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#i hope someone filmed the last one from the first row

iam93percentstardust · 9 months

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one of the things that i loved about barbie (2023) that i think a lot of the posts making fun of male-written reviews miss is that, though the movie presents itself as a commentary on the patriarchy and sexism, the message at the core of the film isn't actually limited to being about (cis) women. it's about anyone who is Other.

i went to go see the movie on thursday afternoon before all the big midnight premieres, and the theater was still packed. there wasn't an empty seat in the entire theater. i had a seat at the end of the row, which i had picked out in a faint (futile) hope that no one would sit next to me. thirty seconds before the trailers started, a family of about 10 black people walked in and split up, presumably because they'd only just bought their tickets and there were no longer 10 seats together. the dad and the son, who was maybe a few years younger than me in his early-20s, a good foot and a half taller than me, and who i recognized as one of the football players at the local university, ended up taking the two empty seats next to me with the linebacker in the seat right next to me. and that was pretty much the last time i thought of them until the last twenty minutes of the movie.

see, in the last twenty minutes of the movie, america ferrera makes an impassioned speech about not just the limitations that male-dominated society puts on women but the limitations that women put on themselves in order to survive in said male-dominated society. it's about the contradictions that we're subjected to--you can't be too much, but you can't be too little either. you have to lift each other up but you're also in constant competition with other women for the shredded dregs of respect that men have left over for us. you can't say yes to a man because then you're a whore but you can't say no because then you're a prude. it was passionate and bitter and furious and it had every woman in the theater, myself included, in tears.

and in the silence of the theater following america ferrera's plea for barbie not to make herself less just so that society isn't threatened by her, the linebacker sitting next to me said fervently, "i feel that."

it brought everything to a screeching halt. now i'm a white woman, and though i'm fat and nowhere near as gorgeous as margot robbie, from the very first trailer, it was obvious that this was going to be a movie for me. and if done right, it was going to be a movie for all women (and i would argue that it was). but the thing that it also did right was that though the surface of the message was about women making themselves lesser, the core was that it was for anyone who makes themselves lesser to fit in. yeah, it's for women who are trying to fit into a male-dominated society, but it's also for bipoc who are trying to fit into a white-dominated society. it's for trans people trying to fit into a cis-dominated society. it's for gay people trying to fit into a heterosexual-dominated society. it's for anyone who's been Othered and has to shrink themselves in a desperate attempt to survive.

i love the posts making fun of male-written reviews that are butthurt that this movie isn't for them just as much as the next person. but i think it's important that we don't forget that those are representative of the people in power, the people that could never understand this message. barbie is for me, yeah, but it isn't just for me. it's for my trans friend who is six feet tall and has a beard and wears pink dresses every single day because they make her feel pretty. it's for my labmate who could practically be a barbie herself and irritates me every time she talks about thinphobia but also can't find someone who wants to be with her because she's brilliant and not because she's beautiful.

it's for the black linebacker who sat next to me in the theater and felt heard when a fictional character in a movie told him not to make himself smaller just to fit society's standards.

#barbie #barbie spoilers #barbie 2023

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bestedoesmeow · 1 year

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c.leclerc ✩ x singer reader (request)

'' When Ferrari told Charles to film a video with some star, he already knew who it was and how she made him feel the last time. ''

prompt : Y/N L/N is a singer who grew up in Y/HT. She followed her dreams and became a singer, just as she had always wished. However, little did she know that her dreams would soon be consumed by a Monegasque racer she met."

for @duruxoxo

''Do you have any plans tonight, huh?' Pierre said. Charles was lying on the leather couch across the room while Pierre was flipping through TV channels. It was rare for them to find time to spend together like they used to in the past. Actually, last night when Pierre slept over at Charles's, he confessed. He told him that he missed spending time with him. Charles's cheeks turned red after his statement, and he wrapped his arms around Pierre's neck and squeezed him until he was out of breath. Normally, Charles was not good at expressing his feelings besides anger and rage, but Pierre had definitely found his sweet spot last night. In the morning, they grabbed breakfast and coffee before returning to Charles's family's house. Pierre was watching TV blankly and almost falling asleep when Charles was tucked in a blanket and laughing at some tweets, some of which he showed Pierre.

'Non, ami, pourquoi avez-vous demandé?' (No, mate, why did you ask?) Charles said when he finally locked his phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

'I've got tickets for a concert tonight. Kika and her friend were supposed to go, but Kika had an emergency situation, so maybe you'd like to go, you know, frère à frère.'' Pierre looked at Charles from the couch on which he was lying, unsurely. Charles was not a 'concert' type, but he still asked, hoping he'd say yes, and they'd spend some fun time before he leaves tomorrow.

'Whose concert is it? Do I know him or her?' Charles said. He changed positions on the couch to face Pierre thoroughly.

'Y/N L/N. I never listened to her, but Kika is a big fan, so I suppose we could give it a try? I know you're not quite the concert type, but... '

'Oui, nous pouvons y aller.' (Yes, we can go.) Charles said, with a big smile on his lips that was showing off his dimples clearly in the light. 'Frère à frère.'

Pierre did nothing but smile at him before getting up to get himself an Estrella Galicia beer from the fridge. 'Get me one too, huh, mate?' Charles yelled after him, only to hear Pierre's almost soundless 'yes' before getting back to his tweets.

It was around eight p.m. when the two left the house to spend the mentioned ''frère à frère'' night. Charles was driving and Pierre was trying to find something to listen for almost like ten minutes. Charles finally lost his patience. He wasn't also the ''waiting'' type.

'' Mec (dude), it's been million hours, are you producing your own music?'' He stated. Before taking a curve. '' Please for the love of god, play something.''

'' D'accord, Charles, d'accord.'' Pierre said before typing Y/N L/N on Charles's Apple Music account's search bar. And put her songs on shuffle.

'' Well at least, we'd know the names of the songs like this.'' He mocked Charles.

'' She has a pleasant voice huh?'' '' Like listenable.'' Charles said while he was tapping his finger on the steering wheel with the music.

'' Oi, this one's name is '' Pretty Boy.'' ( It's Lennon Stella's song, all credits to her)

Kika's seats were in the first row and almost too close to the stage for Charles to bear. He hated to connect eyes with someone, because he was almost too shy for to proceed it professionally. He'd just blush right away, and try to look at somewhere else which made it too obvious that he wasn't also '' Eye- contact'' type.

Pierre made himself comfortable next to him. The first moment they were out of the Ferrari, media was all over them. They somehow managed to passed through them and find their seats. And from that moment they were not the center of attention anymore.

Stage lights has darkened and a big crowd of claps and screams were heard, Charles looked at the stage almost excitedly to see what she was looking like. Pierre was clapping his hands beside him which encouraged Charles to do so. With the sounds of '' Y/N, L/N'' and screams she finally made it on the stage. With a big smile on her lips. Her black dress was sweeping the floor while she was running on the stage to salute all of her fans, listeners. Charles thought, she looked just like he imagined she would and also thought, she was an unimaginable beauty, she was not a classic mentioned beauty. She had her own unique features, nose, body and everything. Charles couldn't notice but realize he was still clapping his hands when she finally talked.

'' Thank you Monaco for having me tonight, your energy is everything. I am hoping to make this night a memorable one. I love you all.''

It was definetly memorable for Charles. Actually more than memorable.

Last song of the concert was mentioned '' Willow'' ( Taylor Swift) Which Charles liked the best for sure. The rhythm, the lyrics. He imagined it was written for him, oh how good it was to imagine it. Pierre was dancing slowly with the rhythm next to him. Charles was too stunned to dance but also he wanted to dance so bad to the last song of the concert, he wanted to scream the lyrics at the top of his lungs but instead he accommodate his steps with Pierre's and let himself dance slowly with the music.

'' The more that you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow.''

He could swear that he made the longest eye-contact of his life with somebody he had never seen or heard before. Her gaze focused on Charles for a couple of seconds, which was enough for Charles's cheeks to turn red with excitement and adrenaline. Her smile got bigger when she turned her gaze at everyone who was listening to her at the concert.

'' You were incredible, Monaco. Hoping to see you all very soon again. I love you, I love you and I love you. ''

Charles imagined that he was the one she was whispering these words to. While laying on the bed, snuggling and playing with his three days old facial hair.

'' I love you, I love you and I love you Charles.''

She left the stage as the lights were on again for the second time that night. Pierre looked at Charles's sweaty and happy features. He was more than happy to see his friend like this. He looked like he enjoyed every moment of the concert.

' Tu as apprécié, hein?'' Pierre said before wrapping his arm around his friends's shoulder. Charles's dimples were showing off again with the widest smile he had that night.

' Yes, yes mate, she was incredible.''

The two made their way out of the concert hall trying to slip through the crowd without being realized. It was raining and Charles's heart was pounding.

It was the race week, and they were in Italy. Charles was anxious, mad, and excited. He was like a bomb ready to explode. Test drives and qualifying had been terrible, and the car was far from perfect; actually, it was far from good or even okay. Carlos, Ravin, and he had a meeting the following day, which forced him to be at his best no matter what. He was walking the track with Carlos when he received the news that Ferrari had planned a video with a singer for a promo, and they were waiting for him to film it. "Be quick," their media manager said. He excused himself and made his way to the paddock with fast steps, wondering who the star he was filming the video with was. He entered the room heavily breathing only to see Y/N standing next to the door of his resting room, with excited eyes. She was speaking with Charles's manager, Nicolas.

"I am so excited; I love Charles, you know..." She stopped when she realized Charles was next to her. Charles smiled at her before turning his eyes to Nicolas. "This is Y/N, Charles, and Y/N, this is Charles," he said.

"I already know her," Charles said. The words slipped from his mouth, and he regretted it soon after, hating how eager he sounded. But her reaction was much more eager than Charles's.

"You know me? Really?"

"Yes," he said, smiling at her shocked features. "Pierre and I came to see you last week in Monaco. You were great. (And I probably fell in love with you; you are the love of my life.)"

"Pierre Gasly? Oh my God, I'm so glad I didn't know you were there because I'd freak out for sure. I'm a big fan."

Charles's ego was stroked, for sure. He wished he were cooler about communicating with people. He took a deep breath before acting, touching her bare shoulder with his almost cold hand. "It was a pleasure, Y/N. You are so talented."

Y/N was stunned by the touch, so much so that she didn't realize she hadn't answered Charles. "Oh, thank you; I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart."

The two walked next to each other to the Ferrari they were filming the video with. They tried to talk, but there was mostly what they call "comfortable silence." Charles wished he were less socially awkward and cooler when it comes to his communication skills.

The team gave Charles the helmets before he was ready to get into the driver's seat, but he felt the urge to open the passenger's door for Y/N. She gave him a beautiful smile as thanks before settling into the passenger's seat.

"Are you ready to wear this?" Charles asked, handing her the helmet.

"Actually, before that, can I hug you? I'm a big fan and I didn't want to seem too needy in front of the others."

"Of course, yeah, amour for sure," he said, thrilled that she had asked him to hug her. Charles hoped his hands weren't too shaky behind her back, though she was too excited to notice.

"Now, are you ready? If you feel like throwing up, just let me know, okay?"

"Oh, definitely. I'm more than ready."

Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as he heard Y/N's response. He put on his own helmet and revved up the engine of the Ferrari, feeling the raw power of the car beneath him.

As they sped off, the wind rushing through their hair, Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and exhilaration. The world around them became a blur as they raced down the winding roads, the car hugging the curves with ease.

Y/N let out a whoop of joy and Charles couldn't help but smile. He was glad that he could share this moment with her, that he could give her a glimpse into the life of a professional driver.

As they came to a stop, Y/N turned to him with a grin on her face. "That was amazing," she said.

Charles felt a sense of pride wash over him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, his heart racing with adrenaline.

They spent the rest of the day filming the video, Charles and Y/N sharing easy conversation and laughter. As the sun began to set, Charles walked Y/N to her car, feeling a sense of sadness that the day was coming to an end.

"I had a great time today," Y/N said, giving him a warm smile.

Charles felt his cheeks flush. "Me too," he replied, feeling suddenly shy.

Y/N leaned in, giving him a quick hug. "Thanks again for everything," she said, before getting into her car and driving off.

Charles stood there for a moment, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him. He knew that he would never forget this day, and he hoped that he could see Y/N again soon.

#f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #f1 fiction #f1 2023

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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The Loneliest (1/2) • Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: 1925. They say that the Sunfyre Cinema is haunted. Floris, your best friend and neighbor, warns you not to spend all your time there, claiming that a ghost operates the movie projector. Still, The Sunfyre is your home, as you seek comfort to escape the loneliness that marks your days. CW: 1920's au, mixes fictional & historical elements. I envision Westeros as a stand in for the U.K here. The idea of movie projectionist!Aemond came from watching the movie Pearl, although this isn't 100% based on that. Smut will come in part 2. Words: 3k.

1925

They say the movie theater in the town of Dorne is haunted.

They say it belongs to the heirs of one the wealthiest families in the European country of Westeros; four siblings who didn’t quite know what to do with their inheritance, so they spent their money importing pictures from the other side of the Atlantic. Regardless of whoever runs it, some said the movie business, despite its novelty, had no chance of lifting off after the war. Who could’ve had time for such banalities?

Only lost souls, apparently.

Lonely people seeking comfort in the dusty silver light that carries stories within it – desperately seeking a bit of magic in dark rooms to escape their isolated days.

And you? You might be the loneliest of all. No family, no prospects, and a job at a sleazy pub that will run you to an early grave.

The Sunfyre Cinema still stands, for people like you, with its yellowish lights shining like a beacon of hope in the cold winter nights.

Floris, your best friend and neighbor, warns you not to walk by yourself at night all the way to The Sunfyre. She’s often stayed with you when the midnight wind sounds too much like the cries of wounded soldiers she’s tended to. Those nights, bundled up by the fire with a warm cup of tea, she tells you stories of a ghost operating the film projector.

"The ghost that haunts The Sunfyre", Floris calls it. "A creature like The Phantom from your favorite novel by Gaston Leroux." She’s recounted her tale so many times that she’s even started to spice up its details here and there.

Sometimes, the ghost was once a prince who had his eye taken out by his own nephews; others, the prince took his own eye as a gift for his grieving mother after having lost her husband to the Spanish Flu. Knowing your taste for spooks, she’s told you that he was the suitor of a witch, who asked him for his left eye as a proof of his devotion.

You’re endlessly entertained, but in the end you can’t help but shake your head. You practically live in The Sunfyre and have never seen such an apparition. If there was truly a monster living in the projection room, you’d be the first to know.

Almost every night after your work shifts, you either walk or ride your bike to the deserted town of Dorne to watch a picture. Rarely are there people there with you – mostly rows of empty dark velvet seats as your companions. Often, you’ve turned around towards the spear of light that emanates from the little booth at the very top of the room, trying to catch the shadow of the mysterious being your friend has told you about, but you see nothing.

When the picture ends, you stay for a moment, fixing your hearing to detect a huff or a growl to indicate that there’s someone cooped up in there indeed, but nothing. There’s only the grainy static as the movie comes to an end, and the slide-and-click sound of the film roll being ejected.

It’s as if the projector operates itself.

Could there really be a ghost in there, after all?

You really shouldn’t be out in the rain like this. Shouldn’t be spending your last coins on a movie ticket, but as you rush through the downpour, holding on to your raincoat for dear life, you cannot contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

You had this day marked on your calendar for weeks. The Sunfyre was going to project an adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney. The fact that the theater even bothered to import new releases despite you practically being their sole customer – at least the only constant one – amazed you. So you really, really, really couldn’t miss it for the world.

Floris had insisted that it was irresponsible. That you weren’t going to have enough money left for your month’s rent, that you were gonna catch a cold if you went out on a stormy night. Yet, as reckless as it is, you don’t care. You had been looking forward to this from the moment you’d read in the newspapers that Carl Laemmle was producing an adaptation of the novel – and even more thrilled when you saw the poster for it at The Sunfyre.

Floris was certainly right, but you were desperate for anything that would make your gray days seem a little brighter – desperate for any novelty to the lonesome routine that sucked the life out of you, morning by morning. Desperate for a way out of the countryside. Only the pictures could offer that escape.

So you scurry out of the rain to shield yourself under the marquee of The Sunfyre, giddily paying for your ticket before making your way to the hall that has now become a second home to you. As in most nights, you’re alone despite it being a premiere, but this was to be expected for a monday night.

The lights go down, and the ghoulish text of the opening credits immediately envelops you into an eerie atmosphere; a score of dramatic strings carries you to the first scene of the picture, showing a man dwelling along catacombs, unknowingly followed by a cloaked figure that hides in the shadows.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time – biting your fingernails and grinning as you read each subtitle slide, following along the action and suspense all doubled over yourself on your seat. As if you’ll get any closer to the screen and be pulled right into the story. Especially when the character of Christine looms closer to the phantom as he plays the piano; she curiously eyes him from the back, hesitating on calling for him to turn.

The camera shot changes quickly, just as she’s about to unmask him! And then!

– the film jams, cutting the action, engulfing the hall in darkness.

The spectral vibe of the film taints the room; the longer you spend in darkness as you wait for the projection to come back on, the more you tremble. The silence is so dense it could be cut with a knife; the distant sound of the storm being of no aid to your shivering. You hug yourself tight and repeat to yourself in your head – it’s just a movie, it’s just a movie, it’s just a movie.

But an odd sound jabs at your mental spiral.

A grunt.

Followed by muffled curses and clanks – as if someone was struggling with the machinery in the booth upstairs.

Tentatively, you turn in your seat, and your heart drops to the floor when you see a silhouette from a distance.

Gulping down your courage, you rise from your seat and walk up the stairs, aiming to reach the top row seats that are inches below the projection booth.

You rise to your tiptoes to peek inside the booth but a sudden flash of light blinds you.

You recoil from the stab of light only to be met with the monstrous face of the Phantom after being unmasked. The frightful sight makes you plop back down onto the seats immediately, covering your eyes while you try to steady your breathing.

From the space between your fingers you check for the scene to be over, and once you’re calm, curiosity stirs you to look up once more.

What makes your breathing come up in quick pants is not the fear of the movie.

It's the brief image of a man in the projection booth.

Floris hadn’t believed you when you said you’d seen the supposed ghost. Not after she’d asked for you to describe him, and you found yourself at a loss for words.

Alright, so you hadn’t really seen the man, merely his shadow.

For all you know, it could've been an actual spirit in there. But it sparked a sense of determination, to see what the projectionist at the cinema looked like.

You didn’t know why it compelled you so much. Maybe it was the deeply rooted ache in you to find a friend? To know more about the man who handled all the motion pictures you lived for? In your mind, he had the luckiest job in the world, and you wished to learn more about him. Floris, after all, didn’t share your interests. Found them odd, even though she always listened to you with great care

“You’re always yearning for worlds that don’t exist,” she would tell you. “You’re so busy daydreaming about pictures that you’re going to miss what’s happening in the present. Embrace the real world, deary. It’s the only one we’ve got.”

Two mornings later, you bike your way to Dorne, right before your evening shift at the pub.

A silver-blonde woman in denim overalls, dirt-stained boots and a heavy wool coat was hiked up a wooden ladder, changing the names of the next features on the marquee. You recognize her as Helaena, for she normally worked in the ticket booth and greeted you with a kind smile every time – so pleased to see a regular, that she gifted you the pamphlets of the pictures you’d seen twice or thrice.

You let her work, and instead wander around to the alleyway, until you stumble upon the door in the back of the cinema that had a sign hung up that read, ‘do not enter’.

With fidgety fingers, you linger for a few moments, merely eyeing the door.

What are you expecting to find anyway?, you ponder while chewing on your lips, over and over. Whoever lurked behind it most definitely wouldn’t want their privacy being intruded.

Besides, what if you were banned from The Sunfyre for sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong? You’d rather be shot dead than risk not being welcomed in the one place that had become your sanctuary.

But right as you’re about to turn the other way, the door opens.

Both you and the man at the door freeze.

The first thing you notice is a head of silver hair, before seeing the eyepatch over his left eye and a luminous violet-blue eye on the right – which looked big and hopeful until a frown cast a shadow over his elegant face.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” he grunts, “Can’t you read the sign?”

You flinch and recoil from his harsh tone, heart dropping to your stomach. “I - I’m sorry! I was just – I was just leaving.”

You shake your head and make a run for it, but before you know it he grasps your hand and pulls you back. “Wait! I’m sorry. I know who you are.”

“You do!?”

He’s just as flustered as you, with a pretty pink blush spreading over his cheeks and neck. Despite his height, he seemed to be trying to make himself smaller, with one foot inside the projection room and the left side of his face leaning sideways, extra conscious of the eyepatch, wanting to hide it from you.

“Of course I do,” the man continues. He looks tough and hardened by life which makes his tone of voice an utter contradiction – all soft spoken and eloquent, with an accent that betrayed his upper class upbringing.

“You’re our best customer. Hells, you’re the reason why we haven’t even closed in the first place.”

“I am!?”

“Hmm.” He hums in affirmation and continues to stare. The lack of an eye didn’t make his gaze any less penetrating.

“I’m Aemond,” he breaks the awkward silence, offering his hand back to shake, which makes you smile, and heat to spread from within.

“Aemond Targaryen. Me and my three siblings own this place. Were you looking for something today? We don’t have a matinee scheduled – I should know, I’m the projectionist.”

So the legends were true – it was the Targaryens who owned the theater. No wonder he didn’t sound like he was from the countryside. You’re so struck untangling his words that it doesn’t even faze you that you were standing right in front of the subject of Floris’ nightmares and your own wonder – the ghost.

And, well, despite his pale skin he’s certainly no phantom. In fact, he’s rather handsome and regal-looking, even if he’s wearing nothing but a simple white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black wool pants fitted around his waist with black suspenders. You shake your head once more, laughing to yourself as you search for a coherent reply from all the excitement you’re feeling.

“No, not specifically. I…”

Should you confess that he was the reason you were here? Under any other circumstance, this probably would’ve been an idiotic thing to admit, but you figured, if you wanted to make a friend out of Aemond, you might as well be transparent from the start.

“Well, I actually came by to see if I could speak to the projectionist.” You smile kindly at him, and delight in the way his eye widens in surprise, the way his stern lips tilt ever so slightly. “I wanted to thank him for the wonderful job he does. I…”

You look down with a little bit of embarrassment, but he leans a little bit to be on your eye level and nods, encouraging you to continue.

“You see, I come here all the time, as you know,” you chuckle, “I suppose I wanted someone to chat about films with. I’m very passionate about them, and I’ve no one else to talk to.”

It’s as if the gray clouds parted, bringing in a beam of sunshine shining right down on Aemond’s entire face, making his silver hair gleam and his crystalline eye twinkle as he grins at you – so wide, you can see a hidden dimple appearing on his cheeks.

“You wanted to talk about films? With me?”

You nod, finally offering your name – as you’d been too caught up admiring the man before you, you’d completely forgotten to introduce yourself. It makes him huff out a timid laugh that you instantly count as a win, as he steps to the side to let you into his little room.

You soon note that the little projection room is far smaller than you had anticipated, though the size didn’t make for a messy space in the least. Every corner is neatly arranged; the walls are plastered with movie posters shelves full of film stock in their circular, metal encasing.

When you turn, you sigh in awe, as if you were witnessing one of the wonders of the world: the film projector, mounted right before a tiny square from which the light filtered through and expanded onto the screen. You gravitate towards it, peaking through the window to look at the empty rows of seats below you. Of course Aemond would’ve noticed you, when he had this kind of panoramic view of the cinema hall.

“It’s something to behold, isn’t it?” he murmurs from behind you.

“It certainly is. You’re so lucky to do this for a living. I’m on my feet wiping tables and serving cuppas back and forth until my feet can’t take it.”

He hums again – in what you’re quickly learning is a trademark of his – before you turn. You hadn’t expected to see a slight slouch to his demeanor, and that handsome smirk to have turned down, as if a cloud had passed through his face. A look to his left and you see it: an individual bed with fuzzy looking blankets is pushed to one wall,

“Wait, you live here? I thought –”

“My father disinherited me and my siblings. Gave it all to my half-sister, his eldest from his first marriage. At first we didn’t know what to do with the money he gave us to keep us tamed, so we built this. This is all we have now.”

You can tell there’s more storming underneath his facade, but you refrain from asking. Instead, you murmur a simple, “I’m sorry. The war has been tough for everyone.”

The last bit has you wincing mentally, feeling so lost as to what could be appropriate to say, weary of coming out too innocent and childish, when truthfully due to the isolation everyone endured during The Great War you feel like you’ve lost the touch for communication. Often at work you find yourself stuttering, unable to complete your sentences fluidly. Maybe it’s yet another reason why you preferred the movies. Anyone can understand images.

Aemond seems to read you thoroughly, shaking his head with a half-smile before looking down.

You wonder then if he had lost his eye because of the Great War.

Wonder if he’ll tell you all his stories eventually.

Aemond finally interjects your spiral of thoughts. “So what did you think of our newest feature?”

“The Phantom!? I loved it! Thought it was terrifying actually, but so great.”

Aemond shrugs, leaning against his movie shelf with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “It was alright. They definitely strayed from the novel to make some bits scarier. I found the make-up on Lon Chaney quite excellent, however.”

Your chest warms, all self-consciousness from before vanishing, having found someone that speaks your language.

Nearly all noon is spent with Aemond in the projection room, exchanging views about film and literature, and he even gives you a couple of pamphlets and flyers, after assuring him that it would be your absolute delight and pleasure to promote The Sunfyre at your workplace. You even tell him he’s welcomed there anytime he feels like it. It’s a bit of a trek from Dorne, and not an elegant place in the least – much less for a Targaryen – but at least the drinks were decent, and every now and again you were in charge of preparing the soup of the day, which, not to toot your own horn, was a favorite amongst patrons.

After you’ve said your goodbyes, Aemond halts as you walk away, “Wait!”

He turns inside the projection room and comes back to hand a little celluloid square to you. “Here.”

You bring it up against the sunlight and feel giddy realizing it’s a still from the movie.

“I cut this little bit when the film jammed.” Aemond confesses, making your heart swoon.

“Won’t someone notice the missing scene?”

He just shakes his head and smiles, “It must be only a second. No one will notice."

“Thank you.” You bring the delicate still to your heart and go on your way, completely missing the way Aemond was left gazing longingly at your figure for a moment before retreating to the confine of the cinema.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #1920s au #1920s #historical au #ewan mitchell #my writing

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helion-ism · 3 months

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SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 1: First Date

@sjmromanceweek

Summary: “This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine. / Elain and Lucien’s first date.

Word Count: 2,014

or: read it on ao3

someone lit from within

There was only one thing Elain Archeron hated more than spiders, hated more than withered flowers or more than cold tea. One thing that she hated more than waking up to dark grey clouds hanging threateningly over the city, one thing that made her shiver more than any horror film could ever do.

Wrapping her arms around her body and clutching her light blue Cleo bag to her stomach, Elain was squeezing past the people trying to stow away their luggage in the cargo hold of the small airplane she was boarding. She absolutely loathed that there was simply no way of entering and leaving an airplane without having touched at least five different people.

She’d been trembling for at least an hour now, ever since arriving at that wretched airport. Was shaking despite wearing her favourite sweater for comfort. Nesta had gifted it to her for her last birthday. Elain hated herself for a moment for not spending additional money for a seat of her choice. Then she wouldn’t have had to make her way all through the aisle to the very back – of course, she would be that unfortunate. It didn’t matter that this was a small plane and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t too badly packed. It did nothing to calm her furiously beating heart. But she had promised Feyre. She’d promised she’d come visit again for Nyx’ first birthday, and she wasn’t one to break promises. Especially promises that involved the cutest nephew a young woman could have.

For as long as she could remember, Elain hated flying. Even as a little girl she knew that there was nothing natural about humans trapped in a box in the sky completely relying on forces most of the passengers did not care to grasp. It wasn’t normal, she thought now, too. It was especially not normal how she began to tremble uncontrollably as soon as she boarded the plane while every other person seemed to be fine with it, a few of them even enjoying the process simply because it meant going somewhere else. They weren’t even in the sky yet. She had debated requesting diazepam from her doctor but ultimately decided against it. Elain wanted to fight this – in her opinion – utterly rational, albeit apparently not very common, fear of flying.

A woman was what looked like fighting with her carry-on bag in the aisle. Elain stopped and smiled politely. The blonde cursed when she noticed Elain, apologizing, and moved out of the way. Another reason for hating flying: Almost everybody was stressed. There was absolutely no way of travelling by airplane and not getting stressed in the process. Everyone seemed to be on the edge, the slightest annoyance reason enough for a ruined day.

Elain finally reached the back where her seat was. She was sweating and desperately wished for a shower. Some rows weren’t fully occupied, but there were enough passengers on the plane that at least one person was seated in each row. She hoped —

Elain frowned as she looked at her ticket again that she had pressed into her chest. Yes, there was somebody occupying her seat, the one she’d not chosen, the one in the very back. She cleared her throat, unsure of what to do. The man was handsome, his long red hair was tied up into a half bun. A thin braid accented his facial bone structure, and Elain’s heart appeared to stop for a second when he looked up at her and smiled, immediately getting up.

“Do you have any luggage I can help you with?” His voice was like honey, smooth and gentle.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, that’s all,” Elain said, not understanding at all why she sounded so nervous. She blamed her aerophobia. The stranger looked at her, waiting.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you want the window seat?”

“Why?” Did she sound suspicious?

“I’m just being polite,” he said, holding his hands up in defence. “I fly quite a lot, so I don’t really care where I’m sitting.”

“No, no,” she replied quickly, feeling like a fool. “I don’t want to. But thank you.” She tried to smile at him, but had a feeling it looked more like she was cringing. She also immediately regretted her answer. Who on earth would turn down a window seat?

After she settled down and the plane’s engine started, the noise cutting out the voices and the rustling of the passengers, Elain noticed the temperature of the cabin. Despite feeling quite hot when entering the plane, she almost always felt cold in flying box – another phenomenon she could not quite understand.

She shivered at the coldness, cursing herself silently for not bringing her jacket with her, and closed her eyes as the plane began to move. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

She hated this part the most and wondered whether she should have taken the train instead. But it was a tedious trip, too long and exhausting, and flying was just too convenient. The handsome stranger next to her did not seem to have a problem with flying or the temperature at all, so Elain tried to not let her anxiety show. He smelled nice, too. But that didn’t matter now when the plane was taking off.

Elain gripped the armrest tightly and closed her eyes. Only a few minutes and this would almost feel like a train ride. Ant then finally –

Pace picking up. Turbines louder. And those few seconds of anticipation and dread in every passengers’ stomachs right before the plane takes off. Air rushing. Ears popping.

At last, the plane levelled out. To calm herself, Elain took out a small book out of her bag and began to read it. Nesta had given it to her for her a while ago, and from what Elain knew about Nesta’s book preferences, she didn’t need to look at the description on the back of it to learn that it is a romance with quite a few explicit scenes. She wondered if the stranger next to her saw what smut she was reading. But she couldn’t focus, her eyes registered to words, but her brain didn’t. Elain decided to put the book away.

Now, she sat in her seat, still restless, wondering when the flight attendants would come to serve drinks and snacks. Maybe that would help.

The last time Elain had flown was about a year ago when Nyx had been born. She had felt a lot more awful back then, having just discovered Graysen in bed with his assistant. His 20-year-old assistant. In her and Graysen’s bed. Needless to say, Elain got rid of that bed. And the guy. But God, had she felt awful. Crying in her seat and mourning both her old life and her future as his wife. She could not remember if she had been scared then. Maybe that was the trick, Elain thought now.

Suddenly, the all-too-known and hated, shrill beeping noise came out of the speakers. Elain peered out the window behind the stranger, but it was too dark. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking booking a flight at night. The plane began to shake, and she imagined the wind was howling outside. Turbulences. Of course, there would be turbulences. Elain had thought it might calm her down, might stifle her uneasiness, flying in the dark. Not seeing anything, maybe she could pretend she was taking a train through the countryside where no city lights lit up the surroundings.

Obviously, it did not calm her down. She was fairly certain she was shaking slightly.

She couldn’t just pretend to be in bed, couldn’t pretend her window was open and the airflow coming from the air conditioning wasn’t just the wind breeze in her face. It was the noises that destroyed any possibility of that.

A baby was crying somewhere in the front.

Elain clutched her throat. Suddenly, a male voice, soft and cautious, asked, “Are you okay?” She knew the only reason why she didn’t feel embarrassed at that was her fear. Embarrassment would follow later.

“I’m just … a little afraid of flying, that’s all.”

He was silent. Then, he said, “That explains your pale face.” Elain snorted at his reply and opened her eyes to see him look at her tentatively. He really was very handsome.

“You know, the odds of an airplane crash are one in eleven million. More than 90 percent of plane crashes actually have survivors. Chances are pretty good. It’s more likely you experience a train crash. Or even more than that, a car crash. How many people do you know who have been in a car accident?”

Elain thought about his question for a few seconds. “Like four people.”

“How many of those happened separately?”

“Three,” she smiled at him now.

“And how many people do you know who have been in a plane crash?”

“You know, that’s not fair. Obviously, no one.” He grinned at her. “But! But that doesn’t make my anxiety magically disappear.”

“I understand that argument. The first time I flew, I was about five years old. Went to visit my dad for the first time. I was so scared. My mother never told me I was silly for being scared. She understood and told me the same I just told you. Statistics helped me. But also knowing that flight attendants were trained for difficult situations. If you can’t rely on numbers, then you should try to rely on people.” He held out his hand to her. It was warm when she took it, shaking it slightly. His fingers wrapped around her hand effortlessly. “I’m Lucien, by the way.”

“I’m Elain,” she said and managed to relax a little. She found herself enjoying his company. Lucien was charming, funny, and conversation with him was easy.

Soon, the turbulences thankfully ceased and flight attendants, the ones Elain had decided to trust after all, began to hand out drinks. Lucien got a bottle of Pinot noir for the two of them after asking if she drank wine. He suggested the alcohol might help her anxiety a little, too. She was always unsure about this, but decided to indulge in it. He made it easy for her.

They talked about Lucien’s mother and his first meeting with his dad. Elain told him about her nephew and how difficult it was for her to see her family so rarely. Lucien told her about his pet – a twelve-year-old orange cat named Ollie that his brother took care of at the moment. It was natural, the way they talked to each other without taking breaks, and even if there was one, it was comfortable. Elain didn’t feel stressed about keeping the conversation going because she felt like he was in control of it, not in a creepy, dominating way, but rather in a manner that allowed her to relax and lean back. He showed interest in her, which flattered her. She was too scared to ask him where he lived, not wanting to seem too eager.

Lucien apparently didn’t have those any qualms.

“This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine.

Elain startled at his nonchalant statement, but quickly found she liked his charming boldness. So she asked, ��How do you know I’m not with someone right now?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Neither am I,” his smile broadened. This time when she felt a flutter in her stomach, it wasn’t from the airplane, but because of his smile. He looked so relaxed, confident, and content, as if he was lit from inside. It seemed as if his calmness and happiness transferred over to her, dispelling negative feelings.

“I am visiting. Or, I should say, going home. To see my sister.”

“I am visiting, too,” Lucien said.

“Thank God,” Elain smiled in return. It meant wherever he came from was not too far away from her current home. Maybe flying wasn’t really that bad after all. At least, she thought, when he was sitting right next to her.

#elucien #maria writes #sjmromanceweek2024

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

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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.”

—

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

#taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanoasis #musicbingo23 #kvanity #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #wkcnet #bts v fanfic #bts v angst

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years

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Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed.

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view.

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in.

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there.

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end.

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high.

Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t.

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself.

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged.

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys.

Roy Cobb had been especially close with Campbell and he had no qualms about telling the newest replacements and anyone else who would listen exactly what he thought had killed his friend and it wasn't the sniper's bullet.

"What killed him was her damn incompetence," he'd announced, deliberately loud enough for you to hear. "She should've let Roe or Spina treat him, then maybe he would've survived."

"Nobody wanted her here in the first place either," a mortarman named Lombardi added. "They should've given us a third medic instead of some nurse!"

Doc Spina was way out of earshot but your friend Eugene, who had been nearby, had already begun to argue in your defense when you had marched over to the disgruntled group.

These were men you had treated in the past, you realized as your tormented fury began to build. You'd risked your life to save these ungrateful assholes and you knew damn well that the moment they needed you on the battlefield, you'd have to do it again. and again. and again.

Cobb shot you a dirty look and muttered something involving the word “useless” and that was all it took. Heart pounding in your ears, you hauled off and punched him so hard that his nose began gushing blood, but the damage had already been done.

Speirs had heard the commotion from his foxhole and seeing you storm off, tears of frustration and hurt pricking your beautiful eyes, sent an icy rage coursing through his veins that surprised even him.

Who the fuck hurt you like that?

He was going to find out.

The wrath blazing like hellfire in his eyes as he stalked over was enough to make even grown men cower and the guilty parties quailed under his gaze. Ron dragged each one by the collar behind the nearest tree trunk, pinning them one by one with his forearm across their throats before they could blink.

“From now on, you will treat (Y/N) with the utmost respect,” he intoned, his voice eerily calm as he applied just enough pressure on their throats to make them cough. “You will treat her as if she were me. And if I ever get wind that you’re mouthing off at her or otherwise mistreating her again, so help me God, there won't be enough left of you to mail home in a cigarette pack. Is that clear?”

"Y-Yes sir," they'd gasped out and grudgingly, he let them dart back to their foxholes one by one like mice.

He had more important things to worry about.

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Seeing you cry tore Ron's heart in two. You were sitting on that felled tree just behind the embankment, hunched over, face buried in your hands as your shoulders shook with silent sobs.

You were so overcome by your own anguish that you didn’t even hear him approach. Instead, he appeared beside you like a sudden dark spectre against the white snow, making you jump.

“Holy shit,” you yelped, hurrying to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Damn it, Sparky, warn a girl next time, will ya?”

Ron stood awkwardly beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you swore you could see a small flush of pink creeping up his cheeks and it wasn’t from the cold.

“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “I forget I do that sometimes. I just…I was… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He cursed inwardly.

What a stupid thing to say, Ron, he berated himself. She’s crying. Does she look “okay” to you?

You tried to return the smile but only succeeded in a wan grimace.

“I’m not okay yet but I will be.”

You sighed sadly and gestured to the red cross armband on your arm.

Overwhelmed or not, you were needed.

“I have to be.”

“(Y/N)…May I…Er, if you don’t mind, that is…?” Unable to quite get the words out, he just nodded to the empty spot beside you, earning him a genuine smile from you that filled his chest with warmth.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a small sniffle, lightly patting the place next to you on the log and effectively putting him out of his tongue-tied misery. “I’d like that a lot.”

When you're overwhelmed

And you've lost your breath

And the space between the things you know is blurring nonetheless

You hadn't exactly intended on telling Ron your whole life story but before you knew it, it all came tumbling out: how you'd grown up, what had inspired you to become a nurse, how much you loved what you did but hated what it did to you, and Speirs listened quietly, hanging onto your every word.

But when you admitted the toll it took on you to know how little a difference you were making, he balked.

“No difference?” He repeated, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding? Do you…Is this because of what those assholes back there said?”

You sniffled again with a deflated shrug.

“Assholes or not, I think they made their feelings pretty clear. It'd probably be better for everyone if I just put in for a transfer.”

When you try to speak

But you make no sound

And the words you want are out of reach

But they've never been so loud

Your words echoed in Speirs' head like enemy gunfire.

Transfer…Transfer...Transfer…

Ron felt like you'd just slapped him clear across the face. Come to think of it, he would've preferred it if you had. It would've certainly hurt less than the realization that he would lose you before he'd ever even told you how he felt.

He'd never been any good at romance. To be honest, he'd never really tried. Girls back home flocked to him like flies to honey but he'd just felt uncomfortable with the attention and tried to set them up with his buddies instead, all of whom were dying for a date.

Ronald Speirs was a man of action; communication was not his strong suit, which was one of the myriad of reasons he admired you.

You, who somehow effortlessly made friends wherever you went.

You, whose smile spread warmth on even the coldest winter day.

You, whose kindness made everyone that spoke to you feel not only heard but understood.

You who brought the light of springtime to his ever-present darkness, like Persephone to Hades.

He had never understood why you had made it your mission to befriend him since Day 1 when everyone else avoided him like the Plague but he was glad you did. His intimidating gaze and badass reputation didn’t scare you one bit and you had assured him with your usual friendliness that it would take more than some rumors to scare you away.

He couldn’t let you slip away now.

Trust in me, trust in me

Don't pull away

Just trust in me, trust in me

Taking a shaky breath and exhaling, the tiny clouds curled up into the frosty air in spirals as you stood up. After smoothing some of the ice off your clothes, you gave Ron one last, small smile.

“Thanks for listening,” you said earnestly before remarking with a self-deprecating laugh, “I promise not to be so depressing next time.”

You had just turned to leave when an invisible force compelled him to reach out and grasp your hand at the last second.

“Wait…Please.”

'Cause I'm just trying to keep it together

Because I could do worse and you could do better

The silence was deafening. You stared at Ron, too stunned to speak, and he stared right back, the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes catching the moonlight.

Had it been any other time, you might’ve found it almost funny to see the infamous “Killer” Speirs at a loss for words just from holding your hand but right now…Right now, you could feel a tornado of butterflies in your stomach and you could tell that he was feeling them too.

“(Y/N), I…” he started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m no good at this and I’m sure you’ve probably got someone special writing you from back home already but…”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously with his free hand and you tilt your head, silently, as you watch him.

You’ve never seen him this anxious before, not even in battle.

Truthfully, you didn’t know a man like Ronald Speirs could get anxious. If the roar of gunfire and artillery didn’t faze him, you had thought nothing could.

“If you’re serious about transferring out, then you should at least know that you’ve made a big difference here, to the men…and to me…”

He cleared his throat stiffly.

“Especially to me.”

Your eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“You are without a doubt, the bravest…the most dynamic…the most selfless woman I know,” he continued as his hazel eyes locked intensely with your (E/C) ones.

“Everything about you…You’re just amazing to me. And I know you don’t feel appreciated and with how things have gone lately, I don’t blame you one bit but damn it, (Y/N), you have to understand that you are vital to this company, not just for what you do but for who you are. We need you here.”

Ron took a shaky breath, exhaling into the frigid night air, before saying quietly, “I need you here.”

I will stay (right beside you)

Nobody will break you

He started to say more but before he could, you dropped his hand and launched yourself at him, knocking the breath out of him as your lips met for the first time. He gently took you into his embrace, causing both your hearts to race, the both of you smiling against each other’s lips. But in your eagerness to deepen the kiss, your teeth clashed slightly against his, sending you into a fit of giggles when you pulled away seconds later.

“Are you…Will you stay?” Ron asked tentatively, still holding you as if you were made of glass. “Please?”

At first, you were tempted to jokingly mull it over but the fear in his golden-green eyes immediately banished the thought from your mind.

This was Ronald “Killer” Speirs. This was a man who had stared Death in the face without blinking, a man whose ferocity and resolve on the battlefield were practically legendary, a man who could take a life with the same ease as one swats a fly…and yet, here he was before you, putting his whole heart in your hands, a heart most people didn’t even know he had.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you reassured him, the moonlight dancing in your eyes as you gazed into his. “As long as you'll be mine, that is.”

Ron gingerly cupped your face in his hands, the silky smoothness of his soft baritone voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as another slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve always been yours.”

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Nobody will break you

#So this is my first ever oneshot & I hope it's okay 😅😅#soft!speirs #Ronald Speirs #Ron Speirs x reader #Ronald Speirs x Reader #Band of Brothers #Speirs x reader #Band of Brothers oneshots #Band of Brothers x Reader #HBO War #oneshots #Band of Brothers fandom #Ron Speirs oneshot

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madphantom · 1 year

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Anyway the year is coming to its end and it was probably the most bewildering year of my life so here's a summary of some of the more random events

The year began with finally being able to reach my best friend who had ghosted me a few weeks prior, asking why she left and getting told I was too boring for her.

Desperate for human interaction I went to a lecture on feminism in a bar, started talking to the organizers because I had never attended events they'd hosted before, traded numbers and now we're best friends and I'm part of their organization and we're planning weekend trips together.

Also I got an issue of a feminist magazine at said lecture and was amazed by it, and recently I wrote an article for it myself after the girl running it personally requested it.

I graduated school with an average of 2.3 which is insanely good, considering I didn't study the slightest bit for my finals and didn't do my homework in three years.

I went to a graduation party, met a guy I seemingly grooved with and we ended up drinking an entire bottle of white wine and making out on the town square as the entire crowd cheered for us. That evening we went to a club together, started dancing and talking and then I found out he was transphobic and ended the relationship the next day.

I saw MCR live and I was in the third row and Mikey Way winked at me, and that's like one of my biggest flexes now.

I went to pride in our neighbouring town. Then I went to pride in our town a few weeks later and made out with a very attractive trans guy and a very pretty lesbian, both of which I lost touch with. Luke, if you're out there and you're single again, I'm still available.

I went to a fun fair with a guy I'd briefly met at pride and all his friends which I'd never seen before and at some point that evening I was driven to my hometown in the back of a black van with tinted windows belonging to a guy I didn't know and basically just hoped I wouldn't get murdered later.

I went to an antifascist summer camp for three days, got a crash course in krav maga and tried to defend the camp with a rock when I thought we were being attacked (it was fine, they were just fireworks in the valley)

I went on a cross country train trip with a guy that I later found out was a serial rapist, and miraculously nothing happened to me.

I went to the first party in my life that lasted all night, a very hot band member with immaculate eyeliner danced with me and bought me a drink and at some point in the morning like four of us were sitting in an empty bar eating breakfast, drinking Berliner Luft and watching the sunrise.

I held my first ever self written speech at a protest.

I started bartending at a communist bar, which has the worst reputation in the entire city and is known and feared as Incredibly Shady™

I enrolled in university and started studying film and media.

I got wasted and randomly decided it would be fun to be a board member of the university film club so I texted the current board leader that I volunteer and now I'm a board member of the university film club despite being in my first semester and completely inexperienced.

I got drugged at the Christmas market.

I confessed a crush on someone, got rejected and miraculously we stayed friends instead of never speaking to each other again.

I spontaneously performed a vent poem about my crush as a punk song at a jam and now I'm being offered to be the frontman of a band by multiple people.

I became Tumblr famous with a Goncharov movie and my follower count rose from 1200 to over 6000 within a month.

#personal post

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laceyjane44 · 7 months

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GaaSaku 2023 FandFest Day14

Prompt: First Date

Something came up, maybe next time.

Dejection was a familiar feeling, especially with her sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend: Sasuke. He seemed to make a pastime of only doing things on his schedule and dropped plans at the last second like they were going out of style. They hadn’t been official or anything, making it hard for her to confront him about his flakiness, but she had hoped that her invite to the movies might’ve given them a chance to see if this was going anywhere.

“I guess not...” she mumbled to herself as she slid further down the movie theater chair.

Sakura had arrived at the movie theater thirty-five minutes before the start of the film – at his request – gotten the biggest bucket of popcorn they had, a fizzy something to quench her thirst, and had saved the best two spots in the theater for herself and her…well, date. She’d been waiting for a text from him, or to see him file in with the rest of the crowd, but got stood up instead.

“Could’ve let me know before I paid,” she huffed to herself, a fistful of buttery popcorn shoved into her mouth before she mumbled around her food, “Whatever.”

She settled into her seat, the rows slowly filling in around her, and resigned to watch the movie alone.

…

He had thought that he recognized her.

Walking in with his siblings, Gaara had noticed a woman in the middle of the theater; hood of her sweatshirt pulled over her head and sunk down into her seat like she was trying to become one with it. Bucket too big for just one person, jacket thrown over the seat next to her, and a distinct fray of pink hair peeking out from the edges of her hood, Gaara immediately recognized her as a good friend of his colleague and the cutie that had been at his buddy’s birthday celebration the month before.

With his brother and sister climbing the steps to their usual spot at the back of the theater, Gaara stepped into the middle rows and walked up to Sakura. Temari and Kankuro were confused but went to their seats before someone else took them.

“Hey stranger,” he greeted mildly, grinning at her a little when she looked up at him.

She looked hesitant at first, but then she appeared to recognize him, and she smiled back. “Oh, hey,” she said as she sat up in her seat and pulled down her hood. Her hair was a mess under it and she tried smoothing it out. “Gaara, right?”

“The one and only,” he said in jest, earning a little snicker from her. “How’ve you been, Sakura?” he asked, wanting her to know that he hadn’t forgotten her name. “It’s been while.”

She shrugged, a polite smile still held on her face, and her eyes flickered over to the jacket in the empty seat at her side. “It’s been good, you?”

Gaara nodded. “Been good,” he said before pointing over to the very same seat. More people were starting to file in around them now and seats were quickly filling. “That one taken?”

“Uh…” Sakura said as she studied the jacket, her hand gripped around her cellphone and thoughts passing clearly behind her eyes. “No,” she eventually settled on before repeating herself with a little more certainty. “No, it’s not. Care to sit?” She began to gather her jacket in her arms and pulled her knees in so that he could get around her and sit on her other side.

“Thanks,” he said as he removed his own jacket and took his seat. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from her and made himself comfortable. “You usually watch movies alone?” he asked. He knew the answer, she had been saving a seat for someone and he’d expected to be told that it was taken, but when she gave it to him without protest, he figured someone must’ve cancelled.

She looked down at the bowl of popcorn and pursed her lips. “No,” she admitted quietly, but didn’t want to say that she’d been ditched by the same guy for the third time since trying to date him. “I just felt like it.”

Bullshit, Gaara thought, but he wasn’t going to complain. “You must be really big horror fan,” he pondered.

Suppressing her grimace, she nodded with a forced smile. She had only suggested this movie because she knew how much Sasuke liked them, she wasn’t really a fan herself. If she hadn’t already purchased her ticket and overpriced food, she would have left the moment her plans fell through. “Love it.”

From the back of the theater, Temari and Kankuro had found their seats and watched as Gaara chatted up the young woman below them, then she moved her jacket, then he sat down. “Who the fuck is that?” Kankuro asked, dumbfounded, and Temari shook her head and pulled out her phone.

We watchin this or nah?

From his jeans pocket, Gaara’s phone chimed and they saw him pull it out to look. He opened his texts, paused a second, then typed something before he put it back in his pocket.

“I think he responded,” Kankuro said, and looked over to his sister’s phone when the reply came though.

Fuck off.

Temari scoffed and Kankuro snickered, “What a dick.”

While they waited for the movie to start, the two of them tried their best with the movie trivia scrolling over the screen, Gaara made a couple jokes – terrible ones – and helped Sakura to laugh a little again and relax. When the lights dimmed, Sakura sunk into her seat as the resonating surround sound of the title screen filled the room; the movie was starting.

She should’ve just left. Sasuke was supposed to sit next to her, maybe even offer some comfort during a difficult scene or hold her hand when he saw her get frightened. Now she just anticipated making an embarrassment of herself.

Not just a horror movie, but a thriller as well, Sakura spent most of the two-hour run time with her hood pulled up around her ears to muffle the sounds and had squinted her eyes as to avoid the scariest parts. She didn’t outright want to cover them in front of Gaara, how silly would that be? They shared the popcorn, Gaara mooched off her drink, he had a habit of putting his feet over in her space or bumping her elbow with his own. There was once during a quieter scene that she had whispered a question about the plot to him – no doubt due to her lack of actually watching the movie – and he’d leaned over to whisper back. The warmth of his skin so close to hers and his breath against her ear made sure she hadn’t heard a word of what he’d said. She nodded anyway, pulled on the drawstring of her hood, and stared straight ahead at the screen after that.

When the credits rolled and the theater lights came halfway back on, the people around them started to get up, the quiet space now echoing the murmurs of the everyone filing out. Sakura leaned forward, about to grab her jacket, but Gaara put a hand on her arm and halted her.

“Wait,” he said, still looking at the screen. “There’s usually an after-credit scene.”

She sat back down and waited for the credits to finish, taking sidelong glances at him from beside her.

She’d been surprised to see a familiar face approach her before the movie, and for a split second she had thought his greeting may have come from Sasuke. But she supposed it being Gaara was for the best, she was still upset and felt hurt over how she kept feeling strung along and, maybe, if it had been Sasuke, she would’ve said something choice that she might come to regret. In the dim light of the theater, though, after watching through the movie with him, Sakura came to notice that Gaara did have a certain appeal.

The credits ended and the scene began; an old truck slowly driving down a dirt road through the woods, it was dark, and the driver got out of the vehicle upon being stopped at a gate in the road. The headlights of the truck shown on a sign affixed to the gate; Private Property! Trespassers Beware! Sakura groaned quietly and looked away. From her side, Gaara tried not to laugh at her. The driver tugged on the chain that bound the gate to the post, and then, once the scene changed, all that could be heard over the forested mountains panning to the setting sun in the distance was the sudden and terrified scream of the driver before all went silent, and the screen went black.

“Tsk.” Sakura glanced over her to see Gaara looking disappointed and shaking his head. “Of course, they’re gonna milk this for a sequel,” he muttered before stretching his arms over his head and kicking his feet out in front of him.

Sakura twisted the end of her straw between her fingers, the soda long since gone and the ice already melted and drank. “Didn’t you like it?” she asked.

He looked over at her, head lolled to the side, his expression skeptical. “Did you?”

Sakura looked down, an embarrassed little smile threatening to show. “It was fine.” She grabbed her jacket and put the empty soda cup into the popcorn bucket, it was nearly gone anyway. “Thanks for sitting with me,” she said. “I’ll see you around?”

Gaara had stood with her and wrapped himself in his jacket. “Well, sure,” he said casually. “But I was going to ask if you wanted to grab something to eat.”

She pondered this for a moment and took out her phone. The time shown as 7:42pm, she’d missed a phone call from her mom during the movie, and no one else had texted her. Not even to say he was sorry for missing their date. Sakura felt her heart sink a little, could she even call it a date if he didn’t seem to want her? At least Gaara had sat with her so she wasn’t alone through the whole film, maybe having dinner together wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Okay,” she said, having not noticed the way that Gaara discretely peered at her phone screen to see her notifications. “Where to?”

Gathering their jackets and their trash, Sakura led the way for them out of the theater. As she descended the stairs and he followed after her, Gaara turned around to where his sister and his brother were standing in the back of the theater watching him leave, the both of them with hands up in the air in question with it written all over their faces; dude, where are you going?

He sent a sneer their way and flicked them the bird, his sister rolled her eyes and Kankuro gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Not wanting to be too forward, Gaara got in Sakura’s car with her and showed her a spot nearby that had something for everyone. It wasn’t a fancy place, but the atmosphere at night was quiet and the bar crowd wouldn’t show up until the kitchen closed. They opted to sit at the bar, too, it’s not like they were staying all night, and looked over the menu. Gaara had come here often with his siblings, they still did a lot of things together, and he told Sakura the items that his family liked best.

When their food came, they chatted about the movie and Gaara was asking how she liked the other movies in the franchise, if she had a preferred horror director or an old classic that was a favorite. Eventually, after a series of questions she simply couldn’t bullshit her way through, Sakura did end up admitting that no, she wasn’t really a fan of horror.

Not looking too surprised, and appearing to have been dying to ask, he followed up her admission with the question, “Who was supposed to sit there, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…” Sakura looked down to her plate and picked up a french-fry to swirl in her ketchup. Figuring she wasn’t good enough at lying to deny being stood up, she at least wasn’t going to admit it was by a guy. “No one.”

“No one, huh?” Gaara said as he leaned back on his barstool and observed the flustered blush that was settling across her face. “Well, I hope you tell No One that I had a good time sitting in his seat.”

Sakura sighed and forced a smile in fair defeat. She gripped her glass in her hands and sucked her teeth. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

“Lucky me,” he said with a smirk, earning him a quizzical look from his dining guest. “I was starting to worry I’d have a jealous boyfriend after me.”

She scoffed and waved the notion away, and not long after, her plate was cleared, and her water was gone. Again, Sakura grabbed her jacket and moved to stand from the bar. “Well, I should probably get going,” she said before asking the bartender, “Can I close out my tab?”

He nodded and went to print her bill.

“It’s been a lot of fun,” she said turning back to Gaara. He was grabbing his jacket too, had motioned the bartender for his bill as well. “Thanks for the company.”

He threw his jacket on and pulled out his card when the bill came. “Together, please,” he said as he passed over his card. Sakura tried to refuse; he shouldn’t be paying for her. “Consider us even,” he said. “I did eat most of your popcorn, and that stuff isn’t cheap.”

Still a little unsure, she allowed the bartender to take her bill along with his card. “Thanks,” she said while he waited for the receipt. “I’ll see you later?”

Gaara nodded. “Anytime you want,” he offered, a sly smirk forming on his face as he scribbled his signature. But then he looked back over at her, his expression turned down a little, perhaps even pouting. “But are you really gonna just walk out of our first date like that?”

Sakura froze, mind going a little blank at what he had said. “Wha – what?”

Gaara took his card back from the bartender and put his wallet back in his pocket. He adjusted his jacket and pointed to the door. “Come on, I know a good place for cocktails a few blocks away.”

He began walking over to the exit, Sakura was still confused and didn’t know how to respond to him. “Wait,” she managed to say. “I don’t–”

“Do you not want to?” he asked, turning to face her and dropping the casual confidence he’d been directing at her all evening, his expression turning genuine in the face of her potential refusal.

Sakura pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. This was not how she expected the day to go, but she knew Gaara, albeit barely, they had common friends and had been introduced before. It’s not like she was going somewhere with a total stranger, plus…

She turned away from him, half to look through her purse, half to hide her blush. “Let me, um,” she stammered, finally finding her phone and turning on the display.

Sorry, reschedule for tomorrows showing?

With a moment’s pause, she stared at the text notification and weighed the feeling of excitement she’d just had against the sinking feeling in her chest from the text. One certainly struck a deeper chord than the other, yet one had given her the company when the other had not.

She turned around and looked back at Gaara. “Let me call my mom, she likes it when I check in.”

Seeming satisfied, Gaara smiled and threw a playful wink her way, enjoying the way she turned her face to hide the reddening of her cheeks. “Say hi to Mom for me.”

Thanks for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501

#gaasaku #sabaku no gaara #sakura haruno #ao3 #fan fest 2023 #gaasaku fan fest #gaara #gaaraxsakura #sakugaa #naruto au

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tickles-in-ficland · 1 year

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Destination: Laughter

Summary: Reader meets her favorite actor while traveling. He finds out something about her that peaks his interest.

Warnings: Literally one curse word. All fluff otherwise.

Word Count: 3,202

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female!Reader & Ler!Chris Evans, Lee!Reader

It was your first time going to Los Angeles. You were spending the summer with your aunt that lived out there. You were so excited because your aunt worked in production for different films and television shows. She was definitely the “cool aunt” in the family. You didn’t know what she was currently working on but it didn’t matter. You were just excited to spend the summer in a new city with your favorite aunt.

While from a small town in Connecticut, you were flying out of Boston seeing as that was the only airport that had flights to California that week.

You hugged your mom tightly, a slight tear falling from your eyes. “I’m going to miss you mama.”

Your mother gave you a final squeeze and kissed your cheek. “I know baby. I’ll miss you too but you’re gonna have such a great summer with your aunt. I’m always only a phone call away okay? And if you’re really miserable, we’ll get you back home.”

You nodded with a small smile and gave your mom one last hug and kiss on the cheek before heading into the terminal. It was it’s usual busyness, travelers coming and going. People coming into town for business, others coming home to their families, and people excitedly ready for a vacation. Passing through security quicker than expected, you passed the time browsing the shops and getting something to eat while you waited to board. After what seemed like forever it was finally time. With an excited bounce in your step you grabbed your carry on, having already checked in your big bag and handed the airline employee your ticket. Stepping on to the plane and politely greeting the flight attendants you anxiously looked for your seat. You hated keeping people waiting while you awkwardly searched. Finally finding your seat you groaned when you realized it was a middle seat. The two seats on other side of you were open for the time being. Maybe you’d be lucky and have the row to yourself you hoped. Putting your airpods in and already being engrossed in your movie you didn’t hear or notice someone approaching your aisle. A light tap on your shoulder got your attention when you heard a gentleman speak.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I’m in the window seat.” said the deep voice.

You froze. You knew that voice. You knew that Boston accent. Your eyes flitted up to be greeted by the sheepish smile of no other than Chris Evans. Your breath caught in your throat. There was absolutely no way this was real. This had to be a dream.

Chris cleared his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry.” you said standing up to allow him in.

Chris gave you a polite nod and smile. Once getting himself situated and sitting down you tried to take some deep breaths without him noticing. There was no way this was real. There was no way you were spending the next six hours on a flight next to Chris freaking Evans. You’d been a fan of him and Marvel for years. You didn’t want to appear like an overzealous fan so you stifled your excitement. No one else ended up sitting on the other side of you and you contemplated moving to the aisle seat to give the A lister space. You wanted to speak to him but didn’t know what to say or disturb him. He wasn’t working, he was by himself. He gets bombarded by fans all the time, he probably just wants peace and quiet.

Shortly after take off the two of you sat in silence as you each watched something on your phones. You turned your phone slightly hoping he wouldn’t catch on that you were watching one of his movies.

You felt a nudge on your shoulder and turned to glance at Chris. His piercing blue eyes staring back at you while a soft smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sorry I haven’t been very chatty. I’m usually a social seat mate. I love talking to people but you seemed pretty engrossed in what you were doing so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You gave a tiny smile in return, trying to slow your heart rate. “N-No it’s okay. You’re not bohothering me.” you said as a nervous giggle escaped your lips. You hoped he hadn’t noticed. He did.

“You know…” he said turning to face you slightly. “Normally when I meet fans they’re a lot more vocal around me.” he said in a teasing tone.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head. “I-I’m not quite sure what you mean.” you said attempting to pretend you had no idea who he was. You weren’t doing a very good job.

Chris chuckled. “So that’s not Age of Ultron you’re watching?” He asked his eyes twinkling as he tapped your phone in his direction.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you covered your face in embarrassment. There was no use pretending at this point. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve peace and quiet on a flight not fans gushing over you.”

“Well that’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate the gesture but I really don’t mind talking. Before you noticed me standing next to you, I saw what you were watching and I could tell by your reaction you recognized me.” he said with a smirk.

You groaned and covered your face again. Chris chucked and pulled your arms down so your face as visible. “And when you didn’t immediately talk my ear off or demanded a photo and respected my space, I was pleasantly surprised.”

A smiled tugged at your lips as you held out your hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Chris took his big hand in yours giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Chris.”

This time a full laugh bubbled from your chest. “Yeah. I know. I am a big fan. You’re very talented.”

It was Chris’ turn to blush. “Well that’s very kind of you to say. Thank you.”

“I’ll let you back to what you were doing. But if you get bored on this long flight, I’m a great listener.” you said with a casual shrug.

“Good to know.” Chris said with a wink.

An hour passed by and the two of you sat in silence, each engrossed in your own activities. Occasionally glancing at one another and a friendly smile before putting attention back to your separate forms of entertainment.

You gently tapped Chris’ arm to get his attention. Taking his airpod out of his ear and looking in your direction you looked down, embarrassed to ask. “I-I’m sorry. I was wondering if we could take a photo together. I didn’t want to bother you but wanted to ask before we land and it’s hectic getting off the plane. I’m sorry I’ll leave you alone.” you said turning back to your phone before Chris’ warm hand touched yours.

“Hey it’s okay! I really don’t mind. Here give me your phone.” he said holding his hand out. Handing your phone to the super star he turned it on selfie mode. Unexpectedly he reached around to put his arm around your back to pull you in for the photo. His fingers accidentally digging in to the spot by your ribs, causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Oh I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked genuinely concerned.

You shook your head frantically, embarrassed at the fact that Chris Evans had accidentally tickled you.

“No no. Just surprised me.” you said trying to play it off.

Chris raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Placing his hand back on the spot for the photo he felt your breath hitch in your throat and smiled to himself. After taking some smiley selfies and a some goofy faces he handed you back your phone.

“Thank you Mr. Evans.” you said placing your phone back on the tray table.

“Please. Call me Chris.” he insisted.

“Thank you Mr. Ev-Chris.” you fumbled but gave him a smile.

“So what are you traveling to LA for?” he asked causally as he placed his airpods back in the case.

You were amazed that a huge celebrity like him was even the slightest bit interested in your life. But you obliged his question and told him your summer plans with your aunt. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing about what you wanted to do while in LA. He gave some suggestions about fun non touristy things to do and even wrote down some places he thought you should check out. You in turn asked him what he’d been doing in Boston and he shared he was visiting his family before filming his next movie which would take a couple months and he wanted to see his family before then.

“Well that sounds like a great visit. I’m excited to spend time with my aunt but I miss my mom already.”

Earning a sympathetic smile from Chris he nodded. “I understand. I miss my family a lot when I’m off shooting. It’ll get easier.”

You nodded in agreement and reached over to grab your charger from your bag only to have it slip out of your hands and fall to the floor.

“Shit.” you grumbled unbuckling your seatbelt to search for it.

“Need help?” Chris asked.

You shook your head. “No no. I got it.” You said straining your arm down to reach the cord but ended up knocking it further away.

Growling in frustration you started to stand up when Chris put his hand out. “I got it. I feel it at my feet hold on.” He said as he unbuckled his own seat to maneuver his way to grab it. Unknowingly using your leg to brace himself as he stood back up, he gave it a squeeze as he pushed himself back up into his seat.

A high pitched squeal escaped your lips as you covered your mouth. Chris’ lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “What was that? Are you okay?” he asked.

You gave him a smile, hoping he wouldn’t acknowledge the noise that came out of your mouth. “Totally fine. Totally.” you said shifting in your seat.

“Are you sure? You seem really jumpy all of a sudden.” he said handing you your charging cord before folding his arms and leaning against the window with a sly smirk.

“Nope. Totally fine. Just didn’t expect you to use my leg as leverage.”

Chris searched your face for a second before a deep chuckled rumbled through his chest. “Ah I see. You’re ticklish.”

You choked on your drink as you took a sip and looked over to a smiling Chris. He was throughly enjoying watching your squirm. He had just met you but he was genuinely enjoying your company.

“Am not.” you said firmly crossing your arms.

“Ah okay. So I didn’t accidentally tickle you when we took the photo? Or just now when I grabbed your knee?”

“Nope.” you said emphasizing the P.

Chris nodded. “Gotcha. So if I did this.” he said this time giving your knee a firm squeeze. “Doesn’t tickle?”

You barked out a laugh and held up your hands in defense. “Ohokay! Mahaybe a little bit. But I usually don’t expect my seat mate to tickle me on a flight. We just met!” Truthfully you didn’t mind being tickled but you certainly weren’t going to disclose that. Especially not to Chris Evans.

Chris laughed. “True. But we’ve been talking for several hours now. I like to think us friends. I’ve enjoyed your company.”

You blushed as your eyes glanced up to his. “Likewise. I didn’t expect my favorite actor to be so genuine. It’s…. refreshing.”

“Well Im glad to be so. I guess I am pretty awesome.” he said with a wink.

With a teasing smirk, knowing you were now egging him on, you rolled your eyes. “Spoke too soon. Ugh. Actors are such divas.”

Chris’ eyes widened at your cheeky comment. “Hey!” he said with a slight pout. “That’s not very nice.”

“I’m sorry you’re right. Actors aren’t divas. Just the Marvel ones.” you said with a teasing tone in your voice.

“Okay that’s it.” Chris said dropping his phone on the tray table before digging his fingers into your side, giggles pouring from your lips as you squirmed away from his fingers with nowhere to go.

“Ch-Chrhihis!” you hissed slapping at his hands.

“What?” he asked innocently but mischief danced in his eyes. “Oh!” he said as his fingers danced up and down your side as you turned your body trying, but not really trying to get away. “Does that tickle?” he smirked.

“YEHES!” you said your laughter increasing as his one hand rapidly squeezed your knee and the other scribbled into your side. “Ihit tihihihickles!” you squealed trying to cover your mouth to muffle your laughter so you didn’t disturb the other passengers. After another minute he let up, allowing you to sit up and collect yourself. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You had been tickled by Chris Evans. On an airplane of all places.

“Thahat wahas mehehean!” you said running your hands through your hair trying to catch your breath from the sudden tickle attack.

Chris smiled bashfully and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. But it was adorable.” he said giving you a friendly nudge.

Your cheeks turned pink as the heat rose in your cheeks. “Not adorable.” you said shaking your head.

Chris grinned before giving you a few final pokes, earning a few quiet giggles from you. “Yes. You. Are.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at him before returning to your movie. The rest of the flight was pretty uneventful. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, occasionally asking a question or two before going back to what you were doing.

Around 30 minutes or so before landing, you felt your eyes getting heavy. Resting your head back on the seat you shut your eyes and dozed off. Unknowingly your head began to slip and gently landed on Chris’ shoulder. Surprised by the sudden weight on him, he turned to see you asleep on him, your chest slowly falling and rising as you slept, your mouth open slightly and your eyelashes fluttering every few minutes. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. You really were adorable. He looked down at you with a smile, not wanting to disturb your peace. He looked at you again, trying to guess how old you were. You were definitely an adult but you were so petite you could easily pass for a teenager. He’d only known you for a few hours but it was very rare to find people, women especially who didn’t fawn over his every move. He appreciated how you treated him like a normal person but still shared that you were a fan of what he did. He went back to reading his book while you snoozed.

As the pilot came over the speaker to announce that the plane would be landing shortly your eyes fluttered open. Realizing the position you were in you immediately jolted up.

“I’m so sorry! I did not mean to fall asleep on you. You should’ve woken me. I’m really sorry.”

Chris shook his head. “Y/N It’s okay, really. I didn’t mind. You looked peaceful I didn’t want to wake you.”

You searched his face, your mind convincing you he was just being polite. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

Closing his book he turned towards you with a smile. Giving you a quick poke causing you to squeak and jump back he insisted it was okay.

“Alright, if you say so mr. movie star.” you said with a playful shove.

Chris began to dig through his bag as he searched for a pen and paper. “Here.” he said handing you the paper and pen. “Write down your info. I’ll send it to my assistant and she’ll give you a call so you can come see the set. Get the full “Hollywood” experience. Bring your aunt too. “

You looked at him stunned. “Oh Chris I can’t ask you to do that. You’re probably so busy, we would just be in the way.” you said attempting to hand back the paper and pen only to have it pushed back to you.

“I insist.” he said gesturing for you to write down your info.

Reluctantly doing so, you handed him back the paper and pen which he stowed back in his bag. “I’ll send this to her and she’ll reach out to you soon.”

You simply gave him a smile as the plane made its landing and approached the gate. The two of you made small talk for a few minutes before exiting the plane.

“Well Y/N this is where we part. It was wonderful meeting you. Thank you for your company on what would’ve been a boring flight.”

He opened up his arms for a hug which you happily obliged. He wrapped his arms around you and giving you a gentle squeeze before giving you a quick poke to the side making you jump back with a ticklish grin on your face.

“HE-HEY!” you chastised playfully.

Chris laughed. “Sorry. Had to. I’ll see you soon new friend. Enjoy LA!” he said with a wave before turning on his heel to head to the car that was most likely waiting for him.

Trying to navigate LAX was a lot harder than it seemed. Eventually while on the phone with your aunt you found her waiting for you by the baggage claim. Running into her arms you held her tightly. You really had missed her since she moved to further her career.

“Hey kiddo!” she said giving you a tight squeeze.

You laughed pulling away from her. “Auntie! I’m not a kid anymore. Well not legally anyway.” you said with a smile.

Your aunt smiled as she brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ll always be a kid to me Y/N. Even if you are all grown up.” she said giving you a chaste kiss on the head. “How was your flight?” she asked as you made your way out of the airport.

“It was good. You’ll never believe who I met.” you said as you picked your bag back up, throwing it over your shoulder. You told your aunt the tale of sitting next to your favorite actor and showed her the pictures you took. You left out the part of him tickling you. She wouldn’t believe it anyway. She might think it was weird. Or weird that you enjoyed it.

“You ready for the best summer ever?” she asked linking your arm with hers.

Your mind wandered to Chris. You convinced yourself he was just being nice since you were a fan, but he wasn’t actually going to invite you to come visit him on the set of the movie he was working on. Even so, you glanced down at your phone at the selfie you had taken and then back up at your aunt.

“Born ready.”

If you only knew.

#mcu tickle #avengers tickle #marvel tickle #ticklish reader #tickle fluff #avengers tickle fic #lee!reader #chris evans tickle #ler!chrisevans

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denimbex1986 · 12 days

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'You might feel like you’re seeing Andrew Scott everywhere at the moment, and that’s because... you are. The Irish actor was recently on stage for the one-man performance of Anton Chekhov’s Vanya, then went straight into an All Of Us Strangers press tour that’s been plastered across all social media platforms, and as of last week, he's populated best-dressed lists as he undertakes the long and lengthy awards show circuit. Today, you’ll likely see him on your phone and/or computer screen as a front-row guest at this week’s Louis Vuitton men's show.

“We've got our movie opening [for All Of Us Strangers] in the UK and Ireland next week,” he tells me over the phone, speaking about his busy schedule from his Paris hotel room. “So I've got a bit more talking to do and then hopefully it will chill out a bit.”

In this instance, our conversation isn’t so much about his past roles (you'll likely know him as the hot priest in critically-acclaimed Fleabag, ditto Sherlock's nemesis, Jim Moriarty, in the hit 2010s TV show) or projects in the pipeline (next up: the lead in the buzzy TV remake Ripley). Instead, we're here to discuss something else that regularly places him in the spotlight: his red-carpet style.

“I really celebrate the fact that menswear has now become so eclectic and so playful. I think it's a really, really good thing, in a particular with formalwear," he says. "We're not scared of color anymore, and I like the fact that we're breaking boundaries in relation to gender and how we're supposed to where [clothes]. It's exciting and surprising.”

His interest in fashion was birthed from other creative pursuits. “I've always had a really big interest in art and particularly color,” he explains, mentioning how his mother was an art teacher and that he spent his childhood “drawing and painting”. He was about to start studying at art school when, at 17, he was cast in his first film. It’s hardly surprising then, that his event looks have the colorful range of a painter’s palette.

“I just feel like I've got a strong idea of the colors that I like now,” alluding that it hasn’t always been that way. “I had a grotesque orange denim shirt as a teenager... and nobody needs to see me in that!”

For the Louis Vuitton show—Scott is particularly excited for the “theatrics” the brand always brings—he's collaborated with his stylist Warren Alfie Baker to add a vintage twist to his recent ensembles.

“We have worked with a lot of color on our press tour for All Of Us Strangers,” shares Alfie Baker. “We love fifties style, as well as a cropped sleeve and trousers. This look has a touch of that vibe and feels perfect for the show.”

Off the red-carpet, Scott has a more subdued approach to everyday attire, favoring a standard jeans-and-hoody combo. You may have even seen them as part of his acting uniform.

“There's a chain that I that I wear all the time, I never really take it off except for when I'm when I'm acting. But recently, I've worn it in Vanya, on the West End, and I've worn it in All Of Us Strangers. It’s something that's very personal to me," he reveals. "And it's interesting, when you're wearing something that's your own it can help in some ways and it can hinder in other ways. So much of acting, I think, is about revealing who you are rather than pretending to be someone else. The most important thing the audience is looking for is the actor to be comfortable, and particularly when you're in your own jeans or your own trainers, it's just a natural feeling. It's very hard to fake.”

What does he hope to see more of in the fashion-sphere?

“I really would love if there was a greater trend towards buying older or vintage clothes and tailoring them,” he explains. “For that to become a bit more of an everyday [occurrence] rather than depending on fast fashion. It's only really for the very wealthy or for people that are really fashion-forward, but I think we'd really grow to love our stuff, and it would also be good for the environment. I'd love to see more everyday tailors on the high street being supported.” Much like his outfits, we don't object.'

#Louis Vuitton #Andrew Scott #All of Us Strangers #Vanya #Hot Priest #Fleabag #Jim Moriarty #Sherlock #Ripley #Warren Alfie Baker #West End #Chekhov

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hopes-peak-postal-company · 4 months

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Mod Akane may I have both a romantic and platonic match up from danganronpa I enjoy film making, acting and story telling, I am a very talkative person at first to hide insecurities and my fear of abandonment but as you get it know me I become more calm but more clingy we don't even have to talk just let me sit there hugging you I am very and I mean very big on don't take anyone or anything for granted you never know when you might lose them I am very sensitive please have patience with me I don't have it myself but that's not the point. I have curly brown hair in a bob cut with feathered bangs. My body is between average and chubby. I am a b-cup. I have big brown bug eyes and round glasses. My style is goth lotita.

Here is your request, I hope you are happy with who I matched you up with.

Your Danganronpa Platonic Matchup Is….

Komaru Naegi:

* Komaru will gladly support any film you make and watches all of them, will also happily play a role in any of them if you need her to, she is always happy to help a friend out

* If you perform in an actual show she will definitely come to support you and is probably cheering the loudest, much to sometimes her embarrassment

* Will also come up with ideas of goofy plays that the two of you can perform to a fake audience for the laughs

* Listens to all of your stories your telling as well and gives enthusiastic comments about the parts she enjoys

* Even if you were a talkative person at first to hide your insecurities Komaru wouldn’t really notice and happily meet your energy of being really talkative

* But if you confide to her about your insecurities she will definitely comfort you and help to put your mind at ease

* After that the two of you are now close friends and she doesn’t mind that your more calm now either and still enjoys hanging out with you

* Even if your just clinging to her, while she does her homework or something

* Definitely clings to you back a lot, especially when something embarrassing has happened to her

* It makes her want to strengthen her friendship with you more when she finds out how you never take anything for granted, even makes a friendship bracelet for the two of you

* She does have a lot of friends, but is happy that her best friend is someone as true as you are

* Will definitely make sure to put as much effort in as she can for you

* Even if she may forget sometimes she will definitely make it up to you, since she wants this friendship to last

* Komaru is one of the most patient people ever and definitely makes sure to remain patient with you

* She may say something insensitive sometimes that may upset you, but it is never on purpose or often and will always apologise once she realises she has

* She supports your style’s aesthetic, even if it is not something she would wear herself she still points at any piece of clothing that would suit your style aesthetic when the two of you go shopping together

* Overall, you and Komaru’s friendship is really reliable and healthy, the two of you will definitely be friends with each other for life and there is nothing that can tear the two of you apart.

Your Danganronpa Romantic Matchup Is….

Celestia Ludenburg:

* Will definitely dedicate time to watch your films as in her opinion she thinks some of them are very good and suit her tastes

* Likes to watch them with you as well, while drinking tea. May also tell you ways you could of improved the film, such as what camera angle would have been better to use for that scene

* But does state you are more of an expert than her, and she is just giving you some personal advice

* Definitely comes to watch you act in shows if you do and will definitely make sure to always get a seat in the front row and will get people to save her a seat there

* Always claps for your performance, even if it isn’t your best she will still clap and gives you ways to improve after

* Likes to give you plays or passages from scripts she enjoys and gets you to act them out for her, so it’s like she is getting a private and personal performance from you

* Likes to listen to stories you are telling and gives her own comments on certain parts she likes or finds ridiculous

* She managed to figure out that you talk a lot because you are insecure, but does not comment on it and happily let’s you ramble on to her about things, while she just nods and occasionally gives her input

* Once you do tell her about your insecurities she will listen to you, without interrupting and try her best to make you feel better, even if she does struggle with that part sometimes

* Does like your more calm persona now that the two of you are closer, since she does enjoy sitting in silence with you just enjoying each others company

* Celestia is not the most clingiest person herself, but will let you cling to her, while she sits there or during a friendly gambling game with people

* Sometimes she gives you head pats as a type of affection, but this is very rarely

* Is happy that you don’t take anyone for granted, especially her because she deserves the best for herself and she is glad that it is you

* Celestia can sometimes lose control of her anger, but she tries to control it harder around you as to not upset you

* If she does end up upsetting you she will try to comfort you, saying how she did not mean it and will give you head pats, as this is one of the only times she will do so

* Loves your style’s aesthetic, since it is the same style aesthetic as her will definitely give you some of her old clothes if they don’t fit her anymore and fit you. She might even nick some of yours as well

* Overall, the two of you have a very healthy and good relationship, even if it may not always be perfect it is definitely a long lasting relationship in the making.

#danganronpa matchups

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gayforddlovato13 · 1 year

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Lisa Imagine - we fell in love in October

Standing in the front row of the stadium, you looked like any other excited fan.

With your lightstick in your hand and a LALISA hoodie on, you blended in perfectly.

But you weren't any normal fan - you're dating Lisa.

Tonight is the first show on their tour and Lisa wanted you to be in attendance and although she gave you the option of staying backstage, you wanted to be in the front row to support her from the crowd.

You've been singing along and waving your lightstick around in the air like the other fans surrounding you.

Lisa tried not to stare at you too much so fans wouldn't catch on but it was hard for her to do.

The girls were taking a break from doing group performances so they could do a special stage each.

Lisa's was first and your heart raced with excitement just thinking about what she might be doing.

She refused to tell you, keeping it super secretive, and as hard as it was for you, you didn't pressure her into telling you since she wanted to keep it a surprise.

When she came back on stage and the lights went up, she broke out in a big smile as the fans screamed.

"Smoking cigarettes on the roof. You look so pretty and I love this view." She sang.

Her voice was so pretty and so comforting, always making any worries you feel disappear when you hear it.

"We fell in love in October. That's why I love the fall. Looking at the stars, admiring from afar."

But it wasn't just her soft, soothing voice that melted your heart.

It was also the words she was singing and the way she looked into your eyes when the lyrics left her lips.

"My girl, my girl, my girl. You will be my girl. My girl, my girl, my girl. You will be my world. My world, my world, my world. You will be my girl."

Your heart swelled as you watched her smile at you.

"Smoking cigarettes on the roof. You look so pretty and I love this view. Don't bother looking down. We're not going that way. At least I know, I am here to say. We fell in love in October. That's why I love fall. Looking at the stars, admiring from afar. My girl, my girl, my girl."

The song finished a moment later and the whole time her eyes stayed locked with yours, sparkling brightly.

"So? Did you like it?" She asked the fans, almost jokingly as they cheered at the top of their lungs for her.

She looked at them in adoration before gazing at you with the same look.

"That song is one of my favorites ever, so I'm so happy to be able to cover it. There's someone special I want to dedicate it to."

You could feel other people looking at you as her gaze continued to linger on you.

You know where this is headed.

You know what the look she's giving you is for.

She's asking you if you're okay with her naming who it's dedicated to, which will then put your relationship.

But you've had this discussion before.

You've had it just to be safe, just in case someone leaks your relationship.

But you've had it just in case you both agree to announce your relationship when the time and the situation is right.

You know she'll keep you safe and sound and that she won't ever let anything bad happen to you.

You trust her with your whole heart and so, you agreed.

You nodded your head and she looked back out at the crowd before making the huge and life-changing announcement.

"My girlfriend."

People started looking around, following her gaze to you.

"I've been dating the most beautiful and amazing girl in the world for the last few months and I'm so proud to share this with you all. I love her very much and I hope that you'll be kind to her and show her lots of love. She deserves it all."

Fans started to film you and show you the love and support you deserve, making you feel so lucky and loved.

"I love you." She grinned as she made a little heart and blew you a sweet kiss, making fans go wild.

It was a beautiful moment, one that changed your lives forever but in the best way, and it was something you'd never forget.

#blackpink #blackpink imagine #lisa #lisa imagine #blackpink lisa

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moccahobi · 11 months

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Hii Lillia!! First of all, that WIP list looks so organised!!! Which app do you use!? (⁠つ⁠✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)⁠つ

Honestly, I am interested to know about all the WIPs! They all look fun! But if I have to choose then can I ask about Merr, Mystical Mayhem and When Two Worlds Collide??

Hiii! I use Notion for organizing my wips! You can't see it in my ss, but because I use the database function I am able to sort my wips into different tables (priority wips, general wips, possible rewrites, and finished wips (which I hide in this table)). This allows me to prioritize and limit the stuff I am focusing on~

All three of the fics you're interested in are my older wips!

Merr is intended to be a prequel to Braving the Unknown! It'll be a Namjoon x Reader series. Please don't have hope for this to be finished soon though, I started this 2019 and last touched it in 2020. Here is a little bit of a chat from when the reader first meets Namjoon, our siren boi.

“What the fuck?” You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when it came out as a quiet whisper, the man/thing/creature laughed. God it was such a gorgeous laugh, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt more on edge. So you took a step back. “What are you?” You asked slowly, your eyes trained on him in the darkness. “I’m a siren, but I go by Namjoon. What are you?” He stated so casually that you almost thought that a siren existing was not one of the craziest things you heard. Or saw for that matter. “I--” You closed your mouth, “I’m human, but I go by Y/N.” You looked down at your arm and pinched it as hard as possible. You didn’t wake up. This is real. Holy shit, you’re talking to a siren. “Could you possibly help me?” He asked, a shy smile spreading on his face to show four razor sharp teeth surrounded by blunt teeth “You see, I was watching the crabs… and… then I was too close to get back!”

Mystical Mayhem is another really fun wip I have. Again, last touched in 2019... but it is rly fun and I can't wait to get to it eventually!

Sadly, Yoongi’s inspiration was not enough to keep him up and writing, especially after just spending 38 hours in a row filming for their latest comeback. One second he was working on a new song and the next he was dreaming of playing in a meadow. The tall grasses were soft on his fingertips and the poppies were practically a bed, calling to him to lay down and relax, the bird songs feeding his want more and more. Instead, Yoongi started walking around the meadow, his bare feet cushioned by the soft moss that seemed to line the floor. The meadow was full of flowers that Yoongi had never seen before. Some of them didn't seem to be real plants. But this was a dream. “Who are you?” The voice cut through everything in his dream. The bird song stopped, the wind stopped moving, everything stopped. Including Yoongi.

When Two Worlds Collide is a fun one! It is a Namjoon x OC series and is a MASSIVE ONE! I last touched it in 2020... BUT It was a big passion project of mine and I hope to work on it at some point relatively soon (still trying to figure out the order in which I want to tackle my WIP list this summer so it may be a while). It is also heavily inspired by DND in terms of my OCs. Here's the opening paragraph (I am putting it under the read more as there is light mentions of blood and grief).

The world of his imagination was blurry as he, his mysterious guardian, and the members looked out from some strange vehicle’s windows. The members were a new addition to his dreams, but he didn’t question them. He looked over at the guardian, someone he had grown a good friendship with, even shared some smiles with, only to see her shed a few tears for the first time. Her piercing eyes and many scars were the only facial features he could make out once again. He could see the tears well up and plummet down her face, making lines in a crusty, blood red liquid smeared across the lower half of her face. Her armor shaking and rattling as her whole body became wracked with sobs. Everyone looked on in shock as he scooted closer to try and comfort her, only for Namjoon to come up and try instead. She screamed, shoving his hands off of her before meekly hitting her hands on the glass of the vehicle.

#suryanwesha #lillia answers #sum of my wipssssssss

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anonymouscatt · 4 months

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For posterity, my annual New Years meme:

1. Your main fandom of the year: Baldur’s Gate 3! It’s funny, the last two years in a row I listed it as something I was interested in getting into but I wanted to wait until it left early access. And I am so glad I waited! I had no idea how much I was going to enjoy this game so it was a nice little surprise, plus I’m glad I got to experience the story in its entirety rather than waiting for content to be slowly added to the beta version. This game was a master example of my favorite type of game to play- namely, an RPG that allows you to develop a custom character’s appearance, attitude, and relationships with other well defined and interesting characters. This is something that, up until now, I’ve only ever gotten from BioWare, and recent developments from that studio have been disappointing, to say the least. I’m really glad to see there are other studios out there who can create this kind of experience, and craft it with such obvious love and care. I fell in love with all the characters and their stories! I also had a lot of fun watching the actors who brought them to life stream the game and experience how all their work came together. A truly well deserved Game of the Year.

2. Your favorite film this year: This is the year of DnD I guess because my favorite movie was Honor Among Thieves! Another very fun romp in the Forgotten Realms, this fantasy heist movie was a joy to watch. The unconventional family relationship beteen Edgin, Holga, and Kira was especially sweet and I nearly cried at the end when they had to choose how to use the resurrection spell. I also really enjoyed the Hunger Games prequel ; I thought the music and the sets were especially well done. I really enjoyed the art in Across the Spiderverse but I didn’t like that they ended it on a cliffhanger, especially when it could take quite a while for the next film to come out. Not a fan of splitting one story into two movies; I didn’t like it when the original Hunger Games trilogy did that either.

3. Your favorite book this year: The fact that I initially couldn’t remember what I read this year and had to go look it up in my Libby account probably says something about the state of my reading this year, hah. I remember checking out and starting several books from the library that did not grab my interest, and which I then returned without finishing. Unfortunate. Of the books I did finish, I enjoyed Martha Wells’ Witch King and Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir. Witch King had a really interesting mythology and setting, and I’d be interested in reading more stories in that setting. Project Hail Mary is another of Weir’s stories that grounds itself in a modicum of science but makes it fun, and had several twists that kept me turning the pages. I also listened to Martha Wells’ latest Murderbot novel; however I was sick and slightly delirious at the time so it didn’t really stick with me in the way that I would like, lol. Hope to get a physical copy to read soon so I can properly appreciate it.

4. Your favorite album or song this year: Machine Learning by J. Maya.

5. Your favorite TV show this year: Probably the Last of Us! I think they did a really good job at adapting a video game story to television, and at bringing new elements to a story I already loved. Pedro Pascal probably wouldn’t have been my first idea for someone to play Joel, but he absolutely killed it, as did Bella. Could have used a few more zombies, though. ;) Also really enjoyed season 2 of Good Omens! It was a delightful romp until suddenly it wasn’t. I was a bit peeved at the end because I didn’t know this story wasn’t going to be self contained either, and therefore relied on Amazon renewing the show for it to be completed. Bleh. But! Now that we know it has been renewed and we will absolutely see the finale on screen, I can be more forgiving of that absolutely gut wrenching ending. Oh! Also enjoyed Silo, an adaptation of the Wool trilogy of books I really enjoyed. The sets in this show were fantastic and looked exactly like I had imagined the silo to look while I was reading; I’m very excited to see how they deal with later developments in the story. And shoutout to Resident Alien, which I watched for the first time this year. Alan Tudyk is absolutely delightful and believably alien.

6. Your favorite tumblr moment this year: just the fact that we continue to exist as every other social media website sinks to previously unfathomable lows I guess.

7. Your best new fandom discovery of the year: I mean I guess it’s Baldur’s Gate 3? Something new I started doing this year that ties into that is watching other people play video games, which. Is kind of a weird way to spend your time but I’m still having fun. I’ve watched each of the cast members of BG3 stream their own playthroughs of the game and I’ve enjoyed that. I’ve also been watching Friends at the Table stream games, which they’ve been doing more often this year. It’s kind of nice to just have a bunch of friendly voices on in the background and to see how they problem solve together.

8. Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year: I guess I can talk about my disappointment with BioWare here. They haven’t released any new information on a game that has been in development for uh. A decade? They’ve also, according to reports, treated their staff absolutely horrendously and laid off a bunch of key developers in a game series I used to love. I know they are quite literally not the same studio that made the games I love because those people are gone and because they’ve been bought out by a larger, solely profit-driven company. Still sucks tho. Friendship ended with BioWare now Larian is my Best Friend etc. etc.

9. Your favorite male character of the year: …It’s going to be Astarion, isn’t it. I didn’t even like him when I first started playing BG3, because I like to make kind choices and he constantly disapproves of that lol. And then I got to the end of his questline and just had this like. “Oh.” moment. And then in my next playthrough I abandoned my original plans in order to romance him instead and I have been captivated ever since.

10. Your favorite female character of the year: Shadowheart! My first romance in BG3 and another companion with an absolute banger of a questline.

11. Your biggest squee moment of the year: Getting the epilogue for BG3 to finally play! It was a bit dicey with mods but I managed it, and it was so sweet to feel like I was meeting back up with these characters again after being away.

12. Your most missed old fandom: I haven’t talked about Doctor Who yet! So this year had the three specials with David Tennant and Catherine Tate back, and the nostalgia was just. Overwhelming. The chemistry between these two is impeccable, and I knew it was just going to be those three episodes but wow. I could have watched another full season of their hijinks together. Also just missed good old RTD and the little touches that defined his era. The specials were a real treat. Looking forward to the new adventures with Ruby and 15 but the tone did feel somewhat different, the sort of fantasy element that they are bringing in is new and fresh which is good but will take some getting used to on my part. Still very glad to have RTD back at the helm!

13. Your fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to: Once I finish this current playthrough of BG3, I’m going to try another one of Larian’s games, Divinity Original Sin 2. It looks kind of similar in terms of gameplay, if a bit dated, but I’m curious about what else Larian has done and this seemed like a good fit. I also did plan on playing Starfield at some point, but… reading reviews and watching some Let’s Plays makes it pretty clear the game is not what I expected. Might wait for an even bigger sale before I drop money on it. Which is funny, because I upgraded my computer this summer in order to play it… and then BG3 came along and reset my expectations, lol.

14. Your biggest anticipation of the New Year: New Doctor Who! Definitive edition of BG3! (DLC perhaps???) And I guess DA4 if it doesn’t crash and burn… I am skeptical…

#new years fandom meme #happy new year #this is me

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animeloveisland · 2 years

Text

anime love island . . .

group a enters the villa

Welcome to A-Love Island, the only show that has 60 cameras hidden in a massive villa that manages to only have one dog house bed and two day beds. For the next two months the luxury villa will be called home to a load of sexy singles who are here to find love. And fifty grand. Our casting team has truly outdone themselves by finding people you would never imagine together in one room who look absolutely radiant standing in a moving jeep. Let’s see how well they’ve done.

The roar of a jeep against dirt road cruises through the Spanish countryside and eventually comes to a slow halt in front of a sprawling villa with a heart shaped arch in front of a stone paved path. Gravel crunches beneath the Jeep tires as the camera pans to a man with snow white hair falling against his forehead and black sunglasses resting at the bridge of his nose to reveal his piercing blue eyes. He climbs out of the jeep with a sparkling grin on his face, his dark blue button down shirt with dark green pothos leaf print in the fabric waves in the hot wind, white cargo shorts flexing against his legs as he walks to the villa. His tan skin gleams beneath the sun due to a light sheen of sweat as he walks through the villa out to the back lawn; a small ‘wow’ passes his lips.

“Am I the first one here?” He asks himself, the mic ruffling against his shirt as he walks around and guffaws when he finds he’s the first person in the villa.

“Yes, the champagne is all mine, pour myself a glass of bubbly,” The man beelines to the champagne bottle and flutes; gripping it to pop it open.

An outtake appears away from the villa. The studio Gojo stands in has a lollipop background with three rows of screens displaying pictures of himself rolling up and down like a film strip. In between each row has three foot wide displays of the lollipop background, while Gojo sits on a stool in front of it, head over his shoulder admiring his pictures.

“I’m kind of sexy, wouldn’t you say?” He says through a laugh.

“Hi my name is Gojo Satoru, I’m 28, I’m from Tokyo, and I’m a teacher,” He smiles into the camera.

“People would describe me as annoying, really annoying, and personable. I can admit I can be annoying but that’s just cause I don’t take things seriously. Life is so serious as it is and I don’t want to be someone that brings a rain cloud on my own day by being so serious. It’s all jokes around here,” Gojo laughs towards the end, the camera pans to him doing a few quirky poses before flexing his muscles into the camera.

“I don’t have a type, and I know a lot of people say they don’t have a type but they have one but I really do not have a type. All birds are 100% welcome to graft with me, the more the merrier. I do have a wandering eye though, I’ve not been able to commit to anybody in the past eight years aka my last relationship. My last relationship lasted for a really long time, and the break up was in front of a KFC. It didn’t get me down, I just avoided KFC’s altogether,” a record scratches while Gojo laughs, “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

“I’m looking to find love in the villa, someone who can deal with all the stupid shit I get up to and who won’t trap me in a box. I just hope I can find someone who can keep up with me,” Gojo does one more pose while his laugh plays over his name appearing on screen again.

Back in the villa, Gojo popped the bottle and the champagne foam overflows over the sides of the bottle making him laugh as it spills onto the pavement of the outdoor kitchen. He pours it into the champagne flute, looking around the villa muttering beneath his breath to compliment how beautiful everything is.

“Hello?” A voice calls out, startling the man with the white hair to turn around and see a brunette with matching floppy hair.

His eyes are amber brown, and a friendly smile graces his lips. He’s in a white button down shirt, buttons open to reveal his chest that isn’t as sculpted as Gojo but it’s lithe and toned. He’s in orange swim trunks and sandals.

“Hi! I’m Gojo and you are?” Gojo says, approaching the other man to grab his hand and give it a bro shake, the other man hesitates before chuckling and reciprocates the hand shake.

“I’m Dazai, sorry, I’m not really acquainted with the handshake,” Dazai says, Gojo snorts.

“Dude, no worries, I’ll teach you over a glass of champagne,” Gojo says and Dazai snorts in return.

“Don’t think the champagne will help me retain knowledge but sure,” Dazai replies and they both laugh.

Dazai stares at his pictures back in the filming studio, then turns to look at the camera.

“Let’s just get on with the introduction. It's odd to see so many pictures of myself,” Dazai jokes. Dazai does a few poses before he begins to speak.

“I’m Osamu Dazai, I’m 22, I’m from Tokyo, and I’m a private detective. I’d say I’m a little dramatic, funny, annoying, and super cute. I don’t have the serious personality type that people expect for my job, and maybe that’s what makes me so good at it. I’m always at my best because I make everything fun, but I know when it’s time to be serious.”

Dazai does a few more poses, smiling into the camera with a book in hand he slams shut.

“I’ve never been in a long term relationship, but not for what you think. I want a serious commitment that most people aren’t willing to give me so it always ends up being a fling since I don’t want to waste my time. With that being said, I don’t have a type. Of course I want someone easy on the eyes to match my own cuteness, but I’m looking for someone to love me until we die. I want a commitment that will last forever, and I can only hope I can find it in this villa.” Dazai’s introduction ends with his smile and head tipped to the side with a book in hand.

Gojo and Dazai cheers to being the first two people in the villa, Dazai takes a sip while Gojo takes a gulp.

“So what are you looking for?” Gojo asks Dazai, who shrugs.

“I kind of don’t want a knobhead but I want someone so seriously invested in me that we take til death do us part literally,” Dazai says, Gojo’s eyes widened.

“I bet you make jokes about dying all the time then, huh?” Gojo asks, Dazai laughs.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Gut feeling.”

Dazai and Gojo drink their champagne in silence, Gojo already refilling his cup.

“Isn’t this place beautiful, I can’t wait to walk around the damn place,” Gojo says through a grin and sets the bottle down, Dazai agrees.

“I’m excited to take a swim, it’s so hot out.” Dazai says, wind blowing his open shirt.

“Hello!” A deeper voice calls out, making both men turn to look at the man with black hair, framing his face but not as long as the other two. It’s neat and stops just below his earlobe at its longest point. His eyes are a brown color with purple hues in them. The man’s adorned in a red Hawaiian shirt, exposing his faint trace of abs into his tanned skin, black shorts snug against his legs.

“Hi, come get some champagne,” Gojo offers while Dazai greets the other man in suit.

The black haired man makes his way into the outdoor kitchen and out to the deck where they stand at the outdoor bar, Dazai taking it upon himself to pour the other man a glass.

“It’s fucking hot isn’t it, I’ve been feigning for a drink,” The man says.

Guren fixes his shirt and gives a glance back at his pictures in the studio on the wall. He takes a brief moment before turning to face the cameras with a soft sigh.

“I look like an asshole in majority of those,” someone in the crew laughs before Guren does a few quirky poses he’s directed to do.

“Hi I’m Guren Ichinose, I’m 24, I’m from Tokyo, and I run my family’s business. People have described me as cold, compassionate, sarcastic, broody, I think I’m just quiet honestly,” Guren cracks a smile, “and a dick. I just don’t put up with stupid shit, really. I’m blunt and if I don’t like something or somebody I’ll give it to them straight. I carry that mentality everywhere I go and I’ll carry it in here, I’m here to accomplish something not dick around with someone I don’t connect with,” Guren does a shrug into the camera, followed by a few more poses.

“I’ve been in one relationship, it ended eight years ago. I won’t lie to you and say it didn’t bring me down because it was tragic. They were someone I thought I’d spend my life with and they transformed into someone entirely new overnight. So since then I haven’t really looked for love but now that I am, I don’t have a type? I think what stops me from finding love is my own personality so I honestly think I need someone entirely opposite of me,” Guren laughs into the camera.

In the villa Guren raises his glass to cheers the other two men, all of them cheering as they take a sip of the bubbly. Guren’s head turns to take a look around and Gojo hums.

“So how old are you both? I’m 28,” He starts, Dazai sets the glass down on the table.

“22,” He says.

“24,” Guren chimes in.

“Oh shit I’m the oldest one I hate that,” The other two men chuckle quietly before their conversation gets paused by the sound of footsteps approaching.

They turn to look at the tallest man of the three with dyed red hair in loose curls down to the back of his neck and walks into the kitchen. He’s the only one not wearing a shirt, white board shorts expose most of his legs with sandals on. His eyes are golden brown and he only offers a friendly wave.

“Hi everyone,” He calls out, footsteps getting closer to the other men.

“Hey! What’s your name?” Gojo calls out, quickly pouring another glass of champagne.

“Hisoka.”

Hisoka takes a seat on the stool, the producer from behind the camera asks if he likes the pictures of himself. Hisoka laughs and nods.

“They’re so good I don’t even have to look,” He comments through a smirk.

He transitions through a few quirky poses before he’s sat on the stool again smiling into the camera.

“I’m Hisoka, I’m 29, I’m from Spain, and I am a professional fighter. I absolutely love being a fighter, I think it’s actually a part of who I am. I love fighting, I love winning, I love that power,” It cuts to him flexing his arms before laughing.

“I’ve been described as eccentric, if I’m to word it nicely, smart, mysterious, and a little dramatic. I’m definitely mysterious, I can agree with that one. Nobody really knows anything about me and nobody knows my morals, I keep everything close to my chest.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship, but I've definitely had a lot of passing flings. My body count is too high for me to count. I’m open to anybody looks wise but I want someone who’s powerful and knows what they want in life. Nothing gets me going more than somebody who can, theoretically, beat my ass and put me in my place. No one has ever been able to do that and honestly I think I'd fall in love with them,” He laughs, posing a few times before the show transitions back to the villa.

“So who are all of you?” Hisoka asks, the three men look at each other deciding who’s introducing themselves first.

“I’m Gojo,” Gojo starts.

“I’m Guren.”

“I’m Dazai.”

“Right, so is anyone here older than 29 or am I the oldest?” Hisoka asks, Gojo fist pumps to himself.

“I was just saying how I’m the oldest and I hate that,” He laughs, the other two chuckle and sip their champagne.

“So does anybody have a type? Are we looking for anything in particular or is playing the field more your style?” Dazai asks, genuine curiosity in his tone.

“I know I don’t have a type,” Gojo chimes in, Guren nods in agreement.

“Neither do I, all about personality.”

“Me too, I’m looking for a personality in particular though,” Hisoka chimes in, looking around, “is anyone else coming in?”

I can answer that question for you. Coming in hot from the villa entrance is the one and only, Sakura. Don’t be fooled by her beauty and grace, when she’s here, she means business.

Sakura’s pink hair is visible a few moments later, her heels clicking as she walks in with a flowy white jumpsuit sashaying with every step she takes.

“Hello beautiful group A islanders,” Her voice rings through the villa, the men either cheer or say ‘oh shit’ beneath their breaths.

“Hi Sakura,” They all greet, she stands in the kitchen with a beautiful beaming smile on her lips.

“Let’s all head out to the lawn, shall we?” She asks, waving her arms out to the lawn where all of them walk.

They’re in front of the pool, all four men in a line with their backs facing the pool while Sakura stands in front of them.

“So, are we all here for fun or for love?” She asks, voice cheerful. It’s the equivalent of a thousand suns, how bright her voice is.

“Love,” they all agree in unison, she preens at the answer.

“Lovely, are you excited to meet group B?” She asks, the men cheer.

Stay tuned to meet group b and the first coupling!

Director’s notes: Here’s the first episode segment we got! The little sections that are in italics and indented out are the show’s commentator, aka me. Just for anybody who needs clarification. This will pick up after the first coupling but here we go for now! Hope you enjoy!

series masterlist.

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