enough distractions now. 

“Look, I don’t need too much of your time. I just…” She looked at her feet, trying to find the courage to continue. “I wanted to… apologise,” she said finally.

Hoseok frowned. “For what?” he asked suspiciously.

“For… everything? I guess.” She swallowed, forcing herself to continue looking up at him. “It was brought to my attention a while back that I may have… embarrassed you.” She paused as the words settled around them, having said it out loud for the first time ever. “I know I was probably a bit annoying and I didn’t - I wasn’t very… cool.”

Hoseok looked more confused than anything now and she couldn’t blame him, for she didn’t think she was making any sense either. But he hadn’t asked her to leave yet, which was more encouragement than she could hope for. 

“Honestly, when I think back to some of the things I did…” She trailed off for a moment, shaking her head. “I cringe a little bit. Okay, that’s a lie. I cringe a lot.”

He nodded slowly, and she didn’t know if she’d imagined the fleeting look of amusement on his face. 

“So, anyway. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

Huh. Chaeyoung didn’t know what else she was expecting, but his tone made it pretty clear that their heart to heart was over. “Okay, then. I’ll just… go.” She turned to open the door, only to see about four of his friends standing right outside. Chanyeol wasn’t one of them. They were clearly waiting for Hoseok, possibly giving him privacy because of the closed door, but the moment one of them spotted her, his eyes went wide.

“Oh, my -”

“Oh, God,” muttered Hoseok from behind her.

“Dude.” A second guy, Hyungmin, seemed to smile in slow motion, as though he was suddenly uncovering some huge joke. He nudged the first guy and snorted. “The happy couple is back!”

Chaeyoung wrinkled her nose. “What?”

But her voice was drowned out among the hoots, all loud and obnoxious. She turned back to Hoseok, possibly for an explanation, only to see him rolling his eyes before he suddenly glared at her.

“I don’t even know what she’s doing here,” he said stonily, and her heart skipped a confused beat.

“What? I -”

“Hey, Chan, get up here!” One of the other guys interrupted her, leaning over the railing and shouting into the house. “You’ll never guess who was in Hobi’s room - with the door closed!”

“Dude, he’s gonna kill him,” snickered Hyungmin, giving Hoseok a  mock-sympathetic look. 

“Alright, isn’t this joke, like, a million years old?” he asked, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

“It was, but now she’s getting hot and all,” said the third guy, whom Chaeyoung only remembered as the one who was invited because he had a car. He gave her a side glance and raised an eyebrow. “Now it means all kinds of -

“Dude, what the fuck?” Hoseok groaned, while Hyungmin slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand and hissed, “She’s a kid.”

“Well, she doesn’t look like -”

“Chan is going to kill you if you don’t -”

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” Chanyeol’s voice floated up, interrupting everyone. “Are we leaving or what?”

There was a momentary pause when it seemed as though no one knew how to respond. Then Hoseok rolled his eyes and strode out of the room. “Come on, let’s go,” he muttered, and fortunately, his friends followed his lead. As he passed Chaeyoung, he glared at her.

“How do you manage to ruin everything?” he hissed. “I told you to get out of my room.”

“I - I know.” Chaeyoung heard her voice tremble. “I didn’t think they would -”

“Really? Because it’s so different from what they’ve been doing the last ten years?” He gave her another exasperated look, like she wasn’t worth his time. “Why can’t you just disappear?” he muttered, knocking into her shoulder as he left the room.

Chaeyoung stayed there for a minute, humiliated, her feet rooted to the floor. She didn’t know whether it was his friend’s comments about her, the way they were talking about her like she wasn’t right there in front of them, or whether, after all these years, Hoseok had finally told her the truth.

Why can’t you just disappear?

She glanced into his room again, her eyes running over the taped posters on the wall, the folded bed sheets, a set of clothes draped neatly over the chair. She’d come here in hopes of maybe moving past everything that had caused him to avoid her all these years. Now, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. 

Chaeyoung rushed home after that, not wanting to wait for Seoyoon to croon over at her to do so. She didn’t think anyone even noticed; she ran out the front door, glad for the empty hallway from where she could hear everyone else in the dining room. The night was dark and chilly, and she hopped over the short fence to her front yard, slamming her door behind her before hurrying upstairs.

She wouldn’t cry this time, she vowed, even as she wiped angry tears forming of their own accord. She was sick of it, sick of everything. She was sick of those stupid friends Chanyeol still hung out with, she was sick of how Hoseok instantly became a different person when it came to her, she was sick of her stepmother, her family - but most of all, she completely sick of how, even after all these years, the things Hoseok said still had the ability to hurt her.

She hadn’t grown up at all, clearly. Nothing had changed. She would forever hold a candle for her brother’s best friend, even if, until two days ago, she’d been somewhat preoccupied by the fact that Nam Sehun from the other section had a rumoured crush on her. 

She looked up from where she was sitting at the corner of her bed when she heard a faint sound of laughter and a shout. Dragging her feet to the window, she saw a car pull out from the Jungs’ driveway, music emanating from it until it screeched to a sudden stop.

“Hurry up, man!” One of the guys shouted as another leapt out of the car, scurrying back to the house. The party must be over. Before she knew it, everyone else would be back home.

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes and stepped away from the window, too tired to care. As she stripped and retrieved an old t-shirt and pajamas from the closet, she found herself feeling more and more stupid by the second. She’d made more of an effort than she’d realised apparently; even the bra she was wearing was something she’d purposely picked out, possibly in an effort to show Hoseok that she’d grown up - except it hadn’t worked, and the only person who seemed to notice it was Chanyeol’s creepy friend.

Pulling on her clothes, she trudged to the bed, ready to nurse another broken heart and fall asleep forever, when she heard a knock.

“Fuck,” she whispered, not in the mood to face her stepmother and her fake concern right now. The knock sounded again and she swore under her breath. “No one’s home,” she called, hoping she’d take the hint.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s true,” said the voice outside, and Chaeyoung felt a jolt in her stomach. She walked over and opened the door gingerly to see Hoseok, quite possibly the last person she’d ever expected to see outside her room. It suddenly occurred to her how much taller he was; it vaguely intimidated her, until he bit his lip and sighed, looking at the floor.

Chaeyoung was about to ask what he was doing here, but something in his posture made her want to wait him out. So she continued standing there, one hand on her hip and the other on her door.

Hoseok’s eyes flickered up to her and he opened his mouth before he seemingly noticed something behind her. “A colour-changing lava lamp?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a high school girl thing?”

She stared. “You’re wearing a snapback at night. Is that a Seoul thing?”

He paused before sighing and taking it off. “I knew it looked stupid,” he muttered, ruffling his messy black hair.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said automatically, wincing slightly at how desperate she sounded. It was too hard to think straight around him. “I - what are you doing here?” she asked, slightly nervous. “Aren’t you afraid your friends will see you in my room?”

“Uh, no. They’re downstairs.”

She nodded. “That’s… good thinking.”

There was an awkward silence where neither of them looked at each other and for the first time in her life, she wished Hoseok would leave her alone.

“Look, um…” Hoseok began slowly, as though every word was taking a great effort. “About before… I know you were just trying to apologise. I shouldn’t have…” He looked up, as though hoping for a prompt. When he received none, he sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Chaeyoung nodded.

“Right.” After a moment, he spoke again. “Also… Joonho’s an ass.”

She bit her lip and folded her arms across her chest, a little protectively. “Yeah.”

“Anyway… I just came to say that.” He gestured vaguely behind him. “I should head.”

“Sure.”

He turned around halfway before pausing again, squinting slightly at her. “You do understand why I got mad, right? I mean, this wasn’t just about tonight. But it’s like every time that you’re around -”

“Yeah, I understand,” she said quickly, gritting her teeth. The more she looked at him, the less it looked like he cared at all. He didn’t care. He had no idea how much she’d loved him when she was younger, he had no idea how much she regretted her behaviour now, and he had no idea how humiliating it was to stand here and realise that she had no idea who he was at all.

Hoseok looked a little taken aback at her interruption. “Oh? Okay. Uh, good, then.”

“M-hm.”

“I’m gonna go.”

“You do that.”

This time when he turned to leave, Chaeyoung stopped him. “Oppa, wait.” She went to her desk and rifled through a drawer, feeling the cool metal against her fingers before bringing out the object. “I think this is yours,” she said, handing it to him.

He extended his hand automatically, frowning as she dropped it into his palm. “Is this -” He squinted at it. “Oh, my God. This is my keychain.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, feeling distinctly lighter all of a sudden. 

“I lost it years ago.” He looked up at her. “How - how did you find it?”

“Oh, I - I found it in a box of stuff, in the attic.” She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest again. “You must have dropped it here, I guess.”

“Wow.” He nodded, looking slightly more chipper as he shoved the keychain into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A sudden honk sounded outside and it felt like it was reverberating through her chest. “You should go.”

“Yeah.” He raised a hand halfway, like he was saying goodbye to someone he met in line at a bookstore. “See you around, Chae.”

“See you.” She stepped forward to shut the door, watching him walk out of her room and out of her house. Before she could lose her nerve, she spoke again. “The new single is… really cool.”

He was almost at the foot of the stairs when he stopped and looked up at her. For the first time in her memory, Hoseok smiled at her, a real, genuine smile. It was like the sun had come out, and as he thanked her and continued on his way, it occurred to Chaeyoung that it was quite possibly the only time she’d ever see it.

— 

That night was the last time Chaeyoung saw Hoseok for several years. She heard from his parents that he barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone come back to visit his family. He did return for a weekend once, but she’d been away on a school trip with her football team at the time. Apart from that, Hoseok was as far out of her life as was possible.

When she was seventeen, Chaeyoung entered her first relationship. He asked her out by the water cooler after a week of rumours, and their tryst lasted a whole month until she broke up with him in the biology lab, feeling rather smothered by how he insisted on showing up at all her football practices. He didn’t take it well and responded with rumours of his own, following which Chaeyoung’s reputation began preceding her.

Her seventeenth birthday party took place a month before she graduated high school and since she was leaving Gwangju, an unexpected nostalgia caused her to invite every single person she knew. A month later she graduated along with her friends, partied for a week straight until she spent the rest of the summer waiting until she could leave for college in Busan. She did the same a year later for her eighteenth birthday, and since it occurred in the summer, all her friends were back in Gwangju and able to attend.

As it turned out, the only thing remaining that could ensure that Chaeyoung lived her own life with no ties to her brother was leaving Gwangju. In college, she had the opportunity to be who she was. Everyone was figuring it out, and she joined them. She paid attention to the classes she liked, spent nights in the library and in dorms as people quizzed each other, went on weekend trips, had boyfriends, joined college clubs - everything that gave her the satisfaction that she’d made the best out of her college years.

The most stressful time of those years came right at the end, when everyone was applying for jobs. After months of gruelling essays, internships and interviews, Chaeyoung managed to get what she considered her dream job. Her father wasn’t too certain about it; he said it didn’t “sound like a real job” but after her stepmother pitched in during their video call and persuaded him to give it a chance, he gave in.

Chaeyoung didn’t care; it gave her the same vibes as her favourite English movie, The Devil Wears Prada. Condé Nast wasn’t a magazine per se but her job wasn’t exactly that of a secretary either; the role simply said research and while she would’ve liked it to be a bit more specific - maybe columnist - she was willing to pay her dues, especially if it meant getting to live in Seoul, not wearing boring formal clothes to work and possibly working with some truly fancy brands like GQ or Vogue someday.

Moving to Seoul was less romantic than she’d expected; it was a busy, expensive city and no one had time to stop and take a breath, let alone help out a twenty-one year old who’d just moved to the city.

It’s all part of the experience, her inner voice said to her, the one she’d dubbed Ma when she was little. It was less of a coping mechanism and more of a conscience now, and it was what convinced her to move into an apartment in Hongdae with a senior she’d known back in college.

Sungmi was nice and all, but she intimated Chaeyoung a little bit. Her many piercings, her abrupt way of talking and her strange sense of humour always had Chaeyoung on edge. She also had this boyfriend who smelled perpetually of weed and had a cousin he frequently invited over, making it not the ideal living arrangement. Still, even Chaeyoung had to admit that despite the aesthetics, Sungmi had been living in Seoul by herself for nearly a year and was holding onto a good job at a catering company. Most importantly, she was offering her spare room at really low rent, something Chaeyoung was currently giving top priority to.

Plus, the best thing about Sungmi’s apartment was the parties.

“Get, um…” Sungmi moves away from the speaker and asks someone something. “Everything,” she says finally. “Just make sure there’s Absinthe and Bacardi in it and we’ll be good. I’m trusting you, Chaeyoung,” she adds knowingly, abruptly hanging up.

Faced with a plethora of bottles before her in the liquor store, Chaeyoung sighs. She isn’t even fully sure what this party is for, except that vodka and rum are required in large quantities. 

“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder, I guess,” she mutters, holding the plastic basket up as she scans the shelves, feeling a strange sense of responsibility towards her older roommate’s expectations.

Meanwhile, Jung Hoseok is near the fridges, rattling off the different beer brands to Jimin on the phone.

“I feel like wheat beer,” says Jimin thoughtfully, “but think about the calories.” He pauses as someone says something at his end. “And Taehyung wants that fruity soju.” He whines as Taehyung says something else loudly. “Okay, specifically green apple.”

Hoseok stands there, motionless, as Jimin goes through a minor Friday evening crisis. “Got it. Now, Jimin, you have about thirty seconds to make your decision before I leave this place. Beer-less.”

The younger member sighs heavily. “Alright, just get me a six pack of Corona,” he says finally, as though with a huge effort. “It’s always safe.”

Hoseok closes his eyes and counts to five in his mind, hoping he won’t snap at Jimin for wasting his time debating some random Swedish beer before ultimately deciding on Corona. “Will do.” He hangs up.

Once he has everything, he goes through the list on his phone again, hurriedly making sure he has everything for everyone. As he reaches the end of the list, he realises there’s only one thing remaining.

He spots a clerk at the end of the aisle and looks away. He’s managed so far without being recognised; he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. He shuffles towards the spirits, peering at the names and hoping the bottle appears all of a sudden when finally - finally - he spots the green label, the only one of its kind.

“Thank god,” he whispers and reaches for it, the same time as another hand wraps around the bottle. He flinches and withdraws his hand immediately before turning to see the only other person in the entire liquor who could possibly need Absinthe.

Something clicks in Hoseok’s brain, like a track being slowed down in post-production. “Wait…”

She raises her eyebrows. “You really don’t recognise me?”

Hoseok chuckles. It’s too unbelievable. “Dude, I think I saw you at more family dinners than my sister. Wow, Chaeyoung,” he says, taking a step back to look at her. Is she taller? “You look… older.”

“I am. Significantly. And you look…” Chaeyoung frowns and bites her lip, as though searching for something. “… blonder.” She nods as he reaches for his cap and pulls it down further over his head, tucking the few loose strands under the cloth.

“Yeah, that’s… work.” There’s a few seconds of awkward silence that makes Hoseok uncomfortable. They were never friends, but he can’t remember ever being this… unsettled around her. It’s almost like she’s a work acquaintance he’s run into, not the kid he grew up next door to.

He realises he hasn’t said anything and immediately scrambles. “Uh, so… what are you doing here? Wait, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a liquor store. I mean, you’re - you drink?”

“Yeah… I’m twenty-one. Almost twenty-two.” She bites her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I said that. I just turned twenty-one.”

It takes Hoseok a moment to process this. She certainly looks older…

“Wow. Twenty-one.”

“I know.” Chaeyoung looks around before her gaze lands on the bottle still in her hand. “Oh, you can have this.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I don’t need it.”

She raises her eyebrows. “No? You don’t need it for, like… a famous person party?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, no. A friend of ours, Nari, is coming over tonight and she was the only one who wanted Absinthe.”

“Oh, then you can take it for Nari.”

“Nah, she just wants to get hammered,” he replies, shaking his head. “That can be done with anything. She doesn’t get time off from her job so when she does, she likes to go all out and that includes, unfortunately, a lot of vodka, but I’m sure whiskey would do the trick just as -“ He breaks off when he notices Chaeyoung’s tilted head and slight frown.

“I’ll take it,” she says after a moment. “My roommate’s having a party tonight. Many people need to get hammered with this.”

“Roommate, nice. Wait, are you living in Seoul?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just moved here.”

Too much is happening for Hoseok to process in one trip to the liquor store. “You -“ He pauses. “Does Chanyeol know?” he asks in a low voice.

Chaeyoung chuckles. “Yeah, he knows. My dad knows, too.”

It’s the first glimpse he’s seen so far of the old Chaeyoung, the deliberate omission of her stepmother. But he knows better than to acknowledge it. “Wow, you - you really grew up.”

She gives him an odd look and opens her mouth to say something but then closes it, as though changing her mind. “I did,” she agrees.

Hoseok knows he should be saying something more, maybe offering something - for Chanyeol’s sake. But what is he meant to say to someone he can barely recognise? She’s actually taller, from what he can remember. Her hair isn’t in ponytails anymore and she’s standing differently, too, somehow…

But before he can wrack his brain for the right words, Chaeyoung takes a deep breath.

“I should go.” She holds up the bottle of Absinthe. “Thanks for this.”

“Oh, of course,” he says, nodding and stepping aside. As she brushes past him, he frowns again: is she wearing perfume? Chaotic, skinned-knee, football-playing Chaeyoung?

But the moment passes him and so does Chaeyoung. Before leaving, she raises a hand halfway. “It was nice running into you, Hoseok.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, watching her for a moment as he tries to put his finger on why everything seems so strange. His phone pings then, though, and he remembers the errand he was running. He needs to find an alternative to Absinthe now and move on from one of the more surreal experiences of his life.

He takes a couple of steps forward before something else clicks, and he can finally put his finger on at least one thing.

“Wait,” he says slowly, turning around but not even really trying to spot her near the check-out line. “What did you call me?”

—

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