#the number three isn’t mentioned so many times for nothing

[ater-love]

Three brothers and three sisters is not lazy writing

Three brothers and three sisters is fate

[hyperobsessedd]

Joost Klein SFW Alphabet

a/n: can we just admire how good joost looks in the pictures above

cw: light cussing, some sexual implications (nothing happens), mentions of death, mentions of drugs and alcohol

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A=Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

It’s fairly obvious that the man is very touchy and energetic with everyone, even more so with his partner (you) tbh.

He would always try to touch you in some sense wether that be holding your hand while walking, keeping his arm around your waist while hanging out with your mutual friends, or just resting his head on your shoulder whenever he feels tired.

When you guys are at home he would probably sneak up behind you whenever he saw you doing stuff around the house. Once he snuck up behind you while you were seasoning some vegetables with cayenne pepper, safe to say that the broccoli tasted like satan’s dandruff.

Joost seems like he would be a D1 clinger; always wanting to be around you and following you around everywhere. Luckily he isn’t to light a sleeper and does not wake up immediately after you get out of bed so at least you can piss in peace at three am; the same cannot be said during the day time though. You could be taking the shortest shower ever and he would still come into the bathroom just to bother you.

“Baby, why is the sky blue.”

“I don’t fucking know”

“Ok”

Even though he can be annoy just for the sake of bothering you he would love to see you happy; your smile was his favorite thing to see. He would give you endless compliments and praise, he would always do anything that you asked him to, and of course he would always love giving you the tightest hugs ever.

B=Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

When you first met joost you never thought that you’d be dating him; you just assumed that he would be another acquaintance you had in the Netherlands. Joost on the other hand knew that he liked you as soon as he saw you.

After that first interaction you exchanged numbers and started talking more and more. He eventually became your best friend. You two were inseparable for the most part; he would always be in your apartment and vice versa. He would always try to make you laugh with his corny jokes and as much as you tried not to you always let out a chuckle or two.

he breathed in and out before he opened his mouth “okay, why is 6 scared of 7” he stared at you with those piercing baby blue eyes

“Why” you already knew the answer but wanted to see where he went with it

“Because 7,8,9” he burst out laughing, you would’ve thought that Jim Carey was doing a live performance in front of joost with the sound of his laughter.

You tried not to laugh but joost’s cackle was to infectious and you just couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“See I am very funny you just don’t like to admit it” he added once his little episode ended

“Your laugh is funnier than your jokes to be honest” you retorted

“Sure buddy”

Overall he would be a great friend who’s always there for you and always supports you. He would always take you to different places and maybe even invite you on tour, well if you had time that is.

And like all best friends do you guys had so many inside jokes that no one other than you two get. Once when you were out together you once saw a guy who stole something getting chased by a man who appeared to be a giant, he yelled “get back here” with a big deep growl. Now whenever you’re all alone one you says get back here and both of you start to giggle; recalling how funny the moment was

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man is obsessed with cuddling and hugging you to be honest. The first thing he does after coming home from tour is taking of his shoes (duh) and then getting into bed with you; trying not to wake you up and pulling your body closer to his. You smell so good and he can’t resist just taking a small sniff of you. If you were to wake up he would stroke your hair and shush back to sleep.

He can’t help but hug you every time he sees you wether that be a small side hug or a tight ass bear hug that leaves you breathless. He just loves wrapping his arms around your waist when you’re cooking, cleaning, or brushing your teeth. He would sneak up behind you, wrap his strong arms around you, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear; hoping that in return for his kindness he would get a small peck on the lips and maybe somewhere else too

When cuddling in bed or on the couch he would always have his longs legs wrapped around you, another way that he would keep you from leaving his warm embrace. Even though he’s a mega yapper something about being in your presence calms him; he would be super silent whenever he had you like this. He would also love playing with you hair if you let him (all my curly girls/boys/theys know exactly what I’m talking about) and if you didn’t he would resort to slightly stroking your hands

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Joost never though that he would settle down. He was used to the rockstar lifestyle full of parties, drugs, and alcohol; That was until he met you. He was smitten the second he started talking to you, his loud and cool personality seemed to have floated away to some distant galaxy when he opened his mouth. Overall he was very sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you from the moment he met you.

He would know basic kitchen skills like how to fry and scramble eggs but other than that he was completely clueless. Before he met you his diet was made up of takeout and potato chips. You tried to teach him how to cook but he was not receptive at all; he jumped whenever he heard oil pop and somehow burned the pasta you were trying to prepare so now you’re the one who cooks for the both of you.

Joost would be way better at cleaning than he is at cooking. He can be unorganized at times but he can really pull through whenever you need him to

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He wouldn’t try to beat around the bush, he’d just tell you directly not trying to play with emotions. Leaving you was probably the hardest decision he had ever made and the face you made after he broke the news didn’t make him feel any better

F= Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He knew that he wanted to be in a committed relationship the moment he met you but more dating than marriage. As time passed he fell more in love with you and that’s when he knew he needed to marry you. It would take him a couple years to get comfortable with the idea of marriage and a couple months to actually plan out your engagement.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The definition of gentle giant. For the most part he treats you like a little flowers whose petals might come off if roughed up enough but on the other hand he could also be rough; not enough to harm you but still rough. You guys will play fight a lot and that usually ends in one of you landing on their ass and the other hysterically

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

The man is obsessed with both giving and receiving hugs. He loves wrapping his arms around you after a long day and just breathing your scent in. It could be 90 degrees outside and he would still want to hug you (he would pout when you pulled him off of your sweaty body).

He just loves feeling close to you and hugging you is like the closest he can get for now.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take him 3 months max to say I love you. He had invited you over for a movie night; he bought all the sweets, drinks, and chips he knew you liked (because as I said before he only knows how to make eggs) and spread them over his kitchen table; almost like a movie theater. A half hour into the movie and both you were on the verge of sleep; both of you trying to keep your eyes open for the other.

You started to “rest” your eyes and lay your head down on joost’s lap. 5 minutes had passed and you surprisingly hadn’t fallen asleep yet. But just as you were about to pass you felt joost’s warm hands stroking at your head, he silently whispered the words “I love you” into your head. You slowly turned around and whispered “I love you” back to him before finally falling asleep

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

He isn’t jealous most times. He feels very secure in your relationship and knows that you would never try to hurt him. Even though he knows all of this he can’t but be jealous over petty things sometimes

Like why are you always smiling at everyone?why do other people stare at you do much? how come your cat can see you naked and he can’t?

These are all very important questions that he needs the answers to immediately.

If you guys go on a night out trust he will be keeping you as close as possible and stare in the soul of anyone who even tries to flirt with you.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He kisses you nice and slow; trying to savor the moment for as long as possible. He would love kissing you everywhere but his personal favorite would be your plump lips, your neck, and all over your back. He lovesss when you kiss his lips and neck (he’s also obsessed with the idea of you giving him hickeys and is constantly asking you to give him at least one)

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

His silly and goofy demeanor translates well into taking care of kids. He just loves hanging around kids; their wonder and hopefulness really makes him want to have a kid of his own.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He stays up late and wakes up extremely late. No matter how late you wake up he will always wake up at least an later. Once he woke up at four in the afternoon. Even if he does manage to wake up early he would stay in bed and cuddle with you. Don’t even think of trying to escape he grasp because he will pull you closer and wrap his arms around you even tighter. You would have to be actively pissing your pants for him to let you go.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He would stay up longer than you most nights or simply just come home very late. On the off chance that he doesn’t come him he’ll call you and let you know so that you don’t stay up all night waiting for him. He loves to watch you do your skincare routine; always asking what the product your using is and what it does.

Another thing he loves to do is watch you. Just watching the face you make when your scrolling on your phone is enough to make his heart melt. Not to mention the face you make while your asleep, whenever he gets home late he’ll just stand at the door of your shared bedroom and just look at your calm face.

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

Joost is a very honest person so he would tell you a lot about himself the first few times you hang out.

In regards to deep secrets it would probably take him a bit longer to tell you about them but even then he told you a majority of them by month 3 of your relationship.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

When it comes to you he’s never mad, he’s like a slightly laid back version of himself when he’s around you. He’ll only ever snap if he’s under a lot of stress and you keep pushing him with questions.

But if anyone were ever to disrespect you in front of him they would never hear the end of it, he would call them ever insult he could think them and force them to apologize to you.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

That man is absolutely obsessed with you so trust that he will remember almost everything you tell him. He knows your favorite brand of detergent, your favorite artist, he just knows everything about you and what you like. There are some things that he might forget but for the most part he knows everything there is to know about you.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

Everything. His favorite moment is quite literally everything you have done together.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

He’s like your own private bodyguard. He is very protective over you and hates whenever someone else tries to talk to you while y’all are in the middle of a conversation. He finds himself hovering behind you at different events just so that no one else has the opportunity to try and sway you away (he knows that you’d never leave him but still they should fuck off).

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Baby boy is always trying his best whenever he does something for you. He’ll listen more intently once it gets closer to different events/holidays like Christmas, your birthday, and your guys’ anniversary.

He really does try to make life easier for you but when it comes to cooking and storing dishes he’s completely useless.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Whenever gets hyper obsessed (me reference) /focused on different projects he’ll just shut everyone else out and do whatever he needs to do with no break. He’ll also lash out at people who try to talk to him about something other than the project at hands whenever something like this happens. A complete 180 but he would also be a compulsive nail bitter, it’s just something he does whenever he’s bored. You’ve tried to get him to stop but nothing works.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Joost Klein is a fashion icon, do you think that he wouldn’t be obsessed with the way he looks. He loves shopping (specifically thrift stores) and he loves whenever you pick out something for him, even if he doesn’t like the piece it’s still nice that you thought about him.

He loves whenever you do his hair and makeup. Even if your doing a lit comb of his hair or putting a bit of concealer under his eyes he just loves that you care about him enough to do all of that.

He calls you every day when he’s on tour always wanting your opinion on his outfit and hair and just your opinion about his in general (he really cares about what you think if you haven’t noticed).

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He hates being away from you in general. He misses you when your at work and he’s at home, he misses you when you’re picking up dinner and he’s in your shared apartment; counting down the minutes until your home, and he especially hates when you’re using the restroom and he’s just laying in bed.

So just imagine how he would feel if you ever broke up or if god forbid you ever died. He would never be the same again in either cases. Spending the rest of his life sulking over you.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

This man is a eater (in both of the ways your thinking hunny). It’s like the acid in his stomach is extra strong and just dissolves everything he consumed immediately with the amount he eats. You could prepare a feast fit for a small village and he would eat the whole thing and ask for dessert. Speaking of dessert whenever you make like a pie you secretly make another one for yourself because you already know the first one is going to be done by tomorrow.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Can’t stand people who speak down to others and people who are rude in general. He also hates certain vegetables when they’re mushy like peas and mushrooms.

Z= Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

He’s a semi deep sleeper but he has a very strong grip when he’s asleep so good like trying to go use the restroom late at night. He snores softly while asleep, it’s not like those obnoxious snores you hear in the movies but almost like a soft snort. He moves around a lot in his sleep and takes you with him, sometimes you wake up on the other side of the bed opposite the headboard.

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I lowkey wanna do a nsfw version but I don’t really know, lemme know what you think

Notes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated and ty for reading

[xmalereader]

Miguel O’Hara X Black Cat! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: Took some inspiration from Felicia Hardy and Selene Kyle, let’s be honest Selene is my mother and will let her whip me whenever she wants 😌, so why not make this shot full of sass and perhaps some slight sexual tension? Also all Spanish words are correct, I am fluent in Spanish and Latino myself!

Summary: Every universe had a black cat, weather it ends in a good or bad outcome every Spider-Man had at least experienced being around a black cat. Miguel had his own variant back at his universe, but his story with black cat is interesting.

Warnings: ATSV Slight Spoilers! Some angst, mentions of time travel, breaking and entering, kissing, language, Miguel is tired, mentions of past divorce, mentions of Gabrielle, timeline, loop holes, miles wants to be adopted, reader is trying to bring hell, reader is protective of Miles, breaking the rules, toxic Miguel, Toxic reader, a negative plus a negative is a positive.

Word count: 4.1K

— || Part Two || Part Three ||

—

Noir didn’t know why he enjoyed watching the kid mess up, but it brought some joy into his daily task. Here he is standing on the edge of a roof top, staring down at the city’s number one hero trying to get himself untangled from his own webs. Both he and the little spider in red and black were chasing each other throughout the entire city, nearing midnight he was caught by the cities hero stealing a very valuable gem that was worth thousands, good enough for Noir to steal. How could he not? Now, after hours of chasing here he stands, head tilted in disappointment as he watches the little spider trying to escape his own webs after a malfunction in his own creation.

“Now this goes—wait, no…”

Noir tilts his head back, signing deeply to himself as he tucks the gems into his pocket before jumping down from the building and landing in front of the kid. He was a thief, not some cruel person who’s going to leave this poor kid stuck. “Kid—“

“I got it! I got it! Just have to—AH!”

The kid only get himself tangled into the web even more, causing the thief to roll his eyes, using his own claws to cut thought the webbing like it was nothing. The little spider looks around in surprise and smiles under his mask. “Hey, that worked!”

“Indeed it did.” Noir mocks him back, rolling his eyes from underneath his goggles.

“Now, I’m turning you in—!”

Noir holds his hand up to cut the kid off, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Kid, we’ve done this too many times. We all know that you’ll never be able to get me so just let it go and go after someone who is actually causing harm.” He give the kid a pointed look before using his grappling hook to get back to the roof top and continue his way back home. Only for the kid to follow after him, he expects himself to get into a fight with the kid again, knowing that he would win the fight and end things quickly.

“Wait! Look, I get that what you’re doing isn’t entirely dangerous nor are you harming anyone but, why do it? Why steal when you can just get a job?”

Noir’s eyes widen and bursts out laughing, shaking his head as the kid stares back confused. “Get a job? Kid, I did have a job but, no matter where I worked it was never enough to survive. Not everyone has an easy life and if you have to take some risks then take it. You can try and stop me all you want, kid. But, it won’t make things better.”

The kid stays silent, taking in his words as Noir brushed past him and makes his way towards the other side of the roof.

“Wait!”

Noir sighs, hand on his hip and looks over his shoulder to see the kid standing his distance. “I’ll stop coming after you.”

That causes him to raise a brow, confused and surprised by the kids sudden words, before he could ask why the kid speaks up. “If you teach me how to fight.”

Of course.

That’s how the two have been getting along after a year of teaching the kid how to defend himself, he was new to the whole hero thing and Noir was the only one who was able to teach him a thing or two. It was rare for him to connect with people who weren’t trying to kill him or let alone take him to prison for stealing something valuable of theirs.

Currently both of the two are sitting on top of a clock tower, the kid eating some pizza while Noir sips his morning coffee, watching the sunrise after spending all night training the kid on how to land his punches. “Isn’t it too early for you to be eating that stuff?” He mumbled out, getting the kids attention who turns to him with a stuffed mouth full of pizza.

“…no?”

Noir chuckles at the kid. “Don’t come to me if you start getting heartburn.” He mumbled around his coffee cup before taking another sip, focusing on the view ahead. The two spend most mornings like this, eating ‘breakfast’ together and enjoying each others company. The kid had stopped trying to get him arrested and each time Noir was caught stealing he always made it out without an issue.

He’s known the kid for a year now and he’s grown onto him. The last time he was around someone he cared about he ended up losing everything and always pushed people away from getting too close, but the kid always found his way back into his life. Noir breaths softly, glancing at the kid who had just finished his box of pizza and closed the lid while whipping the grease from his fingers onto his suit, causing the older man to grimace at his manners.

“All done, so what’s the training today?” The kids voice is full of enthusiasm which causes Noir to chuckle. “No more training.” He sets his coffee cup to the side and stands from sitting on the edge of the clock tower, towering over the kid who tilts his head back, staring at his second mentor. “You’re ready to do things on your own and I am done here.”

“Wait what?” The kid tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean your done here? Are you leaving?”

Noir placed a gentle hand on the kids shoulder. “You’ll do fine on your own, I taught you nearly everything I know. I’m clearly not needed anymore and I have business to attend somewhere else.” Noir was reaching a deadline with his stay here with the kid and had to move onto his next task, wanting to avoid bringing the kid anymore trouble that he’s already dealing with alone in this city.

The little spider before him doesn’t know how to react to this situation, clearly not happy with the outcome but knowing that he can’t do anything about it. “Will you be back?” He asks.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Noir shrugs his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself. “I don’t know…” He really didn’t, one moment he’s here and the next he’s gone. That was his plan and always has been.

Noir can see how bummed out the kid is and can’t help but, pull the kid into a gentle hug. “I’m ever around I’ll make sure to meet you. Perhaps during one of our usual chases.” He gets the kid to chuckle at his humor before the two pull apart. He’s staring at the kid with a sad smile, with a clawed index finger he bops the kid on the nose or where he thinks his nose is at due to him wearing the mask.

“Take care of yourself kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Noir chuckled. “You’ll always be a kid.” He picks up his empty coffee cup, making his way over to the ledge of the clock tower, facing his back towards the kid before looking over his shoulder to give the kid one last advice. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do, remember that.”

With that he jumps off the tower, leaving the kid on his own to continue on his own path.

Noir already planned to leave this place and couldn’t delay it any longer before he finds him. Upon arriving to his apartment, he slips through the window undetected from the neighbors and slips off his tinted goggles along with his gloves, letting out a deep exhale as he looks around the semi empty apartment that he was only planning to use for a short period of time.

He toss the gloves to the side and keeps the rest of his uniform on as he works around the apartment, collecting certain things to take with him while the other stuff he stuffed inside a trash bag, clearly not needing that stuff any longer and tossing it out the window, where it landed down below and into the dumpster.

Once the apartment is fully empty he reaches inside the bag he was planning on taking with him, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a silver bracelet. He stares at the blank screen, knowing that once he turns it on he will be traced, only giving him a few minutes to plan his escape. He zips up his bag and slips on his goggles again along with his gloves, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and with his index finger he taps on the blank screen, watching it turn on, activating.

“Five minutes.” He whispers to himself as he quickly types in Earth-42502, watching as a portal opens before him.

Adjusting his goggles, he takes a step forward only to freeze in place when another portal opens behind him. “The hell?” He looks over his shoulder, eyes widening under the goggles as a flash of red and blue zips towards him. He doesn’t have time to think as a hand wraps around his throat, knocking him back into the other earth.

The two are free falling through the air, grunting as his hand finds the others wrist and glares. He’s quick to use his strength, kicking him off as they continue to fall. “That was faster than usual.” He calls out, getting the other spiders attention who glared under his mask.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive to Earth-42502, portal opening onto the roof top of Oscorp Tower. Noir lands gracefully, but is quick to jump out of the way when the other spider lands where he once stood.

“Here I thought I’d never find you.”

Noir remembers that voice too well, remembering the days that the two would wake up next to each other.

“Seems like your desperate to find me.” Noir speaks up, taking cautious steps back as his eyes follow Miguels large figure. The man showed off his talons, taking dangerous steps forward as if stalking his prey.

“Let me guess, you were waiting until I activated this little guy, huh?” He raised his left arm to show off the bracelet he wore. The same bracelet that once belonged to Miguel and that he was able to snatch from during the time he was running away from Miguel. “Lyla’s not good at tracking.” He adds with a grin on his face.

“At least she found you before you can even open a portal to this earth. An earth that you don’t belong too.” Miguels voice is full of irritation, tired of having to chance Noir from different universes each time he disappeared off the radar.

“I know where I belong.”

Noirs voice drops down to a serious one, glaring under his own goggles as he takes steps back, slowly stepping on top of the ledge. “I’m not going back to that place, not after what you did.” He spits out.

“I was only trying to fix things.” Miguel sneers.

“By destroying a universe for our daughter? A daughter that wasn’t ours.”

“She was!”

“She belonged to another version of us and not us.” He points between himself and Miguel. The two have been chasing each other since day one, Miguels cannon affected him badly, causing him to lose his own child. Miguel had tried to find ways to fix it by going to other universe in hopes of getting their lives back together again only to mess things up badly and to cause a whole universe to be destroy. Their constant arguing grew worse as the days went on the two couldn’t be in a room together without trying to tear each other apart, leading to a divorce between the two. Well, a divorce wasn't really an option due to their universe being gone and instead was considered a break up between the two without having to sign he paper work.

In the public’s eye they were seen as married still. For them, they were separated.

Noir didn’t start stealing until after he stole Miguel’s bracelet, finding a way to stop Lyla from tracking him down and using it to escape from the man he loved. Giving himself a new life, stealing from every universe and only causing trouble for Miguel due to the constant anamolies being placed in the wrong universe, only giving the man extra work on getting it fixed.

You could say that it was Noirs way of showing revenge for all of the times Miguel blamed him for trying. Earning himself a reputation and treating it like a game.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have time for you, right now.” Y/n hissed out, turning around and jumping off the building, getting Miguel to panic all of sudden and run after him, jumping off and diving down to wrap his arm around Y/n’s waist and using his talons to grip onto the side of the building also using his webs to hold on.

“What—?”

“I’m not letting you go that easy.” Said Miguel, grinning under his mask as Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization.”Don’t you dare!” Y/n uses his own claws in a threatening way only for Miguel to ignore his threatens, getting Lyla to open a portal back to their earth and quickly dropping his (ex) husband down the portal. Only for Y/n to land inside Miguels little anomaly prison as one of his traps is set around him, caging him inside a tight space as he tried to use his claws to claws his way through.

It wasn’t until Miguel drops down in front of him. The two could easily be face to face if it wasn’t for the barrier stopping them. “You’ll stay here until everything is fixed and then you can scream and yell all you want.” Said Miguel a hand on his own hip as his mask dissolves away, showing his real face to Y/n who frowned. “You can keep me here all you want, but I will always find a way out.” He was testing him.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he was trapped under Miguels watch, he’s escaped plenty of times before and he will do it again.

Miguel chuckled deeply. “Oh, mi amor. This time it’s different, because I’m going to make sure that I have a close eye on you twenty-four seven.” He looks over his shoulder to nod at one of the spiders from his society who turns around to type away on their computer. All of sudden Y/n is transformed to Miguels lab, appearing in the room in a flash as he yelps in surprise.

“Jesus…” He breaths out in surprise a hand over his beating heart as he falls back onto his bottom. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Stop being annoying and be quiet.” Said Miguel, circling him like prey and focusing back on his work. Y/n grins, reaching up to push his goggles up and over his head. “Listen, cabeza de mierda. You brought me here in order to keep an eye on me, but never did you say that I couldn’t annoy you.”

“I—“

“So, I won’t stop talking your ass off until you let me go.”

Miguel stares down at his husband, knowing the man well enough to know that he was keeping that promise. The taller spider sighs in annoyance, already regretting his choice as Y/n grins at him and leans back against his elbows and crossing his leg over the other, lying down as he groans out loudly.

“Who would have thought, the two of us together again. After a year? Damn, it’s already been a year, I remember you slamming into a wall when chasing me through Earth-6574. God, the anger in your eyes was so satisfying!”

Miguel tried to focus on his work, ignoring the mans words as he continues on, rambling on about anything that will annoy Miguel until the man gives in.

The conversation went for hours, with Y/n changing positions every few minutes, one minute he’s lying down and the next he’s sitting. Another time he’s doing a handstand in the small space he’s trapped in or using his claws to try and penetrate the force field around him only to fail. He didn’t stop until he suddenly grew bored, lips sealed as Miguel finally takes in the peaceful silence, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“There it is.”

Miguel snaps his head towards Y/n, already knowing his plan.

“Enjoyed your five seconds of peace and quiet? Because, I was just getting started.”

Miguel wants to shout, opening his mouth to throw back an insult only for him to be disturbed by the sound of people entering his lab, getting his attention. Y/n also looks over to the group of teens approaching them, one specific teen getting the thief’s attention as he narrows his eyes, focusing on the curly hair and dark skin until his eyes widen in realization.

“Miles?”

Even though he’s only known the kid for a year and had trained him on the side, he knew who the kid was under the mask, but never said anything. Not wanting to freak the kid out. Whenever the kid wasn’t hiding behind the mask, Y/n would keep a close eye on the kid, making sure that he was focusing on school and attending his family diners and parties, somehow feeling responsible for the kids disappearance each time he skipped classes or lunch only to meet up with enthusiasm, excited to learn something new from the thief that the teen befriend somehow.

It didn’t take long for the platform to lower, reaching the ground and getting the teens attention. Before Miles could introduce himself or hand Miguel the empanada that he had in hand. The kids eyes fall onto Y/n, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Noir?”

This gets everyone’s attention, including Miguel who snaps his head in Y/n’s direction with a knowing glare that he knew too well.

“Hey kiddo!” Noir waves at Miles with a wide grin on his face, side eyeing Miguel as he feels his burning glare. Miles doesn’t think twice to quickly rush over and jump onto the platform, worry in his eyes as he ignores Miguel’s surprised look along with Gwen’s panicked looked and Hobie’s grin. The teenager was too focused on Noir to care about what the others were thinking about his actions, his palms against the force field that separated the two as he tries to find a way to get him out. “Why are you here? How are you here?” Miles began to ask as Y/n looked at Miles with a fond look and faint smile.

“Easy kid, I’m alright.” He tries to reassure the kid.

“Get him out.” Miles blurts out, turning to Miguel with a frown on his face. The sudden demand shocks the others, but not Y/n who can only smirk over Miles shoulder and towards Miguel who frowned deeply. “I’d listen to the kid.” He whispers, loud enough for his ex to hear.

Miguel grunts in disapproval and had no choice but to do as told as gets red of the red field around him, finally setting him free as Y/n stands from his spot, stretching his arms in the air like a cat and getting caught by surprise when Miles hugs the other man. “Whoa! Easy kid, I’m alright.” He reassured him, giving his back a soft pat.

His actions don’t go unnoticed as Miguel watched the two interact with each other, clearly reading the signs that Y/n had claimed this kid as his own, treating him with care and respect, knowing that if he comes between the two, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to fight back like a feral cat. It’s happened before and it won’t stop him from doing it again.

“You said you had to leave.” Miles speaks up, getting Y/n attention who sighs deeply. “About that…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and giving Miles an awkward smile.

“Noir isn’t from your universe, he belongs in mine. He was caught breaking the rules and had no choice but to bring him here. He’s a slippery one and likes to get away, so letting him out of his cage wasn’t a good idea.” Said Miguel, getting an eye roll from Y/n and placing his hand on his hip. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve gotten away from it many times and you didn’t seem to mind.” Y/n said back, making his way around the platform and taking in Miguels work.

He takes notice of the videos and pictures of them both together along with this their daughter, causing a small sad sigh to escape his lips knowing that Miguel hasn’t gotten over the death of their daughter. Y/n was the only one who was able to move on from everything but Miguel, he couldn’t blame him. Everyone coped different with death and took their own pace in recovery. With a clawed finger he turns the pictures off, glancing over to Miguel who was watching him this whole time with a sorrowful look on his face.

Y/n quickly turns away, refusing to look at the man he once loved.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Gwen points between Y/n and Miguel, approaching the duo that stood before her, getting Y/n to smirk widely. “Actually were married.” He quotes out, getting a surprise look from both Gwen and Miles. “Divorced.” Miguel added, hands on his hips as Y/n pouts at his words.

“Divorced? Really, you two would look cool together.” Said Miles. “Adopt me?”

Y/n breaks out in laughter, throwing his head back as he laughs at Miles words. He jumps offer the platform and takes miles into his arms, pulling the kid close to him and squeezing him tight. “How did my ward become so adorable? If I could adopt you then I would!”

“Wait, your ward?” Miguel asks, clearly not likening this.

“Yep!”

“He’s taught me a thing or two.” Said Miles and with a proud smile on this face he extends his hand, opening his palm to show Noir the hard-drive that he stole from Miguel, getting a very proud Y/n to hug him again. “My child is learning!” He cheers in excitement while Miguel growls. “No, no, I refuse to let you take in a spider. You are enough trouble, let alone having a kid do it too?”

“If it wasn’t for me the kid wouldn’t have gotten better on his skills. I taught him how to defend himself and perhaps get away with a thing or two…” Even though Miles was suppose to be his universe hero and protector, he couldn’t help but, teach the kid a thing or two when it comes towards breaking and entering. Teaching Miles how to sneak back inside his room or dorm without being noticed and to pick on locks in case of emergencies.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself in disappointment. “No puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He mumbled as he listens to Miguel ramble on while Miles is being saluted by Hobie, admiring the kids new skills form a very well known thief in many universes.

“Did you know that he stole this guitar for me?” Said Hobie, pointing over his shoulder where his guitar was strapped over his shoulder. “Mad genius.”

Miles laughs. “I don’t like stealing, but Noir once helped me with getting my mom a present for Mother’s Day. He stole a necklace for me, nothing too expensive but also nice.” Said the teen. Clearly he was nervous and ashamed for it when he first got handed the jewel from the known thief only for the anxiety and worry to fade away when he say how happy his mother was about the gift.

His father questioned him and all Miles told his dad was that he worked hard for it.

Noir smiles at the two before looking over to Miguel who stared with disappointment, but Y/n didn’t seem to care one bit wanting the teen to enjoy his life and he wouldn't mind breaking a few rules in order to give the kid what he wanted. Even if it meant bumping into his husband ever once an awhile.

[whowantshota]

NOT ALLOWED pt. 2 —— lee heeseung

it's date night with your boyfriend, but you don't even show up. you can't help it, old habits die hard.

warnings ☆ MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. angst, smut, cheating, dom heeseung, this is mostly smut, manipulation, ft enha, soobin (txt) deserves the world,

song recs: it almost worked, tv girl. not allowed, tv girl. lovers rock, tv girl. billie bossa nova, billie eilish,

read part one here! can also be read as a standalone

After what you’ve been calling the ‘little incident,’ the rest of the week was uneventful. Classes are the same, Sunoo’s no less dramatic, and you think you’ve texted your project partner Yunjin at least once since then. Soobin’s still texting you sweet little goodnight messages before you go to sleep though, still kissing you the same and fucking you in that slow, soft way he always has.

You hate it. Hate it with every fiber of your being. You hate it so much. The way he isn’t repulsed by you, hugs you close to him when the two of you go about on campus. The way he loves you all the same despite what you’ve now gone and done.

And you know that you should break up with him. Not because he’s ass—if anything he’s the farthest from it that you’ve ever seen a man be. No, if anything you (absolutely) are the ass. That’s why it’d be so much better than trying, trying so damn hard to love him the way he loves you.

“Dinner? Tomorrow, at 9?” He asked you suddenly during study group. You look up from your book to glance at him. One eyebrow raised, he grins at the feeling of his knee pressing into your thigh, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Dinner?” You repeat, tapping your pencil against the table. Soobin nods, running his tongue over his bottom lip. There’s a slight blush you can see creeping up his neck, rising in his ears. 

He waits for you to answer, hands folded politely over his own textbook. His sleeves are rolled up just below his elbows and you can see the thick vein that traces its way down to the back of his hand. His fingers are so pretty, so big, have fucked their way into your a cunt a number of times now. The same fingers that’ve treated you right so many times, skimmed across the expanse of your inner thigh. They’ve never choked you, though. Never fucked into your mouth and pressed hard on your tongue, never pulled you down and gagged you on cock.

They’ve never treated you like Heeseung has.

You blink twice, look down, only to look back up and peek at Soobin from under your lashes. “Yeah. Dinner sounds great.”

The way Soobin lights up makes your heart hurt. You really don’t know why he’s put so much effort into taking you out, nor why it still makes him happy. You’ve been dating for three months now, talking for maybe a little longer than that. He’s been trying to make more time for you now, ever since you mentioned it to him. Date’s every fortnight, mostly over coffee or ice cream. Sometimes there’s sex, and sometimes there’s not. Usually, there is.

Soobin’s hands unfold, and he spares a look at the clock. He breaks into the awkward silence, clearing his throat and straightening the white collar of his shirt. “Um, it’s late, huh.” He notes, scratching the back off his neck. “Can I…”

“Sure.” You say, lips pursed. You know what he wants; nothing more than to simply walk you to your dorm. He nods silently at your response and stands up, closing his book and gathering his own things to shove into his bag. Too fucking sweet for his own good, Choi Soobin does not deserve you.

★ . *- .

You think it almost worked.

If you had tried a little harder, possibly made a little more room in your heart for Soobin, then maybe you could have left every single thing about Lee fucking Heeseung behind you.

You did dress up for dinner, wore a short black dress and your favorite cardigan. You did take the time to fix up your hair, and you did go the extra mile and buy him a perfume.

Oh fuck that, you didn’t even wait for him to pick you up at your dorm.

It should have seemed at least a little shocking, but to be honest, you knew that you would come back. You could take it to another level and say you that had planned it, and that’d even be true.

Heeseung was shocked though, opening the door to find you standing outside at 8:47 PM, his pretty, pink lips parted in silence. Before he could say anything, you were already pulling him in for a kiss, feeling his warmth and sliding your hands into his wet hair.

He lets out a long, full groan against your bottom lips when your hands start to feel lower, wanting and reaching for more. “Baby,” he hums when he finally pulls away, “fuck, slow down.”

His hands wrap around your wrists, separating your touch from him. Heeseung did not expect to see you back on his doorstep so soon, had thought you’d be a smarter girl. Thought you'd take some time to think about things, maybe even see how bad, how fucking horrible you are for each other. You didn’t though, and to say he didn’t want you back on his doorstep though, would be a lie. 

“Need you Heeseung,” you tell him. He can’t help but shiver at the sight of you, his grip loosening around your arms and allowing you to slither a hand to his face, cupping his cheek. 

You pull at the hem of the black shirt he’s wearing, tight around his chest. He must’ve just come back from practice, meaning Jay and Jake are probably still in the house but honestly you couldn’t care less. They could watch for all you care.

You’re attaching your lips to his once more before he’s pulling you inside, only separating once to close the door and press your backside against it. 

Heeseung moans into your mouth, tasting the sweet cherry chapstick slick on your lips. His hands move from your arms to glide along your waist. He squeezes, earning a small, muffled cry from you. It was funny, how well he still remembered you and all of your littleticks, what you liked and what threw you off. 

He only moves his lips from yours to start sucking against the skin on your neck, efficient work pulling an unwanted whimper from you. He smiles against your skin and you can feel the upturned corners pressing to you.

“Fuck, Seungie.” You murmur, pulling away for a breath, which is short lived because Heeseung is pulling you back in, bitting your bottom lip. 

You tug at his sweats, fitting a hand inside and cupping his hard on. He stiffens at your touch, hissing something you can’t hear. You love it, the way he reels into you, hands gripping you tight. You could let him take you here, have you all to himself on the couch until midnight. Even longer than that if you really fucking wanted to.

You have him here, all to yourself. He’s whispering in your ear about how good you taste and you’re talking right back, going on and on about how much you missed him, needed him.

You feel the vibration of your phone buzz in your cardigan, but you don’t make a move to even check for it. Fuck Yunjin, or Sunoo, or Soobin, you get back to them later. But you can’t get back Heeseung, can’t get back the way he grinds into the palm of your hand, can’t get back the sweet sounds he makes everytime you tug a little to hard at his hair. Definitely can’t get back the way he loves you at all, though you’re not sure how long it’s been since you lost that.

You groan in annoyance when your phone starts to ring again, pulling it out from your pocket. Heeseung doesn’t question it, let’s you simply fling your phone somewhere around the room and drums his fingers against your hip.

“Came to see me, yeah?” He mumbles against your neck, thumbs starting to rub against you in a circular motion. “Came to let me eat that pretty cunt, mm?”

He starts to suck a hickey and you almost protest, almost say that Soobin could see it, could figure out that you make yourself cum with someone else’s name on the tip of your tongue. But you don’t say anything, only palm his bulge and moan. He slips a hand under the skirt of your dress, presses his fingers against the crotch of your panties.

He’s dragging slow fingers against fabric, feeling the growing wet patch between your folds. “Seungie, hurry up.” You pout, looking at him with big, wet eyes.

Luckily, he’s not in the mood to tease you, yet. He hums and complies with your pleas, locking your lips once more as he slides two fingers in. He’s sloppily kissing you, devouring the moans that leave you while at the same time fucking his fingers into you. 

He doesn’t take his time at all; doesn’t look to see if you’re enjoying it. He doesn’t need to, he knows you eat up whatever the fuck he gives you. Knows he’s fucked you right enough times for you to love this.

You feel like your legs are going to give out when he rolls his thumb against your clit, other hand reaching to knead the flesh of your ass. From the way he’s still grinding against your hand, you think he’s enjoying it too.

You whimper when he pulls out so abruptly, dropping to kneel on the floor in front of you. He pulls your leggings and panties down to your knees, sucking on his fingers and pressing his cheek against the soft skin of your thigh. You can hear the loud pop when he pulls them out of his mouth, messily coated in his saliva. 

When he pauses to look up at you, fuck, you swear you could cum on the spot. The greatest view you’ve seen in a long time; Heeseung below you with his mouth parted slightly, haired mussed, face flushed deep red as he licks his fingers clean.

It hits you right then, how much you want him, really fucking need him. “Fuckin’, love you. Need you s’much.” You cry. There’s tears welling up in your eyes, and they seem to be enough to inspire him to continue. 

Warm, wet lips press against your cunt. It's so soft, so gentle that for a second you wonder if it really is Heeseung, who’s peppering kisses along your pelvis. If he's really there, looking up at you from behind thick locks of dark hair. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy because your boyfriend doesn't?” He asks, continuing to press a trail of kisses against your front, only stopping when he's about right under your navel.

“He…he does,” you stutter. You didn’t think before the words came out, merely let them spill in a hurried response. To be fair, you hadn’t spoken that loud either, but Heeseung hears it, of course.

“Oh, he does?” He takes a moment to let it sink in, brows furrowing before he pulls away and stands up. You want to hold him back down, tell him to kneel again and fuck his tongue into your cunt. But perhaps now's not the time: Heeseung looks unimpressed by the words, arms crossed over his chest. 

The dorm is silent. Much too silent. Considering it’s not that late, you can bet that both Jake and Jay are still up, if not in their respective rooms, hopefully out and about.

Not that there’s time to think about those too, though. Heeseung’s hand is closing around your wrist, and he’s dragging you away from the wall and further into the room. He lays you on the couch���it seems to have become a spot after your last visit.

Heeseung’s got you pinned under him in seconds, pulling off his shirt, hips straddling yours. “You’d don’t think he could fuck you better than I could, baby?” You hear him hum. One strong hand resting on your stomach, bulge pressed up against your leg. 

“That's why you're here with me, letting me fuck this cunt, hm?” He trails off, not so much flinching as you reach into his boxers, pulling his thick cock out of his sweats.

You didn’t come here because of anyone else, you came here because you need Heeseung. Because Soobin could fuck you right, but he just can’t fuck you the way Herseung does. So you’re about to object, state your point, looking at Heeseung through pitiful eyes. And then a buzzing starts up from between the couch cushions.

Heeseung sees it before you do, grabs your long forgotten phone from where it’s sunk. He looks it over, bright light illuminating his face much better than the old lamp in the corner does. 

You know something is wrong when you see the smirk growing on his face, wetting his bottom lip. The phone’s still buzzing, but Heeseung’s already hovering right over you, breath fanning over your face. Precum dribbles down from his tip and along the back of your leg. “Keep quiet for a bit, ‘kay baby?”

He places the phone on the couch arm behind you. You’re about to turn around, swearing you heard something when Heeseung suddenly pushes into you without warning. 

You gasp, pussy squeezing around his girth. He shoves his thumb into the side of your mouth, forcing it open enough for him to spit inside. 

“Swallow,” he commands, fucking into you at a mild pace. His hand moves down to close around your throat, resting his thumb against the lump when you comply. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

“Please!” You cry, clenching even harder at the pet name, earning a groan from Heeseung. His pace falters, and he’s fucking into you sloppily. 

“Fuck, I’ll take care of this cunt,” Heeseung manages to get out, voice, breathy as he speaks. You hiccup, tears slipping down your face. It feels so good, too good. How the fuck did you survive a week without this?

He doesn’t complain when your arms wrap around him, nails digging raw pink marks into his skin. Your back hurts like fuck with the way your arching, but the warmth of his cock is too good for you to care. “Yes, fuck–please, wan’ that.”

And as always, it’s about Heeseung giving you whatever you need at the moment. Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the sadistic smirk on Heeseung’s face when he lazily fucks a couple of more strokes into you. Or why you don’t hear the other end of the phone, don’t see Soobin’s contact name shining brightly on the dial screen of your phone.

“Yeah?” Heeseung muses, reveling in the thought of the desperate scratches he’ll find on his back tomorrow morning. “Who does this pussy belong to, baby?” 

“Heeseung! All yours Seungie-” You’re babbling now, sobbing through choked breaths. He fits in you so well; you know you were just made for him.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” He grunts, fucking into you on each word. The disconnect tone plays right when Heeseung cums, head of his cock dragging against you insides as he rides the high out. 

He doesn’t topple over you and let you ruffle his hair when finishes. Nor does he kiss your nose or call you beautiful. No, he merely pulls out, watches the way his cum spills down your thighs, tucks himself back into his sweats and pushes off of the couch.

You almost reach out to him, but the words die in your throat. You hear Heeseung mutter something, tell you that you can get cleaned in the bathroom, that there’s a pair of his clothes you can change into.

You hate him for it. Even though you’re the one who wanted to walk into all of this. Heeseung did tell you that you couldn’t, shouldn’t start over. Who the fuck were you to think you could fix him; fix what you had?

Now you’re really crying. Big tears welling up and dropping onto the wrinkled skirt of your dress. You pick up your phone from its place on the armchair, open the call app, then drop it into your lap.

You should have known, should have expected it with the number of times he brought up Soobin. Should have seen him reach for your phone, should have noticed the grand smile he wore while he fucked you so good, so deep.

Soobin’s phone number appears three times in your list of recent calls. Twice, as a missed call. Once, as answered.

i love this work so much. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! not beta read

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#7: The Choice (1.01)

gif cred: @machonnes

Ok so apart from a certain dream that comes up later in the premiere, this is my favorite scene of episode one. Andy did a phenomenal job as always and this was when we got to see some signature Rick 'Ain’t Nothing to Play With' Grimes. Craig Tate also was incredible in this scene. And even after already hearing that one line in the trailer so much because I replayed it 1000x leading up to TOWL, hearing it during this premiere was even better...

So they set the tone of this scene right from the jump with dramatic music as Rick unleashes the weapon from his prosthetic fist. He quietly approaches a sleeping Okafor, putting the blade to his neck as he tells him to “Wake up.”

Okafor wakes up calmer than some people do from a morning alarm and just says, “You forgot to salute, soldier.” Rick isn’t here for games so he gets straight into it asking Okafor, “What the hell do you know about me?” And that’s all Okafor has to hear to know exactly what Rick’s talking about.

Okafor starts to quote Rick’s letter saying, “'I think of the dead all the time.'” And hearing him quote that I was like like now I know he didn’t violate Rick’s privacy and read his personal letters to Michonne. 😑 Okafor, sir...

They then show clips of Rick from the TWD series finale when he places a love letter to Michonne in a bottle and throws it in the river like the true loverboy he is. Okafor casually lists out more info he has stating, “Her name, back of the note, your message in a bottle from escape number three.”

Okafor says he found the bottle and also the phones saying, “That was her on the phones, right? Yeah, I looked through those too. The child though - that was your daughter, right?” And Rick has crazy eyes as he hears this.

Aside from the portraitist and maybe Jadis reluctantly, this is probably Rick's first time ever even talking this directly about Michonne and Judith with anyone in years and now he has to talk about his girls with someone who is willing to take them out if need be. 😞

gif cred: @vidco

Another thought I had while watching the TOWL premiere is that Judith appears to be an especially sensitive subject for Rick. I think why he might mention her less than Michonne in episode one is because for a parent to have to just not know if their kid is alive is too much to bear. And so I think Rick is a lot more hesitant to let thoughts about Judith's status even take up his mind because it’s too painful wondering if she’s not alive whereas he knows Michonne is likely alive.

Hearing Okafor say he knows all about Michonne and Judith has Rick ready to throw hands and so he yanks Okafor out of the bed and demands to know who else knows about his family. 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love Tate’s delivery as Okafor says, “'Michonne' is an unusual name. Not many people out there” (baby, she’s one-of-a-kind 💅🏽).

gif cred: @nerd4music

He continues, “But if you start the search around where we picked you up…that’s potent information.” To me, Okafor calling this 'potent information' implies that he always intended to hold onto what he knew about Rick's wife and daughter so that he could use it as a trump card if ever he needed to get Rick back under control like he's doing right now.

And again, I have to applaud Tate’s performance in this scene because the brand of menacing he chooses is super compelling. It’s understated but still so chillingly in control and he’s a great foil to Rick.

gif cred: @nerd4music

I love how Rick's relationship with and love for Michonne is driving the plot and the stakes in this scene. TWD didn't fully explore Negan picking up on the fact that Rick had a wife, but this exchange between Okafor and Rick in TOWL gave us some insight into exactly how Rick would be if someone learned about his true love and tried to use it against him. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Rick takes a page from the Will Smith handbook when he slaps Okafor’s neck and pushes him to the ground to let him know he needs to keep his wife’s name out of his mouth. Rick is really ready to scrap knowing Okafor knows about Michonne. 🥊

gif cred: @nerd4music

Okafor keeps talking and Rick punches him in the face so Okafor lets Rick know, “They would have sent me to find you, clean up my mess, and finally erase you. You are my charge.” Even using a term as cold as 'erase you' shows that there’s a lack of humanness in how Okafor views things.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And then Rick proves it's possible to look extremely hot and like a raging madman all at the same time, as he listens to this with a nod and crazed eyes.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Okafor says, “I’m the one who’d have to kill you and Michonne and anyone else you ran to out there. Just knowing about this—" and y’all, that was Okafor’s death sentence right there.

Telling Rick Grimes you’d have to kill Michonne...oh that’s when I knew Okafor wasn’t gonna make it out of TOWL alive. No one threatens Michonne and lives.

And Rick puts some extra oomph when he kicks Okafor in the face for the mere suggestion. Like please, the golden rule is you don’t come for a Grimes in front of another Grimes and here Okafor got to learn the golden rule by threatening Michonne Grimes like that. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Then it’s Rick's turn to weigh in, in that black jacket that really flatters him, when he tells Okafor he doesn’t care why he’s covered in blood and why the bombs go out and don’t come back. (Even tho low key he should care because little does he know those bombs nearly lost him his wife. 😣)

Okafor says Rick does care because he’s convinced any A would be eager to save the world. But Rick has always been a guy whose goal in life is not to be some superhero leader. He wants his world back most of all. And we know who his world consists of.

Rick says, “This isn’t my city. Those aren’t my people.” It’s interesting because in TWD Rick was a leader who treated his group like they were genuinely his people and family, but here with the CRM he's avoided establishing any allegiance to these people whatsoever.

Okafor says everyone in the world is his people, everyone alive, and Rick raises his voice to say, “This isn’t everything!”

I know Rick is fed up because he feels like he found his everything long ago, so to suggest that anything other than his family is more important will just never sit well with him.

He feels this mission and this city is not a paradise for everyone because for him the only heaven he has on earth will ever be Michonne and their kids. 

Rick continues, passionately saying, “You don’t get to choose for the world! You don’t get to choose for me.” I love the delivery of that. Rick already chose what and who is everything to him.

Okafor just casually says, “I don’t. You did. You made the choice.” And first of all, Rick didn’t choose to be here at all so really he’s just had to work with the cards he’s been dealt.

Second of all, he only made the choice to join the CRM because it was a way to get back to the people who are his actual choice --- and who are those people some might ask? Rick will tell you. 😊

Hearing Okafor say this, Rick is like lemme make something as clear as day to you as he says with all the conviction in the world,

“My wife is my choice.”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And now y’all excuse me a minute because the happy dance spirit is going to take over my being every time I hear that line.

Ain’t that line the best thing ever. 🤩 I loved hearing Rick say this and say it so powerfully. It was a great first time hearing Rick refer to Michonne as his wife. And I adore that he says she’s his choice. 🥹

So much to gush over about this one line alone. Rick calling Michonne his wife was big on my TOWL wishlist and this was such a perfect way to hear him say it.

I love that while he was taken before they could marry on the bridge like he wanted, Rick still knows what he and Michonne had was a beautiful love between a husband and wife. Just like Michonne knew it too so she wore a wedding ring around her neck all these years.

When I see Rick say this line to Okafor I like to think about how somewhere on this same night Michonne was in bed alone and little did she know Rick was out here throwing high-ranking soldiers around to let them know that she is always and forever his ultimate choice. Their love is just something else, I adore it.

Also, this line made me think about another time someone Rick had a conflict with brought up Michonne. In s3, the Governor wanted to make a deal with Rick regarding Michonne - infamously asking if one woman is worth it.

gif cred: @chonesmint

And man has that one woman been more than worth it to the point that now when someone speaks on Michonne, Rick can look at them with all the intensity and certainty in the world and say that she is his wife and she is his choice.

And then Rick lets Okafor know Judith is very much included in this as he says, “My daughter. My life is my choice.” Now that’s an A. Saying I’ve made my choice and no one is taking that from me. 👏🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Seeing Rick still be so connected to his wife and daughter, still choosing them above all else, warms my heart. It’s great. 🥹 All these years later he still fights so hard for these two. 🥲

And in declaring his wife and his daughter are his choice it's also Rick revealing to Okafor that they are the only reason he 'chose' to join the CRM and play along. He was never actually bought into any program like Okafor or the CRM might've thought.

Then, Andy just knocks it out of the park even more as he says, “You think I went what I went through, did what I did, to let anyone choose anything for me?” The emotion in those lines was so good and palpable. 👏🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

I just felt everything we’ve ever seen Rick go through all these years flash through his head as he lets Okafor know he’s been through way too much to let someone else start calling the shots on his life. That power is reserved for him and Michonne alone (who Rick happily chooses to let choose things for him 😇).

gif cred: @msanonships

Okafor firmly tells Rick he made the choice and then Rick wants to start throwing shade and calling Okafor out when he says that Okafor lives for the people in the city because he has nothing else but his duty.

Rick's basically saying 'look, you don't have a goddess at home like me so...

Rick calls Okafor a good soldier with nothing and Okafor doesn't take kindly to being read for filth so he hits Rick and tags him to the ground. Okafor gets the upper hand and yells about how he lost everything and how he was the one to bomb Atlanta, which was interesting to learn he was one of the people behind the Atlanta bombing in early TWD.

Okafor reveals he too had a wife named Estelle who was a marine and how she and he didn’t want to keep killing people for nothing. Okafor says he had power and he had a choice and the choice he made was to...kill his wife. 👀 That was a wild confession.

And Rick’s response says he too thinks this is a wild confession especially because he would never do that to Michonne, regardless of a greater good.

However, while Rick would never do that, he does eventually in a way try to kill the relationship with his wife for the sake of protecting Michonne going forward. 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I like how Okafor has to sorta pause before saying “I killed my wife” and even his cadence is a bit different when he does speak on taking out his wife. It seems to be the one thing he still has at least a little bit of emotion over. Like he says it in a detached way but that pause beforehand lets you know somewhere deep inside the act of killing his wife and thousands of others still stirs him.

It just goes to show when you find a real love there will always be a part of you that feels something for them no matter how detached you become from things.

But then Okafor credits his wife’s choice as one that saved even more people and maybe even the whole world which is clearly how he justifies the act. He’s a mirror for Rick to see what he could become if he officially loses his love - becoming a man who just lives for some greater cause of saving the world even if it means being broken and shut down because you’ve lost the one woman who saves your world. 

Okafor says, “I tried with you, Rick. I tried.” And Rick quietly says “I’m sorry,” cuz even in a fight Rick can still have empathy. Okafor asks what he’s apologizing for and Rick slashes him trying to get the upper hand but Okafor punches him and pulls a gun on him. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Realizing he’s at a disadvantage, Rick says, “Just let me go” but Okafor says no because Rick is an asset to his plan.

I saw some debate on whether Okafor was ultimately a friend of Rick and I honestly think no. Rick was an asset to his plan and, in a way, Okafor seemed to feel like he owned Rick, even hanging the threat of killing his family over him to keep him on board. So while they may have got to a point of complicated comradery, I think first and foremost Okafor was just a different type of captor of Rick.

When Okafor denies his request to be let go, Rick then puts Okafor’s weapon to his head and begs him to end it. Which is super painful to see. 😢

It also is a very clear depiction of how he and Michonne cannot in fact lose each other and be fine because as Rick realizes in this gut-wrenching scene he now can’t go home to her - not because he wouldn't be willing to keep trying to escape but because he can put his girls in danger if he does - he really just wants to be done with life.

gif cred: @rcsitastark

Rick says, “Do it. Please” and he’s so clearly in despair and agony. 🥺 But Okafor says he won’t grant that death wish. He tells Rick, “They’re still with you. But you fight here now. You fight for them. You already made the choice.” And that part is true - his family is still with him, even tho I know Rick doesn't fully feel like it's true rn, having already lost the memory of Carl and been away from his wife and daughter for years.

It’s devastating seeing a light turn off with Rick in this moment as he realizes he can’t go home to his wife and daughter. You just see his mind and body succumb to defeat. And I found the CRM folk continuously telling Rick that he made the choice to be a cruel act of manipulation.

gif cred: @taiturner

So Rick just stands there with his head hung low as Okafor moves on from Rick's despair and just goes over the next steps regarding the Summit. And again you can see Rick becoming lifeless.

Okafor says this is the start of Rick’s path to the upper echelons of power and Rick tells him what’s always been true when he says, “I don’t want power.” He really never has.

Honestly, in s8 during the Savior War, it was clear Rick was ready to retire even back then. I’m reminded of Danai’s impactful and spot-on words when she described Rick as not needing leadership to be a man but rather being a good man burdened with leadership. It’s never been about titles and wielding authority for him. 

Even in Say Yes, there’s a reason he tells Michonne he wouldn’t want to be the leader of the next world. He doesn’t want power. Really what he most wants for his life is her and their family. 

gif cred: @ex0rin

But it’s fitting that Okafor responds saying, “That’s the thing. You already have it.”

While Rick, as he says several times in TWD, didn’t ask to be a leader, he is a natural one and so whether he wants it or not he does have power and he is someone who can make a difference. Basically, he’s just destined to be Him. Even tho right now he feels cursed to be that guy. 

And while Okafor says Rick has power, Rick is clearly feeling at his absolute lowest and most powerless in this moment, which will now lead to this episode's most heartbreaking scenes and a beautiful but painful last letter. 😔👌🏽

[typingcorgi]

can't quit you

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4.1k+ pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: mention of age difference, tipsy sex, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable but totally fuckable joel, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie, praise kink makes brain go brrr, taylor swift references if you squint, porn with plot, moody-ish joel, no use of y/n summary: joel miller isn't able to tell you what you mean to him, but he can show you. author's notes: this is probably the fic I'm most proud of (not that I've written very many) and if you read, i would absolutely love feedback, reblogs, or comments. tell me what you like! tell me what you hated (kindly pls lol). i am open to feedback and love praise can't you tell so enjoy reading your thoughts. now enjoy getting dicked down (respectfully) and thank you to @foli-vora for letting me pick your brain on some of the plot devices; truly appreciate it (:

Right now, you have two things on your mind: cheap whiskey and Joel Miller.

The former comes from the promise of your smuggler who’d agreed to deliver an unopened bottle of Rittenhouse in exchange for three or four cigarettes you’d hand-rolled that morning. Quality tobacco is a thing of the past, so you’re fine with offering up one lackluster product in exchange for another slightly less lackluster product. There’s a good chance the bottle will be half-empty by the time your visitor makes it to your meeting spot. No one is ever as good as their word anymore, and their word means virtually nothing.

You hold Joel Miller to his promises, though. He said he’d run out to barter for his own offering of supplies—he’s low on ammo for his shotgun, and he needs to find a good number of batteries for the two-way radios he’d stolen off a sleeper last night. He figures it might be a good insurance plan, a good backup just in case either of you split up in this next leg of the trip to Jackson. And while you don’t like the idea of him traveling alone—despite knowing he can very much take care of himself—you don’t fight him on it. He’s not wrong, and more significantly, if you try and argue with him, you’re probably going to be disappointed. 

You used to bicker more when you thought he hated you; when you were the annoying neighbor and not the escort out of Boston and downstate. You fought like cats and dogs when you lived next door to him in those mangy apartments, never liking the way you looked at each other—like both of you knew the other had an ulterior motive to force yourself out of the QZ, and you picked up on it, tapped into this common secret you hadn’t planned on sharing with anyone else. And while the proverbial walls with which Joel shields himself are crumbling at a painfully sluggish pace, it’s something. You’ll take something over nothing.

You’re hiding out in the basement of an abandoned convenience store on what was probably a main street in this New York suburb. There isn’t much by way of furniture; just a couple of rust-ridden folding chairs, a worn green couch, empty, dusty shelves, and a sink that probably hasn’t run clean water in fifteen years. Small privacy windows along the top of the walls offer little by way of natural light, and the angle of its golden rays tells you that it’s time to go. Your connect is waiting for you on the street’s southern corner. Or at least, that’s where you planned to meet right before sundown.

Joel’s left you with his smaller, quicker shot, a semi-automatic that he usually entrusts you with while you’re apart. He doesn’t say it, but you can sort of tell that he doesn’t like leaving you. And it’s probably not personal because yes, while Joel Miller is slowly coming out of the shell he’s lived in for the last twenty years, it’s not as though he’s developed some sort of overt attachment to you. In a life like this, attachment is almost as dangerous as the Infected. There’s no room for him—or for you—to seek anything beyond a sort of temporary comfort with one another.

Get him to Jackson. That’s it. And then you’re on your own again on your route back home.

You switch the safety on the rifle, then keep it tucked in the front pocket of your jeans while you head up the dilapidated stairs and push open the cellar doors. The sunset meets you right in your eyes and you squint, and then the same thought you have at almost every beautiful encounter sweeps through your mind. Am I seeing another sunset tomorrow?

With any measure of hope, yes.

You close the cellar doors behind you, careful to avoid stepping on any overgrown grass along the cracked sidewalk toward the street corner. You’ve been unusually fortunate to not run into any runners or clickers today, but that streak would come to a dreadful end if you’d stepped on any patch of cordyceps fungus hidden along the green. They’d come charging at you in an instant, and if their overbearing strength didn’t kill you first, the brain parasite would. Eventually.

A quick death sounds better. You can’t fathom slowly losing your mind as many have. You can’t fathom losing the memory of Joel.

Fuck. You’ve really got it bad for him, you’re fucking thinking about him when you should be on guard, when you should be looking out for—

“Girl,” a voice calls out from behind you. You don’t know this smuggler that well; it’s not as though he has a voice you’d recognize. Your shoulders jump and you try to downplay it as you turn around, rifle now held in your dominant hand.

“Yeah,” you say, unimpressed with his greeting. You notice the edges of a paper bag crumpled in his strong grip, and as you eye him, you take out a tin-wrapped package of cigarettes, holding them out for him to take. He accepts your barter and unwraps the foil, inspecting each product to ensure you’re not ripping him off.

“Yeah,” he echoes, then hands you the paper bag. It’s heavy, containing the glass bottle that he’d promised, but right away, you can tell its contents aren’t completely full. You don’t mention it. Some things aren’t worth the energy. And you’re fairly confident you’d start feeling it after a swig or two, considering your last drink feels like ages ago.

When you return to the cellar, you’re alone again. Concern and disappointment flood your veins as you realize Joel hasn’t returned. Fuck, now would have been a good time for those fucking walkie-talkies. Hey, Joel, you dead? No? Great, get back here in one piece.

You dig around your pack for something to eat, eventually settling on something that you think was a protein bar at one point in time, but now just tastes of slightly sweet dust. It’s unappetizing. It’s all this end-of-world can offer you, and while getting good and drunk on an empty stomach sounds like it would be a fan-fucking-tastic idea, you can’t afford to slow down tomorrow. You can’t afford the hangover.

It feels like hours have passed within the span of minutes, and you take a swig of Rittenhouse before you hear a clang at the cellar door. FEDRA wouldn’t wait for you to open up—they’d just bust the door open without hesitation. Joel. Maybe. It could be him, or it could be your smuggler coming back to collect, realizing now your flimsy cigarettes weren’t worth the trade.

Your shotgun is again in hand—someone told you long ago that alcohol and firearms aren’t a wise mix, but that was probably before they realized the world was eventually going to end—and after carefully walking up the wooden stairs, you push open the door, gun ready to fire.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, lowering your aim away from the space between his tired eyes. “You really are ready for anythin’, aren’t you, honey?”

He says it almost sarcastically, like he doesn’t mean it. Like he’s teasing you in an aloof sort of way that only makes total sense for the Joel Miller. And you know he doesn’t intend for your stomach to twist like it does when he says it—honey, fuck, you could just melt onto the cold cement floor—but it does.

“In times like these, you have to be,” you offer, leading you both down the stairs.

You sink into the couch, finally able to exhale that long-awaited sigh of relief as it hits you: Joel is back, and from what you can tell, he’s unharmed. He’s alive. You don’t give yourself much time to relish in the silent celebration of it, though. 

“How was it out there?” You ask. “Run into anything? Anyone?”

“Couple’a stalkers,” he replies, shrugging. “Shot ‘em before they could get close. Got the batteries for the radio, along with some other crap.”

Your smile is small but genuine. “That’s good. Anytime you don’t end up maimed or dead is a win in my book.”

He almost chuckles, and it makes your heart squeeze. “Yeah.”

—

The “other crap” Joel has brought back to you includes a used, but functional woolen blanket and a stash of beef jerky that’s likely way past its expiration date. “I don’t need you passin’ out from hunger,” he says as he hands one of the pieces to you. Your fingers brush and it feels fucking electric, but likely only to you, since you know Joel has shut himself off to any sort of emotional electricity long ago.

He sits next to you on the couch, and honestly, takes up a considerable amount of space. His legs are splayed open, his broad back resting on the cushion behind him, and the full extent of his intimidating size begins to sink into you. It’s not like you ever thought Joel Miller was small, but you’ve been with him long enough that sometimes you forget how he might appear to others: menacing. Threatening.

You’re passing off the whiskey bottle between you, taking swigs every couple of minutes to fill the silence that’s fallen between you. Your conversation started benign enough (if benign could be used to describe the next leg of your runaway route, now that FEDRA knows two of its civilians have escaped the Boston QZ), but then it’d taken a more personal turn. Suddenly you know a sliver more of Joel Miller’s past; you know he’d been separated from his brother since Outbreak Day. You learn he had a daughter.

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely. It doesn’t feel strong enough. I’m sorry is what you might have said had you accidentally closed the cellar door on Joel’s pinky finger. He doesn’t say anything back for a while. He just takes another swig of whiskey as he leans back into the couch, as though it fully catches the weight of his grief.

“Was a long time ago,” he says finally. “She would’a been close to your age by now. Maybe a little younger.”

You nod and immediately feel a little guilty. You’d somehow survived, against all odds, against losing your family—if not to the outbreak itself, to the violence it’d caused. Your family was collateral damage in a devastating blow. It could have been you instead of her—Joel would still have his daughter, and you’d be with your family in a place hopefully much better than this hell on earth.

“Still,” you try, still not feeling as though your words convey your true meaning. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Joel’s eyes flicker towards yours as if he’s only now realizing that’s what’s happening here: he’s trusting you. And whether it’s an effect of the whiskey, it’s something. Neither of you is full-on drunk, just loose enough to take the edge off, to put aside some of the overwhelming weight that comes with surviving the literal plague. It’s just enough to let some of the walls built between you begin to chip away, bit by bit.

You don’t leave him hanging out to dry, though. You can’t. Joel just exposed one of his deepest wounds, so the least you can do is mirror the gesture.

You tell him everything. You tell him about your life in New York, your escape out of before you’d barely begun to drive. You tell him about your family and the hit it took to your life to lose theirs. You tell him about your connection to the Fireflies (although you’re pretty sure he’d already picked up on that, considering your frequent interactions with Marlene and Kim). You tell him you’d needed a light to cling to in the everlasting darkness until you’d realized even the light was no good, even then, you’d come to accept the only risk worth taking was one that ensured your security and yours alone.

And now, as it happens, his, too.

He doesn’t say anything afterward. He doesn’t come out with a line like thank you for trusting me with that or anything gooey or empathetic. How you have the emotional space for such reactions is beyond even your understanding, so you understand why a complete stoic like Joel Miller just…sits there. Stoic, nodding his head a bit in an effort to communicate he hears you. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. Everyone is expected to live like this.

“You know,” you continue, the whiskey warming the blood swimming in your veins. “When you didn’t come back as quickly as I thought you would, I got worried.”

Joel exhales through his nose. “Yeah,” he replies. “What else is new.”

You turn your body to face him, legs crossed over one another as you adjust your seat. Your eyes widen with meaning. You’re like a kid with a secret to spill, a story to tell, and you’ll be damned if Joel Miller doesn’t hear it.

“I mean it,” you push. “I’d been thinking about you all damn day. You just come and go as you please, or at least, you think you do. You’ve only just started telling me where you plan on going, or how long you think it’ll take. And I stick by you despite it all. You know why?”

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Joel presses, but the sarcasm dripping from his voice signals that he doesn’t actually want to know. Wanting to know what you mean—and then actually knowing—translates to pain. And this sort of added pain, the one that comes from wanting too much, is just not something either of you can manage at a time like this.

Your pointer finger gestures between the two of you, and with a bolt of whiskey courage, you finally say what’s been plaguing your mind for months. “It’s you and me,” you admit. “That’s my whole world. I got nothing else worth saving or fighting for anymore. So when you leave, half of my world walks out on me. Half of my fucking reason for being here is just—”

He cuts you off, and you don’t fucking believe what’s happening. His kiss is harsh, biting, bordering on punishment for you to shut the fuck up and he knows yelling at you won’t work (when has it ever?) so he kisses you. He lunges for you, his broad palm and dirt-coated fingers covering your entire cheek, the pads of his fingers pressing slightly into the flesh of your face.

Stop.

He pulls back, and both of you are met with the heavy breathing of the other. Your eyes open, slow and dreamy. You wish you had something more articulate to say.

“What the fuck?”

He says nothing.

“No, really, Joel. What the fuck was that?”

He pulls back, observing you. The weight of his gaze is nearly paralyzing.

“Don’t make me say it,” he concedes. You lean back against the arm of the couch, waiting for something more satisfying.

“Had too much to drink,” he tells you, but you know for a damn fact that you’re the one that put most of that liquor away. You’d had a head start, after all, waiting for him to get back to you.

“Not buying it,” you argue, shaking your head. “Just admit to me that you feel something between us, too?” And there’s your index finger again, flicking between your two bodies, tracing a line over the invisible string that binds you to the other. “Admit to me that this isn’t just about getting to Jackson. That you need someone here with you, because you can’t carry the damn weight of the entire world on your shoulders anymore.”

He can’t tell you that. It’s as though the words simply don’t exist in the Joel Miller lexicon. Your gaze drops, casting downward at his thigh, though you’re not exactly looking at anything.

Finally, he says your name. It’s low and pleading. Stop.

He’s leaning into you again, and this time, you meet him halfway. It’s agonizing, the painfully short distance between your mouths before he kisses you again. He’s slow and hesitant this time, almost seeking permission for a kiss as biting as your first. Your tongue sweeps along the seam of his lips, and when he parts them, you kiss him like the world is ending.

You can’t fucking believe what’s happening. It’s as though you’ve manifested this moment within your dreams. On the nights you’ve fallen asleep alone, you’ve touched yourself thinking of this. You’ve played your own body like a harp, imagining every stroke and rub of your fingers belonged to him instead. Joel is kissing you, and you’re kissing him back. Joel’s hands are running up through your hair, and your hands are on his chest, bracing yourself for him to pull back when he inevitably realizes this is a bad fucking idea.

It doesn’t come. He pushes you down, a gentle press of his hand to guide your back along the couch. His lips move from yours toward your neck, his kiss a brand, declaring you as his for as long as he’ll have you.

For as long as you survive.

Your bodies dance between wanting to savor the moment and needing to feel the heat of the other. Joel’s fingers toy with the zipper of your jeans, eventually pulling them down your legs and discarding them toward the cement floor so he can better focus his energy on you. On pleasing you, of course, but maybe to also give into the desire he’s been repressing for so long.

“Joel,” you whisper. “Are you su—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, and then his mouth is on your cunt.

It’s sudden and harsh, but fuck, your body needs this. Nothing about this man is subtle, and now you learn his sex isn’t either. His tongue traces patterns against your clit, eventually probing deeper to taste you from the inside. Maybe if you’d been a little more firm in your inhibitions, you’d tell him this was a bad idea. Maybe he wouldn’t be fucking you with his goddamn perfect mouth like this. But he is, and you’re here, beneath the twitching overhead light in this decayed basement until it flickers once, twice, and goes out.

You learn Joel is braver in the dark.

Your hands grip his hair while he eats you out. His fingers press so deeply against the flesh of your hips that you know it’ll bruise, but it’ll be a pleasant ache to remember a night like this. It’ll be proof that even for a moment, Joel Miller felt something for you, and he could show you even if he couldn’t tell you.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he mutters, pulling back to catch his breath. You crane your neck to glimpse at him. His lips and beard glimmer with evidence of your arousal, and he sighs into the flesh of your thigh. “Too—too old for this.”

“Fuck that.” You actually laugh at his unexpected comment. “Keep going.”

For a rare moment in your relationship, Joel listens to you. His head dips back between your legs, mouth returning to deliver your pleasure. He’s slower this time, but just as deliberate. His hands hold your legs apart to give his tongue the perfect space against your clit, and when you feel your body begin to crest in relief, you give a sharp inhale through your mouth.

“Joel, I’m—I’m going to—“

He doesn’t need to hear anymore. He drinks you in while you climax, your limbs tensing while stars explode behind your closed eyes.

You kiss him when you push yourself up, needing to taste your own lingering flavor—needing confirmation that all of this is real. Joel fucking Miller just ate you out in this dingy little basement, and you can’t be sure, but you think it’s because he might actually have developed some sort of feeling for you. Something beyond the need to run or hide or defend. And you reciprocate it, eagerly.

How inconvenient for you both.

He’s breathing heavily against your mouth, and you smile in the earnest afterglow.

“You’re really good at that,” you praise into your ear, and he offers something between a growl and a moan in response.

His jeans are dirty and stiff, but you’re just as impatient to pull them off his thick legs and experience him as he’s delighted in you—the weight of his body, the feel of his cock. You hold his length in your hands and immediately notice he’s fucking huge. You practically gasp at the realization, thankful that the dark room hides your growing blush.

You’re laying on your back, and Joel’s fingers slide against your entrance, priming you for his next move. He speaks again, and while you’d normally have a little internal celebration at any ounce of vulnerability he’d be willing to share with you, this time you immediately cut him off.

“You sure abou—“

“Never more about anything else,” you confess.

It’s all too damn much, the amount of immense sensation that comes from Joel teasing briefly with the head of his cock. He pushes into you, and it’s almost as if you can see the way his eyes roll back into his head. Your own body has to adjust to his size, and you bite your lower lip as you brace yourself through the sweet pain of his length filling you with all he has.

He groans against the warmth of your neck, eventually building up his slow thrusts to a rhythmic pace that causes your blood to dance.

“G—god damn it,” you choke out, your ankles hooked around each other along his spine.

In the darkness, you can make out the slight reflection of his tired eyes. His breathing turns ragged quickly and he hisses once or twice—whether out of pleasure or plain you can’t determine (especially because you’re certain you heard him grumble something about his damn knees while he slid out and pushed forward, but honestly, you’re so fucking spent that it’s hard to be sure).

“Feels good?” You ask, clenching your walls as he thrusts home. 

He groans. “Uh-huh.”

He pulls you to sit up on his lap, and it’s only then he realizes you’re both still too damn clothed. He hurries to pull your white t-shirt overhead, then pushes your bra straps off your shoulders before managing to unhook the thing with both hands. Hs teeth nip and lips suck at your nipple while he fucks you, while you softly bounce on his damn cock, and shit, you want this night to last for fucking ever. 

You’re fucking ecstatic. Your heart sings with the knowledge that you’ve managed to bring Joel pleasure, if only for tonight. Your body thrums like a guitar string plucked by his experienced fingers, and you pant against his lips, sweat forming along the hairline at your temples.

“I’m c—close,” you warn him. “I’m going to—”

“M—me too,” he stammers. “Let me feel you, honey. Just l–let go.”

And you do, you really fucking do. You feel his heat begin to spill inside you and it only intensifies the blinding orgasm Joel coaxes out of you. It reverberates within you, spanning from your fingertips down toward your toes, turning your spine to liquid.

He fucks into you slowly while you both come down, humming into your ear during the aftershocks.

“That’s it, darlin’. Did so fuckin’ good.”

The praise alone is nearly enough to send you over another edge. You suddenly want to bury your head into the crook of Joel’s neck, hiding any evidence of vulnerable relief along your expression. But Joel doesn’t let you. Instead, he holds your chin between his thumb and the crook of his index finger, and kisses you through it.

Joel falls asleep on the couch in his jeans and an old t-shirt. He lets you wear his flannel (though he tries telling you it’s dirty and bloodstained, but mostly everything you own is, so you don’t care).

He falls asleep with you resting behind him, trusting you to hold him while you keep each other safe. He kisses the inside of your wrist, lips lingering at your pulse point.

When you wake in the morning, he’s already gone. And your heart would completely sink had you not realized one of the two-way radios standing upright on the shelf across from you, low static playing through its speaker. There’s a little red light next to its antenna.

You feel as though you can breathe again.

Padding across the basement floor, you grab the radio with both hands, press the call button, and speak into the receiver.

“Joel?”

[hearts4werka]

Missing

Summary: it’s been six months since your sister went missing, everyone gave up on the investigation but you’re determined to find her no matter what but someone comes along the way… Genre: Stalker, missing person, thriller, horror, crime investigation, dark aesthetic, stalker romance? (We won’t know yet) Warnings: mention of dark topics that may trigger some readers (idk which exactly, write them in the comments) ends on a cliffhanger. Read At Your Own Risk! authors note: this is my first fic and ive always been a fan of horror and stories that have me on the edge of my seat so writing this was a pleasure. English is not my first language so minor grammar mistakes might occur. Hope you enjoy!

This is part 1 of the ‘Missing’ series!

Its been six months since my sister disappeared, vanished out of thin air without a trace left behind.

I tried to get the police to continue investigation after three months but they always say the same thing ‘she’s probably dead’ or ‘there’s no possibility she’s still out there alive’ so I decided to try and collect more information by myself since I believe I can find her and finally reunite which her after so long from being apart from each other.

A month ago on the anniversary of my sisters disappearance, I found out I have a stalker and it started to make my anxiety worsen which only adds onto the struggles in my life I have to deal with and a mixture of thoughts racing through my mind at once, I could feel myself loosing control and desperately trying to grasp reality at times, to deciphering what is real and what lives in my head becoming harder and harder every day. Feeling myself slowly loose my mind in this dark world I’ve been placed in.

My best friend Nora was helping with the investigation while the police was operating but when they called quits on the case, she went with them and left me to be alone on the case.

My brain refuses to believe she’s dead, she’s out there and I’ll find her no matter what. No matter the price I’ll have to pay

| - 🍂 - |

Im sitting in my living room after a long day of work, reading the front page of the mornings newspaper titled “Young adult vanished without a trace in the town of Boston” they ended her investigation three months ago and still write about her in the newspaper since they’re clearly out of interesting stories.

It’s full of conspiracy theories of what could have happened to her, there’s even one that says there’s a possibility she’s been abducted by aliens? I shake my head in disbelieve reading through that article. I call complete bullshit. People still believe in aliens these days?

Ive been through numerous newspapers and articles I could find on the internet but it was always the same thing, she’s probably kidnapped or have been killed by her potential kidnapper. I’ve gathered so many newspapers in the span of the few months that a pile is starting to form on my coffee table.

I push my sliding glasses up the bridge of my nose when a sudden feeling of being observed washes over me. My gaze rips away from the newspaper to try and find something or someone but I find nothing in the darkness while the only source of light is a single lamp next to the couch along with the moonlight pooling through the windows.

Theres no one in the room besides me and the shadows taunting me for still having hope that she’s out there, what if she really isn’t alive anymore? I’m ripped out of the spiral of my thoughts with a single buzz of my phone. Checking what it could be I see it’s a message from an unknown number, by the content of the message there’s only one person that it could be. My stalker.

Unknown : Still searching for that little sister of yours?

Looking around the dark room I once again find nothing, I gaze back down at the message and type out a response, the noise of my nails hitting the phone screen echo and spread around the space surrounding me.

Me : Leave me alone.

After the message got sent, I drop my phone next to me on the couch and return my focus to the newspaper. Flipping through the pages to find anything useful, I’m desperate at this point for any kind of information that might help.

Slowly loosing hope that I’ll find anything in the newspaper, one article in particular catches my eye…

[poppurini]

[ m.draconia ] ﹫name tagged you in a post.

malleus n gn reader

minor dorm mal personal story spoiler, typing lilia’s line physically hurt me you’ll know what i mean, not proof read, 终于敢继续写故事型的作品了我真他妈的紧张请见谅

Many nights have passed since that incident happened. That night where he unintentionally upset Lilia by breaking his phone out of—goodness, he can’t even bring himself to say it—blatant jealousy. Now that he thinks back to it, it is rather foolish. He knew how deeply Lilia valued that electronic device, too.

But, he’s not entirely at fault, now is he? He is a dorm leader as well, he should be in that photo Kalim took. Well, yes, he did not attend that day—or any other meetings, really—but it wasn’t his intention to appear frivolous and skip important discussions, he is not like Kingscholar. He was just never notified.

Seeing everyone in a group photo without you, where you should belong in as well, doesn’t set a good feeling in one’s chest. He may not consider them as particularly close individuals, but it still inflict some sort of pain and insult to his pride.

He doesn’t wish to be seen as one of their own, because he simply isn’t but oh, when will he finally be included and not forgotten? Worse, remembered but not worth the effort to include in?

Ding!

Hm? His phone’s screen brightened. The…notif, as Lilia called it, in this device is quite loud and unpleasant to the ears. He ought to ask for Lilia’s help in changing it some time soon. Is he finally getting notified for a meeting? Malleus hope it’s easily accessible unlike last time which caused him to wait a total of three hours in different locations all for no one to show up.

Malleus sighs, It is not regarding the meeting. Were they perhaps serious about not inviting him to any more dorm meetings? However, this confusion was quickly brushed away to the back of his mind. Replaced by a light and pleasant feeling when he sees your name, accompanied by some numbers, which he recognised as your birthdate.

Magi…cam. The bolded letters show. This must be from the Magicam app. That’s right, his child of man assisted him in making one. Actually, he think he was forced, but he doesn’t complain. Nothing really came from the app after so he forgot its existence for quite a while. It is so complicated to navigate, too.

[ m.draconia ] ﹫name tagged you in a post.

This formatting looks…rather familiar than the one he saw on Lilia’s phone that day. The only thing that has changed was the bracketed name and the name behind a symbol that resembles the letter ‘a’ rather strangely.

“Could this be…?” Malleus hums, eyes widening in anticipation and tapping the bar, brows raising when a number pad appeared instead. Magicam doesn’t look like this, from what he recalled. Just then he remembers Lilia’s words.

“Place a password for your privacy! Just four numbers is enough. Most humans put something memorable, like their birthday! But Malleus you can put whatever.”

His birthday doesn’t mean anything much to him, personally. However, yours…

The device was unlocked and Malleus successfully opened the Magicam app. His lips parted in surprise, then quirked in amuse. What greeted him back was a picture of the two of you. Himself and his child of man. Yes, he does remember taking some pictures with you just a few days ago.

The caption—he hope he got it correct—was ‘photo dump with ﹫m.draconia <3’ he does not know what ‘less than three’ is to resemble or if it has anything to do with your apparent photo dump. The pictures you put are more than three. He’ll have to ask Lilia later, or maybe he could utilise this opportunity to approach you?

Still, Malleus was ecstatic. He was finally mentioned in a good light for the first time throughout his three years in Night Raven College by someone other than his retainers. His chest feels tight with excitement.

Ding!

﹫liliaa0101 commented

liliaa0101 You two look absolutely slay in here! 😉👍🏻

What does this mean.

[via-the-cryptid]

one of you, I don’t remember who but if it was you then here you go, mentioned Ellie befriending Ace. it took me a minute to realise that you probably meant the psychic little girl and not the pirate, but… now that I think about it, that’s actually a really good idea.

first off, I’m going to start by saying that I barely remember anything about Ace except hat she was super psychic, scared the Joker shitless once (good for her), and I think ended up dying as a result of her powers overloading her brain. I also remember Batman stayed with her until she died, but past that, nothing! so if my interpretation of her is off, well, that ain’t Via’s problem.

picture this: Ellie, approximately 14 in physical terms, only been alive for like a year or two. it’s post-Portal Incident II: The Reckoning, so her body is stabilized but her powers are going bat-crazy. she’s alone in an unfamiliar city with far too many restless spirits, being chased by actual supervillains, and she’s scared. maybe she ducks into an alley or hides in an abandoned building, and maybe one of those spirits was watching.

it’s been a long time since anything has caught Ace’s attention in the mortal realm. she likes to check in from time to time, see what’s happening as the world moves on without her, but it’s useless to linger over what she can’t affect. in the end, it only ever makes her miserable.

but sometimes, she can’t help but watch. sometimes, like today, she sees another little girl in trouble. she thinks, ‘she’s like me’, and she needs to know that this girl makes it through the night. even if she doesn’t, Ace still has enough power in death to show her a good dream before another ghost is added to Gotham’s countless number of lost souls. she follows the girl into the building, watches as she curls up in the corner, out of sight and barely there.

and then she looks straight at Ace.

“Did you want something?” Ellie asks, and she doesn’t break eye contact with the spirit floating in the doorway, even as her eyes go wide. “If you have unfinished business, I might be able to help, y’know, so long as you’re not trying to cause trouble.”

“You can see me.”

“Sure can. Kinda hard not to, your outfit’s pretty distinct.”

It’s the outfit she died in. Ace doesn’t really want to wear it anymore, not when she’s so far removed from that era of her life, but it isn’t like she knows how to.

“So,” Ellie says, “what’s your deal? Are you just here to watch it are you picking a fight? ‘Cause I’ll warn you, I don’t know how to play poker and everyone else so far has refused to reach me.”

Ace blinks. “I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Okay, cool. Are you… here to fight someone else?”

“No. I was watching you.”

“Well, that’s a bit unsettling.”

“You were alone, and you looked cold. I had to make sure you weren’t going to die in here.”

“Again?” Mutters Ellie, and Ace’s expression snaps from intrigued to guarded in less than a second.

“What does that mean?” She asks, glaring right at Ellie, and the other girl grimaces.

“Did not mean to say that one out loud. Okay, so hi, I’m Ellie, and basically I’m dead—”

“What? No, you’re not. I would be able to tell if you were dead.”

“Half-dead, then. I was a clone OFA guy who was half human and half ghost, ‘cept I was falling apart, so I decided to fix it by doing the same thing he did to become half-ghost, and I ended up standing inside a portal to the Ghost Zone while it was opening. Make sense so far?”

Ace’s jaw is dropping, but she can’t seem to find it in herself to care. “Half-dead.”

“Oh, we’re still stuck on that, then. Basically, if you— actually never mind, I don’t really know how it works. I can turn from ghost to human, if that helps.”

“How?” Ace whispers. “You said you were… falling apart. And a clone. And half-dead.”

“Well, now I’ve got two out of those three, since I fixed the first problem. Do you want to maybe sit down or something? This is gonna be a long story if you want the whole thing.”

Yes, she absolutely does. Ace float across the room and settles in next to Ellie, folding her knees up to copy the other girl’s pose. “My name is Ace.”

“Nice to meet you, Ace. I’m Ellie. Wait, I think I said that already.”

Somewhere on the other side of Crime Alley, unknowing of the two girls hidden away in a long-forgotten corner, Edward Nygma slams his head down on the desk as he once again fails to pinpoint the location of the mysterious white-haired girl.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Rats in the Lab

“How many?” He asks, holding up four fingers.

He can see her thinking, trying so hard to come up with an answer. Her bottom lip begins to quiver and her eyes begin to well up with tears.

“I…I don’t know,” she whispers, hanging her head in shame.

Coriolanus sighs. He knows he has to be patient if he wants to see results. It’s not his fault she’s so dumb. But boy is she sweet. That’s what gets him every time.

“Try,” he says, reaching into his pocket with his other hand and pulling out a small bag of crackers. Soarynn’s eyes zero in on the bags, her bony fingers wrap around the iron bars that separate them and grip them a little tighter. It’s like they’re at the zoo and he’s feeding her.

She looks up at his fingers again, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to count them. Any Capitol child past the age of five could tell you how many fingers he was holding up but Soarynn’s not from the Capitol.

She’s from District Twelve.

“Th…three?” She asks, some hopefulness in her tone.

Coriolanus shakes his head, “Four.”

“Is that close to three?”

“Not really.”

Three is of course, close to the number four, but Coriolanus isn’t going to be the one to tell her that. He likes keeping her dumb, keeping her here, in Dr. Gaul’s lab.

At first, he thought it was a stupid idea what Gaul had pitched to him, taking twenty-four children at random from the Districts to study them. As if they didn’t already have the Hunger Games. And that caused enough riot as it is. But this was different. Gaul enlisted Peacekeepers to take the children quietly and without notice. They took the orphans, the most starving, the most desperate.

No one would miss them.

Then Dr. Gaul began her tests on them. She jokingly called them her “lab rats” since she felt that mice were a step above rats. But she also felt that rats could be extremely clever if they wanted to be, if they had the right motivation. Most of them died though. Coriolanus watched as all those children failed to pass her tests, slowly withering away in their cages while doing so.

Soarynn was the only one left.

Which surprised Coriolanus because she was a little runt girl from Twelve. He hadn’t been placing any bets on her. But she was smart, well, smarter than her counterparts. He hadn’t told her about them, their deaths. Dr. Gaul felt Soarynn would be more cooperative if she thought everyone else was still alive.

Once the children started dwindling down she assigned Soarynn to Coriolanus. “She’ll be your first subject,” she’d told him excitedly, “you can test her, learn about her, the more she trusts you the more willing she’ll be to conduct the experiments.”

At first, he’d felt a certain aversion towards Soarynn. Some filthy girl from Twelve didn’t deserve his attention. But then one night when he was cleaning lab equipment, he heard her sing.

His little songbird.

She had a beautiful voice and from that point on he spent an awful lot of time at her cage.

“You have some more tests this evening,” he says, glancing down at the clipboard he placed on the floor, “maybe you can get some food if you do well on them.” He ignores her pitiful look as he slips the crackers back into his pocket.

“Coriolanus?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’s Jessup?”

Jessup had been the boy from Twelve, the boy Soarynn came here with. He died two weeks ago.

Coriolanus pushes himself from the ground, looking down at her, “He’s in another room. I told you that before remember?”

Soarynn frowns and looks down at the dirty ground beneath her, “No I…I don’t remember you telling me that. I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus nods, “Well it’d be best you not forget in the future.”

He walks away from her cage, listening to the sound of her chain scraping across the floor. Every child they’d taken was given the same standard cage built into the wall of Dr. Gaul’s lab. It was small, low to the ground and it had a long iron chain that wrapped around one of their ankles. Dr. Gaul had mentioned maybe using collars but nothing has been done about it yet.

Coriolanus looks down at his clipboard while walking further into the lab, mostly to ignore the stares of the mad scientist's other experiments. Mutilated people, Avoxes, mutts.

Sometimes he wished she didn’t like him so much.

Gaul had given Coriolanus a wonderful opportunity once he graduated from the Academy. She ensured he won the Plinth Prize and she decided that he would work and study under her as an intern for a Game Maker. It’s too bad the woman’s a lunatic because he’s sure she’d give him some great advice.

He can hear her cackle as he nears her part of the lab and can see her zapping little mice with a laser of some sort, “There you are Coriolanus, how is your little songbird?” Coriolanus has done his best to put up a facade of indifference when it comes to Soarynn. She’s not his responsibility outside of this lab and yet he keeps coming back more and more. More than usual, more than he’s asked.

More than he should.

He clears his throat, “She’s hungry.”

Dr. Gaul waves him off, “She’ll get her chance to eat later. We’re putting her in the maze,” she says, throwing him a knowing look. The maze is quite literally a giant maze that’s been constructed below the Citadel. Every child has run through it at least once but the time it’s taken them to get through it has been disappointing. At least to Dr. Gaul.

Soarynn however has done quite well so far and for her sake, Coriolanus hopes she does well tonight. She’s still so skinny, so frail and while he has rules to follow, he can’t help but want to slip her some food every once in a while.

Want to take her with him to his apartment, bathe her, clothe her, hold her. She’d be his little songbird, safe from Dr. Gaul’s clutches and within his grasp at all times. He hates how he never knows what he’ll find when he comes into the lab, never knows if her cage will one day be empty.

“Hand me that other cage of mice,” she says, holding out her hand. Coriolanus grabs the cage, giving the mice a somewhat remorseful look before handing them off to Dr. Gaul. She smiles at him which still to this day unnerves him. Coriolanus has to remind himself that for the most part, Dr. Gaul is on his side. She vouched for him when it came to winning the Plinth Prize even though he cheated in the contest to win it. She stopped Dean Casca Highbottom from sending him to the Districts to serve as a Peacekeeper after he was found out for cheating. And she turned a blind eye when the Dean suddenly passed away unexplainably.

“Coriolanus is in a daze because his girls going into my maze.”

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus shoves his hands into his lab coat pockets while he walks with the other Game Makers and assistants to the maze. His head is down while they all talk among themselves about the last time Soarynn ran the maze, what her results were.

Coriolanus veers left where the exit to the maze is but stops when no one follows him, “Oh we changed the layout,” one of them says, beckoning him to follow them, “we thought she might have memorized the layout so we moved it around. Never let them know our next step.” This Game Maker says it with a smile and Coriolanus forces one onto his own face while following them, “How clever,” he remarks.

And it is clever. But it’s also not good for Soarynn. If she doesn’t perform well then she won’t eat and as much as he hates to admit it, she’s getting smaller and weaker by the day.

Coriolanus stops with the group at the new exit, a set of screens attached to the wall where they can see a live feed from inside the maze. Coriolanus watches as two Peacekeepers carry in a cage, dumping Soarynn onto the floor. She looks frightened but she always does when she’s in the maze. He would be scared too.

Dr. Gaul’s footsteps alert Coriolanus and he looks up to see the woman wearing her signature evil grin, “Let the games begin,” she trills, walking over to the small console under the screens. She presses one of the buttons, and her voice is booming through the entire building.

“Good luck little girl.”

Soarynn shakily pushes herself to her feet, staring up at the nearest camera. Coriolanus can see how dirty she is, how tired and hungry. She looks into the camera with a bit of defiance though, the smallest amount she can muster before she sets off into the maze. Coriolanus can’t take his eyes off the screen when Soarynn comes to the first turn.

Left or right.

He holds his breath because the maze hasn’t always been this way. She used to go straight for a good twenty yards before having to make a turn. Before Dr. Gaul decided to mess everything up. Soarynn stops, looking left and then right before taking a step back.

She knows. Knows it’s different.

Soarynn looks over her shoulder and up at the camera, her eyes almost pleading with whoever’s watching. Dr. Gaul chuckles, “Run little rat, run.”

Soarynn chooses to go left and makes her way down the narrow passageway, her hand dragging along the wall. She’s going to slow, Coriolanus thinks. It’s not her fault, but she used to be able to sprint through the other maze.

He tears his eyes from the screen to watch Dr. Gaul press another button and he can suddenly see the same Peacekeepers wheeling in a large-looking tank. His breath catches in his throat and he watches as they tip over the tank, a rainbow of snakes falling into the ground and slithering into the maze.

“Dr. Gaul,” he starts but she holds her hand up, her eyes on the screens, “Don’t waste your breath Coriolanus, she either finds her way out or she dies. I’ve collected all the data I need either way.”

He can feel his fists curling and his jaw clenching but he says nothing as they all watch the snakes slither into the maze, searching for Soarynn.

She’s making good headway, almost halfway through when she hears the snakes. She stops in her tracks, listening to the hisses. Soarynn frantically looks around when she sees the first snake rounding the corner, both of them locking eyes on one another.

"Run," Coriolanus whispers.

Soarynn sprints in the opposite direction of the snakes, rounding corners with no way of knowing where they'll lead. Coriolanus can feel his heart pounding and all the while Dr. Gaul and her assistants are writing down notes. Soarynn comes to another set of delivered passageways and takes a left, the snakes closing in behind her.

It's a dead end.

Coriolanus swears under his breath. She's dead, as good as dead. She's trembling as she backs herself into the wall, her tattered white hospital gown nearly falling off her shoulders, tears streaming down her dirty face. She looks up at the camera watching her, desperation in her eyes. It's like she's pleading for Coriolanus to come save her.

But he can't.

He can feel a few of the Game Makers watching him along with Gaul's assistants. It's no secret that he's gotten a little closer to Soarynn, spent more time with her. But she's just a girl from Twelve.

He tries to look away but he can't, watching the snakes slowly slither towards her. Soarynn lets out a shaky breath and slides down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest, already giving up.

Dr. Gaul shakes her head, "Well that was the last one, let's go." She snaps her fingers and they all begin to follow her, Coriolanus lingering at the back of the group, looking at the screens one last time.

He waits for the scream. But he never hears one. He hears singing.

You're headed for heaven, The sweet old hereafter And I've got one foot in the door But before I can fly up, I've loose ends to tie up Right here in the old therebefore

Coriolanus stumbles back towards the maze, absolutely enchanted by her singing and it seems the snakes are too. Their movements have become rhythmic as if dancing along to Soarynn's song. She keeps singing, singing for her life. She'd told him that her mother used to sing her songs when she was little before she died. This must be one of them.

He can hear the others coming back, all watching as Soarynn continues to sing, and the snakes linger from attacking her.

"Why aren't they attacking her?" One of them asks.

Coriolanus shakes his head, "It's her singing, it must be calming them."

He's sure Dr. Gaul is furious but you've got to give credit where credit's due and Soarynn is still singing, still alive. And she knows she's winning this game. The snakes finally reach her and Coriolanus prepares for them to lunge, to sink their fangs into her skin but they don't. They wrap themselves around her, creating almost a rainbow dress. Coriolanus holds his breath though, she's not safe until she's out of the maze. What had she said to him one day?

'It's not over until the Mockingjay sings.'

Well, she's certainly a little songbird now.

The snakes are wrapping around her arms now, slithering all around her and she looks up into the camera, her fear replaced with anger.

When I'm pure like a dove When I've learned how to love Right here In the old therebefore When nothing is left anymore

Soarynn continues humming her sweet tune as she slowly stands to her feet, careful so as to not disturb the snakes. She makes her way through the maze, taking her time like the way she was before, not making any efforts to remove the reptiles that have made themselves at home wrapped around her small frame.

Coriolanus and the rest of the group watch in disbelief as she finally makes one last turn and walks out of the maze towards them. He can see her chin trembling while she hums, her eyes meet his eyes and they're frantic, she's scared. But she's holding herself together tremendously well.

Soarynn stops a good five feet away from them, weary of the Peacekeepers who are also watching in awe. "I played your game," Soarynn says to Dr. Gaul, her eyes now boring into the scientist, "get them off of me."

Coriolanus looks over his shoulder to see Dr. Gaul watching the snakes, a frown on her lips. "Dr. Gaul," he says, pulling her from her thoughts, "she won. She got out of the maze she won."

Gaul purses her lips before nodding, "So she did. It seems the lab rat has become a songbird." She snaps her fingers and the snakes fall onto the floor causing several people to gasp and back up as they begin to slither towards Dr. Gaul. She allows them to wrap around her the way they did Soarynn and gently holds one in her hand, "You've impressed me, little girl," she says, nodding at Soarynn. She then turns to Coriolanus, fixing her creepy stare on him, "And that shall be rewarded."

Coriolanus suddenly feels very nervous about how exactly Dr. Gaul plans to reward Soarynn. She could throw him in a cage, let Soarynn be in charge of his well-being. He is after all her captor in one way or the other.

"You'll go home with Mr. Snow for the night, enjoy a nice warm bed and bath before you come back tomorrow for more tests."

Coriolanus feels his heart racing at the prospect of bringing Soarynn home with him, having her in his bed. Soarynn gives Gaul a shaky nod, her legs trembling as the mad woman walks back into her lab, her assistant in tow.

Coriolanus cards his fingers through his hair and takes a few steps toward Soarynn's trembling frame. He hasn't been around her much when she's been outside of the cage, not that this runt girl poses much of a threat to him. He could easily overpower her if need be.

"You did good," he says, giving her a nod of approval. Tears spill from Soarynn's face and she stumbles towards him, holding her hands out and Coriolanus finds himself grabbing them, engulfing her in his strong hold. Soarynn sobs into his chest, probably staining his pristine white shirt but that's alright, he can buy a new one. Her on the other hand, well, all she's wearing is the tattered white gown along with some underwear and he's sure they're in the same condition as her dress.

Coriolanus lets her cry it all out. It's been a rough month for her in the Capitol. Not even he can deny that. "It's okay Soarynn," he whispers, his hand coming up to hold the back of her head, "you did good, and now you get to come home with me. Doesn't that sound like a nice reward?" He knows he'll probably go to hell for this, aiding in the kidnapping of this poor girl and then taking her home with him as a means of rewarding her. Since when has a good night's sleep counted as a reward?

Sobs rack her entire body and her hands clutch onto his thick red coat, treating him as if he were a lifeline. "I...I thought I was gonna die," she choked out, looking up at him. He can't help but feel his heart break just a little for her. She's so young, so fragile. Her file gave him the bare minimum about her background but he knows she's sixteen. He gently brushes some hair out from her face, "But you didn't. So let's go home and take a nice bath hmm?"

Soarynn nods, wiping her face with the back of her hand, "Okay," she whispers, her body sagging with exhaustion.

She lets him lead her through the lab, it's dark by now, making it seem even scarier than usual. He feels Soarynn curl further into him when they pass a tank with an Avox in it, gills grafted into their skin. "It's scary in here," she murmurs. Coriolanus nods, one of his arms still wrapped around Soarynn, mostly to keep her standing. But a small part of him also enjoyed finally being able to touch her without iron bars standing between them.

They reach the elevator and he even lets her press the button, something that clearly fascinated Soarynn. He was beginning to grow a bit impatient waiting for it to arrive and jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It was Dr. Gaul.

It seems that she was able to calm down from Soarynn upstaging her but you could never be too sure with Dr. Gaul. He expected some great big riddle but she simply leaned in and whispers, "She's a most impressive specimen, even if she's from the Districts. Tonight I'd like you to procreate with her, have intercourse, for research purposes of course. Offspring could be very valuable assets for us."

Coriolanus slightly pales but nods, "Of course Dr. Gaul."

꧁ ꧂

It's dark in his penthouse. Coriolanus thought he'd get home much earlier but today has certainly been a strange one.

Soarynn clings onto him as they walk further into his home, to his bedroom. Coriolanus can't help but feel a little inconvenienced by all of this, saddling him with the responsibility of Soarynn and her well-being. Suppose she suddenly fell ill and died in the middle of the night? He didn't want to be responsible for that and the repercussions that would follow suit.

"This is your house?" Soarynn's question pulls him from his nagging thoughts and he looks down at the small girl who's looking up at him with amazement. He nods, "It's my family's penthouse," he tells her proudly, pushing open the doors to his bedroom.

His bedroom is the largest one and is furnished with taste thanks to the Plinth Prize. His eyes land on the bed and the thought of sleeping with Soarynn, impregnating Soarynn makes his stomach twist. She's a virgin, she has to be. He finds her looking around in amazement, much to how she's looked at everything they walked by to get back home. He hadn't thought of the fact that Soarynn was most likely brought here in some sort of crate and not given a proper tour of the Capitol. Everything was so new to her.

"Let's get you in a warm bath," he suggests, nodding towards his bathroom.

It's a bit uncomfortable for both of them, getting her undressed and into the tub but they manage it. Soarynn is filthy. Covered in dirt, sweat, tears, and who knows what else. Coriolanus does his best to be gentle when washing her body, averting his eyes when faced with her bony spine sticking out. He can count every one of her ribs. Soarynn looks almost like a small child sitting in his tub, looking up at him with those blue-gray eyes, so trusting.

Coriolanus frowns when realizing that he's entirely underprepared. He doesn't have any shampoo or other products for her to use besides his own. But she wouldn't know the difference. "Close your eyes," he says, scooping up some water. Soarynn does as she's told and it stirs something inside of him. Something primal. He's quick to wash her face, revealing freckles he's never seen before. Soarynn squints up at him once he's done, "Can I have something to eat?"

The poor thing must be starving.

"After your bath," he answers while grabbing the shampoo.

Soarynn falls asleep while he cleans her hair, her chin resting on her knees. Has she ever had a warm bath before? Had her hair washed? Coriolanus wonders what it would be like to always wash her hair, draw her baths for her. Dr. Gaul would never allow it though. A District girl running around the Capitol is the last thing she'd want from this experiment. And besides, Coriolanus has to focus on his studies at the University. "Let's get you all dried up," he says, grabbing a towel.

Soarynn allows him to dry her off but becomes shy when he pulls the towel away, baring her naked body to him. He might as well get used to it considering what Dr. Gaul wants him to do to her tonight. Her skin is tan, her legs thin but long, her collar bones poke out and her face is slightly sunken in. But she looks pretty.

"How old are you?" She asks, tilting her head.

Coriolanus has always kept his life private from Soarynn and her questions. Over the past month she'd told him things about her and her life but he rarely ever opened up about his. "I'll be twenty in November," he says, smirking when she blushes. He might as well give her some of his clothes too so he heads to the closet, not surprised when he hears her clamber out of the tub and follow him. Since winning the Plinth Prize Coriolanus had been able to revamp his entire wardrobe.

"You have so many clothes," she says in awe, spinning around the closet. Coriolanus chuckles and grabs a white button-up from the rack, "None of them will fit you but this should do for tonight." He holds out the shirt and Soarynn gingerly takes it from him, bringing it up to her nose and smelling it. Coriolanus quirks his eyebrows at the strange sight and she giggles, "It smells like roses, just like you," she explains.

Well, he had been told that he smelled like roses before, but to hear it from her somehow meant more for some reason. He watches as she slips on the shirt but she fumbles with the buttons and he can't stop himself from helping her, from doing the rest. Soarynn looks up at him while he buttons his shirt and he does his best to avert his eyes but he can't. Not when she's finally right in front of him, touching him.

His fingers slightly shake as he does the last button and he clears his throat, "Let's get you something to eat."

꧁ ꧂

She gorges herself. Coriolanus almost wants to ask her to slow down but he knows he shouldn't. Not when neither of them knows when she'll eat again. The whole situation feels a bit cruel, letting her experience all of this just to throw her back into that cage. Her left ankle has a horrible cut on it from how tight the shackle around it was. He wrapped it with gauze after cleaning it, but it felt pointless in the grand scheme of things.

"I want that," Soarynn points to the bowl filled with ice cream. He'd brought out practically everything he had in the fridge, figuring it was now or never for her. She's also sitting on his lap, he insisted on it. And she's so small, so warm and she smells good now that she's had a bath. His hands gently press into her sides, "I think you have better manners than that," he says.

Soarynn sighs, kicking her feet in the air for a moment, "Can I please have that?" He doesn't know why he's trying to teach her good manners, it won't really matter since she'll die in that cage sooner or later. But if they do have a child, he wants it to have the best manners possible, and that has to start with Soarynn.

He hums and reaches across the table, grabbing the bowl of ice cream, "You certainly may."

He watches with a small smile on his face as she eats her ice cream, she'll probably be sick in the morning from how much she's eating tonight. She might be sick from what he's about to do to her tonight.

Coriolanus slowly slips a hand under the shirt, feeling her soft skin. Soarynn pays him no mind as she keeps eating, like an animal at the zoo that he feeds every day.

"Soarynn?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever....have you ever been touched before?"

Soarynn stops eating and looks at him over her shoulder, "Aren't you touching me right now?" Oh, she's so sweet and innocent. Coriolanus shakes his head, "No, I...I meant it in a different way. I'll show you once you're done eating okay." Soarynn just shrugs, "Okay I trust you Coriolanus."

꧁ ꧂

"It hurts," she cries, her hands trying to break free from his belt.

Coriolanus presses a kiss to her neck, "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay Soarynn, we have to do this, Dr. Gaul said so."

Soarynn's cunt is so fucking tight he can barely fit but he does. She feels so good, so warm. It had taken far too long to get her like this, tied up and spread out for him. At first, she liked it, touching him, kissing him, but then she didn't. She got scared. Coriolanus couldn't have that, couldn't fail Dr. Gaul. He had a job to do.

Soarynn sobs as he finally bottoms out, "She's a terrible person, she...she's hurting my friend Jessup." She lets out a whimper as Coriolanus begins to slowly thrust in and out, feeling her walls wrap around him. His eyes slightly widen when remembering Jessup and how he died, too much voltage, his heart stopped so fast.

"Jessup is dead babydoll," he grunts, picking up the pace.

Soarynn gasps and it's not from the pleasure. Her eyes fill up with tears, "What...I...no you, you told me he was alive." She squeezes him so tight when she cries, to the point where he wants her to cry. Coriolanus wraps his hand around her small throat, applying pressure, watching as her eyes widen, "You see Soarynn, Jessup was never going to survive. None of those kids survived. You're the last one angel, the lone Victor and this is how you're being rewarded so you better put on a smile and be fucking grateful." His once somewhat kind persona slips away into nothingness as he thrusts into her cunt hard, his tip pushing against her sweet spot.

Soarynn's still crying but he ignores her and focuses on that sweet cunt of hers, watching as it takes him again, and again, and again. She looks so perfect like this, so small and helpless under him, completely at his mercy. Coriolanus smirks when he sees her stomach bulging, not surprising considering how skinny she is.

"Look at that," he drawls, "fucking you so deep huh? Can't believe District cunt feels this good, it's a shame you had to stay in that cage for so long but don't worry baby, you're in for a long night."

Soarynn's tears have dried up and she's settled for simply looking away, looking up at the ceiling as he fucks into her, trying to block all of it out. But Coriolanus isn't having that. No. After all, he's done for her, fed her, taught her, he practically got her out of that maze. He lets go of her neck and reaches for her clit, pleased when she seizes up at the stimulation. "You like that?" He taunts, hitting her sweet spot faster and faster, Soarynn's eyes start to roll back, the pleasure finally taking over.

"Maybe I can cut a deal with Dr. Gaul, have you live here with me, keep you on my cock all the time. Bet you'd like that huh? And if you misbehave I can always put you back in that cage. You like being my little fuckdoll don't you Soarynn?"

All that leaves Soarynn's mouth are little moans, gasps really, sounds that he's forcibly fucking out of her. He watches her eyes roll back, her cunt tightening around his cock, making it harder to fuck her at a fast pace so he slows down. "Answer me," he grits out, his other hand grabbing a handful of her hair, and shaking her head around like she's a doll. "Yes!" She cries out, squeezing her eyes shut, "I love it!"

Coriolanus scoffs, she's being so ungrateful, acting like she isn't lucky to be getting fucked by him. But he'll make her see, make her grateful. He's determined to see her cum and goes right back to rubbing her clit, grinning as she begins to squirm and moan, her breaths growing rapid, "Oh please," she gasps, her back bending off the mattress. "Cum Soarynn," he says, "be my good little fuckdoll and cum." Soarynn's moans are a sweet symphony as she cums all over him, triggering his own orgasm. Coriolanus grunts as he fills her cunt, fulfills his task. He slows down, giving himself a second to catch his breath while looking at Soarynn and her blissed-out state. She almost looks as if she's in shock, just lying there.

Coriolanus slowly pulls out and groans when he sees her puffy cunt filled with his cum. It satisfies a deep-rooted urge inside of him and he smirks, she's never looked better. Of course, he needs to ensure she gets pregnant tonight, so he's more than willing to go a few more rounds.

His little songbird won't mind.

꧁ ꧂

"It's a boy."

Those words echo through his head as he walks through the lab, giving people a polite nod as he passes by them. He's on his way to deliver the news to her, to Soarynn.

She's sitting on her bed when he walks in. Her stomach round with his child. She looks a little tired but also relieved to see him. He gives her a small smile before taking a seat next to her on the twin-sized bed, "How're you feeling?" He asks, reaching out and placing a hand on her swollen stomach. Soarynn shrugs, "My back hurts. Can I get medicine for that?" Coriolanus chews the inside of his lip, Dr. Gaul has been very strict about what Soarynn puts into her body including medication. She wants this to be a natural birth at all costs.

"I'll have to ask," he says, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. Soarynn gives him a small smile in return but he can tell her heart isn't in it. She probably just wants to know the results. "It's going to be a boy," he tells her, carefully watching her face for a reaction. Soarynn's eyes widen and she looks around her small room.

Once she got pregnant, Dr. Gaul let Coriolanus talk her into giving Soarynn a small room within the lab where she could still be monitored and studied. He mainly pushed for it because he couldn't have a child of his living in a dirty cage, even if they weren't born yet. Soarynn's room was the size of a large closet at best. There was a twin bed in the corner, a desk with a chair, and a plastic mirror. Gaul insisted that her room be baby-proofed so she couldn't try to kill herself in the middle of the night.

Coriolanus knew she wouldn't. As much as she despised all of them she loved her child. Her room was covered in drawings she'd made. Coriolanus had given her a sketchbook and a box of crayons for her birthday, a most precious gift to her. He knew she still resented him, for everything he'd done to her. But he was her lifeline right now, her advocate, so she was nice, she behaved.

"Are you happy?" He asks, nervously shifting on the bed.

Soarynn brushes her hair behind her ears and looks up at him, fear and uncertainty in her eyes, "Are you happy?"

Coriolanus frowns, it's not really important if he's happy. This is all for the sake of the experiment, to create an highly intelligent child, both emotionally and intellectually. But for the sake of her health and the baby's, he nods, "Yes. I'm very happy Soarynn, I'm very pleased with you and your progress." He leans in and places a kiss on her cheek and she smiles, "Okay. Okay, I'm happy too Coriolanus."

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus paces outside the room, the room where Soarynn is lying on a hospital bed giving birth.

He wasn't allowed inside, he didn't think he wanted to be in there if he was being honest. Not when he could hear Soarynn's screams. She was in pain. She was scared. She was so young. Too young. He realized that too late it seemed though. But he planned to take her away from this place once their son was born, take care of her, maybe even love her.

He could hear her screaming for help, for it to stop, for him to come help her. He could hear Dr. Gaul instructing her to push.

Then it all went silent.

Then he heard it, the sound of a baby crying. His son.

It was only a minute later that Dr. Gaul was walking out with his son in her arms, wrapped up in a blanket. Coriolanus smiled down at the child who looked just like him, with blonde hair and he was sure blue eyes too. "He's perfect," he whispers, "oh it's perfect. I should see Soarynn now."

Dr. Gaul says nothing as he walks into the room where her assistants are already cleaning up and he stops in his tracks when he sees it.

Sees her. Dead. A once beautiful Soarynn now dead on the hospital bed. Blood covering her. It's soaked through her hospital gown, into the sheets, down to the floor. Her eyes are wide in fear, tears on her cheeks.

Coriolanus has to stop himself from throwing up as he stumbles out of the room and back into the lab where Gaul is bouncing the newborn up and down gently, cooing and smiling.

"What...what happened to Soarynn?" He chokes out, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, with grief for that sweet little girl from Twelve who couldn't count four fingers.

Dr. Gaul shrugs, "The birth was taking too long and we couldn't afford complications so I chose to perform an emergency cesarean section. The mother's life was of no concern once we got to the child safely."

Coriolanus stares blankly at the newborn, "You killed her."

Dr. Gaul chuckles and smiles down at his son who will grow up without a mother and she shakes her head, chuckling.

"Lab rats die all the time Coriolanus."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[komorim]

to generations after us

-> kamisato ayato x f!reader

[ synopsis. ] a while has passed since the death of your husband, and everything seemed to have changed but nothing seemed to have changed at the same time. your routine and life will always be constant, yet the scenery and people of inazuma will never be identical to the ones before. and neither will your heart.

‣ when the sky weeps ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

[ content warnings. ] character death. reader has children with ayato. angst. mentions of suicide. suicidal thoughts. there’s not a lot to say; it’s not dark content. reader is a kitsune from japanese folklore.

[ word count. ] 1.7k

[ author’s note. ] hooray! the first one shot of my pair of one shot collections! i’m starting to regret making myself suffer through writing twelve oneshots, but it is what it is :p please bear in mind that updating of the collections won’t be very fast (like any of my updates :x) but i will try to upload two at a time, one for each collection. i originally planned on having the initial upload be four one shots so you all have something to read while i’m cooking up the rest, but i only got three done and i decided to just post one first :x

day one, day two, day three. how many days has passed was originally clear to you at first, but then there came one point in time that you lost track. when you lost track of the number of days passed since one of the biggest milestones in your ever lasting life.

since the day your husband, the love of your life, the father of your children, had passed away.

looking back on it now, you don't believe that your life had much of a change after his death. after all, it wasn’t your first time experiencing loss. yet this time was somewhat different. it wasn’t just a friend or a mortal you had attachment to that passed. no. it was your husband, the one who who married you, the one you mothered children with, the one you gave your heart to.

the first couple of days were dreadful, trying to comfort your children from the pain of losing their father and having to deal with awful words thrown at you because you haven’t shed a tear.

but what do they know?

as a mother, how could you make your children worry for you when they’re already mourning? how could you cry your heart out and voice your desire to die with him? you didn’t have the liberty of doing so.

so you could only resort to silently weeping as your hand rests over what was once ayato’s side of the bed. in the middle of the night, all you could think about was how regretful you were that you weren’t by his side, how you couldn’t hear his last words nor caress his face like you once did one last time. yet after weeks of barely sleeping, you still had to act as if you were okay in order to not raise the attention of your children.

though day by day, you continue such behavior and the negativity that surrounds you only grows.

seeing the kamisato estate as it was before, the same the last time you saw ayato slowly crumbled your will into pieces. you can almost see him in the shadows, smiling at you as he calls you to come join him for dinner, frowning as he scolds your laziness, smirking as he looks at your flushed face when he walks out of the shower half naked, humming as he walks down the hallways.

it’s all too familiar.

everything and anything reminds you of him. his cologne is still placed in the same place last time he used it. his toothbrush still sits in the stand next to yours. his coat still hangs by the door. his shoes still rest on the rack.

nothing seems to have changed, but everything did.

the streets on inazuma city still look the same as when you and him last went on a date. your favorite food stand is still selling your usual order. the trees are still in full blossom.

yet your loving commissioner isn’t there anymore.

how are you supposed to keep pretending? how are you supposed to reassure your children again and again that you’re taking his death well when that red moving object in your chest cavity has long withered and died?

how can you hug them and looks at them when their features resemble half of his?

you had missed him too much, and wanted to feel him and smell the scent of him terribly. you wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and ask for him to comfort you as he always did. then your attention fell onto the the white coat he wears everyday. it was bound to be covered in his scent, and after contemplating whether it was worth it to destroy the way he left things, you gave in to the urge.

bringing the coat back to the bed, you cuddled up to it and hugged it tightly, breathing in the faint scent of ayato. the crumpling of paper you heard was odd, knowing that it wasn’t a sound a normal coat was supposed to make. and when you pulled out the now slightly wrinkled envelope, tears started to pool in your eyes when you recognized the familiar penmanship.

you opened the seal carefully, not wanting to destroy the last thing he left you, and you pulled out the piece of paper that has already aged. it made you wonder how long ago he had first wrote this.

how long ago was he expecting his abrupt end.

my dear, the love of my life, my darling fox,

you hadn’t even begun to read its contents before a choked sob forced its way through your throat, emotional already at the mention of his pet names for you. names that you loved to hear.

how are you doing? probably not so good since you most likely are reading this after the news of my death. you can almost hear his light chuckle. i once remember you asking me why it is that i started to keep one hand in my pocket out of habit. now you probably know why. even without me telling you, you were always so very smart and perceptive. which was why it made me so nervous trying to keep this letter a secret. as your beloved husband, i know i shouldn’t be keeping secrets from you, but i had to. i knew you’d give me an earful if you knew about me writing such a letter when i’m “so young and have many years ahead of me.” but i had to write something like this soon. because who knows when i might die? the thought of it breaks my heart as well, but we both knew this would happen one day. after all, i am a mortal. if i had the choice, i would sell my soul and more to obtain immortality, since how could i bear to just leave you one day? but it’s the inevitable truth that my end will definitely come before yours. so i keep looking, keep staring at your face and features, trying to engrave them into my mind and heart and soul so that i never forget you even long after i’ve passed. even as i write this, i often glance up at your sleeping features on the bed. how beautiful you are. and how it saddens me to imagine those beautiful features i love distort into pain and grief. which is why i hope i can stay longer, just a bit longer. one more minute, one more hour, one more day. i hope that with my presence, i can make you smile for that much longer. though i understand that your smile from the day i die on will probably only be for the sake of presentation. to reassure, to comfort. after all, you never truly smiled until you fell in love with me. and that’ll always be the proudest achievement of my life. but please, don’t be too saddened by my passing. i understand the love you harbor for me, but please don’t let it be the reason you’re awake at night. a mortal’s life is short compared to yours, and you still have many years, many decades, many centuries. without me, you still have our children, and their children, and their children, and many generations after. you are never alone, my love. and there will be much, much more people in the future who will love and accompany you as i did.

the letter wasn’t complete, since you had a habit of calling him to bed every time he stayed up working. but you knew the purpose that the letter was supposed to serve. to make you feel better. but the day by day torture and regret that you put yourself through has already put you into an abyss so deep that a simple farewell letter couldn’t pull you out.

you became secluded, just like how your life was before a certain kamisato rudely interrupted.

he swept in, rescuing you from fox hunters when he was no better. the hunters wanted your life, and him making you fall in love and then leaving is no different. and the more you think about it, the more resent grows, and the moment of comfort that the letter brought you was long forgotten.

he wooed you with his sweet words and warm smile until you willingly handed him your heart. and then he left you alone, just like nothing had happened. but what was worse was that he didn’t just leave, no, he took your heart with him too.

you were used to loneliness for centuries. you enjoyed the leisurely life you had. but now that you’ve seen happiness, seen companionship, seen love, how were you supposed to go back to your previous life?

it’s cruel. what he did was unforgiving. and asking you not to despair? it was selfish.

he was alike a caretaker that has made an animal dependent on him and then pushed them back into the wild. a caretaker that stripped the abilities of hunting and survival from a wild animal before abandoning them once again. a caretaker that rescued an animal in need before blowing out the fire of hope.

how could he? more importantly, how are you going to survive without your caretaker? you’ve grown used to it all in this habitat that you loved, and now you can’t imagine a life without him.

you’ve grown miserable, resentful, to the point that you can’t help but want to tell him that you’ll never forgive him for the rest of your life.

but you can’t. you love him too much, gave him your all and more. he’s the man you loved, the first and only man you loved, and the one that loved you the most. how could you ever have it in your heart to hate him? how could you hate someone that first thought about you when the idea of their own death comes into mind?

one moment you’re screaming, sobbing from all the pain and anguish, and the next you’re begging for something, somewhere, that they could bring him back to you.

because without her caretaker, the silly fox that already gave her heart away would die in the wild.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[nerdieforpedro]

It’s not that crazy of an idea

Chapter One of “Come live with me Angel” Series

Benny Miller x Diana (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Summary: Bailing your friend Benny out of jail isn’t what Diana counted on for her night. She also didn’t count on needing to explain anything to him either.

Warnings: mention of jail/county, mention of violence, injuries from a fight, implied family issues, some pining (maybe)

Notes: I’ve had this idea for quite a while, a friends to lovers with our dear Benny Miller! I was finally able to make my ideas coherent. So here we are. 😆 We’re keeping it cute from now on, maybe. 🤔

Main Masterlist / Benny Miller Masterlist/ Come live with me Angel Series

“I’ll send you the money Diana, I just need you to go get him tonight before midnight. After midnight they’ll take him to county and we won’t be able to get him out until Monday.”

“Will, I mean I get why you can’t you’re out of state but I don’t know how to bail someone out of jail. Never done it. Like how do I get someone out?”

A deep roll of laughter is heard on the other end of the phone as Diana sighed. This was not funny. It’s 10:45pm and there’s a little over an hour to bail Benny out of jail.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. Just use the money I sent to you and bring him home. I’ll deal with him Tuesday.”

“Did he say why he beat the guys up? He took down three of them didn’t he? That’s a lot.”

“Not really for Benny. That’s an easy job for him. The problem is his current profession and history. He can be considered a deadly weapon. In some circles, but he’s just my idiot little brother that I need you to bring home. Just help him out.”

“...Okay Will. I just go to the central booking. I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll be fine Diana. You couldn’t fuck it up if you tried.”

“I’m glad you're confident. I’ll call you again when he’s home.”

Nothing exciting had happened on a Friday night for Diana. She came home from work, cooked dinner, watched some TV and then showered and put on a Hallmark movie. It was after she had dozed off when her phone vibrated on her lap. She never had the ringer on. It was Will. He had never called her and she didn’t know he had her number. He asked her to bail Benny out of jail. Pope was overseas advising some local government on security, Fish was on daddy duty and Will was in New Mexico speaking to new recruits and wouldn’t be back in time to get to Benny. She was the only option. As far she knew, Benny hadn’t had any trouble with the law for the last few years. He had been keeping his nose clean and in his MMA career. Will never answered her question about why Benny would send three men to the hospital. But she could ask him in person, she popped on a grogu t-shirt and black leggings with her sneakers and headed out, following the directions from her phone to a large imposing building.

She told the man at the gate who she was here to bail out which he snickered and allowed her in. She didn’t get why he did that but focused on parking her small blue car and headed inside. Diana was patted down twice on her way in, it disturbed her both times. Not that either officer did anything odd, she just wasn’t good with touches from people she didn’t really know. Eventually through different gates and several sleepy looking guards later, she arrived at the holding cells. They were behind another large gate. The woman at the counter looked to be close to retirement, the fluorescent light highlighted the purple in her blonde wig. Diana didn’t think that it was supposed to be that color, but gave her a warm smile. The woman’s orange lipstick twisted with her lips as she spoke.

“Who ya here for honey?” She asked with a slow drawl. A question she’d asked many a time over the years.

“I’m here for Benny. Ah, Benjamin Miller. He would have come from the Tipsy Cantina bar.” She answered softly, her hands squeezing her phone and wallet.

The woman chuckled and reached through the small oval opening at the bottom of the plexiglass to touch Diana’s hand. “Simmer down honey. First time? No one usually tells me that much info. Yer boy’s fine. Few scrapes and bruises. Tell him to keep his nose clean. I wasn’t supposed to see him again before I left this place behind and got my place in the glades.”

Diana nodded and let go of her phone, setting it down on the counter and held the woman’s wrinkled hand, her rings dug in a little bit but that was fine. At least there was a person here who was calming. The woman turned toward a tall guard with a long beard that was braided at the bottom. “Johnny, bring out the Miller boy. His lady friend is here. You got his bail honey?”

“Y-Yes. Right here. Um, do you take cash, credit or…”

“Any’s fine dear. Whichever ya got.”

Diana let go of the woman’s hand and put her debit card in it. The woman swiped it and took the amount of money that Will had told her the bail would be. She put the card back and heard several loud buzzes before hearing two gates open.

“He’ll be out shortly honey.” The older woman assured her. And he was, but watching him walk down the hallways toward her felt like it was at least ten minutes.

Benny was glad to be out of that small cell where he had been stuck for the last three hours. He swore he’d never end up back in here after the last bar brawl he’d been in with all the guys. At least in that one, Pope, Fish, and Will had been in here to make the time to go easier. He did strike up a conversation with a guy who got caught with a prostitute and they discussed beer of all things. Weird subject to talk about but better than listening to the other guy who clearly was high speaking about the aliens telling him to probe people. He didn’t have much with him, the one officer gave him his jacket and wallet back along with his hat. Benny was expecting a stern talking to from his brother who said he was going to come up with the money. He didn’t mention how he was going to get here though. Will had left for New Mexico sometime last week and that flight was at least a few hours if they even had one coming out this way.

The MMA fighter was shocked to see who was here to pick him up. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why he was here. It’s bad enough she knows he’s in jail, but did she bail him out? Did Will give her the money? She looked worried and scared, they still do pat downs and crap when you come in here don’t they? That might be why, or she could be scared of him now. She’s supposed to know him as fun-loving goofy silly Benny, except in the ring of course. He licked his bottom lip that had a cut on it and ran his fingers through his hair he’d let grow out to the base of his neck. The bruises and cuts were still fresh on his hands and face from the fight and there was a little dried blood on his white t-shirt, could have been from him or one of the guys he decked, wasn’t sure. Benny was going to say hi at least but Diana wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged him tight. It hurt his ribs a bit since he had taken a few hits there, but bent down slightly to hug her back and patted her head.

“Hey Angel, sorry you had to come here. You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He led with a weak joke that earned a sniffle instead of the chuckle he was hoping for. Diana looked up at him with her face tight. Instead of fear, now she was angry.

“Such a stupid joke Benny. Are you okay? You look worse than after a match! What the hell happened?” She asked as they let go of each other and walked over to the desk with the elderly woman. She handed Benny his wallet and jacket.

“You scared your girlfriend here Benjamin. I thought I wasn’t going to see you back here until I retired and went down to the glades.” She gave him a wry smile. He returned it and counted his money in his wallet before sticking it in his back jeans pocket and put on his jacket.

“Yes Ma’am. That was the plan but circumstances didn’t allow for that. Had those guys shut up, I’ll be seeing you the next time me and the guys go fishing.” He answered and held the old woman’s hand.

“She seems sweet. Don’t worry her too much now.” She cooed.

“Ma’am. We’re not…” Diana went to clarify but was shooed by Benny as he was given a final check by a nearby officer. The older clerk whispered to Diana as she took her hands and pulled her close.

“He’s impulsive but a good man. You came because you care. Get ya man hun.” She let out a long laugh as Diana felt her ears burn and nodded. Not that she disagreed with the woman but they’re friends. Have been for the last six months since they met at the Saucy Cantina bar. The pair left the building and Benny chuckled wondering how he was going to fit in her tiny blue hatchback car. Diana put her hands on her hips and said that if he wasn’t willing to sit up front, then he could lay in the back, just to be grateful that she came. Benny gave her another hug and told her that he was, though he still felt bad that she had to come and he knew that he’d interrupted a movie for her. Diana hated that he knew her routine so well already.

Being the goof that he was, Benny spread his long body across the backseat of the car and Diana drove, telling him to keep his shoes off the seats and he spoke about the new specials Ramon was starting at the Saucy Cantina. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know what possessed him to beat up three men. It was clear Benny wasn’t up for talking about it right now. They arrived at her apartment where Benny could sleep on the couch and she would take him home tomorrow. As Diana unlocked her door, she had forgotten about the boxes though and how she’d have to explain them.

“So were you going to tell me that you’re planning on moving or just stop coming out with us and let me figure it out?” Benny asked, mimicking her with his hands on his hips as she had done.

“Well, my roommate is moving out with her boyfriend so I can’t afford this place on my own. It’s going to be an hour commute to work instead of thirty minutes and I planned on mentioning it eventually. I wasn’t sure how to tell you Benny.” Diana admitted. Her roommate still had some boxes to pick up so most of them were Diana’s. She needs to be out by the end of the month and planned to move back in with her mom for now.

“Why didn’t you just ask me? I got room. My house has three bedrooms and despite what you think I do clean, when I remember.” He flashed her a smile and she nearly said yes, but she’d be moving in with a man she had a crush on. What if he brings back someone? Will we have to talk about socks on doors?

No, no no no.

“I appreciate the thought Benny but it’s the most cost effective-”

“Are you sure you wanna move in with your mom? Didn’t you say you have issues with her and you two normally end up fighting?” Maybe she spoke to Benny too much about her family drama. She was seeing that now and she’d have to remember not to do that from now on.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow? Let’s just get some sleep.” Diana settles and walks to what will be her room for the next two weeks. Benny watches her walk away and waits until her bedroom door closes. He hears her on the phone and it sounds like Will since she said his name. It was short, just letting him know that he’s out. He then got a text from Will saying that they needed to talk when he got home.

“Ain’t shit to talk about that. I need to think about how I’m going to convince her to move in with me. It does sound crazy, but an hour away? That’s bullshit.” He removed his jacket, putting it on the back of the couch and set his shoes by the door. He laid on the couch and closed his eyes. Having Diana that far away bothered him for multiple reasons. Not only could he not just pop over to her place after practice, for a meal, movie or just to play some games with her. He would play his guitar sometimes because Will took it after his last visit to county. Benny had been able to convince Fish to bring his guitar over to Diana’s for safekeeping from his brother.

There’s too many things Benny wants to experience with Diana and to tell her. He’ll come up with a plan in the morning.

Hopefully.

Chapter two

Peeps who’d bail Benny out no questions asked ❤️: @tinytinymenace @laurfilijames @rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @megamindsecretlair

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #338: Taisui Xingjun

if I can say one nice thing about taisui xingjun, it’s that lasengle went out of their way to make him feel very cursed. sometimes waiting for a servant to pop up in their event gives you cool new abilities to work with that aren’t part of their in-game kit, and sometimes they show up at the last second, throw out a vague party buff on for the last fight, and then fall asleep immediately. this time’s the second one.

thankfully, taisui’s not all that difficult a build, at least on the surface. he’s a Divine Soul Sorcerer, and that’s it! though to be fair, that class alone is really kind of mashing together two classes as-is, so he’s still not that simple.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

next up: make sure to like, comment, subscribe, and turn on notifications to see this build first!

Ancestry & Background

if we were being more objective taisui’d probably be a custom lineage, but it’s our build and I want him to be able to turn into his big form at will, so he’s a Changeling. with that, he gets proficiency in performance and persuasion, and his plastic presentation makes him a Shapechanger as well, so he can turn into any small or medium race as long as they have the same number of limbs, and you can’t turn into anyone specific without having seen them first. on top of all that, you get bonuses of +2 Charisma and +1 Dexterity.

finally, your background. you literally just sit there the whole event until like three deus ex machinas pile on top of each other to summon you into a vaguely human body, so that sounds like the Book of Many Things’ new background, the Rewarded, to me. that nets you proficiency in Insight and Animal Handling, as well as the Lucky feat for literally free. why anyone would ever pick a different background ever again, I don’t know, but now you get three luck points a day, and you can spend them forcing a reroll on any d20 roll directly affecting you and pick the better option of the two. whomst’d’ve the fuck thought putting that on a background was balanced.

Ability Scores

your highest score is your Charisma, because you’re basically skating by on your good looks and hoping that’s enough to make people farm the ungodly number of Cons needed for all your ascensions and NP levels. it is, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. second highest is your CON. yep, there’s a buncha them in there. third is Dexterity, because you don’t wear armor. like, at all. honestly this should probably be lower considering how easily you get eaten, but I’m trying to make a build that’ll survive level 1. after that comes your Intelligence, because the Con are quick studies at least when it comes to construction and video games, so they’re at least a little above average. that means your Strength is nothing to write home about- you’re a god, but you’re a kid, and your arms are kind of noodly. finally, we’re dumping Wisdom. as the Con you’re easily swayed, and as a god your tired ass isn’t helping anyone on watch duty.

Class Levels

1. as mentioned before, you’re a Divine Soul Sorcerer, which gives you Spells you cast using your Charisma. before we go into those, you also get Divine Magic, letting you pick spells from the cleric spell list as well as the sorcerer’s. you also get Inflict Wounds for free for your spooky shadow hands. I know taisui is technically true neutral, but his god form’s a god of curses and retribution, so I’m saying at the very least his powers are evil-leaning. speaking of, you’re Favored by the Gods, so if you fail a save or attack, you can add 2d4 to it once a short rest. whether being favored by this god is a good thing or not is anyone’s guess.

so then, spells! for cantrips, Blade Ward will keep your body in once piece for now, Morgan worked hard on that, while Chill Touch is another kind of spooky hand that prevents people from healing, which is pretty cursed in my book. you can also whip out your bell and Toll the Dead, dealing extra damage to injured targets, your you can curse someone with an Infestation, forcing them to move in a random direction if they fail a constitution save.

for leveled spells, Bane is a light cursing for a first level spell, forcing up to three creatures to make a charisma save. if they fail, every attack or save made for up to a minute gets a d4 taken away from it. we’re also giving you Mage Armor for +3 AC because we’re not that sadistic. even if taisui is.

oh, speaking of saves, you have proficiency in Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. you kind of are a god, after all.

2. second level sorcerers become a font of magic! rn that just means u can cast another first level spell every day, like your new one, earth tremor! most of you is still down there, after all, just twitch a lil.

3. congrats! you survived long enough to get second level spells! now you can feed your party parts of yourself to aid them, giving them a bigger hp bar for the day! you also learn metamagic this level, so now your font of magic actually does stuff that’s important! you can spend your sorcery points to make a spell heightened, giving your target disadvantage to their save, or careful, automatically making the save for some of your friends! taisui’s got kind of a yin-yang thing going on between his feeding and his cursing, so this is the best of both worlds!

4. since ur kind of a nega-jupiter, you’re now a scion of the outer planes! yaaaay! since your god’s evil, you get resistance to necrotic damage, and you get chill touch again!

you can also cast mold earth to cover yourself up again, and you can cast wither and bloom! with this spell, every creature you choose takes necrotic damage, and one creature you choose can roll a hit die and gain hp back! it’s literally everything you do in a single spell!

5. fifth level, you have magical guidance, spend sorcery points to reroll checks, whatever! the important thing is now you can bestow curses! the phb gives some suggestions, but really you can do anything your dm lets you get away with!

6. sixth level divine souls have empowered healing, so whenever you or someone next to you heals someone, you can spend a sorcery point to reroll some of those dice, once a turn! i’m not sure if that works for life transference or not, but either way this spell makes feeding yourself to someone a lot more visceral. you take damage, and then someone else gets healed for twice the amount of damage you took!

7. you can now give urself an aura of purity, making friendly creatures in it immune to disease, resistant to poison damage, and they get advantage on saves against a buncha common status effects too!

8. at eighth level you get another ASI, so now you’re a Baleful Scion. that rounds up your Charisma and lets you pull people into the Grasp of Avarice- once a turn, you can add some necrotic damage to the damage you deal, which also heals you for that amount. your best healing spell so far uses your HP, so you need to fill that back up somehow.

you can also summon a Spirit of Death for an hour, making a floaty medium boy you can ride around on! you don’t even need to spend any actions commanding it or nothin’. it can only attack one creature at a time, but it’ll lock on to them and let you know where they are the whole time!

9. you can now make an insect plague! don’t misspell that, trust me. now you can make a 20’ radius sphere of locusts that obscure the whole place, and everything inside it has to make a constitution save or get piercing damage!

10. tenth level sorcerers have another kind of metamagic like extended, doubling the length of a spell you cast, up to an hour. you can also cast resistance to protect someone from a saving throw-related dangers.

speaking of saves, you can cast the most messed-up spell in the game, Contagion! if you hit your target, they have to make a constitution save at the end of each turn, working like death saves. after three successes, the spell ends. after three failures, you can curse them with a terrible disease for seven days.

11. at eleventh level, you can cast sixth level spells like Heroes’ Feast! after casting this, you can feed yourself to up to twelve creatures, curing them of all diseases and poisons, immunity to poison and being frightened, and they had advantage on all wisdom saves! on top of that, they gain extra HP, and all for a full day! just… maybe don’t tell them what the feast’s made of.

12. twelfth level, another ASI! bump up that Con for more Cons! it’s health, you’ll get more health. this is retroactive, remember, so you get an extra 12 HP this level.

13. thirteenth level sorcerers get seventh level spells, and its time to get real curses! with Divine Word you can hit any number of creatures within 30’ of you, forcing a charisma save on all of them. depending on how many HP they have, they’ll become deafened, blinded, stunned, or even straight up dead if they fail a charisma save. this also banishes any celestial, fey, or fiend if they’re not from around here, so that would make Dagon a real cakewalk. also, on the “instantly killing people” front, this gives you more than enough room to take out some poor bastard’s whole extended family.

14. your Angelic Form is a lot different than most people would expect, but you can still use your bonus action to fly around on your curse lump, with no limit on flight time!

15. eighth level spells! you can now Regenerate your allies by forcefeeding them a whole Con, giving them a healthy amount of HP immediately, with a trailing 1 HP per turn for an hour afterwards. two minutes into the spell any missing limbs grow back, though they can also instantly be reattached by just slappin ‘em back on if you got ‘em.

16. another ASI, another Con for more HP.

17. you can now use twinned metamagic, turning a single-target spell into one that hits two creatures!

speaking of single target spells, Power Word Kill’s a hell of one, ain’t it? if the chosen target has 100 HP or less, they die instantly! no saves, no nothin’.

18. you spent so much time putting Cons into other people, we almost forgot to get some Cons into you! with Unearthly Recovery, letting you spend a bonus action to regain half your HP once a day! big heal energy.

19. one last ASI before the build finishes! with the Tough feat, it’s like you ate two Cons at once, giving you an extra 38 HP now, plus another two next level.

20. at level twenty you get the sorcerer’s capstone, Sorcerous Restoration! every short rest, you get four extra sorcery point!

…yeah there’s a reason we usually multiclass.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

you have an amazing Con-stitution for a caster, giving you way more HP than most would expect of you. having a healer that doesn’t die easy is super helpful. this also means you have great con-centration. your more powerful spells don’t need it, but dropping a spell always hurts.

not only are you a great healer, you’re great at making other people heal too! you also have access to some strong defensive buffs like heroes’ feast, aura of purity, and resistance. also, being able to grow back limbs can be pretty useful!

you also dish out devastating debuffs, destroying enemy defenses with divine words, curses, and disease.

Cons:

yep, there’s a lotta them in there.

(but seriously, a lack of direct attacks drags fights out, the sorcerer capstone sucks)

[writingwarden]

Deciding to put the British men through the horrors.

IV centered

Polyvessel implied

Tw- Depression, drug abuse/alcohol abuse mention, Hurt/Comfort, implied eat disorder, self isolation, self worth issues, anxiety, cuddling

Word Count- 1.9k

Summary- IV is feels like he's drowning

WEATHER ME TO NOTHING

There is something deeply and truly wrong with him. At least that's all IV can tell himself as he climbs back into bed. The lights are off, curtains drawn as shut as they can be because any light hurts his head. He even went so far to put a blanket across the bottom of his door to stop the hallway light from filtering through the cracks. 

He’s just tired. That’s what he tells his partners when they ask him what’s wrong as he stares at his half eaten bowl of strawberry ice cream. His favorite that he had insisted on having after dinner. He was feeling fine then as he goes to raise his spoon to his mouth does that numbness creep back in, killing his appetite completely. Vessel’s voice snaps him from the haze, asking him if he’s going to join them in the living room for movie night. 

Looking up at the singer reveals a blurry face, a smile on his lips but concern weighing in his eyes and on his brow. 

“No, I’m actually feeling kind of tired. Think I’m gonna lay down early.” Standing from the dining chair and placing his bowl in the freezer for later. Because IV knew that he’d want it later and he didn’t want to be wasteful! Because if he was wasteful then he was being greedy and rude, right? 

Ignoring the strangely confused looks from Vessel or II as he silently turns to walk back up stairs. 

It’s so stupid, he can take care of himself; going through the motions to keep up with his hygiene and basic needs. But he’s moving as if he isn’t the one in control. Autopilot.

IV feels like he’s drowning.

So many things he wants to do, to pick up his old hobbies or hang out with his beloveds without feeling like he’s become an outsider in his own home. And IV feels angry that he feels like this, why can’t he just do these things? 

Curling up under his blankets, three comforters all stacked and strewn around above him. But he can’t seem to get warm and he knows it’s not exactly his fault. No it’s the ever creeping numbness growing in his stomach and through his lungs. Threatening to seize his breathing all together. He stares at the wall in front of him, the whiteboard that had once been a great tool for keeping him on track now taunting him with the list of things he has to do today. 

Guilt ebbs away at him as he stares at the slowly blurring words. It’s just simple chores; laundry, journaling, a reminder to eat and shower, read another chapter of that book III recommended. The neatly numbered list haunting him because why can’t he get up to do them? He wants to! He wants to read and practice and have clean clothes. But here he lays, paralyzed in his bed in the same clothes from yesterday.  

There’s a disconnection between his mind and body. Like a fraying string that’s finally snapped, pulling taunt and thin until it can’t hold up any more. 

And when that string manages to tie itself back together he overdoes it but IV refuses to be useless around the house. Cleaning up after the others, always so attentive to their needs. The house is mysteriously cleaned during the night, their favorite snacks always appearing in the pantry seemingly out of nowhere, laundry always clean and folded neatly in baskets outside their bedroom doors. 

It’s not like he’s a total recluse. He can laugh and practice with the others. He’s not always stuck in the fog. 

In the beginning he ignored the cold and sinking feeling in his chest, ignored the way his lungs seized when one of them would sigh or dismiss him. IV wants to be close to them, to not shy away at the barest sign of annoyance or disappointment even if it isn’t directed at him. It’s not fair to expect the others to reassure him all the time. 

IV gets it, he’s clingy and a bit too much sometimes. Plus he doesn’t explicitly communicate his needs so it’s not fair to expect the others to remember that book he mentioned a week ago or his favorite lunch. IV is happy to go along with whatever they need from him, tongue stuck behind teeth in protest. 

There’s something stuck in his throat, a guttural scream or sorrow filled sob. Filling his entire chest cavity and making his hands shake. Fumbling everything he holds but his guitar and thank Sleep for that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he started messing up his part of the songs. 

IV groans, frustrated with himself and he kicks the blankets off. Stretching out on the bed, staring a hole into the ceiling as he struggles to get any breath down. Breathing on manual and a metric tonne of weight on his chest. Like someone has gone and sat the entire night sky on his ribs. Heart pounding in his head and it feels like he’s become the prey of something unseen.

Being haunted and hunted by eyes surrounding him. Ever perceived and always on display even when in solitude.

Screwing his eyes shut while his mind runs rampant. Why was he like this? Is this some cruel self punishment? A strange self harm tactic his brain has decided to bestow on him? Because he may be alive but he sure ain't living right now. Using alcohol and weed to calm his brain.

But he hates doing that, hates the loss of control over his own body while inebriated. 

This feel has followed him since childhood, or at least he assumes it has. IV doesn’t remember much from his past life. The one before Sleep found him and gave him this new life with new purpose. He feels selfish for feeling like this, he has everything he could ever want but here he lays moping in his bed. 

That feeling of constantly waiting for something bad to happen. For those he loves to wake up and see him for what he is and leave. For this supposed dream of a life to be ripped from him.

But at least it doesn’t hurt anyone else, it only hurts him. “Let me be selfish in this regard.” he mumbles into the dead air. A habit he developed recently, talking to the empty room. Speaking it outloud to no one helps sometimes. His room became stagnant long ago, never letting the others in because this is his fortress of misery. His place to rot away and become something he wishes he wasn’t. 

What happened to him? He had been doing so good, laughing and making an effort to connect with the others. But that’s not what it was, huh? The other three could be so open with each other, making an effort to talk about their problems and letting themselves be cared for. He cares for them. So why couldn’t he give them the same courtesy? Why couldn’t he stay awake long enough or be alone by himself without wanting to shrivel up until he becomes nothing but a long forgotten memory? 

A soft knock on his bedroom door and a far away voice.

He sits up, staring through blurry eyes at the door. When did he start crying and when did he start digging his nails into his palms?

Quickly wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve and covering his body as the voice he now recognized as Vessel speaks again, “IV, can I come in?”

IV allows himself one more deep breath before answering, cringing when his voice cracks from the crying, “It’s unlocked.”

The door opens slowly, the blanket at the bottom only giving a slight resistance then Vessel is stepping in and shutting the door behind him with equal softness. The tall vocalist turns to face IV and even in the low light IV can see his eyes soften as he takes in the state of the guitarist. 

IV watches him like a hawk as Vessel approaches the bed silently.

“Are you feeling alright?” The question itself is simple, IV could answer, brush him off and return back to his self loathing but he knew that Vessel wouldn’t give it up so easily. And it would see that IV couldn’t turn him away anyways, the question sending the tears running again. 

A quiet sob escapes his throat as he shakes his head and he expects Vessel to scoff or turn away. IV stares at his hands shaking in his lap, waiting to hear the footsteps walking away and the door shutting. But instead he feels a dip in the bed next to his legs. Then there are strong arms gently wrapping around him, pulling him into an embrace. 

IV freezes, every muscle in his body telling him to run. Oh but Vessel is so warm and the hug doesn’t feel as suffocating as he thought it would. He lets himself relax, unable to stop the tears from falling and soaking the fabric of Vessel’s sweater. 

They stay like that for a few minutes until the gasping for air has resided and all that’s left is sniffles and slowly falling tears. Then Vessel does something IV doesn’t expect. He lets go of IV, pulling away and standing up. Before IV can make any noises or look up at him, Vessel is walking around to the other side of the bed and laying down next to IV. Propping himself up against the headboard and opening his arms in invitation for IV to lay within them.

IV can feel his brain short circuit but soon scrambles into the taller man's arms. Laying flat against his chest, burrowing himself into Vessel’s sweater and clinging onto him like a lifeline. Like if IV lets go Vessel will disappear beneath him. 

It takes a few seconds but soon they are both relaxed and covered back up with the comforters. Vessel rests one of his hands on IV’s back, the other gently peeling a clenched fist from his sweater and holding it in his own. Running circles over IV’s palm with his thumb, tracing the crescent indents left by his nails. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Vessel keeps it simple but even he knows it's a loaded question. So many things come to mind but he can’t force them out, so IV shoves his head further into the crook of Vessel’s throat and shoulder, breathing in the cologne he’s come to love. 

“I just,” How can he explain the mess that is his thoughts? So he starts plain and simple, his voice muffled against the other man's skin, “I feel like I’m paralyzed, waiting for something bad to happen again. Like the other shoe is going to drop any minute now.”

Vessel hums and continues to make small circular motions on his hand, and when he speaks it makes IV’s mind go blank for a few seconds. “It's called bracing for impact.” Vessel’s voice is quiet and when IV doesn’t respond he sighs and continues. “It’s a survival mechanism and it’s a terribly exhausting way to live. Don’t blame yourself for bracing for impact, you’re just protecting yourself in the only way you know how.”

IV can’t respond, his mind back to running a million miles a second. Vessel’s words wash over him or rather, provide the air he desperately needs in the deep water that are his thoughts. But Vessel seems okay with his silence. He knows that a few words won’t magically cure the turmoil in his partner's head. So instead he readjusts, making himself comfortable against the pillows and pulling IV closer, humming some nonsense tune with no rhythm or reason. 

IV stays there laying on Vessel’s chest and everything might not be okay now or even ever really. But he has people willing to help pull him from the waters and maybe that’s enough of a starting point for him. 

[Projecting all my issues onto this poor masked British man. Hope this means the end of my writer's slump. We'll see, I guess. Likes and comments are always appreciated and encouraged! Stay safe everyone!]

[memoriavivens]

Thoughts on Sphene

This will probably get rambly, fair warning. I’ll have it cut off since it’ll be long. This isn’t going to be polished writing, more just me getting all my thoughts out.

So I’ve mentioned before how much I love Sphene, and how much I’m bothered by the way people see her. So I figured I should get my view out there, even just in rough form. First of all- Sphene is absolutely a person. Maybe she’s the same as the original, maybe not, but that’s a moot point. I’ve seen a few things used to cast doubt on her humanity, the most common being that she’s of technological nature, or that she lacks a soul. I just don’t get why either of these should necessarily preclude her from personhood. I think it’s quite likely she’s a victim of people now associating all forms of artificial intelligence with generative “AI”, when in fact AI capable of true personhood is a long-running trope in fiction. Basically if you say Sphene isn’t a person you are also saying C-3PO isn’t a person. But what sort? One who loves nothing more than to help others, for starters. It’s her most consistent trait, from all that she does for the people of solution 9 and the outskirts to taking the blast back during the storm surge. And of course she wants to keep the endless around. This of course is where she hits conflict, because she wants (and needs, but more importantly genuinely wants) to preserve the endless forever, but on the other hand, doing so would require hurting so many other people- plus she knows that it’s unsustainable. And yet she still wants to do it, and I don’t blame her for still wanting to do it- failing to do so would be letting all these people you’ve cared for die after all. Letting them die isn’t an option, and not just because of the programming. She has agency in all this, as she makes clear. But she’s not comfortable with it- she backpedals and tries to minimize almost constantly. Asks us if there’s a better way to sustain them. Invites us to become citizens. Subtly, likely subconsciously, asks us to stop her. Tries to make us more comfortable with opposing her through analogies. And in the end she clearly falls into self-hatred over it, depending on your dialogue choices even denying her own humanity. She wants to do this and will do it, but at the same time she really does not want to do this. (Honestly, what could be more human than that?) I find all of this very relatable, myself- I struggle a lot with this sort of thing (on a vastly smaller scale, obviously, that’s just how fiction and real life work), and the ways she reacts to her dilemma and the ways I react to mine are very similar- indecision, self-hatred, frequently changing attitudes, all while none of these help with the problem at all. It’s not bad writing, it’s just a painful part of the human condition. I guess all this is why I like her so much and want good things for her. And I believe if some things went differently she could have had a happy ending- some things during dawntrail itself and not the backstory, I should clarify. The programming is just a metaphor for part of her own psyche, so there’s no need to assign it stock over her mentality. Any number of things could be used to dispose of it if necessary. I think what Sphene probably needs is:

. To know that the Endless were happy in the end, and it isn’t necessary to preserve them forever (She’d probably be more accepting of this when they are already gone)

. To understand that it isn’t too late to change.

. To believe it’s worth changing.

None of these things are easy to convince a person, but there are ways. For instance if I were making Dawntrail into a game where your choices can affect the outcome of things, I’d add a secret ending where she lives that can be accessed by completing every sidequest in Living Memory (Which everybody should do anyway) and then making some dialogue choices at the end to convince her of the three things above. That’s probably a rough version of how I’ll write the resolution in my version of the events as well.

Oh yeah a thought I forgot to include earlier- why she ultimately sides with Preservation. It’s because that’s the easier thing to go through with. The specific way she did it, especially, is just easier to go through with. All she has to do is erase herself, compared to all the work that redemption would be. I think she knows that redemption has a preferable outcome long-term, she’s smart enough to figure that out, but she has no support system and Wuk Lamat and canon WoL have really not shown themselves to be very committed to helping her. So, lacking anyone to help her, she picks the easy way out. Just like so many real people do.

So, that’s a very tough version of my thoughts on Sphene and why I love her so much! If you have anything to add or if you think anything needs clarifying, then by all means ask!

[magicshopaholic]

So Many Signs (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara tries to ignore the obvious, while Taehyung finally loses his cool.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, sexism, mention of assault, infidelity, longing, heartbreak

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be posting this so soon but I do want to reach a certain point in their story before I continue posting for other members. This one’s long, but I hope you like it! It takes place about a week after Chingu.

This is also a submission for the 2023 K-Pop Fanfic Bingo Event “The Sound of Music”, using the square with one of my favourite childhood songs, Moon Glow by Benny Goodman.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “moon glow” by benny goodman

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

It’s close to the end of the calendar once the Portuguese GP rolls around. It seems to have awoken both PR teams as well, for the schedule suddenly tightens up and two photoshoots, one advertisement and a Run episode filming are all squeezed into a single week.

The first of the photoshoots takes place in a nice, leafy garden in the outskirts of Portimao, rented for the entire day for the shoot. For once, the participants from the F1 side of things nearly match the BTS members in number, with not just the Red Bull drivers there, but also the AlphaTauri ones, along with Max’s girlfriend Kelly accompanying them.

Maybe it’s the peace of the outdoors; maybe it’s the fact that on the plane ride over, Dilara had a front row seat to the view of Taehyung sleeping as he hugged a pillow. Either way, for the first time in forever, Dilara realises she isn’t counting down the minutes until the shoot is over.

The next day, the Thursday before the race weekend, the same day BTS is meant to join as well, she goes for an early morning run at the paddock before her own team PR begins for the day. A Run episode is meant to be filmed on the circuit and wrap up before the other drivers arrive, and Dilara watches as the crew sets up at top speed, even before the members arrive.

After her run, she’s getting a glass of water in the Red Bull enclosure when she feels someone come up behind her. When she turns, she almost spills the water on herself when she sees maybe three inches of distance between her and Jaden Park.

“Shit!” she mutters, taking a step back right into the water cooler. Jaden grabs her arm to steady her and, when she tries to take it back, doesn’t let go for a moment. Dilara’s heart skips a beat but then he drops her arm and sort of forces a smile onto his face.

It does nothing to comfort her, and she suddenly wishes more than ever that Chris or Fred were here. “Hi - hi… Jaden,” she stammers, taking a deep breath to slow her heart.

“Hey.” Jaden shoves his hands into his pockets. “I, um… I saw you last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“At Albert’s Bar?” He nods, assuming her acknowledgment. “You were with BTS, right?”

Fuck. Aside from the fact that she had stepped out for drinks with her housemates the previous night that now seems to have been seen by people, she thinks she can predict what Jaden’s line of thinking is with this. 

“Um… yeah, Max and all of us did a photoshoot with them yesterday, so we went out for a drink after,” she tells him, pleasantly surprised at how normal she sounds.

“That’s nice. Feel up to going again?” He cocks one eyebrow and gives her a small smile.

Unsurprised and unimpressed, she exhales. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaden,” she says firmly, not in the mood to try and let him down easy. She moves to walk past him but he blocks her way. Heart hammering, she looks up at him, slightly incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“So you can have a drink with seven guys but not one with me?” he asks, that strange frown still on his face.

Dilara scoffs. “I wasn’t having a drink with seven guys, I went out for drinks with a few colleagues,” she clarifies through gritted teeth, part of her wondering why she’s even giving this guy an explanation. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You really made up your mind about me after one date?” he demands, frowning. “It's… I mean, you're free to reject me if you don't like me but…" He shrugs, "... this just seems unfair."

She raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Jaden," she continues quickly, now reaching the end of her fuse, "I told you, alright? It's nothing to do with you. I'm just not dating. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't have this conversation again." She moves to walk away again and, yet again, he steps in front of her. 

"Then what is it? The least you can do is give me an explanation, Dilara." He's dropped all pretense of politeness, practically glaring at her now.

She stares at him, contemplating. There's a hundred things she can rip into this guy regarding his behaviour, but she knows there's only one thing that will work with a guy like him - she hopes. 

"Look, I…" Dilara exhales, heavily resenting that she has to do this, "when you asked me out, I'd just got out of a relationship, okay? It was complicated and - and I was still working my way through it. There’s - there’s another guy," she clarifies, disgusted yet unsurprised at the sudden understanding on his face. 

"So… I was, what? A rebound?"

"No," she says immediately, sensing a bruised ego. "I didn't realise I was still… not over it until we went out. And I didn't want to lead you on any further," she explains, suddenly realising she’s not totally lying.

"Right." Jaden nods, jaw clenched. "And, uh… this guy. Your ex. Is he here? Is he in F1?"

It's a complicated answer, but Dilara is out of patience with him. "I don't think that's important," she says hastily, wanting to shut down whatever man-to-man ape nonsense is going on in his head at the earliest. "And, uh… yeah. So I think we can just put this behind us now? And be colleagues? Great," she says in one quick breath, and without waiting for him to respond, she sidles away, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It rankles Dilara all day, how entitled some men are and how only the mention of another man can get them to back down. She takes it out on all the men around her, refusing to pass Max a bottle of water when he asks, and later in the afternoon, sniping at a reporter for asking her how she manages her personal life. She knows she’s not a good person to be around right now so when she goes back to the house, she heads straight away to the home gym to work out some of her frustrations before she snaps at someone else.

It works; she over indexes on the weights and barbells, working up a good sweat. She loses track of time, too; when she glances out of the window towards the end of her session, the sky is a dark indigo, almost black, and she feels a light and cool breeze blowing in, feeling incredible against her damp skin.

She runs into Jimin as she’s leaving, who offers her a can of beer and a smile.

“It’s a race weekend,” she says in explanation, her hands still in her pockets.

“You drank last night,” he points out. 

“Exactly. I think I maxed out my quota of booze for the week. Especially booze with this many calories,” she adds, tapping the can and moving to walk past him.

“No worries,” he says easily, falling into step beside her. The walk to the house is a few minutes away; Jimin manages to keep the silence going for about half a minute before speaking again.

“I don’t mean to… what’s the word? Pry?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I don’t mean to pry, but… you and Taehyung seemed to be getting along well yesterday.” 

Dilara looks up after a moment, surprised to see how hopeful his smile is. “Was that a question?” she asks after a moment.

“Um…” He looks mildly confused for a second. “Not really. It was nice, that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wants is to mislead anyone - especially when she has no idea what she wants herself.

“Does that mean you’re…” Jimin trails off but when Dilara doesn’t respond, he sighs uncomfortably. “Do you think you might… I mean, will you two be okay?”

Deliberately not looking up at him, she responds carefully. “What does okay mean?”

“Just…” The leaves under their feet crunch in the silence. “Will you go back to normal?”

They’ve almost reached the house. She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the porch. “And by normal you mean… before we broke up?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it’s apparent he’s already regretting bringing it up. “Maybe? It’s just… I mean, what more needs to happen? He can’t take it back, you know… what he did.”

“I do know,” she says forcefully. “And, yeah, a lot more needs to happen. Starting with him having this conversation himself,” she mutters, starting to walk away when he pulls her back. Startled at the second time today, she jerks back.

“S-sorry. Just… God, please don’t tell him about this,” he begs, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you? Is he that miserable to be around?”

“Oh, yeah.” A brief smile flashes across his face before it fades. “But it’s not just him, okay? When I said it was nice seeing you together yesterday… I mean it was nice to see you like that, too.” His gaze falls slightly. “I think we’re friends, too, right?”

Dilara frowns, for she hasn’t the faintest where this conversation is going. “I - sure. But if you’re asking me if us having a conversation yesterday without breaking down means we’re going to get back together… then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jimin sighs and nods. “I know it doesn’t. But… I don’t know, are you waiting for something?”

There’s something about that question that makes her bristle. “Waiting for something? Like I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to prove himself and pass some test so I can take him back? Do you think I’m having fun or something?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Because the answer is no, Jimin. No, I am not waiting for anything. I waited enough, alright?” she reminds him. “I waited a long time for him to say something before I blocked him and made sure he never could. All I’m doing right now is just… I’m just trying to not be so angry anymore. Because it’s not helping anyone.”

She starts walking backwards towards the house as Jimin processes this response, hoping he gets it. Just as she’s about to turn, he looks up.

“I’m sorry, Dilara. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry. That’s my whole point.”

He raises his eyebrows but thankfully lets it go. “Fine. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Dilara nods. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she repeats after a moment, a little calmer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not… hoping for something.”

Jimin frowns. “Like what?”

She bites her lip before sighing. “Like - like a sign. Maybe. This is not an easy decision - not least because I don’t even know what he wants. It’s -” But she’s interrupted by his scoff.

“Come on, I’m sure even Max Verstappen knows what Taehyung wants,” he tells her, laughing softly.

Dilara narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t take his word about this. He’s too complicated for me to guess.”

“Max?”

“No, T- you’re… V,” she stutters, rolling her eyes at the blatant slip. “He can’t just waltz back into my life because a PR plan forced me to let him back in.” She starts walking backwards again, careful not to miss the steps on the porch. “That’s what’s always happened. He’s just had to sit back and everything has fallen into place for him. I need an indication, at least, that it’s different this time. I don’t know what that is, I don’t know what it’ll look like… but I need -”

“A sign.” Jimin nods, looking at least somewhat as though he understands what she means. “I get it.”

“Good.” Hoping the conversation ends here, she turns on the spot and opens the door, almost getting a heart attack when she sees Taehyung standing there and pulling on a jacket.

“What - How did you -”

“Gwaenchanha?”

It takes her a moment to be able to answer as she catches her breath. “No, not really,” she gasps, wondering if all the men on the planet have planned to constantly startle her wherever she is. “I - were you standing here this whole time?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. A lock of blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead, the rest of his face absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

Dilara stares at him, suddenly mortified at the thought of him overhearing her talk to Jimin about this, or worse, her need for a sign. “I mean… you know what I mean,” she finishes lamely.

“Not really.” He glances at Jimin behind her and nods in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “The team wants to take a couple of extra shots at night, so I’m heading there with Jungkook. You want to come?”

He asks so casually, as though he’s asking her if she wants to go to the grocery store with him, that her heart flutters unexpectedly. “I - your staff won’t like that,” is her first response, before she cringes inwardly. “And also… no. No… thank you.”

Taehyung nods, looking as though he expected it. “No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Dilara watches him leave in silence, his gait cool and smooth as he passes by Jimin, murmuring something in Korean before heading out. She tries to count herself lucky; it doesn’t seem as though he’d overhead her - but if he has, she may as well just begin avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of her life. 

Jimin, apparently waiting for Taehyung to be fully out of earshot this time, grins at her. “That kind of sign?”

“No,” she says immediately, entering the house. “Never that kind of sign.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, following her into the house and shutting the door behind him. “It’s him - he’s the sign,” he explains dramatically.

Dilara gives him a pointed look, stopping at the door to her bedroom. “Never that kind of sign.”

—

The next day when Dilara sees BTS in the paddock, her gaze goes straight to Taehyung and Jimin. They're walking next to each other, albeit talking to members on their other sides. She tries to look elsewhere; it's officially race weekend again and she can't afford to be distracted. It's hard, though, because her situation with Taehyung is complicated enough; the last thing she wants is for a private conversation to have been overheard by him, however accidental it may have been.

So Dilara avoids them all day, all of them. She tries not to make it obvious because she’s glad that they’re all finally getting back on decent terms, so she opts to spend time in the garage with the rest of the team, going over free practice times and tyre strategies for Qualifying tomorrow. Even when Jaden Park, who's supposed to be in Max's garage and not hers, accidentally-on-purpose bumps into her and she notices Seokjin looking at them and frowning, she keeps her goal in mind and handles it herself.

It’s a success, for the most part. Her car feels fantastic and the paddock generally seems more lively this weekend for some reason; she doesn’t know if it has to do with the nice weather or the fact that Portimao is generally an exciting race every year. Either way, it’s good for her because in her effort to avoid BTS and give them their space, she ends up spending time with all the other drivers.

Later in the evening, when the paddock is emptying out, Dilara is on her way to the Red Bull conference room for a team briefing when she gets a notification from Jimin. Heart hammering slightly, she swipes it open.

Jimin [19:52] Dilara. Please stop avoiding him because of me.

Dilara [19:53] I’m not? Why would you think that?

Jimin [19:53] Have you said anything to him at all today?

Dilara [19:54] I have gone many many days without saying a single word to him. Did you by any chance tell him what we talked about yesterday?

Jimin [19:56] Of course not. Please don’t avoid him because of that. He’s really confused - I can tell.

Dilara [19:56] Jimin. I’m not avoiding him. Really. I just don’t know what to say to him, to be very honest.

Jimin [19:57] What? Things were getting so much better between you two. 

Dilara [19:58] Well, sure. We weren’t throwing things at each other and screaming anymore. That’s a pretty low bar.

Jimin [19:58] Fair enough. Will you be joining us for dinner?

Dilara [19:59] Not sure. I have to go for a briefing. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jimin [20:00] Want me to tell him to pick you up? You guys could talk.

Dilara [20:00] Omg NO. Jimin!

Jimin [20:00} What? He’ll be happy to do it.

Dilara [20:01] I’m sure he would. Look, Jimin, I know you feel guilty about your part in this, okay? If this is your way of trying to help - you’re off the hook. I forgive you.

Jimin [20:02] Really?

Dilara [20:02] Yes.

There’s no response. Dilara slows down slightly, wondering if her hunch is actually right. She’d only said that to shut him up, but his silence seems to indicate otherwise.

Then -

Jimin [20:05] Did you kiss last week?

Dilara [20:06] I fucking beg your pardon?

Jimin [20:07] Hobi hyung said he saw you guys hugging. If I remember correctly, you two had no problem going further than that in public.

Dilara [20:08] Jimin. Shut up.

Jimin [20:09] Just a question. Jeez.

Dilara [20:09] I dare you to go ask him this.

Jimin [20:10] Well played.

Dilara [20:11] Look, Jimin, I have to go. Just… I’m not avoiding him, okay? And even if it seems like it, it’s probably for the best.

When Jimin doesn’t reply, she breathes a silent sigh of relief. She’s almost at the conference room now and she’s getting late, but she needs to know this conversation is closed. Then, just when she thinks she can move on with her day, a picture pops up on the chat. It’s of Taehyung, shockingly, in the backyard with his blond hair catching the setting sun as he points - her heart skips a beat - the Polaroid she’d gifted him at the horizon.

Realising with a start that she’s been staring at it for almost a minute, Dilara types out a reply, fingers shaking slightly. 

Dilara [20:15] What am I looking at?

Jimin [20:15] He’s been out there for an hour now. He looks like he’s in a k-drama.

If by that he means that Taehyung looks tall, handsome and tragic all at once, he’s right. Dilara feels a familiar rush of mild envy and pride all at once, and knows she needs to nip this in the bud.

Dilara [20:16] Well, he certainly acts well enough to be in one. I have to go. I’ll see you later.

All through the briefing, Dilara can’t help but think that her decision to avoid them is for the best, if Jimin’s reaction is anything to go by. Even after the briefing, she dilly-dallies near the enclosure, wondering how to kill even more time before she has no choice but to head back to the house. 

Dilara sighs and glances down at her phone. It’s barely seven; she can’t hang around here for five hours… she looks around, wondering if she can possibly hang around with her pit crew to fix her car or something, when she suddenly catches sight of a small group of them and sees Jaden Park in the middle of it. Her heart in her mouth at how narrowly she’s avoided him, she turns the opposite way and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Then, a miracle happens.

Dilara’s phone pings and she groans softly, not in the mood for more of Jimin’s guilt trip. Honestly, she’s glad that her confession of sorts seems to have indeed been kept from Taehyung, but she’s more convinced than ever that both of them need this space to clear their heads. 

Max [22:40] Komyshan. Heading out for a bite with Daniel, Lando and Charles. You’re coming, right?

Her heart leaps and she thinks if her taste were slightly different, she could kiss Max Verstappen. She types out a reply, not even trying to suppress the relieved smile she can feel on her face. Rapidly saying a quick yes, she skips over to the parking lot.

As she nears it, she feels something nagging at her, tugging at her heart. She reopens her chat with Jimin, slowly scrolling up until she finds it. 

He’s really confused - I can tell. 

There is no reason this should evoke any sympathy in her. She should want him to feel bad for everything he did, but that angry part of her feels like a past version, like a person she used to know. If anything, she knows how he feels, with the confusion - and she realises it’s not sympathy, but empathy she’s starting to feel for him, especially if he’s had Jimin breathing down his neck the entire time as well. 

Dilara scrolls further down to the picture Jimin sent her of Taehyung; of course he looks like a model, like a stock photo. Perfect body proportions, perfect jawline silhouette, perfectly falling hair, capturing perfect pictures, looking perfectly heartbroken.

She sighs again, struggling. Things were getting so much better with you two. It’s the validation she didn’t know she needed. She recalls how his unexpected appearance behind the front door had taken her breath away last night. 

Feeling apprehensive, she opens her chat with Taehyung to see only two messages, from the night Chris visited. She bites her lip, deciding that she needs to tell someone where she is anyway or they’re bound to get worried. Thumb hovering over the keyboard momentarily, she types out a message.

Dilara [22:50] I’m going out with some of the guys. Not sure when I’ll be back but let’s talk later?

Dilara hits send and immediately panics. Talk? Talk about what? She groans out loud, attracting the attention of her fellow drivers. When Max calls out “Komyshan!”, she waves back tiredly and walks towards them. After they’re all strapped in and Charles is reversing out of the parking lot, she receives a reply.

Tae [22:52] I’ll be waiting.

---

He isn’t, not exactly. 

It actually ends up being an extremely late night for them; Dilara and her friends go back to the same club that she’d gone to with BTS two nights ago and although they don’t drink nearly as much and definitely don’t dance, it ends up being a pretty fun night overall and actually succeeds in making her forget about her love life for a couple of hours. When it’s finally time to go, it’s almost one in the morning, just as she’d hoped. 

Dilara is pleasantly surprised when Max drops off the other three before driving her back to the house, remembering that they can’t let the group’s location be revealed to anyone. They don’t talk about it, thankfully, but when he stops the car and she’s about to open the door, he finally speaks.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Max points to the house. “Are you two good now?”

She shrugs. “No idea, honestly.”

He frowns, looking mildly curious. “Oh. Looked like everything was fine at the photoshoot the other day. You two looked like you were sneaking around again.”

We were? Dilara’s confusion must show on her face, for Max chuckles. “Obviously, I’m wrong. Anyway,” he says abruptly, and she takes that as her cue to step out, “good luck for tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

When she enters the house, it’s to see all seven members huddled on the sofa, with Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the back of the couch. She frowns and stares as the door clicks shut behind her, wondering why on earth they feel the need to pile on top of each other while there are two more perfectly comfortable couches right next to them. 

Then she spots the laptop perched on the coffee table in front of them and when Jin says something in Korean and a couple of them laugh and Jimin replies, she realises they're live.

All their eyes flicker up to look at her, though, before quickly darting back to the screen, their expressions carefully unchanging - all except Taehyung. 

He meets her gaze; with his long hair brushing his ears and a green cardigan making him look warm and inviting, it’s no wonder she doesn’t look away for a couple of seconds before he tears his eyes away to look back at the screen. 

Sensing this as the ultimate opportunity to avoid whatever conversation he has in mind, Dilara swiftly makes her way into her bedroom and quietly shuts the door. Hesitating for exactly one second, she crosses her bedroom and opens her tablet, the only device she has that still has the Vlive app, and joins the stream.

Taehyung looks up again in the direction of her room before turning his attention back to the screen, and for a moment it feels like he’s looking right at her. He glances vaguely over at the rest of them before he locks eyes with Namjoon and - it happens in a split second - Namjoon gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

Dilara lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, somewhat thankful yet regretful that she won’t hear a knock on her door right now. The next moment, though, she sees Taehyung look down at his lap again and pick up his phone this time, fingers flying over the screen. Right on cue, her phone buzzes next to her.

She scoffs quietly, ignoring how her heart leaps in spite of itself, unsurprised to see a message. 

Tae [01:10] How was your night?

Dilara [01:11] Tiring.

Tae [01:12] Still up for that talk?

Dilara [01:13] Aren’t you live?

Tae [01:13] I go live a lot.

Dilara [01:14] Namjoon looks like he could kill you if you left.

Tae [01:14] Hold on, are you watching?

Dilara feels like slapping herself. When she looks up at the screen, she sees his cheeks pulled back slightly, head still bent over his phone. 

Dilara [01:15] Just a guess. Can we take a raincheck? I’m pretty tired and I have Qualifying tomorrow.

On screen, he freezes for a moment and she thinks she notices his shoulders fall slightly. He types something before locking his phone and looking up at the camera, tossing his hair out of his eyes, face completely unreadable. Her phone pings, and her heart thuds softly at his reply. 

Tae [01:16] Of course. Sleep well. 

The next day, the flaw with her proposition comes to light when Dilara, once again, sees them in the paddock. She’s been in the garage for nearly two hours by the time Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon arrive. Given the public setting, the most she can do is wave to them from afar and ignore Jimin giving her a pointed look.

She’d thought long and hard about it as she fell asleep last night, the content of their “talk”. We need space, she’d rehearsed in her head. Just to think. Just to figure this out. Short and vague, the best way to go. 

Of course, talking about space isn’t the best decision, especially since none of their conversations have ever gone as planned. They either fight or cry or both, and she’d really rather avoid any of that. As a result, she avoids all of them, specifically Jimin’s texts and even Jungkook when he comes up to her car, eyes shining in admiration. She engages with him while the cameras are on them but the moment they drift away, she immediately excuses herself and hurries into her changing room.

It’s Qualifying day, though, so there’s enough to do in any case. Dilara goes out for FP3, having long and serious discussions with Christian, all his attention on her for once since Max will start tomorrow from the back of the grid due to his penalty. 

Dilara feels strangely stressed, still. Part of it is Qualifying, part of it is having Max all the way back in P20 and therefore of no support to her, part of it is Jimin’s continuous texts, Taehyung’s presence, their impending conversation, and Jaden bumping into her yet again - except this time, he’s openly cold.

“Good luck,” he says shortly, brushing past her.

“Thanks,” says Dilara automatically, stumbling slightly while he continues walking.

“Pity you didn’t get the new engine,” he adds, turning around and walking backwards.

“Bite me, Park.” 

She shakes her head as he disappears around a corner, the competitiveness emerging in full force. One date, one date and this is the fallout she has to deal with. She makes sure to continue thinking about it, enjoying the anger she knows will help when she gets into the car and zooms into Q3, eventually qualifying P3 for the race tomorrow. 

Everyone’s happy; Christian hugs her, Max comes from inside the garage in jeans, hugging her for the cameras, and Natalie Pinkham interviews her, Lewis and George, all the top three qualifiers, one by one. 

Dilara still evades the group, though; she sees Namjoon smile at her from across the garage and tentatively smiles back, but looks at no one else. She’s aware of what a terrible job she’s doing with this; she doesn’t even want to imagine what Taehyung’s face looks like when she ignores him. But there’s only so much she can focus on during a race weekend, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Dilara does have one moment of pleasure, though; on her way back inside for a shower, she passes Jaden again. 

“Looks like I won’t be needing that engine after all,” she says innocently, mimicking his shrug and ignoring his scowl as she walks away.

She manages to sneak away from the paddock without the group. There’s a sponsorship meeting they have with the Red Bull marketing team, which was the reason they even showed up today, and the moment she spotted them shuffling into the conference room between engineers and press officers darting about, she hurried away, keen to get back home and lock herself up in her room until she has to go to sleep.

The house is a fifteen minute walk from the paddock. Dilara tries to let go of everything else for a while and just enjoy the weather in silence, along with her P3 starting position and her jab at a bitter ex-flame. It’s peaceful, the last rays of the sun lighting up the sky while the cool breeze makes autumn leaves crunch under her shoes. The house is two minutes away now, within her view, when her phone pings yet again, followed by a series of pings.

Frowning - and panicking, slightly - she opens her phone to see eight messages on the most ridiculous WhatsApp group she’s a part of: Taehyung’s true loves, courtesy Jimin, who added her and Jungkook in an effort to convince her that their friendship is independent of her relationship with Taehyung. Neither she nor Jungkook had ever said anything on it, too awkward to, so eventually after a series of whiny messages, Jimin had stopped as well.

Dilara has no desire to start becoming an active participant now. With all the strength in her, she locks her phone and is about to slip it into her bag when it buzzes, the ringtone loud in the quiet of the street.

Huffing, she answers it. “What?”

“Dilara? Uh… have you left?”

“What… Jungkook?” Unexpected, to say the least. “What are you - I mean, yeah. I have. Why?”

“You should come back,” is all he says. “Taehyung hyung kind of… it’s a bit of a situation.”

This explains nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Jungkook’s voice moves away, as though he’s speaking to someone else. “I think he - I think punched your ex? That guy? Or - or he tried to, anyway. He’s not the best at -”

“He what?”

“Yeah, no, his stance wasn’t very good either and -” There’s a shuffle and she hears the phone transferred to someone else.

“Hey, Dilara,” comes Jimin’s voice, calm - and smug. “Remember when you said you needed a sign? I think you just got one.”

–

Her legs are starting to cramp but Dilara doesn;t stop, not until she gets to the garage. She spots Jimin and Jungkook hovering at the entrance, shoulders relaxing in relief when they see her.

“What - the - hell?” she pants, stopping for the first time since the phone call. 

“Holy shit, did you run all the way?” Jimin asks, ignoring her shake of the head as she tries to catch her breath. “Here, have some water first.”

“What happened?” Dilara asks desperately, reaching for the water anyway and downing half of it in one go. “What do you mean he - and who’s -” There are so many moving parts to it that she falters, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her chest.

“Jaden,” answers Jungkook. “The pit crew guy. He said…” He swallows and looks at Jimin apprehensively.

Her heart skips a beat. “What? Jungkook, what?” Then she remembers. “Wait, where the hell is he?”

“The medic is trying to stop his nose from bleeding,” answers Jimin, sounding repulsed. “Hope it hurts,” he adds savagely.

Her eyes widen and she slaps him on the shoulder. “Not him!”

Jimin blinks, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Oh. Taehyung’s over there - but he’s really angry so be careful when you -” 

But Dilara ignores him, brushing past both of them into the changing room he’s pointed at. Kicking the door open, she sees Seokjin standing next to Taehyung, who’s sitting holding an ice pack over his limp hand, while Jin speaks rapidly in Korean, sounding rather like he’s lecturing him. Taehyung looks up mid-wince, face going slack when he sees her, as though he can’t quite believe she’s here.

Seokjin mutters something when he sees her and pats his shoulder before walking out past her, giving her a small nod as he does. Dilara doesn’t look away from Taehyung, though. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other, him with apprehension and defiance, and she with an overwhelming sense of anger… and fear. There’s so much she wants to say, yell, scream that she can’t choose. 

She walks forward until she’s standing right above him. “Give me the icepack.”

Taehyung’s face reacts minutely before smoothing back out. He looks back down at his hands and shakes his head. “No.”

Dilara stares at him, incredulous. “Give me the icepack,” she repeats. “And you better start explaining while you’re at it.”

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he mumbles, twisting his body away from her. When she lunges towards him, livid and missing his hand by inches, he looks up in horror. “What are you doing?” he cries. “Do you have any idea how much this hurts?”

Her chest constricts. She reaches forward and takes off his snapback, just for something to do. “Then give it to me!”

“What the - no! Go away!”

“No way. You don’t get to cause drama on my paddock and then tell me to -”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“Goddamnit, Tae! Why do you have to make everything so difficult!” she shouts in frustration. “Just give me the fucking icepack!”

Taehyung stares up at her, eyes wide. He takes a shaky breath and she realises with a jolt that for the first time since they broke up, she’s addressed him by his name. Tae… She hasn’t said that name out loud in months, not to Jimin, not to Lexie, not even to herself.

Silently, he raises his hand and hands her the icepack. Taking it, she kneels in front of him and takes his right hand, gingerly placing the icepack on it. He hisses but keeps his hand steady, and she carefully continues, trying not to think about how close they are, how she can feel him looking at her.

His knuckles are red and bruised, but thankfully not bleeding. She tries to hold his hand as gently as possible, but firmly enough that he can’t pull away because she really, really doesn't want to let go of him right now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands in a low voice, not looking up. “How could you -” she breaks off, shaking her head.

It’s a moment before Taehyung answers. “It’s not important.” When her head snaps up to look at him incredulously, he frowns and looks away, shrugging stubbornly.

“How is it -” Dilara pauses with the icepack for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “You hit him. You punched him - apparently.”

He frowns. “What do you mean apparently?” he asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically, holding up his hand and ignoring his dramatic gasp. “Look at this. Have you ever punched anything before?”

“Jungkook taught me once. Kind of.”

“That’s great. And now Jaden is with the medic getting his nose fixed! How is why not important?”

Taehyung scoffs in disgust. “There was barely any blood. Don’t worry, his stupid face will be fine,” he mutters scathingly.

Dilara glares up at him again, fighting the urge to smack the back of his head. “I don’t care about him!” She ignores how he suddenly looks up, as though surprised. “What about you? You - you hurt your hand!” She takes a deep breath. “What if he complains? He - he will complain and then Red Bull -” She gasps as something horrific occurs to her. “What if they - what if Big Hit gets involved? This - this is a PR disaster!”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have heard most of what she’s said. “It - it will be fine,” he says finally, but she can hear an undertone of worry in his voice. “Namjoon hyung is talking to the team.” He swallows. “I trust him.”

Don’t we all. But Red Bull is a whole other matter. “God, Tae…” She drops her head before raising it slowly to look up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t about what you overheard the other night.”

He says nothing for a moment but then frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign. When I told him that -” But it’s too much to explain and she doesn’t have the patience to get him to admit something he doesn’t want to - if he indeed has something to admit to. “Forget it. What did he say? Jaden?”

Predictably, Taehyunglowers his eyes again. “I can’t tell you. But he deserved it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I mean that there’s no point if I tell you. He said a lot of stupid stuff but if I tell you, then it’s not - it’s not…” He sighs and looks away, and she knows he’s searching for the English word. “It doesn’t mean anything if I tell you,” he says finally, giving up.

Dilara stares. “Are you telling me… you punched a guy - badly - and hurt your hand and you can’t tell me because you’re trying to be chivalrous?” When his eyes light up at the sound of the word he was looking for, she snaps. “You - what? You jeopardized your career to - to defend my honour? Are you actually serious?”

“You didn’t hear him,” he states, frowning down at her now. “You don’t know what he was saying. And no, I’m not telling you,” he adds before she can ask again. “But, yeah. What he said was horrible. And…” He shrugs defiantly. “I didn’t like hearing that about you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. She should be flattered, and she thinks she is, but it pales in comparison to how worried she is for him right now. He has no idea the power Red Bull holds - none at all. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispers. “He could press charges. How are you not more worried?”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker. “I don’t think he will,” he says, but his fake confidence doesn’t fool her. “I - I don’t regret it.” He meets her gaze. “Everything he said was bullshit,” he blurts. “He doesn’t know you at all. Seriously, I can’t believe you went out with him.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”

He frowns churlishly. “He’s an asshole. He -” Taehyung stops himself, biting down on his lip. “You are so out of his league,” he says eventually, looking away.

After a moment, she dips the icepack onto his hand again, slowly, concentrating on nothing else. “You’re an idiot,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her. “Such a drama queen.” 

Taehyung rests his other hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb lightly against her jaw. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but she doesn’t think she’s the one that needs it right now. “I still can’t believe you did this. You’re going to be in so much trouble, Tae,” she repeats, looking up at him again. His eyes soften when she says his name again, and she can tell it means the world to him. But right now, she doesn’t care about that. 

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I told you, I trust Namjoon hyung,” he reminds her, eyes flickering to her mouth momentarily. But then a shadow passes across his face. “I just hope I haven’t got him in trouble.”

To that, Dilara has nothing to say. The ice has almost melted now; they’re basically just holding hands, but even the realisation doesn’t make her want to let go. “What did he say?” she tries again, deciding that disdain towards Jaden is better than this worry for his leader. “Jaden?”

Taehyung’s face twists in disgust; somehow he still manages to look handsome and sexy all at once. “I told you, I’m not telling you,” he says obstinately, a slight smirk appearing when she rolls her eyes. 

“I can’t think what would be so bad that you’d do this,” she confesses, shaking her head. “You never struck me as the violent type.”

He frowns. “I’m not. But you make me step out of my comfort zone quite a bit,” he adds, cracking a smile.

Dilara holds his gaze, not sure what about the situation today could have required it. It’s not surprising that Jaden would’ve said something, maybe even something really bad. Did he call her a bad driver? A slut? A whore? She’s mildly shocked at how little those words affect her, especially when it’s in comparison to the sheer terror she’s feeling for Taehyung right now.

She’s just contemplating how she will face him and the rest of the group if it turns out that she’s the reason BTS goes from seven to six members, when he bumps her forehead with his. “Stop worrying,” he chides gently. “It’s happened now. We’ll see how it goes.”

Even as her heart races at the momentary proximity of their faces, she glares up at him. “I can’t stop worrying. You should be worrying,” she points out, jabbing him in the chest with the hand holding the icepack.

“You - ugh, you’re getting water on my shirt…”

The door behind them swings open then and she sees Taehyung’s head snap up, face going smooth, before she turns to see Namjoon walking in, Seokjin right behind him. Both of them stand up in unison and before she can register what’s happening, Taehyung is ushered out and into a meeting room.

“Wait, wait,” she says quickly, grabbing Namjoon’s arm. “What’s - who’s in there?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of people from Red Bull and Big Hit,” he replies, in what she presumes is meant to be a reassuring tone. “They just want to know what happened. Although, Jaden is…” He trails off, and he winces uncomfortably.

“But what’s going to happen to - to Tae? What are they going to -”

“Dilara, relax,” says Namjoon hurriedly, starting to walk out of the room. “We have our reps. It should be over soon.”

That doesn’t sound comforting at all. ���What is that supposed to - do they know it was Jaden’s fault? Apparently he said -” Here she breaks off, remembering suddenly that even she don’t know what he said.

Apparently taking advantage of her momentary silence, Namjoon starts to slip out. “He’ll be out soon,” he promises.

“Stop making it sound like prison!” she says loudly as they leave. Alone once again, she trudges out of the changing room to see…

“Shit,” she mutters, spotting her across the garage. “Vicki.”

Dilara’s press officer raises her eyebrows before beckoning her exactly like Namjoon did Taehyung, and just like her ex, she silently follows her into a secluded corner of the garage.

“Alright,” says Vicki, somehow managing to sound stern, knowing and worried all at once. “Please tell me you did not go out with someone from Max’s pit crew.”

—

“... and then he cornered me again yesterday to ask me why I wouldn’t go out with him -”

“Again?” Vicki shakes her head, incredulous. “Jesus, Dilara. Why didn’t you tell someone he was bothering you?”

“Because -” Dilara shrugs uncomfortably. “We’re racing. And it wasn’t a big deal.” When she catches sight of Vicki’s expression, she backtracks. “Okay, honestly? If he’d come up to me one more time, I probably would have.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for that,” she declares in her usual business-like fashion. “But maybe you didn’t because he’s a member of the team…?” Vicki tilts her head knowingly.

Dilara’s face heats up. “I know it’s not technically against the rules,” she murmurs, only slightly guilty as she looks down at the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

Vicki observes her for a moment before nodding. “Still doesn’t give him the right to talk like an arsehole.”

“Okay, what did he say?” Dilara asks for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why won’t anyone just tell me?”

“Well, firstly because he said it in Korean,” she points out. “And secondly… you should ask your friends,” she adds, tilting her chin at something behind Dilara. She turns to see Jimin and Jungkook waiting at the end of the corridor, trying to look nonchalant but clearly waiting for her. The rush of affection she feels for them in that moment is overwhelming.

Dilara turns back to Vicki, not meeting her eyes. By the way she said “friends”, it’s clear she knows they aren’t just any friends. Or it’s because one of them hit a guy a member of the team. “What’s - what’s going to happen to - to Jaden?”

Vicki shrugs sympathetically. “They’re both in there,” she answers, and Dilara is grateful for how she includes Taehyung in it, too. “We’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Dilara. You have a race tomorrow,” she reminds her.

Dilara nods and watches as Vicki leaves after patting her shoulder, before turning around and walking towards Jimin and Jungkook. Suddenly aware of how much taller they are, she buries her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “You guys want to go for a walk?” she asks in a small voice.

Even though they both nod instantly and Jungkook simply puts an arm around her shoulders, they only end up getting as far as the garage before Seokjin, who’s still outside the conference room, shakes his head silently as soon as he spots them. From this, she gathers that they’re still not in total privacy and she can’t be seen alone on a street with just two members and no production crew.

They slowly drift apart, taking seats on opposite sides of the garage. For the first time ever, Dilara initiated a conversation on Jimin’s silly WhatsApp group. Both of them reply immediately and she finally, finally gets the whole story.

They tell her how after their meeting, a couple of engineers had come in to use the printer for some data. One of them, Jaden, recognised them and greeted them in Korean, after which everyone else left, leaving only the eight of them in the room. It was small talk for a bit initially, with Taehyung hanging in the back and not participating at all, before Jaden really opened his mouth.

At this, Jungkook hesitates, wondering if Taehyung hyung should be the one to tell her. She informs them about the weird chivalrous trip Taehyung’s on and that she’s not getting a single answer out of him. After some silent begging and pleading from across the garage, Jimin visibly rolls his eyes and spills.

Jimin [19:41] He said he thought you were hot and it was good to finally having something nice to look at on the paddock

Jungkook [19:42] And he said that he went out with you in Yeongam and you… did stuff.

Dilara [19:43] Oh god. Seriously? He actually said that?

Jimin [19:44] Yeah. And then Namjoon said that we’ve all known you for a long time now and then Jaden asked if any of us had ever hooked up with you. Obviously we all said no.

Jungkook [19:45] Except Taehyung hyung. He just didn’t answer.

Jimin [19:46] Yeah, but Jaden didn’t notice. He said he thought you were cool initially but then you became kind of mean and you didn’t want to go out with him anymore.

Dilara [19:46] He said I was “mean”? That’s the word he used? 

Across the garage, she can see Jimin look up at her apprehensively before glancing at Jungkook, who simply shrugs uncomfortably. 

Dilara [19:46] Come on, what did he really say?

Jimin [19:47] He called you a spoiled brat… and a bitch. And he said that you turned him down after one date because you were still hung up on your ex.

Fuck. Dilara groans inwardly, Taehyung’s suppressed happiness and gentle yet confident caresses suddenly making sense. When she looks up at them, cringing visibly, she spots both of them biting back smug smiles. 

Dilara [19:48] Shut up. 

Jimin [19:49] Hilarious. Anyway, then Jin hyung tried to change the subject but Jaden brought it back to you again. He said if he’d known you were just good for one date, he would’ve gotten as much out of it as he could right then.

Jungkook [19:50] And then he… did a thing with his hand.

Dilara [19:51] So he’s a creep. Tae hit him because of this? Really?

Jimin [19:51] Well he said it in a lot more detail. But I can’t type that out.

Jungkook [19:52] Yeah, he called you a really bad word. And I can’t tell you. It’s in Korean and I can’t say it. It’s too horrible.

Huh. Dilara looks up to see Jungkook frowning at the screen, apparently troubled just at the thought of it. She wracks her brains for the worst thing a guy could call a girl in English. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds she doesn’t really want to know.

Jungkook [19:56] Anyway. Then out of nowhere, Taehyung punched him. Jaden got knocked back into the wall and I think his nose was bleeding.

Jimin [19:56] He deserves it. Who the fuck talks like that?

Dilara [19:57] And Tae? I saw his hand.

Jimin [19:57] Yeah, he was quite pissed. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.

Dilara [19:58] Do you know what they’re talking about in there?

Jungkook [19:58] Not a clue. I think they’re just working on a way to keep it quiet.

Jungkook and Jimin launch into a discussion speculating what will happen now, whether their lawyers will get involved or whether they’ll try to resolve it right here, and if Jaden will try to make it a bigger deal. Dilara can’t participate; all she can think about is Taehyung in there, no idea what they’re talking about or what frame of mind he’s in. He’s smart and clever, but he’s also impulsive with his words. One wrong question or remark and he’ll respond with the snarkiest comment he can come up with, making the situation worse than it already is. 

Jimin [20:03] Don’t worry, Dilara. This wasn’t your fault.

Dilara shakes her head, not caring that she’s this transparent. Jimin’s words, while technically what she needs to hear, don't help at all because, really - isn't it her fault? Wasn't Jaden a dick because of her, because she turned him down? Wasn't Taehyung being reckless because of how far she’s pushed him? Because she entered his life in the first place? Her thoughts spiral as she imagines being the sole reason for BTS's negative publicity, for their hate, for their disbandment  -

Her phone pings again, but from a different contact. The moment she sees Namjoon's display icon, she dives for the phone. 

Namjoon [20:08] Hey. You alright?

Dilara [20:08] What is going on in there? How are you texting?

Namjoon [20:08] Hard to say. And Christian got a phone call that he had to pick up. 

Dilara [20:09] Damnit. How's Tae?

Namjoon [20:09] Pretty calm.

Dilara [20:09] That’s… not good. Right? Or is it?

Namjoon [20:10] No, he's not going overboard. I was there - I kind of get why he got so mad.

Dilara [20:10] Really?

Namjoon [20:11] Yeah. I mean, not mad enough to punch a guy in the face.

There’s a rolling eyes emoji at the end of the message. Dilara feels a tingling in her fingers and a prickle of defensiveness.

Dilara [20:12] I guess if a guy had said that about Kaya, you wouldn't have done the same. 

She doesn’t phrase it like a question; she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s challenging him… even though she kind of is. Dilara watches the ellipses appear to indicate that he’s typing. He types for a while, nearly a minute, pausing constantly. Finally, the message appears.

Namjoon [20:14] Yeah, I would’ve broken his face.

Mildly satisfied, she places the phone down and waits. Jimin and Jungkook have stopped their bickering on the group, too, but she makes a mental note to thank them later, genuinely and profusely, for being so nice to her when she’s been anything but.

It’s nearly thirty more minutes of excruciating waiting, with Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook sitting with her. She hasn't the faintest where Yoongi and Hoseok are; she’s about to ask Jin about it, just to distract herself, when the door opens and Christian comes out.

Dilara leaps to her feet automatically, thoroughly relieved when his eyes land on her instantly and he beckons her to follow him. She jogs after him until they’re out of earshot and he turns to her, suddenly looking taller.

“Has Jaden been harassing you, Dilara?” The first question out of his mouth throws her for a loop.

“Has he -” She swallows, biting her lip. “Why - um, what have you heard?”

“That he’s been harassing you.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “Vicki just told us. It changes everything.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Changes what? What - what do you mean? What happened? What’s going to happen to -”

“Well, Jaden has been fired,” he begins, placing his hands on his hips. “He was a good engineer, but…” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a person on the team who treats a woman like that. It would be a publicity nightmare.” His eyes snap up to her. “And it’s incredibly disrespectful to you, too, of course.”

Dilara nods, somewhat in a daze. “So, he’s… fired? Just like that? What if he goes to the press?”

“He’s signing an NDA. If he wants his severance and doesn’t want to be blacklisted, he’ll sign it.” Christian’s confidence seems dangerously unbalanced. “Plus, Big Hit would lose millions if they broke the contract now. And also, apparently, the negative publicity would be enormous if it got out that their employee was being punished for defending his… friend.”

By the way he says it, she knows she’s been made. “Christian…”

“He was the same bloke that miraculously found you on the middle of the road in Monza, was he not?”

Dilara swallows. “He was. Look, it’s not -”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t -”

“No, I genuinely don’t want to know.” He looks at her knowingly - too knowingly. “It’s better,” he says, slower this time, “if I don’t know.” When she nods hesitantly, he pats her shoulder once. “Right. Your friend… I think he should be fine. But in the future, Dilara,” he adds, suddenly sounding tired, “do let us know if a team member is creating a hostile work environment, will you?”

Dilara nods silently as he walks away, at the last minute telling her to go home and rest for the race tomorrow. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, not until she hears from Namjoon himself that this is over. Not Christian, not even Taehyung - Namjoon. Only him.

The next two minutes are unbearable. She walks back slowly to where she was seated before to see Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook waiting for her expectantly. 

“Well?” Jimin prompts urgently.

“Um… he’s - he’s signing an NDA,” is all that comes out of her mouth. When all three of them look completely confused, she doesn’t know where to begin. “He said Jaden - Jaden signed an NDA and I think he said that Tae -”

At that moment, the conference room door opens and three people spill out: Taehyung, with a Korean man in a suit next to him, and Namjoon a step behind. To her immense relief, the latter strides over to them first thing. He says something in Korean, to which all three of them sigh loudly in relief. Heart hammering, Dilara looks up at him and tugs on his sleeve.

“What?” she asks quietly, desperately.

“He’s off the hook,” says Namjoon in English, clearly trying to keep his own smile under control, even as the dimples pop on his cheeks. "He's going to get a warning from the company, but since it won't get out… it'll be okay. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

Dilara swallows with difficulty, the words suddenly making no sense. “He’s -” She clears her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from Taehyung. His eyes meet hers for a fraction of a second over the man’s shoulder, but his expression is as unreadable as ever. “He’s not kicked out of the group?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You would think… but no.” He chuckles. “I’m kidding. We have some pretty good lawyers, you know?”

She doesn’t comment on how ominous that sounds. Next to her, Jungkook is rubbing his eyes, smiling in embarrassment. She can’t see what Seokjin and Jimin are doing behind her, and she only vaguely registers someone patting the top of her head.

Ahead of them, the man in the suit is finally walking away. Taehyung says something to him as he leaves but she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She turns to Namjoon.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if we…”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at this unfinished request. He glances at Taehyung, who’s now slowly walking up to them, and nods. “Just… I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but…” He shrugs apologetically “… one minute. We need to get on a conference call after this.”

She nods mutely and waits for all of them to vacate the garage before finally, finally facing Taehyung.

He stands before her, a respectful few feet between them, his hands in his pockets and looking breathtakingly handsome. He looks expectant, defiant - but above all, he looks relieved. It suddenly reminds her of how he’d looked at her nearly two years ago in the Suzuka paddock, before they’d ever exchanged a single word. 

Taehyung exhales shakily, and something snaps in her. All the anxiety of the weekend rushes into her chest at the same time and she tilts her head slightly, taking a step forward as though on autopilot. He nods silently and meets her halfway, and they wrap their arms around each other in an emotional hug.

Taehyung displays none of the hesitation he’d shown in the kitchen a week ago. His long hair brushes against her cheek where he’s buried his face in her neck, breathing now slightly uneven and she knows that despite his cool exterior, he was worried, too. She tightens her arms around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Taehyung,” she murmurs shakily, savouring the familiar scent of lotion and spicy cologne. Christian Dior Sauvage, she remembers, tilting her face and inhaling slightly.

Taehyung nods, squeezing her waist with one hand. “I know,” he whispers against her skin, voice deep and reverberating in her ear.

Every bit of frustration, exasperation, gratitude and all the unnamed feelings she’s pushed deep down threaten to resurface. There’s so much she wants to tell him, and this is it.  She doesn’t know how to tell him more; when she feels his lips press against the skin just below her ear, as though instinctive, she feels an old familiar warmth in her abdomen and she doesn’t want it to go anywhere.

Dilara vaguely registers voices, a cue that causes them to begrudgingly separate. There’s some bustling; a phone call, some instructions in Korean, and Namjoon beckoning to his members. Dilara quietly takes her leave, trying not to think about how tightly she and Taehyung held each other or how her fingers slipped out of his hand when she left.

—

Dilara is woken by the sound of raucous laughter outside that abruptly dies down when someone shushes them. She groans softly; it’s still dark outside and the time on her phone indicates that she’s been asleep for less than an hour.

She hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the paddock. Too buzzed to be by herself, she’d headed straight to the hotel where the rest of the drivers were staying. A couple of the drivers had been playing FIFA and she’d piled on, making every effort to distract herself from the events of the day. She’d come back to the house an hour ago, sneaking in and going straight to her room and crashing. 

It was a fairly uncomfortable sleep, mostly because there’s something nagging on her mind, something she’s forgetting. Dilara can’t put her finger on it; she knows it has to do with Taehyung and what happened today, but everything else escapes her. She shifts restlessly in her bed, trying to go back to sleep - but the damage is done, and she’s wide awake..

Even after the voices outside dwindle down one by one before disappearing altogether and the light under the door turns off, she still can’t sleep. 

It’s after midnight when she checks her phone again, opening WhatsApp and checking for new messages. Apart from three messages from Jimin timed around the time they reached the house (Hey we got piri piri chicken! Okay Yoongi hyung just said you’re probably asleep. Good night :)), there’s nothing else. 

She thinks for a second, then goes onto the Taehyung’s true loves group. The last message is a joke from Jimin that he’d cracked to try and cheer her up.

Dilara [00:09] Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around but you guys were really there for me so… thank you.

Jimin [00:15] No need to thank us but fine, you can buy us ice cream tomorrow.

Dilara [00:15] I can? Aren’t you both dieting?

Jungkook [00:16] We can give it up for one ice cream. And you can join us in the gym when we burn it off.

Dilara [00:17] Deal. And um

Jungkook [00:17] What? 

Jungkook [00:18] Oh yeah. Taehyung was looking for you when we got back.

Dilara [00:19] Oh. Right. I was asleep.

Jimin [00:19] You’re not anymore. 

Dilara [00:20] And?

Jimin [00:20] And he’s awake too. 

Dilara can almost picture Jimin’s smirk as he dances around the topic. Fortunately, Jungkook comes to her rescue.

Jungkook [00:21] Yes but you have a race tomorrow, Dilara. You should sleep. 

Dilara [00:21] I will. Thank you Jungkook.

Jungkook [00:22] You’re welcome. And while we’re on the topic of thank yous, I think Taehyung hyung is the one you should really be saying that to.

Oh. Of course. Dilara sighs as it finally clicks, what she’s been forgetting. She’s snapped at him, confessed her worries to him, dropped her defences and embraced him - but she hasn’t thanked him, not yet. 

Now that she’s realised it, she knows she can’t sleep. She considers texting him, but she doesn’t know if that would seem too impersonal, especially after the emotional hug they shared. What does she do instead, though? Ask him to meet her outside? That feels like far too much pressure.

Jesus. Dilara climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen, silently opening the fridge and taking her first drink of water in hours. This is Taehyung, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen island. Nothing about him warrants this much overthinking. Pulling out her phone from her pajamas’ pocket, she texts him.

Dilara [00:30] Hey.

Tae [00:32] Hey.

Dilara [00:33] How’s your hand?

Tae [00:33] Hurting a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?

Dilara [00:34] I couldn’t. You should stop texting though, if your hand hurts.

Tae [00:35] I can type with my left hand. Don’t you have a race tomorrow?

Dilara [00:36] Yeah. I’ve raced with less sleep though. Why aren’t you asleep?

Tae [00:36] I’m in bed.

A familiar flutter erupts in her chest, and her toes curl on the wooden floor. Without warning, an image of a shirtless Taehyung in boxer shorts, glasses on, lying on his side with his phone in one hand appears in her mind. She’s willing to bet a thousand bucks that that’s how he looks right now, before she remembers that a lot of things could have changed in a year.

Dilara [00:37] That’s too bad. We’ll talk tomorrow then.

Tae [00:37] We can talk now too.

Dilara [00:38] Nah, it’s more of an in-person conversation.

Tae [00:38] You know we live in the same house, right?

Dilara bites her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading on her face. She starts walking towards her room, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stopping in front of her room, she leans against the closed door. 

Dilara [00:39] I’m aware.

Tae [00:40] But no. You need to sleep.

He’s flirting. It’s been so long since Kim Taehyung has flirted with her this confidently that she’s forgotten how much of a blushing mess she becomes, being thankful only for the fact that it’s never visible on her face. She gazes absently at the closet door in front of her, trying to think of a response.

Dilara [00:41] Yeah, I do. I’ll probably need to sleep after the race tomorrow too, because it’s always so tiring.

Tae [00:42] You can sleep on the train to Amsterdam. It’s going to be a long trip.

Dilara [00:42] Probably. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company. 

Tae [00:43] Seven of us not enough for you?

I really only need one. But she doesn’t say it. It’s far too risky.

Dilara [00:45] That's a lot of talk for someone who barely escaped getting in trouble today. Or who knows how much you would've regretted it?

Tae [00:45] I won't regret anything I do for you.

Dilara closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door, suddenly feeling warm. She wonders briefly if the conversation is venturing into unfamiliar territory - or, rather, an all-too familiar territory. 

She stares at the closet door in front of ber, hoping for inspiration, when it suddenly opens to, once again, reveal none other than Taehyung himself, pulling on a white t-shirt as he steps out.

The combination of her surprise, his presence and the generous glimpse of lean, honey-coloured torso is enough to make her stumble and drop her phone. “Shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes and bending to pick it up. She looks up to see him frowning, knees bent as though about to help her up.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung glances between her and his door. “What were you doing outside my room?”

“I - that’s your room? I thought it was a closet,” she admits in slight embarrassment, feeling her heart rate slowly go back to normal.

He nods, looking amused. “You really couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Dilara tilts her head, twisting her mouth to hide her smile. “I thought we already discussed that.” She can’t stop looking at him, privately admiring how incredible he looks even in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, hair unstyled, face bare with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. I was right, she thinks, mildly victorious. 

“We did. But now that you’re here…” He trails off pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows at her until she stifles a laugh. He grins, and her stomach does a backflip.

"I was just going to get back to bed," she tells him, and he simply nods. She doesn't move, though, and neither does he. His gaze is his usual intense one: unmoving, like a laser looking into her soul. She tries to hold it for as long as she can but when it becomes too much, she drops her gaze. "Can I see your hand?" she asks, mostly for something to say.

Wordlessly, he raises his right hand and she takes it. She can't really see anything; she brushes her fingers extremely lightly over his knuckles but he still hisses softly.

"Sorry," she mutters apologetically. "It's too dark here… can we go to the window?" 

He follows her a few steps away to the end of the hallway, where the house splits into a T, one room on either side. There's a window on the wall, though, wide and tall, with a near full moon causing a silvery light to stream in.

Dilara picks up his hand again and it makes sense now why he flinched. His knuckles are still an angry red, with scratches on the third and fourth joints. Her fingers ghost over his hand, but she’s careful not to touch him. When she hears his sharp intake of breath, she pauses before bringing both their hands down, fingers lightly intertwined momentarily before separating.

"I still can't believe you," she murmurs, shaking her head, but the disapproving tone is gone.

"I'm good at surprising people," he replies. He leans his side against the window and folds his arms across his chest, careful to keep his injured hand on the outside.

"Not just you." She doesn't look away from him. "Jimin and Jungkook told me what Jaden said." Predictably, his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze but the rest of his face stays unmoving. “I knew he was a jerk, but… yeah, I guess I’m surprised by how far he went.”

Taehyung observes her for a moment. “You still think he didn’t deserve it?”

Dilara reaches for his hand again, pointedly looking at his bruised knuckles. Thanks for defending me, she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. 

“Can you even hold a mic with this hand? You’re performing in a few days,” she reminds him, referring to the charity concert in Amsterdam scheduled for the coming Friday - one she’ll be missing because of her race in Russia.

“Hm, let’s check.” Taehyung gently pulls away to pick up her hand, wrapping his injured hand around her wrist and showing her how his fingers easily meet.

“Is that how you hold your mic?”

He smirks and tugs, bringing ber hand right up to his face… right up to his mouth. “This is how I hold my mic.” There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her hand and she feels her heart race in anticipation. But after a moment, he lets go, smiling wider as though he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind.

Dilara wants to playfully smack him. Thanks for making me laugh. He’s flirting so blatantly, and she has to remind herself that amidst all the shit Jaden said, he did basically confirm to Taehyung that she’s not over him. 

“Your fans will be very worried when they see you’ve been injured. I can almost see the hashtags on Twitter,” she continues, gesturing grandly. “Stay Strong Taehyung, or We support Taehyung and his gorgeous, injured, sexy hand.”

He laughs, and it suddenly feels warmer. “They will be worried,” he agrees, cocking his head, “but I’m sure even they’ll agree that it was worth it. You know, given that he’s been bothering you for weeks now, and today was just the finale.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Vicki told you,” she guesses, sighing when he nods. “Well… yeah. Like I said, I knew he was a jerk.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jinjja, Dilara,” he says, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh, really? So I was supposed to come to you and tell you that this guy I hooked up with suddenly won’t leave me alone?” She scoffs. “That would’ve gone well.”

He shrugs. “Why not? Whatever happened between us, it doesn’t matter if something is making you uncomfortable. And besides, it didn’t have to be me, you know.”

She barely hears his last sentence. Thanks for caring about me. “Fine. The next time a guy starts bothering me, I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fists ready,” he says wryly, bringing his thin fists to his face and blowing on them.

“Maybe I’ll actually get Jungkook to teach you how to punch by then.”

“I’d rather you teach me.”

It’s predictable but Dilara’s cheeks heat up anyway, and his face breaks into a gorgeous grin. She looks down at their feet, and realises they’ve sub-consciously moved closer to each other. The moment she thinks of it, the scent of lotion and faint cologne suddenly grows stronger, and she gets the urge to sink into his chest and spend the night curled up in his arms. The thought of waking up warm and cuddled makes her yawn, and she quickly covers it up.

“You really should sleep.” Taehyung reaches over and gently ruffles her bangs, his old way of playfully banter before doing something really soft, usually beginning with pulling her to him and hugging her while she jokingly protested. 

It makes her heart ache, the slow realisation that she still cares so much about him, that there’s nothing that can take away from the once-in-a-life-time connection they found with each other.

She still needs to thank him. Dilara can’t say the words, though; it seems inadequate somehow, given the risk he took, the impulse to do something so unlike him. She reaches up and slowly brushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, touching the corner of his glasses. 

They’re close enough now, enough that she won’t take him by surprise. She hopes she’s right when she brings her other hand up and gently holds the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, long hair.

Dilara gives Taehyung a moment to catch on, noting how he swallows and all traces of joking disappear, leaving only an almost childlike hope and vulnerability. Then, rising on her toes, she gently pulls his head down and presses her lips to his.

Like the time they reached their understanding of sorts in the kitchen, it takes him a moment to respond, almost as though he can’t quite believe this is real. Dilara waits until he kisses her back, tilting his head and leaning in, before opening her mouth. His lips part with a sigh and she wants to do the same - so familiar and addictive is his taste. His king hair tickles her cheek as his hands come up to hold her, gently and tentatively.

Taehyung’s lips are everything she remembers them being; soft, energetic, loving. It’s a slow, savouring kiss. With how unexpected it was, they simply take the time to reacquaint themselves. Dilara is glad, she thinks as they separate to catch their breath and she presses a last kiss to his lips before pulling away, for if it were anything more, she doesn't think she’d be able to stop herself.

Taehyung looks… overwhelmed. His lips are slightly swollen and he absently bites his lower lip, his eyes shining with ten times more hope and pleasant shock than the photoshoot earlier this week.

“Thanks,” she says softly, not specifying what for. Taking a step back and trying to ignore how her heart is zooming, she starts walking back to her room, still aware of him watching her go. Just when she reaches her door, she remembers something.

“Oh, and, uh…” This is awkward, and her heart thuds. Trying to be casual and shrug it off in the face of his motionless figure, she speaks once more. “You can… Dilara sounds a bit weird. Lara is fine.”

—

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