#ban hardy imagines

[megalony]

Did I Stutter?

This is an Evan Buckley (Buck) imagine, requested by Anon, I hope this is what you were hoping for.

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Summary: (Y/n) is finally at a place where she is happy with her life and expecting a baby with Evan. But when her parents find her, Evan rushes home to protect her.

Warning: Mentions/ descriptions of past abuse.

Enjoy.

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Evan snapped the elastic hem of his boxers against his hips as he slowly padded through into the bedroom. His bare feet sank into the carpet and made him more tired than he felt when he woke up. He could just sink back into bed and sleep for a week straight, but he had only just gotten up and he had to be on shift in an hour.

When he rounded the bedroom door, a smile curved at his lips and his tongue darted out to run along his lower lip when his eyes set on his wife.

Sometimes it still stunned Evan to think that they were married, that he had got the girl of his dreams, the girl that raced across his mind twenty four seven.

It didn't matter that they had been joined at the hip since they were eighteen, Evan was still amazed she had stuck by him and wanted to be with him this long. He could still hear the surprise in Maddie's voice when he rang her up and told her he got engaged and he'd never seen his sister so proud as she was when he got married. Even if he had banned Doug from the wedding, his sister had smiled at him in a way he had never seen before and it empowered him.

"You're staring," (Y/n) whispered quietly as if speaking any louder would break the atmosphere around them. But when she locked eyes with him in the mirror, he continued to smile that catfish smile and slowly advanced towards her.

"So are you," He mumbled back as he approached her from behind and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.

He perched his chin on her shoulder and tugged her back up against his chest, squeezing her gently like he wanted to tuck her into his chest to keep her safe and close to his heart. Their eyes stayed interlocked for a few more seconds before Evan tilted his head so he could press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling her shiver beneath him.

"What're you thinking?" He kept his voice barely above a whisper to keep the slow atmosphere and tempo around them. He didn't seem to realise his fingertips were gliding up and down (Y/n)'s hips and waist, it was an automatic action he didn't seem to think about.

"It's silly…" (Y/n) looked down at her feet for a second until she felt Evan's fingers pressing under her chin and he tilted her head back up so their eyes locked in the mirror again.

"Nothing you say to me is ever silly. Tell me,"

There was nothing she could say to him that he would laugh at or call silly or stupid. Anything (Y/n) thought was automatically important to Evan and vice versa. They promised to tell each other everything and talk through anything that bothered them or interested them and that was what they were doing.

"Just that, these are the first marks on my body that I actually like, you know?" (Y/n) carefully moved Evan's hand until his fingers were touching the stretch marks on each of her hips and across her stomach.

She hadn't really thought about it much but when she was starting to get dressed this morning, her eyes were transfixed on the mirror.

(Y/n) had a lot of marks on her body.

She'd had them all since before she met Evan and when she first showed herself to him, he'd kissed each and every mark and showed her how beautiful he thought she was. And other than the few lovebites and bruises Evan had left on her body over the years, her stretch marks were the first ones she looked at which made her smile.

She looked at those little creases and discoloured lines that looked like childish squiggles and she found herself smiling. They were a sign, a proud telltale to show people that she was doing something beautiful, something amazing that gave her purpose. She was having a baby and there was nothing better that (Y/n) would want marks to show for it.

"I love all your marks."

"Evan…" (Y/n) raised a brow, whining his name as if asking him to be serious.

"I'm serious," He took a step back and turned (Y/n) round in his arms while his hands found their place back on her hips so he could slowly drag her along with him. He walked backwards until the edge of the bed hit his knees and he sank down onto the bed next to his uniform that she had lovingly laid out ready for him.

When he was sat down, he pulled her closer until she got the hint and sat down on his lap, her legs resting over his thighs with her arms curved loosely around his neck.

"I love them all, they show how brave and loving and brilliant my wife is."

Evan turned his head to the left and pressed a gentle, butterfly kiss over the circular mark just below the crease of her elbow. His hands stayed fluttering over her hips while he leaned forward and kissed the burn mark on her left shoulder.

(Y/n) scratched her nails against the short hairs at the back of his head when he left wet, hot kisses down her curved stomach and over the stretch marks on her sides. And she felt his hands move to the small of her back and his other hand cup the back of her neck when he worked his way back up her skin until he could kiss her jaw where there was a slight discoloured line. He was the only person who knew where she got that mark or who knew that it was actually a scar, not a natural beauty line in her skin.

In turn, (Y/n) let her fingertips graze across the violet mark on his left brow, down to the jagged scar on the back of his left shoulder. And when he smiled, she curved her foot round the back of his leg and dragged her heel up and down the indented scar that went from the back of his knee all the way down to his ankle.

"But, I agree. These are the best ones you have." He nodded towards the stretch marks before he pulled her down by the back of her neck and connected their lips in a searing kiss.

"Mine aren't like yours… I didn't survive a blown up fire truck or a collapsing building or saving someone from a broken windshield."

(Y/n) tried to lean forward and hide her face in his shoulder but he knew her too well and knew what she was about to do. He caught her chin between his finger and thumb and kept her head level with his.

"I had a choice, I fought my battles willingly. You didn't. These are hazards of the job, those are survivor marks." His thumb brushed across her chin before he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. "What's that quote? Show me your darkness and let me love you anyway."

Evan knew each mark on her body, he had committed them to memory the very first time he had explored her body. (Y/n) was a map that he had memorised to the end and he knew the reasons behind her marks and scars and discolourations.

He knew the circular indents- the three on her left arm and the one on her right- were stubbed out cigarettes that had forcefully been put out on her skin and she had been lucky not to get them infected. He knew the burn mark on her left shoulder was from the last remnants of water in the kettle that had been thrown at her by her mother during an argument that got way out of want far too quickly.

Evan knew the cut on her jaw was from a kitchen knife and that it had needed four stitches to patch it back up. He knew which bones she had broken- four ribs, two bones in her hand, two fingers, one toe and her elbow- he knew she had ruptured her spleen when she was twelve and had it removed and he knew her father had been the reason behind that 'accident'.

Evan knew she had been hospitalised for jaundice just after she managed to leave home and only a week after he had met her. They had their first date two weeks after she had been discharged when he insisted one date with him would change her life.

There wasn't a mark on her body or a hospital visit that Evan didn't know about or know the reason behind. And each mark that (Y/n) hated on her body was something Evan loved.

He loved the girl sitting on his lap and nothing, no backstory or scar or parentage was going to change that.

A smile curved at Evan's lips when he felt her hands move to cup his face and her forehead tipped down to rest against his. She brushed their noses together and let her hair fan out beside them like curtains forming a layer of privacy around them. And when she kissed his lips and he tasted her cheery lip balm mixing in with the mouthwash he just used a few minutes ago, he felt like he was falling for her all over again.

"You know I love you, Mr Buckley. Every inch of you."

"I love you too babe, both of you."

***

(Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair as she waited for the kettle to boil. It felt strange to be home alone without Evan. For the past two weeks, their days off work had lined up together, especially when Evan did the late shifts and was home during the day. Being home on her own felt mundane and unusual.

On the bright side, the kitchen was clean, the living room had been hoovered and everything was prepped and ready for tea tonight and when it was cooked (Y/n) would dish it up on the side ready for when Evan got home. He didn't always get to eat properly when he was at work and it didn't matter if he came home at eight at night or one in the morning, he was always hungry.

A knock at the door broke (Y/n) out of her thoughts and when she turned, her eyes caught sight of the empty tupperware box on the counter.

It was probably Mrs Arden from next door.

She was pushing seventy but from the first day when (Y/n) and Evan moved in next to her, she had been like a grandparent to them. She invited them in for coffee, (Y/n) often went round to check on her and Evan brought her shopping when she couldn't get out. And she had a thing for gardening and over the passing weeks since they moved in, (Y/n) had noticed their front garden had been weeded a lot and a few flowers planted.

But more recently, she was into her baking and was forever bringing round boxes of cookies.

(Y/n) could eat all of Mrs Arden's cookies for breakfast, dinner and tea now she was pregnant and Evan thought she didn't know when he stole a few from the box like he had clearly done this morning. He had taken the last two cookies.

Grabbing the box, (Y/n) headed out of the kitchen and through the hall towards the door with a smile playing on her lips.

"Hi, I…"

The box fell to the floor and whatever she was about to say faded out on her tongue as her mouth hung open. It felt like her brain was short-circuiting and her muscles were tensing and cramping and tightening all over her body.

"Hi girlie, long time no see."

She didn't feel her body slump against the wall or the way her head collided and rebounded off the wall as her knees started to quiver.

That voice was back. It had been so long since she'd heard that voice that it had finally faded from her mind. Even in her dreams, she couldn't remember that shrill sugary tone of voice that always darkened like caramel and turned into burned sugar when he was angry with her. That voice mixed with that smirk made bile rise in the back of (Y/n)'s throat and churned her stomach that always ignited with panicked adrenaline whenever she used to look at him.

How had they found her? How did they know she had moved here? Her name wasn't (Y/l/n) anymore, it was Buckley, it had been for over five years and she and Evan had moved around a lot since they were eighteen. Why had they come to find her now? Why show up when her life was on the track it should have been on all along?

Why show up when her trauma was behind her and her life with a new loving family was just ahead of her?

"(Y/n)…" She sang her name like a childhood song and when his hand planted down on the door to try and push it open all the way, something clicked in her mind.

Her palms planted down on the door and with a violent shove and all of her body weight forced onto it, she slammed the door shut to keep them out. Even after the door clicked in place, (Y/n) pressed her left side, her hands, her head and even her knees into the door as if they were going to barge the door down and make a comotion. But she was never sure what they would do or what lengths they would go to. She could never understand the way their minds worked and that was the only way to survive living with them.

Expect anything, have no predictions, fight at any cost.

"Oh come on now, don't be like this. We've come all this way to see you,"

Her trembling fingers twisted the key in the lock until it would turn no further but when a hand bashed down on the other side of the door, a scream left her lips. She threw the key across the hall, unsure if she meant to do that or not and she slid down to the floor.

"(Y/n) open th-"

"No!" She screamed at the top of her lungs until she couldn't make any more noise or raise her voice any louder. Her hands curled into fists and pummelled into the door until her fist indented into the strong plastic and cuts and tears appeared in her knuckles.

Every ounce of air (Y/n) inhaled was used to scream to block out the sound of their shrill voices and gain whatever attention she could from outside to get them to leave. They never liked a scene, they couldn't risk being caught here, could they? They knew they were violating their restraining order by being here. If she screamed and frightened them enough, they had to go.

Her burning hands scraped against the floor and she shuffled away from the door on her knees when she heard him slam his fist into the door in retaliation.

She needed Evan.

Evan hooked his florescent jacket over his arm and kept tight grip on his helmet as he headed towards the truck. The siren had blared out a few seconds ago and the speakers were on, they had a break in to attend to.

His eyes locked with Eddie and he nodded his head but stopped a foot away from the truck when his phone vibrated in his back pocket.

Putting his helmet and jacket on the floor by his feet, Evan pressed his finger to his ear and answered the call when he saw (Y/n)'s cheesy smile light up his phone screen. That was good timing, the siren was just starting to wear off and if he had gotten in the truck and set off, he wouldn't have been able to answer the call.

"Hey babe, everything okay? You'll have to speak up, we're about to head out on a call."

"Evan! Evan please, O-oh God…"

"Baby what's wrong? Breathe, take a deep breath and try talk to me. Are you hurt, is it the baby?"

His hand moved from his ear to the back of his neck and he felt himself digging his nails into his skin like talons spiking through his neck. What had happened? He'd been gone what, seven hours at most. Had she had some kind of fall while he was out? Had something happened with the baby?

He didn't even realise Eddie had walked over to him until he felt Eddie's grip on his shoulder and Evan unleashed his grip on his neck and grabbed Eddie's arm instead for support. He felt like his knees were about to give way beneath him.

"No, Evan c-come home. You h-have to help me!"

"Okay, baby I'm coming home but I have to know what's wrong you have to talk to me. I swear I'm coming home."

"They're here!"

Evan had never heard her shout so loud in his life. She practically screamed through the words that ended in a coughed sob and he could hear her sniffing and trying to take a deep breath but all she could do was spit and whimper.

He felt Eddie's grip on his shoulder tightening and he was mouthing something, most likely trying to ask what the problem was. The team were already sat in the truck waiting for them and Bobby was stood next to the truck, holding onto the door. He wanted to get in and get going but he couldn't get in when he could see the two of them stood panicked in the middle of the station.

"Who's there? Who's at the house?"

Who on Earth had turned up to their house? Who would be there that had gotten (Y/n) so panicked like this?

"Mum and dad. T-they're g…gonna hurt me Evan,"

All the blood drained down to Evan's toes and made his knees shake and give way if it weren't for Eddie holding his arm and gently nudging him to try and find out what was happening. He could feel his chest tightening and his lungs shrivelling up in his chest like burst balloons.

They had never found her before.

In all the years Evan had been with (Y/n) he had never once been afraid of her parents turning up. He didn't even know what they looked like, that was how good things had been for them. She had never called him up before worrying her parents might be here or thinking she had seen them round a street corner. Why turn up now when things were going so good?

"No. No, baby I'm coming home right now. They don't get to do this, you hear me? They won't come in the house, they won't dare fucking speak to you when I get there, you just wait for me and lock that shitting door. I'll be ten minutes I swear."

He heard her mumble something incoherent before he shoved his phone into his pocket and set off in an unsteady dash towards Bobby.

"Cap, I- I gotta go home! It's an emergency, someone's breaking into the house." His words were partially true, by the sound of (Y/n)'s hysterics her parents might well be trying to break in. But Evan had never told Bobby about the twisted relationship between (Y/n) and her parents, the only person he had told was Maddie because she had bonded so well with (Y/n) and helped her cope so much.

"Eddie go with him, call me when you know what's happening, let me know everything's okay." Bobby patted him on the shoulder and gave him a nudge to tell him it was okay to set off into a sprint. They could cope on this callout without the pair of them but he had to know everything was okay once Evan had got things sorted. He couldn't be worrying about him.

Eddie barely had any time to climb into Evan's keep before the tyres were screeching and he was speeding out the parking lot.

"Jesus Buck! Tell me what's going on, who's trying to break in?" He braced his hand on the door and twisted in his seat to try and look at Evan properly. He had never seen such rage in Evan's eyes before and his face was turning a very dark shade of red.

"Her parents are at my fucking house. They found her." His hands slammed down on the steering wheel so harshly the jeep veered to the left slightly.

"I don't understand… why would they try and break in?"

"We have a restraining order, t-they abused her, Eddie they were horrible, some of the shit they did… they'd stub out cigarettes on her and all sorts." A shiver bolted down Evan's spine as he forced his knuckles up and down his jaw to control himself. Even the thought of what they had done made him want to be sick. "I met her when we were eighteen just after she managed to get away and when we moved in together… dude I found her leaving the house with tins of food in her bag."

"Why?"

"They starved her, she got so used to hiding and hoarding any food she could and making it last, she'd just panic. She hid food under the bed, in her bag, in my fucking car, everywhere. Just in case she got starved at some point."

At first, Evan didn't understand. When he saw (Y/n)'s bag and noticed a tin of beans in there, he thought she'd just popped by the shop and forgot to take it out her bag. When he scoured the floor one afternoon looking for his other shoe, he found a bag of crisps, a bottle of water and a cereal bar tucked under her clothes under the bed.

But when he found the small bag of food tucked under the passenger seat in his truck, he had to ask what the deal was.

(Y/n) had lived her whole life saving what bits of food she could for when her parents didn't feed her and she couldn't find any food for herself. She was used to going days without food or just living on whatever scraps she could find. Moving in with Evan and realising she had control over what food was brought into the house and what she could freely consume was something (Y/n) couldn't grasp.

It was a coping mechanism to have food on her at all times and hide it to prepare for an emergency situation where she might be starving and need some sort of substenance.

Evan's relationship with his own parents was much different, he had a turbulent dynamic but he'd never suffered like (Y/n). He'd seen Maddie suffer with Doug, but that was a relationship not a parental dynamic. He had never been starved or hit or burned or scolded with hot water or been pushed down the stairs and hospitalised.

What she had gone through was something Evan could never imagine or conceive and he would die before he let (Y/n)'s parents see her again or see their child.

They had a pact, their child would never suffer the way they had. Their baby would feel loved and valued and have enough food to eat and enough love to be the happiest child in the world. They weren't going to suffer.

"Buck, I'm sorry… how are we gonna play this?"

Eddie knew they needed some kind of plan when they got there. Jumping out the car and running straight into a fight wasn't going to do Evan any favours and Eddie didn't want to be in between them trying to pull Evan away before he went to far.

"I need to find (Y/n), can you keep them out the house and call the police?"

"Sure,"

As much as Evan was desperate to punch the living daylights out of (Y/n)'s parents, he knew he couldn't do that. His primary focus was (Y/n), he had to get in the house and find her and make sure she was alright because he didn't like what he heard on the phone. And he needed the police to be here as soon as possible.

Her parents were violating their restraining order by being this close to (Y/n) and Evan was going to make sure they got arrested for this. The pair of them scrambled out the jeep when Evan parked hazardly, half on the pavement, partly obscuring the road but he didn't care. He stumbled towards the house, taking in the sight of two people he never thought he would have to meet in his lifetime. They were stood right in front of the door as if they were blocking (Y/n) from coming out her own home and her dad was bashing his fist on the door which sent Evan reeling.

They were going to put (Y/n) into shock.

His eyes darted to the left and his chest tightened when he saw Mrs Arden stood in her doorway, clinging to the doorframe with her phone in her hand.

"Evan, who are they? I- I've called the police, they're frightening the poor girl."

Oh, she was a good woman. She had done Evan a big favour and took one thing off his list. The police would be here sooner than he anticipated.

"Go inside and lock the door until the police get here," Evan waved his hand towards her to usher her back inside and he nodded his head to let her know it was okay. He didn't want anyone else getting involved in this, he had no idea if (Y/n)'s parents would become violent with anyone who tried to interfere. They had never hurt (Y/n) out in public which was probably why they were angry to be shut outside in the open where anyone could see and hear them.

He could feel Eddie close behind him when he approached them and forcefully shoved himself between them to push them away from the door.

"Get the fuck away from my house!"

"Who are you?"

"Did I stutter? I said, get the fuck away from my house, or do I have to get violent for you to listen to me?" He clenched his keys into his fist until he could feel the house key beginning to draw blood from the palm of his hand. And when he turned his head towards (Y/n)'s mother, something glimmered in his eyes. "Maybe I should go get a knife from the kitchen and mark that pretty face?"

A rush of adrenaline mixed with something dark flooded Evan's stomach and satisfaction burned in his eyes when he watched her face fall. Her lips curved down and parted and she took a step back. She hadn't anticipated (Y/n) to remember all the cruelty she spouted to her or for Evan to know exactly what she had said to (Y/n) when she cut her with that knife.

"Go in and lock the door behind you," Eddie patted Evan on the shoulder and gave him a nudge inside when he opened the door. Eddie would stay out here to be safe and stop them from trying to get in or trying to leave when the police arrived.

"Baby…"

Evan's heart dropped down to his stomach when he turned round after locking the door behind him.

What had they done?

(Y/n) was sat on the stairs, her hands clapsed over her ears, blood welling up on her knuckles and she was tipping her head back and forth against the wall with such a thud Evan was surprised she hadn't knocked herself out already.

"Babe… baby please don't do that," He knelt down on the floor in front of her and reached up to cup her face in his hands and he had to tense his arms to stop her from hitting her head again. She had already bruised the left side of her temple. "We don't wanna do that, babe please don't you'll hurt yourself and the baby. I'm here, they're not going to get to you I promise. Come here,"

When he was sure she wasn't going to hit her head again, his hands left her face and moved down to slide around her waist. He coiled her into his chest and carefully lifted her up and took a few steps back. He knelt down on the floor and sat down, tugging (Y/n) with him until she was sat between his legs. He was surprised how quickly she suddenly moved despite her state of shock, she burrowed into his arms like she hadn't seen him in years.

Her hands stayed pressed over her ears but she brought her knees up against her bump and smothered her face into his chest.

Evan curved his arms around her, keeping his right arm tight around her waist to hold her against him and his left hand cupped the back of her head. He tipped his head down and kissed the top of her head repeatedly, quietly shushing her as he began to rock them back and forth.

They had done so well. She hadn't had nightmares in over a year, she was back to how she should have been. Eating properly and whenever she wanted or needed to, not hoarding food for safety. She was beginning to love her body the way Evan loved and worshipped her and she hadn't been in therapy for a few years either.

They were having a baby.

They didn't need this stress and set back, not when they were in the best place they could possibly be.

"Evan,"

When her hands moved from her ears to tightly dig her nails into his bicep, a sigh of relief left his lips and he breathed into her hair despite the tears falling down his face. He carded his fingers through her hair and tensed his arm beneath her hands when she held him tighter.

"I'm here, I've got you. I swear they can't hurt you. Babe, I will never let anyone hurt you or our baby."

[kp777]

By Brett Wilkins

Common Dreams

Nov. 17, 2023

Seven of 12 proposed science textbooks for Texas 8th graders were rejected Friday by the Republican-controlled state Board of Education because they propose solutions to the climate emergency or were published by a company with an environmental, social, and governance policy.

The Texas Tribunereported that the 15-member board, which for the first time was required to include climate education for 8th graders, approved five of 12 proposed science textbooks, but called on their publishers to remove content deemed false or presenting a negative portrayal of oil and gas in the nation's biggest fossil fuel producer.

"America's future generations don't need a leftist agenda brainwashing them in the classroom to hate oil and natural gas," said Republican state energy regulator Wayne Christian, who had urged the board to choose books that promote planet-heating fossil fuels.

Some board members also objected to textbooks that did not include alternatives to the theory of evolution. One textbook was approved only after the removal of images highlighting that human beings—taxonomically classified as great apes—share ancestry with monkeys.

"Teaching creationism or any of its offshoots, such as intelligent design, in Texas' public schools is unlawful, because creationism is not based in fact," Chris Line, an attorney with the Freedom from Religion Foundation, said Friday. "Courts have routinely found that such teachings are religious, despite many new and imaginative labels given to the alternatives."

"Federal courts consistently reject creationism and its ilk, as well as attempts to suppress the teaching of evolution, in the public schools," Line added.

State standards approved by the board's conservative majority in 2021 do not include creationism as an alternative to evolution. The standards also acknowledge that human activities contribute to climate change.

Despite an overwhelming scientific consensus that human activity—primarily, the burning of fossil fuels—drives global heating, Republican board Secretary Patricia Hardy argued before the vote that such a stance amounts to "taking a position that all of that is settled science, and that our extreme weather is caused by climate change."

One textbook was rejected because its publisher has an environmental, social, and governance (ESG) policy. ESG frameworks account for workplace diversity, the treatment of employees, and preparedness for the climate crisis.

Democratic board member Marisa Perez-Diaz said during debate on the textbooks that "my fear is that we will render ourselves irrelevant moving forward when it comes to what publishers want to work with us and will help us get proper materials in front of our young people, and for me that's heartbreaking."

The National Science Teaching Association—a group of 35,000 U.S. science educators—on Thursday implored the board to reject "misguided objections to evolution and climate change [that] impede the adoption of science textbooks in Texas."

As in other GOP-run states, Texas officials have pushed book bans and other restrictions in schools and libraries, even as they portray themselves as champions of freedom. According to freedom of expression defenders PEN America, only Florida banned more books in schools than Texas during the 2022-23 academic year.

[magicshopaholic]

Weekend Story: A Japanese GP Special (Part 1)

Summary: Years before all the heartbreak and drama, Kim Taehyung walked onto my paddock at Suzuka. Try as I might to look away, he was the only thing I could see on track.

or

How Taehyung and Dilara first met

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 27.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, stress, sexism, jealousy, heavy making out, blowjobs, fingering, dirty talk, sex

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @meirkive, @dreaming-with-happiness, @kflixnet, @k-radio

A/N: In honour of one of the best tracks on the calendar (but a questionable race :/), I've decided to post the first draft of Taehyung and Dilara's origin story! The initial idea was to just post an excerpt but not only was it too hard to choose, but so many of you wonderful readers requested the entire thing (despite the 40K threat) and after a point I couldn't imagine cutting anything out.

Do remember, though, this was written a very very long time ago, over a year before I even opened this blog. So while this is canon, in that these events already have and will continue to be referred to in future fics, there will be minor inconsistencies and differences in style of writing compared to the rest of the series. The biggest of these is probably that it's told from a first person POV, ie. Dilara's POV.

That being said, this is the first BTS fic I ever wrote and is therefore vv special to me, and I hope you all love it too :) It is set eight months prior to Los Angeles over the span of a race weekend.

(Also, congratulations to Max Verstappen who became two-time world champion today 🇳🇱)

Listen to: “on se plaît” by françoise hardy

part 2 | taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

a night to remember

Something’s different.

I stare at the ten foot poster, frowning and tapping my foot as the coffee in my cup sloshes around softly. Something’s different. I’m sure of it. My eyes skim everything; my own face, hair and race suit until the poster cuts off at the torso, followed by Max’s features and everything else on the poster. I still can’t figure it out.

Someone sidles up to me. “Do you know that from back there, it looks like you’re just admiring a poster of yourself?”

I shake my head, not changing my posture one bit. “Something’s different.” From the corner of my eye, I see Max frown, studying the poster himself. For all his fame as a hot-headed prodigy in Formula One, guaranteed future world champion and my very own teammate at Red Bull Racing, he looks just as confused as I am.

“I think my hair is parted differently,” he says thoughtfully after about a minute.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Well, maybe it’s the fact that you’re smiling. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this -”

“It’s nothing to do with our faces,” I interrupt him, rolling my eyes. “It’s something else… the background or design or - or layout…” There’s a few more seconds of silence before Max sighs.

“Alright, I’ve lost interest. Can we go inside now?”

“I’m right behind you,” I murmur absently, now scanning the text at the bottom of the poster.

“Dilara, Christian is literally looking right at you from the Red Bull enclosure.”

That gets me to pay attention. I snap away from the poster in the parking lot and join a mildly smug Max as he makes his way into Suzuka, the circuit in Japan. One of the last races of the season, Japan is chilly as expected and I internally groan in anticipation of the three days of the weekend that we’ll need to drive around in the cold, waiting for our tires to heat up before they can really zoom.

Thursday is PR day, however. All of us drivers have reached the paddock early in the morning, straight from the airport from the looks of it, while our luggage gets wheeled to our hotel about twenty minutes away from the circuit. I’m not the only one that’s jetlagged and bleary-eyed; from across the paddock, I see Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, in Ray Bans and what looks like a set of robes over his jeans, rubbing his eyes as he looks down at his phone. Behind him, Daniel Ricciardo and his trainer Michael appear in identical McLaren hoodies, slow and unsmiling, with large coffees in their hands. I take a sip from my own when Max groans.

“What a shitty PR schedule?” Max doesn’t bother with any more small talk and gets straight to the point. “Why can’t we just have PR where all we need to do is sit and answer a bunch of questions?” he complains, reaching for my cup without permission.

I make a sound of annoyance but let go of the cup without much protest. Becoming friends with Max was as easy as it was unexpected, despite the fact that I share a first name with his ex. We don’t talk about it or even refer to it, but when everyone was in Monaco a week early for Daniel’s birthday party, the unspoken assumption was that I would be crashing at Max’s.

“One final year of Honda PR,” I tell him, trying to be comforting but failing, for I don’t want to sit around while a bunch of people talk in Japanese and Christian, our prematurely greying team principal in his early forties, pretends to not be annoyed while he answers questions in his dry English accent. “Gotta suck it up, though. They did deliver some pretty good engines the last couple of years. I was hoping to get in a quick workout today before leaving, though. It’s like a three hour drive to Tokyo.”

“Taking time away from your fangirling, is it?” Max grins when I squirm, reaching over and snatching my coffee back.

“I don’t fangirl,” I reply shortly. “Not in public anyway.”

“What about -”

“And that one night in Ibiza.” I don’t bother explaining to him that I was drunk and that the entire club was jamming to Daechwita. Max just wouldn’t understand.

He does give me a look, though. “You’re telling me you won’t fangirl while you’re at their concert? How would that even happen?”

“So we’re officially using fangirl as a verb, then? Believe me, no one’s going to be noticing what I’m doing at the concert,” I inform him confidently. “There’s probably a one percent overlap between BTS fans and F1 fans anyway - I’m pretty sure I’ll be anonymous.”

“Oh, sure, we’ll see.”

Over the year or so that I’ve known Max, I’ve gotten used to his need to add a sarcastic comment everywhere, irrespective of the context, which is why it takes me almost a minute to process what he’s just said.

“Wait.” I slow down slightly before frowning up at him. “What did you just say?”

Max raises his eyebrows under his Red Bull cap, ignoring a photographer who darts in front of us to take a picture (Red Bull teammates enter the paddock together!). “I said we’ll see.”

“Yeah, but… you’re being facetious, right?”

“Not a hundred percent sure what that word means but I’m going with no.” When I stare at him, eyes widening, he frowns in confusion. “I meant, we’ll see because we’ll be there,” he explains kindly.

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter, slapping his shoulder. “What does that mean? How are you - how did you even get tickets?”

“Lily got them for us.”

Lily, meaning Lily He, Chinese-American golfer dating Alex Albon, another fellow driver. Also the person who got me my ticket. “Um -” I clear my throat, trying to make sense of this. “Lily said she was getting tickets for us.”

“Yeah. That’s what she did,” he says calmly, reaching for my coffee again.

“No, as in, her and me, us,” I say tightly, feeling my heart race. Max Verstappen cannot see me at a BTS concert. “And Lexie, of course. 

“Didn’t Lexie get food poisoning or something?”

I sigh. My trainer and probably the closest friend I have these days threw up on the flight from London to Tokyo and given the tight circle that is the F1 community, the news probably travelled to everyone before we even landed. It’s a blow, but there’s not much I can do about it.

“Yeah, she did,” I confirm, trying to hide my disappointment at losing my trainer for a day. “I told her not to eat ramen at Kuala Lumpur airport. Anyway,” I add hurriedly, getting back on track, “I thought Lily would just give that ticket to Alex and that’s it.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind if Alex goes with you?”

“No. He’s nice. And he can't make fun of me without making fun of Lily, too,” I point out, shrugging.

“Well, Lily’s us definitely included more people than you and Lexie. She got tickets for George and Lando, too, but George isn’t landing until the evening so -” He shrugs exaggeratedly, clearly oblivious to my growing horror.

George, Alex’s oldest friend and driver for Mercedes wouldn’t have been half bad. He teases and banters but is overall a decent guy. Lando, of course, a twenty year old twerp in McLaren who’s sure to have at least ten memes of me floating around by tomorrow morning, might be an even worse addition than Max.

“This is a nightmare,” I state as we reach the Red Bull garage. “Just be warned, Verstappen. I still have that video of you at that Martin Garrix concert.”

“Point taken. And don’t worry - we just want to get out of this town and see Tokyo before the race weekend officially starts,” he adds, sounding almost sincere as we pass another giant poster of him and I. “If your fangirling is the most fascinating thing we see there - not our fault.” We automatically separate to enter our own garages, right after I knock his baseball cap off his head and he playfully shoves me. “We’ll head out at four, yeah?” he calls, turning around and walking backwards, hands in his pockets.

It’s far from ideal; while everyone I’m having to go with tonight is ultimately a friend, they’re also a competitor, which means there’s still a certain distance I need to keep with each of them. Going to a concert together isn’t a bad thing at all, but watching me tearfully scream in extremely basic Korean at performers my own age is not something I want them to see. Ever.

I suppose I don’t have a choice. I’ve never been lucky enough to snag tickets to a BTS concert, mostly because I’ve never been in the same location. This time, though, their calendar and the F1 calendar have somehow overlapped - and even that’s only due to a stroke of luck that they decided to add a few more Asian concerts before their tour officially comes to a close. 

I had no idea, of course; ever since I moved from F2 into F1, I’ve only barely managed to keep up with their music, let alone anything else - I couldn’t even tell you what colour hair they’re currently sporting. Today is the last concert, though - the absolute last one - so when Lily called me as she sat in front of her laptop, waiting to pounce the moment tickets went live, I said yes without a second thought.

After an hour at the gym and a quick shower, I reach the paddock the same time that Max does. Near the Red Bull enclosure is a huge standee with both our faces on it, similar to the one I was staring at in the parking lot, Max looking smug and so Dutch while I tilt my chin down and look up with only a hint of a smile. It was a suggestion from my publicist: “You’re a girl - the only girl - and people will underestimate you. Try not to smile too much. Stay somewhere in between the Gasly and Raikonnen territory - far away from the Ricciardo area.” Under our picture is a stream of sponsor logos, starting with Honda. I frown as we walk past it, still unable to put my finger on what’s wrong with it.

Once we’re inside, I’m descended upon by hair and make-up, who touch up my cheeks and hair until PR officially starts. Half an hour in, I’m taking a break outside my garage, drinking a bottle of water and talking to Tom Clarkson, a journalist, who’s passing by on his way to the McLaren enclosure when I see a handful of photographers approaching, backs to us, busy taking pictures of someone. My first thought for some reason is Yuki Tsunoda, the only Japanese driver, but he’s no longer on the grid… I frown, but all it takes is a moment where the photographers back away and I recognise the guest immediately.

Or guests, I should say. I can hardly believe my eyes. I almost hope I’m having a moment of unconscious bias and mixing my Asian men but I know that’s an empty hope. There’s only four of them, but they’re unmistakable: the tallest, the visual, the pretty one and the one with the cheekbones. I haven’t had favourites in this band in years, but I would recognise their faces anywhere. It’s only when Namjoon points at Max’s banner on top of his garage that I realise I’m shamelessly staring.

Calm the fuck down, Dilara. I avert my eyes instantly, wishing Tom had stayed so that it would force me to rein in the fangirl inside me, but before I can, one of the Honda PR guys meets them and says something in Japanese - presumably - and points at Max’s garage. There’s a moment of foreboding when I remember that Max is still in PR and therefore the only driver left is -

“Dilara Komyshan!” The Honda guy points at me and I make out my name in the flurry of Japanese as all four members turn to look at the same time. An entire year of media training means I automatically smile and give them a small wave as they approach. Namjoon is, as expected, the first to speak.

“Dilara, great to meet you,” he says, smiling and offering his hand. The others next to him wave and mutter their greetings. My first thought is that they’re taller than I expected - or maybe that’s because everyone looks tall when you’re five foot one. They’re also… bigger than I expected. They’re lean, but camera angles must be a thing because I suddenly feel like they’re towering over me.

They must have really taken me off guard, for without thinking, I go, “Aren’t there more of you?” I realise what I’ve said only after I’ve said it. There’s a moment of silence before all of them snort. Even though I’m embarrassed, I’m also glad; there’s usually no better way to start off a conversation than a joke. “Just four of you performing tonight?”

They’re just about coming around. “They were too lazy,” says Jimin, his smile even prettier in person. “Are you coming to the concert?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“First time ever,” I confess, crossing my fingers before cringing and lowering my hand. “But at least I know my favourite members now,” I add, gesturing to them and Jimin winks. 

I know what I’m doing - and I have a feeling they do too. It’s not a big deal, but it does happen remarkably often. Every time a male celebrity comes to the paddock, they inevitably pass by Red Bull to meet the first and only girl on the grid. It’s never to hit on me or anything, but as per my publicist during media training: “There’s probably something about the sudden dip in testosterone in the interaction that if you flirt, they will reciprocate”. It was subtle, but I knew what she was telling me to do.

“Well, I’m everyone’s favourite.” Jin deadpans and Jimin snorts again, but my eyes automatically go towards the only member that hasn’t spoken yet. Taehyung, in a loose brown button-down and black trousers, stands silently behind the other three, his smooth face betraying only the tiniest of smirks. He’d laughed at my joke - I think, for he’d lowered his head, too, but his long hair had obscured his face entirely. Now, his dark eyes snap from Jin to me in an instant and I hold his gaze for a moment before I look back at Namjoon, who’s now talking about why they’re in the paddock. I try to pay attention, for I really do want to know why, but I’m still hyper aware of Taehyung looking at me. 

Just media training. I force myself to think of them as any other celebrity; the last and only time I’d been this starstruck was when Daniel Craig had come to Silverstone in England and the humiliation of that day is not something I wish to repeat ever again, especially not with BTS.

Thankfully, another member of the Honda team appears next to me and greets them, and without thinking, I look back at Taehyung. This time, he holds my gaze for a couple of moments before turning his attention to the Honda guy. I don’t even try to follow the conversation; I just stand there politely, silently daring Taehyung to look at me again. When I chance it, his face is still smooth and impassive, with that same slight smirk as he listens to the conversation in front of him, almost as though he knows I’m looking at him. At that point, the Honda guy asks a question and Taehyung replies in Japanese, voice surprisingly deep and deadpan as ever, and the other three burst out laughing at whatever he’s said. He simply grins, clearly aware of how funny he is, and flicks his long hair out of his eyes.

At that moment, an arm goes around my shoulder and someone else joins me. “Dude, I think I figured out what’s wrong with the -” Max breaks off abruptly when he looks up, noticing only then apparently that I’m not alone. “Oh, hi, I’m Max,” he says, leaning forward to shake each of their hands. 

As they greet each other, I struggle not to roll my eyes because despite Max’s sub-standard acting, none of this is a coincidence. One day, last year, when Tom Holland had come to the Portuguese Grand Prix and stopped by our garage to talk to me, Max had slithered next to me exactly like this and whisked me away, introducing me to the move. When I’d been most unimpressed, he’d informed me that there was no better way to gauge the interest of a man I’d just met than to see his reaction when another man entered the picture. 

It seemed vaguely prehistoric and sexist, not least because he’d just assumed that I cared at all about a man’s interest on a race weekend, but its results had proven undeniably effective. Tom Holland had slid into my DMs that very night, Harry Styles had retweeted a picture of me and him the day after I’d met him at the French GP with a questionable caption, and Michael B Jordan - Michael B Jordan - had sent flowers straight to my London apartment. Nothing had ever happened with any of them, of course, but their gestures had been enough for me to gain a little extra, if begrudging, respect for Max.

I look up to see if Max’s move today has generated any desired results, only to see Taehyung looking at me again, face completely unreadable. His gaze flickers momentarily to Max before meeting mine again, before he flicks his hair out of his eyes and looks away towards Jimin, jawline sharp. Jackpot.

Meanwhile, Max tugs slightly. “Natalie’s waiting for us,” he tells me, pointing to the blonde journalist next to the garage, and the boys seemingly get the hint. They start saying their goodbyes and I wave back, when Namjoon says, “Hope you have a good time tonight.”

I start to smile and nod, when next to me, Max beats me to it. “Oh, we will,” he says casually, making me want to hit him. But I rein it in to the best of my abilities and simply smile, just needing this awkwardness to be over.

“See you tonight,” says Taehyung, face smooth and impassive.

I stare, for his tone makes it seem like it could be directed at both me and Max, but his eyes are still on me. The other members don’t seem to notice anything strange but I suddenly feel unbelievably grateful for Max Verstappen.

“Yeah. I can’t wait,” I add, waving and taking a step back and Max’s arm drops from around my shoulders. “Good luck.” As we walk away, Max leans down slightly.

“Think it worked?” he mutters.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say automatically. “But… what are they doing here?”

“It’s a Honda and Samsung event this weekend,” he answers, clearly pleased that he knows something I don’t. “That’s what’s wrong with the poster. There’s a Samsung logo in there. Your boyfriends got paddock passes.”

Elbowing him in the side and ignoring his grunt, I glance back one more time, making sure to flip my hair a little and see the band walking away as well - with Taehyung glancing back at me, face unreadable, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur of random PR until we hurry back to the hotel to get ready for the concert. Tokyo is a good three hour drive away but with four F1 drivers in the car, we easily make it in under two and a half. Since Lando and Alex seemingly have no intention of drinking at all tonight, Max, Lily and I relax a bit and decide to have a good time, pre-gaming with a round of shots at a sushi bar close to the venue.

We have good seats; since we’re all VIP (“Lily, I could kiss you.”) and have a balcony to ourselves, we’re allowed to be liberal with seat numbers and, more importantly, are allowed alcohol. Lando, true to form, procures beer from somewhere, placing two six packs under one of the seats and passing cans of some Japanese brand around. About fifteen minutes before the band is announced, by which time fans are already screaming in the thousands and we are buzzed as hell, a bouncer-type comes up to us.

“Komyshan?” All four of my companions point to me as I raise my hand curiously. He hands me a white envelope, shrugging when I ask him what it is before walking away.

As he leaves, I tear it open to find a card in my hand, approximately the size of my phone. There’s a picture of BTS on one side, with the logo and details of today’s concert. On the back is a QR code, followed by the unmistakable words that tell me what it is, despite my disbelief: a backstage pass. For a moment, I’m speechless while Lily groans softly in longing and Alex and Lando frown. “How’d you get that?” Alex asks, looking over my shoulder with ease, six foot frame coming in handy.

I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how they knew for sure that I’d arrived, when I had, and how the bouncer had found me. Fortunately, Max comes to my rescue once more. “She met the band today,” he says nonchalantly. Alex and Lily shrug it away, the latter still eyeing the pass in disappointment, but Lando, who is no stranger to my occasional brushes with male celebrities, raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“Shut up,” I mutter, even as I continue to wonder how and why they’ve singled me out with a pass. As far as I remember, backstage passes aren’t even a thing BTS does very often. In fact, I’m not even wholly sure that it’s from the band. The smallest, most optimistic part of me that’s replayed my brief interaction with Kim Taehyung over and over in my head, feels convinced that it’s he who’s sent it - or at least it’s he that the rest of the band has agreed to send it for. 

But when the band finally comes out and the crowd screams deafeningly, my heart sinks a bit, for there’s no way in hell that I’m the only one that has a backstage pass. Immediately, I feel like slapping myself for reading this deeply into an interaction that had lasted less than three seconds - in fact, if I have to guess, Taehyung doesn’t remember it at all and the only reason they’ve sent it is to be polite, since we met in what can be considered backstage at my place of work.

It’s an incredible experience, though. All seven members have a stage presence of their own, different people stealing the show depending on the song. My eyes keep going only to one member, though. When Taehyung sings, smiles, or does literally anything else, I’m left with nothing to do but admire how exhilarated he seems when he looks at the crowd, how his long and sweaty hair falls into his eyes, how his trademark smirk widens to become the smile that I’m sure will one day kill me. 

They do plenty of crowd work in Japanese - in which, it seems, most of the band is fluent - and the crowd screams and laughs. None of the five of us understand anything except for the bits they say in English, of course, but Max is hopped up on enough liquor to jam to the music while Lando keeps busy streaming what feels like the entire concert, and Lily and I sing along to nearly every song.

At first, the distance to the stage had seemed much smaller. I’d half-expected at least one of the members (Taehyung, Taehyung) to spot me but when they’d come on, it was clear that they were performing to the crowd and not sections of it. The realisation had been mildly disappointing but it also meant that I could enjoy the concert without feeling too conscious, even as I forced myself to remember the people I was here with.

It’s objectively a wonderful concert. At the end of it, Lily and I are still buzzing as we head out with the guys. Just as we reach the door, I stop.

Max turns. “What?”

I don’t answer. The backstage pass feels like it’s burning a hole through my sling bag. I want to go, but this would be the first time in my whole life that I’ve ever entered a party alone. Max seems to know where my thoughts are. “You want to go?”

“I -” 

“Of course she does!” Lily exclaims. When I say nothing, she turns to me incredulously. “You - you do, right? You actually have a backstage pass, Dilara,” she explains to me slowly, as though I’m a toddler. “This chance will literally never come again.”

“But…” I’m suddenly stumped. “What - what do I do backstage? What do people do at parties? Do I - do I mingle?”

Alex and Lando, my fellow introverts, seem to seriously ponder this question. Max just squints at me thoughtfully while Lily half-glares at me. “Yes,” she deadpans.

She’s right, of course. I take out the pass and stare at it, hoping the answer will jump out at me. Finally, I look up. “If I’m not back in fifteen, you guys go on without me.”

Lando's eyebrows rise high up his forehead as Lily beams, but Max is much less subtle. He snickers and nods, telling me in a low voice to go and get lucky. Ignoring him, I take a deep breath and head backstage.

It turns out that "backstage" isn't actually backstage at all; a docent informs me that the backstage party is taking place at the hotel across the street where the band is staying tonight before leaving for their next destination in the morning. When I reach, the party is in full swing. I was right: there are at least a hundred people here, most of them girls, almost all of them with drinks as a Dua Lipa song plays on the speakers.

It's not as dark as I'd expected it to be. In fact, it’s less like the rock and roll afterparties I’d imagined and more of a lounge night, with a nice vibe and what looks like an open bar. The lights are dimmed and the music is blaring, but I spot the band almost the moment I enter. I spot Namjoon with a drink, standing with Jin and Suga as they laugh at something. Next to them is Hoseok, enthusiastically talking to a couple of girls, both of them hanging onto his every word. On the other side, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook bop to the music together, looking effortlessly graceful as they do so.

Now that I've spotted the maknae line, I have no idea what to do. It's far too awkward to walk further into the party while not knowing a soul. Even when I scan the rest of the crowd, I can’t really tell who they are. They definitely aren’t fans; everyone is dressed in designer-wear which makes me wonder if this, too, is a PR-related afterparty. It would certainly explain my presence here. Just as I start to wonder if this is all a terrible idea, from all the way across the room, Taehyung's eyes meet mine.

Before anything else can happen, though, we're blocked by a bunch of people entering the makeshift dance floor. Suddenly feeling uncomfortably alone, I go to the bar and order a beer - anything to not feel this awkward. The feeling doesn't last, though, and when another ten minutes pass and I don't see Taehyung anywhere, I get ready to admit defeat.

I turn around to leave, placing my beer on the bar and calling Max, when I finally see him again. I don't know if he knows that I was just about to leave, but this time he sees me and starts walking straight towards me, squeezing through the crowd of dancing people.

I stay rooted to the spot, my phone at my ear but the ringing sounds more distant by the second. When he reaches me, he places a hand behind me on the bar and leans in to speak into my ear. His long hair brushes my cheek and I catch a whiff of cologne.

"Do you want to go somewhere quiet?" Taehyung asks, sounding like deep velvet.

Finally.

I hesitate for a second and then nod, trying not to seem too eager, and motion for him to lead the way. My phone call is forgotten as I follow him through a side door, a couple of dark corridors and two flights of stairs to what looks like a balcony. I step out onto it, registering the long patch of fake grass and soft and sparkly lighting, to see us overlooking the pool of the hotel. Okay, this is it. 

I can feel Taehyung behind me, albeit a few feet away. I turn around to see him with his hands in his pockets, long hair falling into his eyes, surveying his surroundings with a mildly satisfied expression - I can’t tell for sure, because his face is just so goddamn unreadable. His eyes land on me, though, and - I know it sounds ridiculous - but the night suddenly feels warmer.

“I feel like Rapunzel,” I begin, peering over my shoulder at the ground again, not knowing how else to mention my deathly fear of heights. When Taehyung simply tilts his head curiously, I continue. “Rapunzel. She had really long hair, locked up in -”

“No, I know Rapunzel,” he interrupts, looking slightly amused. “Should I rescue you, princess?” he asks seriously, raising his hand to his side in a fist as though holding an invisible sword.

I almost laugh. The Paddock’s Princess was what the media had titled my first feature article when I started in Formula One, a slightly sexist nod to the first girl in the sport. Some fans who couldn’t stand the sight of me on the grid used it with vigour on social media until my fellow drivers started deliberately using it, too, succeeding in eventually turning it into a somewhat casual nickname rather than an insult.

I highly doubt Taehyung knows this. In fact, hearing the name come out of his mouth makes me feel something else entirely. It’s incredible that he’s already eliciting such ridiculous thoughts in my mind; the only saving grace is that I’ve resisted displaying it so far - and it’s only because he seems to know the effect he has on me. “Oh, please, my prince,” I answer dryly, putting a hand to my chest. “Help me?”

Taehyung smirks, like he’s enjoying an inside joke. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, voice calm and deep. The Korean lilt in his voice is more pronounced than some of the other members’, based on the few things they’d said on stage and certainly more than Namjoon’s. It makes my toes curl inside my shoes.

“Of course,” I say honestly, leaning back against the railing. “My friends enjoyed it, too.” I say it without thinking but if Taehyung thinks of Max, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh, I know. I saw you dancing.” 

I raise my eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “You - you did? There were some ten thousand people there.”

“You were in the VIP box. It wasn’t hard.” His smirk is more pronounced now as my face starts to heat up. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Thank you. You’re a good singer.”

That makes him laugh. His smile hits me like a ton of bricks and I know that I absolutely have to see it again, that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen. “Show me what you know,” he suggests.

I laugh nervously. “No… no way. My dancing is for my trainer and my studio only.”

“Isn’t there a video of it?”

I stare, having forgotten this rather important detail. “There is, but that was filmed against my will.” I shake my head. “I don’t - I don’t dance in public.” Definitely not in front of an idol who does it professionally.

“You were fine dancing in public during the show,” he points out. If my mortification shows on my face, he doesn’t comment on it. “If you dance, I’ll sing,” he suggests.

It hardly seems fair, so I cross my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow. In response, he simply sits on the floor on the fake grass, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him, looking up at me expectantly.

“You really want to see me dance to one of your songs?”

He shrugs. “I performed for you,” he points out.

I scoff. “You didn’t perform for me, you performed for the thousands of fans in the audience.” I cringe inwardly the moment I’ve said it, half-expecting a corny line like But I was only looking at one, but all Taehyung does is slowly smirk a bit more, as though daring me to guess what he’s thinking.

"Oh, come on, don't be afraid to get it wrong," he says smoothly. "I'll help you." He says it very casually but I have a feeling he knows what he's doing, because despite how nervous I am, the one thing I can’t let go of as a professional athlete is a challenge.

“I’m not afraid.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because based on his smirk, he knows he’s hit a nerve. “Dance for me, princess,” he says softly, only halfway back in character.

I would normally die rather than say this, for it’s the most filmy line imaginable. But then again, nothing about this night feels real, so I say it before I can stop myself.

“Make me,” I say, meaning it.

Taehyung stares. Then he shrugs and stands up, dusting off his hands as he comes up to stand behind me. My smirk fades when I realise he’s taking me at my word.

“Like this,” he says, turning me slightly so that we step together. He’s just about a head taller than me; the top of my head reaches his jaw and his chest brushes my back. I do my best not to sink into him and try instead to focus on what he’s doing. “And up, step, step, turn…” Taehyung’s hands fall from my shoulders to brush my arms and down to my hands, so casually that I barely notice until the last step when I turn around and he doesn’t. Instead, our arms crossed and fingers still intertwined, he lowers his head and kisses me mid-turn.

Or I kiss him. I’m not sure. But we kiss, and all I can think is Fucking finally and Holy shit, this is what people mean when they say fireworks. One of his hands drops mine and comes up to my face, brushing my hair. It’s a really, really nice kiss, all lips and butterflies and hormones. I start raising my hand, wanting so badly to run it through his hair when his phone rings.

Taehyung pulls away, face scrunched up in annoyance and embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, dropping my hand and reaching for his phone. “I need to -”

“Go ahead,” I tell him, taking a small step back, feeling somewhat glad that I get a few seconds to process what’s just happened. He nods and touches my arm before stepping away and answering the call. All I can make out is Jungkook’s name amidst all the Korean. If I have to guess, his bandmates are trying to locate him. I remember then that I’d called Max a while back; I whip out my phone and find a message from him.

Did you call me? We’re at a club one block over and I can’t hear a thing. A few minutes after this message, he’d sent another. Oi, Komyshan. You alright? 

I frown, trying to suppress my smile at how perfectly alright I am. I turn around to see Taehyung still on the phone, body tilted towards me but looking away as he speaks to Jungkook. Suddenly, even though he tries to cover it up, I hear my name. It’s the first time he’s said it - Dilara - and with his deep, raspy voice and Korean lilt, it sounds like a song. I make up my mind in an instant and reply to Max. I’m good.

Taehyung’s call ends and he puts his phone back in his pocket before walking up to me slowly. “So… where were we?”

I grin. “You were teaching me how to dance.” Just as he nears me, I take a step back. “Uh-uh. You aren’t going to rescue me from this big, scary tower first?” I ask dramatically, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

He stops in his tracks. For a moment, I’m afraid he thinks I’m a complete lunatic. I know half my friends definitely think that, every time they ask me the time or to pass them a bottle of water, and I respond with a line out of a movie. But before I can step back and hastily apologise, he grabs my wrists in his hands and tugs.

“It’s more fun if I’m the one holding you up here,” he suggests, tilting his head again like he’s asking my permission to change the story. When I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile, he tightens his grip and narrows his eyes. “You can’t escape me, princess.”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay with that,” I murmur, throwing caution to the wind and reaching up to kiss him again. He responds immediately, pulling me even closer as his arms go around my waist, his much taller figure engulfing me as I stumble backwards.

Keeping me close, Taehyung snickers against my lips. “You’re a very easy captive,” he teases, biting my bottom lip and kissing me immediately, swallowing my gasp of surprise.

“I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you,” I inform him, wrapping my arms around his neck and finally running a hand through his thick hair, returning his kiss. “I could totally get out of this if I wanted to.”

“M-hm?” Taehyung brings a hand up to my face to kiss me deeper and I feel all vestiges of self-control about to leave me. “It’s a good thing you don’t want to, no?” he mutters, backing me into the railing before pulling away. “Still want to be rescued?” he asks cockily, tilting his head towards the drop.

Barely suppressing a smile and feeling my cheeks flushed, I playfully push him in the chest, making him stumble. “I can escape you all by myself,” I remind him, ducking out from under his arm and walking away, my heart skipping a beat when I hear him laugh behind me.

Before long, we end up lying down on the grass next to each other, making out, playing around and just talking for what feels like hours. His grasp on the English language is better than he gives himself credit for; it’s good enough to carry on a conversation, like we’re doing, although he does stop every now and then to recall a word or to ask me for one. I remember how he didn’t speak much at the paddock; does it mean he trusts me a bit more now? It’s strange but I know I do, enough for someone I’ve known for less than half a day, enough that talking to him feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

“You can call me Tae, by the way,” he says after a while, lying down on his back with his shirt unbuttoned and looking up at me. His long hair looks jet black against the bright green grass and, finally giving into my urge, I reach over and brush his bangs out of his eyes from where I’m lying down on my stomach next to him, propped up on my elbows. “Although I like how you say Taehyung, too.”

I bite my lip. “Really? I think I’m getting the accent wrong.”

“Not really. Where’s your accent from? It sounds English, but…” He tilts his head again, squinting slightly.

“Yeah, it’s English, mostly,” I reply, a bit evasively. “I moved to London when I was a kid so my old accent is probably in there somewhere. I think I’ll just call you Tae, though,” I add quickly, hoping to move on. “And you can call me…” I trail off here, because I don’t actually have a shortened version of my name that anyone calls me. “Just Dilara, I guess.”

Taehyung chuckles. “It’s a nice name,” he remarks, playing with the ends of my hair where it’s falling down my shoulder. “Sounds really nice. Dilara.”

I lower my head slightly, feeling my face get hot, suddenly glad I don’t blush. “Thank you. It’s Persian. My mother named me.”

“Is she Persian?”

“Not exactly.” He continues looking at me expectantly, so I give him one more detail. “She’s Asian.” I don’t go any further and I can tell he’s picked up on my deliberate silence. 

“You’re Asian?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” His face is unreadable once again, but I can hear the curiosity behind that one word. I picture him trying to place me, taking into account my name, the beige complexion, my facial features and eliminating East Asian countries immediately. I feel my stomach squirm unpleasantly the longer he watches me and I drop my gaze. His slender fingers have paused, a lock of my hair looped around one of them. “And Komyshan?” he asks after a moment, a bit softer.

I bite my lip. “It’s Ukrainian. My stepfather is Ukrainian and… I took his name when I turned fifteen.” This is as far as I can go, at least with a virtual stranger, no matter how infatuated I am with him. I wonder if he’ll Google me after this; Wikipedia might be able to shed a bit more light but the most intimate details have thankfully remained wholly private. I raise my eyes to look at him again, making my stance clear.

His expression, still mostly unreadable, can only be described as thoughtful. He’s truly beautiful, I acknowledge, momentarily diverted. After a moment, his fingers resume their absent playing with my hair. “Dilara is prettier,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, as though coming to a conclusion.

Once again, the sound of my name from his lips is enough to get my heart to skip a beat. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” he chuckles, sitting up and gently pushing me back down, his long hair tickling my face as he kisses me again. I kiss him back, sighing into his mouth as he pulls me gently by the waist and, if I’m not mistaken, silently apologising for prying.

I almost forget that it’s a Thursday night before race weekend; being with Taehyung on this balcony with absolutely no one else feels like something you’d see in a movie. We talk well into the night about anything and everything - his tour, my first year in F1, places we’ve visited, funny things that have happened to us. He’s easily one of the most charming and charismatic men I’ve ever met in my life and I can feel myself falling fast and hard for someone who, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger just earlier today. 

“So tomorrow is when the race weekend actually starts?”

I nod, mouth full, as I pass him the protein bar. We’re sitting facing each other, cross-legged, sharing a protein bar I found in my bag, the only source of food we have up here. There’s a paper napkin between us on which I’ve drawn a rough sketch of the Suzuka circuit from memory, pointing out the difficult corners everyone’s worried about. Tae watched me as I drew and explained, brushing his hair out of his eyes as his face scrunched up in concentration.

“Tomorrow we get two hours of free practice,” I tell him, already looking forward to it. “We get to just take out our cars and get used to the track. Then we have one more hour of free practice on Saturday morning, followed by Qualifying in the afternoon and then the race on Sunday.”

Tae frowns as he chews. His shirt is buttoned up halfway now and all the sexiness he’d put on a little while back has disappeared. “How do you decide who starts first? In the race?”

“Well, that’s what Qualifying’s for. All twenty cars do the fastest lap they can and the slowest five get eliminated. Then the remaining fifteen do their laps again, and the slowest five get eliminated again. Finally the top ten do their laps one last time and based on everyone’s speed in their fastest lap, we decide who gets to start where.”

“Wow.” Taehyung nods. “Sounds stressful.”

It is, but I don’t say it out loud. It’s an unspoken rule in Formula One - in most sports, I would presume: you never let your competitors see you stressed. Ever. In F1, given that there’s just twenty of us who are friends, teammates and competitors all at once, it becomes all the more difficult but even more important.

The jet lag is properly hitting me now and the concert could not have been easy for him. But it’s clear that neither of us wants to leave. He makes me laugh. So much. It’s insane how witty he is and with my momentary flashes of sarcasm and self-deprecation, we end up laughing so much it starts to hurt. But I don’t lose sight of reality. As time passes, I know that we’re getting just that much closer to probably never seeing each other again. 

We’re lying down next to each other on the fake grass while Taehyung absently plays with my fingers, humming something under his breath. It sounds extremely familiar but the drink and the exhaustion is making it impossible to identify and it’s starting to drive me crazy. I think about asking him but that would mean disturbing the moment and nothing right now is worth that.

“How will you get back to your hotel?” he asks after a while. 

“My friends are still here in Tokyo, so I’ll go back with them. Whenever they decide to leave,” I add after a moment. I can feel him stiffen next to me and I guess that he’s looking forward to that just about as much as I am. My chest suddenly feels heavy, like it’s closing up, and when I feel my eyes sting, I realise that I absolutely, so badly don’t want to leave. A small part of me notes how ridiculous this is, how extreme my reaction is at the thought of saying goodbye to what is barely even a one-night stand. 

Taehyung has asked me another question, but I haven’t heard it. He sits up on his elbows and turns to me and I can see him frown at the look on my face, whatever it is. “What’s - what’s wrong?”

“I -” What do I say? No matter how crazy I’m being, there is no way I can tell him what I’m thinking. I open my mouth and close it again. “It’s - it’s nothing.”

It doesn't work. In fact, his face doesn't move at all. "Dilara." There it is again. He says my name and it sounds like a goodbye song.

I try again. "I…" But it's impossible with him watching me so intently. I look away. "I… don't want to leave," I say slowly, hoping it sounds like I just don't want to leave the city, not that I don't want to leave him.

His face remains as unreadable as ever, but I think I see a flicker of relief in his eyes and the deep breath he takes. He's quiet for a moment where I wonder if I've freaked him out. 

"Then don't." He says it in the same matter-of-fact way. I force a chuckle but don’t disagree with him. I look slightly lower; he’s still wearing a bunch of jewellery from the concert. Most of it is pretty blingy, but one of them is a black string with what looks like a guitar pick for a pendant. I want to ask what it is but I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, he’ll hear my voice tremble and then I’ll have to kill myself. So I hook my finger around the string and tug slightly, and he bends his head and kisses me again. 

The next thing I know, I’m being woken up by a phone ringing - mine, this time. I frown and look around; it’s still night, I’m still on the balcony, and Taehyung is still with me. At some point, we’ve fallen asleep, me on my back with one leg bent at the knee with Tae beside me, one arm around my waist, one leg on me, and his head buried in my neck. He stirs as I sit up, looking adorably annoyed as he opens his eyes slowly.

I scramble for my phone to see a call from Max. My eyes dart up to the clock on my phone and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s only one a.m.; it’s not great, but it’s not a disaster either. Of course, it means it’s Friday, or -

“FP,” I whisper, realising that no matter how fast we drive to get back to the hotel, if Max and I aren’t in top form for practice, Christian is going to kill us, or worse, kick us off the team. I answer the call, bracing myself.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Hey, Max,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the sleep in my voice. “I’m, uh, across the street from the concert. Are you - are you guys leaving?” I turn to see Tae, now sitting up and watching me with sleepy eyes, messy hair and something else in his expression I can’t identify. I can’t help but smile and shake my head at him, when his phone rings as well. He looks at the screen and swears in Korean before picking up the call.

“Wait, who is that?” Max’s epic hearing comes into play. “Are you with -”

“Can you just tell me where to meet you?” I interrupt him, the thought suddenly occurring to me that he probably thought I was at a party this whole time. He gives me a location about two minutes away from where I am and hangs up, but not before telling me to hurry the fuck up.

Shit. Free practice. I’m not drunk anymore, but I’m definitely running on a lack of rest. I have no idea how tomorrow is going to play out but I know I need to leave now. I turn around to see Taehyung hanging up the phone as well.

“I have to go,” he says, already buttoning his shirt, before I can say anything. “I’m sorry, but my car is leaving and -”

“Yeah, I know. Me - me, too.” I don’t know what to do now. Neither does he apparently. We stand facing each other for a moment when I hear a ping. I know it’s a message from Max, that we need to leave, that we’re going to fuck everything up for our team tomorrow if we don’t. So before I lose my nerve, I reach up and press one last kiss to Tae’s mouth. 

His hand snaps up to my face and he kisses me back. It takes everything I have to pull away, turn around on the spot and sprint out of there. I take the steps two at a time and run through the halls, hoping that even the slightest dose of the real world will ensure that I don’t cry in front of the guys who will never let me hear the end of it. Mercifully, by the time I’m out of the building, I’m more stressed about finding their car than anything but fortunately, Lando pulls up right in front of me and Max throws open the back door. I jump inside and the moment the door closes, the car zooms forward.

“You alright?” Alex asks from the shotgun seat.

“Yeah, you were gone a while,” comments Lando, his tone betraying all sorts of theories as to why I was possibly gone a while.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I say, reaching for a bottle of water in between their seats and gulping down about half of it. “Just - just tired.” When they all snicker, I just roll my eyes. “Grow up. I was - it was nothing.” Yep, just Kim Taehyung and nothing else. Nothing at all.

“I’m sure “nothing” was sad to see you go,” he smirks into the rearview mirror, catching my eye and making it clear that at least one of his theories is probably confirmed.

“Well, for your information, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, you just get a hickey instead,” says Max, brushing my hair back from my neck. I slap his hand away just as Lily pops her head up from the back row. 

“Oh, leave her alone,” she pipes up, almost giving me a heart attack. “She lived the dream. Believe me, D, you are the luckiest girl in the world,” she slurs, patting my shoulder and promptly passing out.

Drunk as she might be, Lily’s words make me feel a bit better. I don’t believe I’m the luckiest, but the fact is, I did kind of live the dream tonight. Leaving Tae… it was harder than I expected, but if I have to, I’ll take what I can and just hope he doesn’t forget me.

I fall asleep in the car. Deeply, deeply asleep. I’m woken up by an equally exhausted Max and all of us clamber gracelessly out of the car and trudge towards the elevators. It opens to Daniel Ricciardo, Lando’s older teammate and resident jock of the paddock, with his trainer Michael inside, both looking sleepy as well.

“Guess we’re all fucked tomorrow, huh,” I comment, rubbing my eyes as we enter, not caring about my smudged mascara. It’s taking everything I have to stay awake - and Max to help me stand upright.

“I can’t believe the traffic,” grumbles Lando, fist bumping Daniel and going to stand next to him.

“Was it just me or were there like ten bellboys in the lobby just now?” Lily mumbles as the elevator starts moving, head on Alex’s shoulder. “Is the President arriving or something?”

“Nah, it’s some celebrity,” says Daniel as my floor arrives. “Some boy band type. That’s why we were down there. I asked for room service like an hour ago…” I tune him out as the elevator door opens and I stumble out, dreaming about my soft bed, when something clicks.

“Wait.” I turn around to see the doors closing. “Wait! What did you say?”

suzuka city

The next morning, I wake up with a mild headache and a desperate thirst. I reach blindly for my phone and realise I’ve woken up before my alarm, an unprecedented turn of events. It’s still nine a.m. though and despite the fact that FP isn’t until after lunch, I force myself out of bed and head straight for the shower, stripping off last night’s clothes on the way. The water is hot and soothing and I end up standing under the shower for a good five minutes, feeling it through my hair before I do anything else.

Last night, despite a revelation from Danny, the only thing I’d managed to do after I entered my room was kick off my shoes, take off my bag and set an alarm before I fell on my bed and passed out. I’d clearly underestimated how exhausted I was, for you’d think that I’d stay up overthinking the obvious, but not only had it seemed far too good to be true, it also made no difference, for Taehyung and I had already said our goodbyes and I’m not sure I can do that again.

But they’re brand ambassadors for Samsung, says a stupid, hopeful voice. Of course it’s them. What are the chances of two K-pop bands roaming around in Suzuka at the same time? But it matters not, for I have not one but two Free Practice sessions to focus on.

I rub a bit of product in my hair and let it air dry as I rummage around in my towel for clothes and make-up. Days without PR are not days where I’m required to wear any make-up but I do anyway, for very few things give me the kind of confidence that perfectly wing-tipped eyeliner does. I don’t have the patience or the will to blowdry my hair today, but I’m satisfied with the natural curls forming so far. 

FP’s not for a while but I want to do a track walk this time - Suzuka is not easy on newcomers. And it’s raining today. So I pack a backpack with an extra Red Bull t-shirt and put on normal clothes, along with a Red Bull hoodie on top and head out of my hotel room, switching on my phone to text Lexie that I’m on my way. Before I can, however, I see a bunch of texts: one from Christian, one from Danny, one from Lily, three from Max and a bunch of Instagram alerts. I open Instagram first to see the announcement: Free Practice Cancelled On Friday Due to Rains. Under that it mentions that there’s only to be one FP tomorrow, along with Qualifying - meaning today is completely free.

My first thought is sleep. I’m in front of the elevator when I open the other messages: Christian’s is purely informative, Danny’s asked if I want to explore the city with him and Mike and Charles, while Max has informed me that there’s a FIFA tournament taking place in the game room and if I’d like to join. I’m just about processing that I can’t test my car today, when the lift doors open and I look up to lock eyes with one Kim Taehyung.

He looks just as surprised as I am. A baseball cap perched backwards on his head, he looks up from his phone just when the doors open and his eyes widen, face breaking into a smile that he immediately struggles to suppress. I notice then that he’s not alone; Jimin, with resplendent vermillion hair, has also looked up and evidently recognised me, for he’s looking at Taehyung with raised eyebrows and a Cheshire cat grin. After a moment’s hesitation, I step in and stand next to Jimin, hyper aware of Tae on his other side.

There’s a moment of knowing silence before Jimin asks him something in Korean. Tae clears his throat and replies, and Jimin immediately turns to me with the prettiest smile in the world and says, “Dilara? I’m Jimin.”

I smile back automatically - I don’t know a single person in the world who couldn’t smile back at Park Jimin. “I - I know. We met yesterday.”

“No, I know.”

Okay. “I’m a big fan,” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“A big fan of BTS or a big fan of Taehyung?” Next to him, Tae elbows him in the ribs and says something exasperatedly in Korean while I try and fail to hide a smile as I look away, basically confirming whatever Jimin is hinting at.

The elevator continues to descend. “So,” begins Jimin again, “what are your plans for today? Driving?”

“Um, no,” I say slowly, “everything’s cancelled, because of the rain, so no driving for me.” I shrug at him and chance a look at Tae next to him, who’s standing with one hand gripping the railing behind him, clearly listening to every word.

“Oh, so you’re completely free today?” Jimin asks transparently, already looking back at Taehyung with a raised eyebrow. I nod in answer and, as they begin speaking in Korean, I feel something brush my fingers. I look down to see Tae stretching his arm behind Jimin and intertwining his fingers with mine. As the elevator doors open, Jimin steps forward but we stay put, unspoken but clear - and Jimin seems to know it, too.

“He’s ditching us for you today,” he tells me in English as he steps out of the elevator and turns back to us.

“I’m sorry," I tell him cheerfully, not sorry at all, as Taehyung inches closer to me, already hurrying Jimin out.

Jimin grins. "You two have fun," he says knowingly as the doors close. I turn to Tae just as he pulls me to him and, slipping an arm around my waist, lowers his head and kisses me.

I kiss him back immediately, one hand going to the back of his head to his long hair. The elevator moves but I have no idea where to, and I don't care. I can't believe Taehyung's actually here, that I'm actually with him again, let alone making out with him in an empty elevator.

Evidently, he feels the same. His kisses are hungrier than last night and he's holding me tighter, as though he's afraid I'll vanish. Despite that, it still has the same playful, sweet, young feel to it. I run a hand down his chest, accidentally nipping his lower lip when I register hard muscle. While he'd been wearing a loose button down last night, today he's in a more form-fitting white t-shirt and jeans and I finally realise why he looked so much bigger in person than on screen. It doesn’t help to be thinking about this while we’re making out, as I find out when I involuntarily sigh into his mouth and immediately feel his jeans move. Given a choice, I'd do him right now.

But I can't. Eventually, before we both have a PR disaster, I reach for the cap on his head and take it off, pulling away and placing it on my own head. Tae pulls away and smiles down at me, shaking his hair out. "Hi."

"Hey yourself."

"Are you really free today?"

"Mhm." I nod, reaching up and kissing him again, the adrenaline pumping at the thought of spending time with him again. "One hundred percent."

"Do you want to..." He frowns, apparently searching for the word. "... explore? Explore the city with me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Suzuka City? Um, sure… it's pretty public but we can -"

"Not exactly -" He starts to say when the doors open again and this time, Charles Leclerc steps inside. Taehyung and I immediately take a step back from each other but the damage is done.

If it's possible, Charles looks even more mortified than us. "Oh - oh, my God,” he stutters, his French accent sounding thicker than ever. “I am - I am so sorry. I didn't -"

"Charles, it’s - it’s okay," I assure him, foreseeing an I am stupid situation come to life. Both boys look so awkward that I decide to introduce them just to say something. "Tae, this is Charles. Charles, Tae."

Two sinewy forearms meet and shake hands, and they nod at each other briefly. "So, uh, I guess you won't be joining FIFA?" Charles asks, as Tae places his arm behind me on the railing.

"That would be a no." Thankfully, the elevator stops then and Charles steps out. Before he leaves though, I call his name. "Um… it goes without saying…?"

It takes him a moment to catch on but he nods. "Of course. I didn't see a thing." He nods at Taehyung and leaves. I try to believe him; I love Charles Leclerc, bless him, but I also know that he's one of the biggest gossips on the paddock. If anyone gets wind of what's been going on since last night…

I frown. It isn’t something I’ve given much thought to, if I’m being honest. I’d just assumed that both of us had to keep this quiet due to the public forums we were on. Before I can think any further about this, Tae nudges me to him. 

I’ll go anywhere with you. But before this corny spiel threatens to come out of my mouth, I nod. “Let’s do it.” I promise to meet him outside by the lobby in his rental car and get out on the ground floor so that he can get to the parking lot. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about where we go. Saying goodbye last night had been harder than expected and despite Danny’s big reveal last night, I hadn’t dared to dream that it was BTS that was staying here.

“So?” he asks again. “Do you want to go on a drive with me?”

I stop at the breakfast buffet to grab a couple of croissants before I exit the hotel and it’s only when I see Melissa Nathoo, an F1 reporter, that I realise I’m still in my Red Bull hoodie. She catches me with a cameraman following her, and shoves a recorder at me. “Dilara Komyshan is here this morning, the third driver we’ve spotted so far,” she says enthusiastically into the camera as she falls into step beside me. “Tell me, Dilara, what are your plans on a rare free day on a Formula 1 weekend?”

I rather like Melissa Nathoo overall and the media is not something to be played with, so I wave at the camera before I answer. “It is quite rare,” I agree, “but I don’t know. Not a lot of rain here yet, so I might check out the city?”

“I hear there’s a FIFA tournament going on upstairs in the hotel,” she says. “I know Max, Lando, Alex, George and Carlos are going to be there for sure. Think you’ll make an appearance?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “It sounds fun but I think I’m gonna have to ditch my boys today for - for something else.”

“Girls’ day it is, then,” she says, completely misunderstanding me but I make no effort to correct her. Behind her, I spot a black SUV with Kim Taehyung in the driver’s seat, baseball cap backwards on his head again, pulling into the driveway. He looks so hot, turning the wheel with one hand and surveying the area around him with his smooth, impassive face. He stops the car when he sees me, the slightest smile appearing and making my heart skip a beat.

I say goodbye to Melissa and, aware of the camera following me as I leave, hop into the shotgun seat quickly and slam the door shut. The car is on neutral and immediately moves forward, and we exit the premises.

“Isn’t the city way too public for you?” I ask as I hand him a croissant.

“Oh, thanks. And, yeah, it is. That’s why we’re not going into the city… exactly.” Tae says no more, just looks out the windshield with the same slight smirk on his face as he dares me to ask where.

I don’t take the bait, though. “How’s that croissant working out for you?” When he chuckles with a mouth full of bread, clearly struggling with managing both the wheel and his breakfast, I roll my eyes. “Want me to drive?”

“But you don't know where we’re going.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. I think.”

I give him a look. “Tae, hop out. I’m the professional driver,” I tell him. “Unlike you, I can drive and eat at the same time.”

He gives me a wounded look even as he stops the car. “But… then what do I do?”

“You give me directions,” I suggest. “Oh, and you’re a professional singer - why don’t you sing for me?”

Taehyung snorts and leans his head back against the seat. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s admittedly been eight hours since we’ve seen each other, but I know exactly what he means. My heart gives a jolt when he turns to me, long hair falling into his eyes. I reach over and brush it away before taking off my seatbelt and hopping out, gesturing for him to get out, too. He groans but gets off as well, brushing my waist as he goes around the car, when I see it. Someone, about twenty feet away, squinting at us.

Without further ado, I slide into the car but don’t start it. I’m sure his fanbase is as strong in Japan as anywhere in the world, so it’s no surprise that someone might recognise Taehyung, but now that I think about it, I’ve never seen any of the boys in the media with a girl before. Ever. I sneak a sideways glance at Tae as he straps on his seatbelt, once again with a mouthful of croissant, and wonder if this would bother him. But when he looks back at me and raises his eyebrows, I can’t think of anything to say.

“Um… I should take this off,” I mutter instead, shrugging off the Red Bull hoodie and tossing it into the backseat. “Too recognisable.”

“Yeah, okay. You can wear mine if you get cold,” he offers, gesturing to the backseat. “Now. Ready to go?”

We end up driving outside the city, from what I can tell. The buildings decrease, the crowds of people start thinning out, and the roads become wider. Tae has Google Maps open, but I haven’t the faintest where he’s directing me to. At first I’d thought we were just driving out somewhere, but it turns out he has a specific destination in mind. He refuses to tell me what it is, stating only that he and a few of his group members had been there last year and he thinks I’d like it. I pretend to be annoyed but it only makes him laugh and frankly, I’m more than okay with this arrangement. I love driving, the roads are nice, the weather is beautiful - and I’m with Taehyung on a rare, free day on an F1 weekend.

Despite whatever I’d said about being able to drive and eat together, Taehyung still ends up feeding me bites every couple of minutes, occasionally licking chocolate off his fingers absently. He does end up singing; he starts off by casually humming random melodies, followed by lyrics, some English and some Korean, and while I recognise some of them, I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s composing music on the fly. I want to ask, but his voice is the drug I didn’t know I needed and I can’t bring myself to interrupt him. Somewhere during the drive, his hand travels to my knee and rests there, big and warm as he occasionally taps along to whatever he’s singing.

“Tae, are you sure you’re reading the map correctly?” I ask about an hour in. So far he’d been confidently giving me directions, but now he’s peering into his phone, looking concerned.

“I think it’s this way…” he says, sounding rather unsure, looking ahead at a mostly blank expanse of the outskirts of the city. “This place does look familiar…”

I turn to him incredulously. “Every place looks like this place. There’s a town in England that looks like this,” I tell him. “Do you want to ask someone for directions?”

Taehyung looks at me and then looks outside, to see absolutely no one around. “Okay, look, it’s okay. Alright? I remember this place. There was a McDonald’s and then there was… you know, that - that tree.”

I can’t remember being this exasperated and endeared towards anyone in my entire life. “Tae?” I have to consciously resist the urge to add a baby after his name. “Just tell me where it is - or even what it is - and we can take the shortest possible -”

“Found it!” He turns to me, eyes wide and bright. “It’s here,” he says, zooming into the Maps on his phone. “It should be… there!” I look to see him pointing in the distance to a low house with a sloping roof and trees around it. “It’s right there! It should only take us…” He checks his phone and his face falls. “... another twenty-five minutes. Shit, I’m sorry, Dilara.”

But I shake my head. “I do this for a living, remember? I’ll get us there in ten. Seatbelt on.” I step on the gas and zoom. By the time we reach and I bring the car to a halt, Taehyung is plastered to the seat, breathing heavily with his face slightly green. When I hastily put on his hoodie, go over to the other side and open the door, he tumbles out, groaning and breathing heavily.

“Oh, my God.” I try not to laugh as I kneel down next to him where he’s curled up on the paved grass.

“Am I alive?” His voice is muffled. “Is the car still moving? Am I dead?”

“Shut up,” I murmur, brushing grass off his white t-shirt as he continues moaning on the ground. “Tae, you’re okay,” I tell him when he finally turns over on his back and opens his eyes slowly.

“I’m never getting into a car with you again,” he says seriously, which only makes me burst into laughter. He shakes his head and closes his eyes again, long black hair looking darker against the green grass. It suddenly reminds me of last night. I think it does the same for him, because he opens his eyes and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He tugs on the zipper of my - his - hoodie before finally sitting up and shaking out his hair. He throws on the baseball cap and claps his hands. “Ready?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you?” When he chuckles and nods, I stand up and offer him a hand. He takes it but doesn’t let go, not until we reach the gates and he knocks on it with the metallic clasp. A man appears and, after a brief interaction in what I’m pretty sure is Japanese, Tae ushers me inside and takes me behind the house towards what looks like a large grassy field.

“Where are we -” But he shakes his head and gestures for me to keep moving, with his hand hovering over my back across the expanse of the field. I can hear sounds; they’re soft and high-pitched, immediately reminding me of Angry Birds for some reason. When I look back, the man who’d let us enter hasn’t moved from in front of the house and is instead watching us go. 

I stop in my tracks before a small dip in the ground. The sounds are louder now and all the other silence is making me uneasy. “Tae…” He bumps into me and I feel myself backing into his chest even more. “Where - where are we?”

“Almost there.” His hands close around my shoulders. When I don’t move, he squeezes them and nudges my head with his jaw. “Dilara, come on, I promise you’ll like it.” It’s only the sound of my name in his deep voice that makes me move forward. Come on, I think, you drive tiny cars at ridiculous speeds. You can take whatever’s down there.

I keep repeating it to myself as we continue walking, Taehyung’s hands on my shoulders the entire time. Finally, when the field opens up and I open my eyes - I had no idea they were even shut - to see a field of -

“Puppies!” Taehyung hops out from behind me and throws his arms out, looking thrilled, evidently gesturing to the large backyard full of puppies of all breeds. The moment Tae backs out into the field, they yelp and yip and swarm towards him, eventually tripping him, where he laughs and stays fallen as three different puppies start crawling on top of him.

My heart is still returning to its normal speed after the anxiety of finding out what it’s in the mysterious backyard, but now it’s beginning to expand, feeling so full and so happy because I know - I just know - that if there is one more sure-shot thing that confirms that I’m falling in love with Kim Taehyung, a field full of puppies is it. 

The feeling doesn’t go away the entire afternoon; in fact, if anything, it only intensifies. The serotonin that the puppies provide is incomparable. There have to be at least twenty of them, some bigger than others, all of them thrilled with the entry of two humans they’ve never met before. The owner of the dog farm only appears once after that, briefly, to check if we need anything but apart from that, Tae and I are alone. It doesn’t even matter; I know I could spend hours here, running around with a bunch of puppies and Taehyung, the only person it seems who can actually draw my attention away from them.

I catch him looking at me sometimes; while it’s mostly with laughter and happiness, once in a while, he gets this strange expression on his face, like he’s just noticed that something’s wrong. Every time he sees that I’ve noticed it, however, he shakes his head and smiles, almost like he’s telling me not to worry about it. I try not to - and succeed, for the most part. Most of the time, we’re laughing and cuddling puppies and taking pictures and videos of each other, silently desperate to commemorate today as much as we can.

Hours later, we’ve calmed down, as have the puppies. I’m lying down on the grass, two cocker spaniels curled around each other next to me and leaning their little heads against my waist. I turn my head to the side to see Tae lying back on the grass as well, a labrador falling asleep on his chest, while he strokes its head and hums a song absently. I recognise it instantly; it makes me catch my breath because he’s honestly the last person I would’ve expected to be singing a Francoise Hardy song - but for some reason, right now, it also feels like it makes complete sense.

I’m about to ask when he turns slightly to see me watching him and gives me a small smile, stretching out his arm towards me. I touch his fingers and run my thumb over a ring on his index finger. “Did we really meet at the paddock for the first time only twenty-four hours ago?” I ask softly.

Taehyung chuckles. “Seems crazy, right? I noticed you immediately, though.”

I frown playfully. “Of course you noticed me. You were talking to me - or at least the other guys were. You wanted to look all mysterious and sexy so you didn’t say anything.”

“Aw, come on,” he says, grinning and sitting up on his elbows as the labrador crawls off, “I liked you. You know I did.”

I roll my eyes before looking back up at the sky and closing them. “Define like.”

“Well…” I hear a shuffle and suddenly the sun behind my eyelids disappears and I open my eyes to see Taehyung on top of me, long hair falling on his forehead and into my eyes. “I wanted to do this -” He lowers his head and kisses my cheek “- and this -” He kisses my neck “- and this -” He kisses my lips “- and a whole lot more,” he finishes with a smirk. 

Feeling my face heat up, I wordlessly grab the front of his t-shirt, pull him down and kiss him. One hand goes straight for his hair and the other stays where it is at his chest as I kiss him deeply, never ever wanting this moment to end. Tae lowers himself onto me and kisses me back with the same hunger he’d displayed this morning in the elevator; his hand goes down my waist and up my thigh as I bend my leg, and he feels so steady. I want him so bad. He’s in jeans and I’m in pretty solid leggings, but it doesn’t stop me discovering that he wants me too, at least just as bad.

I bite his lower lip and his grip on my leg tightens - and I swear he growls softly - but before I can be sure, I hear a soft yelp and feel something pushing gently against me. Taehyung pulls away immediately to see one of the puppies standing on its hind legs and using my torso to balance. The sight is so adorable that neither of us can ignore it, and he rolls off me onto my other side, breathing slightly heavily.

I sit up and bring the puppy onto my lap before turning back to Tae, who’s lying back on the ground with one hand covering his eyes. I can’t help but snicker at how disappointed he looks, which makes him look back at me and shake his head, still looking a little pissed. All I can hear Just wait until I get you alone again which, combined with how flustered I am, gets me wondering if we can start it back up again right here, right now.

However, just then the owner appears, saying something in Japanese. Taehyung sits up and replies and I get the gist: it’s time for us to leave. It’s just as well; we’re both hungry and tired so we get up and dust ourselves off - he jokingly messes up my hair as he does so before pulling me back into his chest for a quick hug. As we walk to the car, I wonder how much of the small affectionate gestures he’s even really thinking about. With the quick pecks, the occasional squeezes of the shoulder, I don’t know what worries me more: the fact that they’re seemingly natural or how much I love it.

“What do you want to eat?” Taehyung asks me, in the driver’s seat this time. “Keep in mind it’s just a town so we won’t get anything fancy.”

“Do I seem like the kind of person who’s into fancy?”

He shrugs. “You’re in the most expensive sport in the world,” he points out.

I give him a look and reach to pick a blade of grass out of his hair. “Fair enough. But I’m hungry and I know we can’t be seen, so I’m good with anything.”

The drive into town is quieter. Tae drives a little slower than I’m used to but it means longer with him, which I’m good with. We switch on the radio this time and a Post Malone song starts from the middle and Tae immediately starts singing along, his deep voice a whole octave lower than Malone’s. I roll down the window and look out, letting the wind blow through my bangs and closing my eyes. I look around after a few minutes to see Taehyung with one hand on the steering wheel and the other pointing his phone at me.

“Tae!” I exclaim, swatting the phone out of his hand as he laughs and swipes it out of my reach. “Eyes on the road!”

Another song starts and this time I recognise it immediately. I look over to Tae to see him smile automatically as Jimin’s voice comes floating out of the stereo. “Can I just say that this is one of my favourite BTS songs ever?” I tell him and his smile gets wider as his part comes and he starts singing along. Just then my phone pings; I open it to see a message from Vicki.

Grill the grid taping at 4:30 with AT guys. Need you in at 4 for HMU and micing.

I stare, my heart sinking. It had been so easy to forget that, technically, this is a working weekend for me. I briefly consider asking Vicki if I really need hair and make-up done, given that Max is probably going to show up looking like he’s just left the gym and Jehan I know for a fact has not shaved in at least a week. I’m wondering how I can word it without sounding like I’m complaining, when Tae notices my expression.

“Everything okay?” 

I sigh. “Yeah, I just… I have a PR thing to do today so I have to be back by four. Which gives us…” I look at the clock on my phone, “... a little over four hours.”

Taehyung nods. “That’s not too bad.” After a moment, he turns back to me. “How important is PR again?”

I chuckle. “Well, it’s part of my contract so I’d say it’s pretty -” But I’m cut off by a jerk. The car jolts and revs momentarily, before going still. “What was that?”

He shakes his head, hands hovering over the steering wheel. “I - I don’t know. I think we hit something -” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out, and I do the same. At the front of the car, I see a huge stone that’s stopped the car and is preventing it from moving. 

“Damn it. We need to change the tyre.” I turn to Tae. “Do you know how to do that?”

His eyes widen. “Me? Aren’t you the professional?”

“I’m a professional driver,” I clarify. “But I don’t… I’ve never changed a tyre,” I admit, a bit sheepishly. When Tae simply shrugs, I realise we’re essentially stranded. I look around the fairly deserted town area. “Do you think we can find anyone to help us? You speak Japanese, right?” I look back to see him typing something on his phone. “Calling us a cab?”

He shakes his head. “Too risky. I can get the car towed back but to pick us up…” He dials a number and puts it on speaker, holding it between us. I hear what I think is Namjoon’s voice, but the conversation takes place fully in Korean. I hear other voices in the background which I presume is the rest of the band. At one point, he asks Taehyung a question and Tae, after a brief glance up at me, says my name in the midst of a long sentence. In the background, the rest of the boys hoot and Tae shakes his head, fighting a smile. The conversation ends after a few minutes.

“Okay, so Namjoon hyung is coming to pick us up,” he informs me, putting his phone back in his pocket. “We just need to get out of this district - it’ll take ages for him to navigate his way through the dirt roads.” He flashes me a heartbreaking smile. “Ready?”

The towing company arrives - surprisingly quickly - and arranges to take the car back to the hotel. I just about retrieve my bag before Tae pulls me back by the arm out of the way so that the giant tow truck can get the car off the ground. Once the car is gone, we start walking.

Even though it’s not really a surprise by this point, it’s amazing how quickly time seems to pass when I’m with Taehyung. The weather is cool and breezy and the town fairly empty, making it unnecessary to keep our distance too much. We still don’t engage in PDA per se, for it isn’t desolate, but walking together, laughing, and taking pictures and videos of each other doing silly things become so easy, almost natural. It’s the first time in a long while that I haven’t had to worry about photographers, something that’s definitely amplified with Tae, and we get to spend a rare day in privacy.

Taehyung takes so many pictures of everything. He doesn’t have a professional camera with him, something he laments more than once, but his phone seems more than enough as he constantly documents everything, finding even the most mundane object and getting a beautiful shot of it. Even when we’re walking through a canopy of trees and brambles and I’m piggybacking on his back, he has his front camera on and before I know it, snaps a picture.

“The sun’s glare is too strong,” I tell him after a while. I’m lying on my back on the ground where I’d bent down to take a picture of a ladybug. Taehyung is standing over me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, laughing as I point my phone up at him. I think he thinks I’m taking a picture but this moment is too adorable to not record. A few light rays of sun poke out from through the grey clouds behind Taehyung’s head, his dark hair thick and long; he looks like an angel.

“Alright, come on, you’re going to screw up your back,” he says after a while, bending and pulling me up by the hand in one swift movement. I feel a pit of butterflies in my stomach when he pulls me in and casually puts his arm around my shoulders as we continue walking and I show him the video, promising to send it to him.

We finally get to the outskirts of the town where Namjoon is supposed to pick us up. I sit on the pavement and sweep my hair off my neck as Taehyung walks in random circles on the road.

“So, hang on,” says Tae, kicking a stone and watching it roll away. “You’re half-British, right?”

“No, my father was Asian, too. My biological father,” I clarify, automatically clamping up at the topic. “So I’m not really part anything. I don’t know, my mum doesn’t really talk about him.”

“But you grew up in London?”

“Partly. We moved there when I was pretty young,” I say evasively, not wanting to get into how she was essentially kicked out for having a child out of wedlock. “Maybe when I was like eight or nine, and she met Rudy a few months later.”

“Your stepfather?” When I nod, he frowns. “But… what happened to your - your real father?”

I bite my lip. I don’t usually give out details of my family, especially my father. I’ve moved on from it but it’s not exactly a thing about my past that I want the public to know. I look away from Taehyung for a moment, who’s waiting patiently, thinking about how much I want to tell him. 

“He, uh…” I wonder why he wants to know. “... he left when my mom got pregnant. Wasn’t ready for parenthood, I guess.” I’m reasonably relieved at how nonchalant I sound. But I can feel Taehyung’s eyes boring into me and the last thing I want to see there is any kind of pity - seriously, it would make me livid if I saw even a hint of it - so in an effort to get far away from this topic, I take a deep breath and lean back on my hands. “How long until Namjoon gets here?”

Tae frowns at the abrupt change of topic but doesn’t comment on it. “Well, it took us over an hour to get here so I guess, around the same?”

I sigh and look away, still a bit put off at talking about my father. I can feel Taehyung watching me and I think he knows what’s bothering me. Either way, he doesn’t prolong it. Instead, after a few seconds, I hear a sound come out of his phone which turns again into Tu les garçons et les filles by Francoise Hardy. I look up in surprise to see Tae holding his phone up with a questioning smile on his face, as if asking me if this is okay. 

“I can’t beIieve you know this song,” I comment, unable to stop a surprised chuckle.

His smile widens, obviously relieved at my reaction. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop listening to this song,” he says, walking forward and holding out a hand for me to take. “It makes everyone feel better.” As if to test this theory, he pulls me up when I give him my hand, smiling down at me like the sun. “Now... “ He lets go of my hand and turns around on the spot, looking back at me with an exaggerated sexy look. “... we dance.”

Taehyung dancing on stage or in music videos is addictive. He’s so sexy and so talented that I could watch him and nothing else all day. It turns out, though, that when there’s no one watching and no obligations, Kim Taehyung grooves and bops to music like any other person. I laugh but can’t help but join in with him, dancing along to what is truly a very nice song. He looks so happy that I’ve joined in that it makes it all worth it. Somewhere during the song, he grabs my hand and twirls me into his arms, and we sway to an indie French song on a deserted dirt road in Japan.

“You have a really nice smile, you know?” he tells me, touching my cheek with his finger. “I have a thing for dimples.”

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks but I keep looking back at him. He looks angelic; I try to memorize everything - his hair, his smile, his cheekbones, his lips, his jaw, how his hand is firm on my lower back, how his other hand is gripping mine with his slender fingers - before I shake my head and tilt it. “Flirt.”

“Guilty. What does the rest of your day look like?”

“Well, if we ever get back to the hotel, I have about an hour of PR,” I tell him. ��Then I have a drivers’ briefing - although since we haven’t even driven around the circuit yet I’m sure it’ll get moved to tomorrow afternoon. After that… after that, I’m free, I guess.” My gaze involuntarily falls to his mouth and I immediately raise it to look back at him, feeling my face heat up.

Tae simply nods, but I just know where his mind’s at, especially with the small smirk appearing on his face. He spins me around once but I don’t make much effort to hide my smile because I’m so sure that I know where his mind’s at, that the moment this morning in the elevator was something we hadn’t seen last night, that the interruption at the dog farm was only momentary. 

After that, both of us seemingly silently agree that we need to keep some distance between us, at least until we get back to the hotel. We share a can of Diet Coke that I find in my bag but it’s practically warm so after I empty it on the side of the road, we end up playing a makeshift game of football with the can.

I’m a pretty good racecar driver, but I suck at pretty much any other sport, apart from swimming maybe. As per his own admission, Taehyung is good at tennis - and anything requiring hand-eye coordination, really - but here, on a dirt road with a can for a football, we’re both abysmal. 

It’s so fun, though. We completely forget that we’re hungry and stranded; even kicking around an empty soda can be amazing if Tae’s around, apparently. I’ve always known that he’s extremely good-looking but seeing him like this, happy and care-free, flicking his long hair out of his eyes, tall and lithe - he’s otherworldly. I feel like I could watch him forever. I know I’m not a troll, but I find myself wondering more than once what exactly he seehs in me.

“Okay, okay, it’s happening, I’m doing it!” I kick the stupid can, dribbling it around Tae to get to our makeshift goal. I hear him groan and then feel him grab me from behind, stopping me from going any further. “Hey, that’s cheating!” I exclaim over his laughter, secretly loving the feeling of his arms around me.

He does, too, clearly, for he doesn’t let me go even after I’ve stopped struggling. I look up at him, about to say something, when I hear a shout. Both our heads snap forward to see a black SUV with the Hilton logo on it driving up the hairpin, with someone’s hand appearing out of the passenger window. Whoever it is shouts again, waving, and while I can’t make it out, Taehyung does immediately. He straightens up and his hands come up to my shoulder.

“Jungkook is here,” he says, only the slightest bit of surprise in his voice. “Must have pestered Namjoon to let him come along.” His hands fall from my shoulder and he goes back to sit on the pavement, leaning back on his hands, apparently satisfied that his friends are finally here.

“Oh. Great,” I say, sitting down next to him, his hoodie and my bag in hand. By the tone of his voice, it’s pretty clear that the reason Jungkook has insisted on coming along is because of me. We watch the car approach; when they’re about thirty feet away, I can see Namjoon driving and Jungkook in the driver’s seat, the latter grinning far too widely.

Looking at it, I can feel my nerves beginning to act up. “So, um… what happens if Jungkook doesn’t like me?” I ask, cringing when I hear the nervousness in my own voice.

“Then we’re done,” says Tae casually, before catching sight of my expression. “I’m kidding. Jungkook likes everyone. And you’re not that bad,” he adds generously. “Don’t worry, he’s the nicest out of all of us.”

“I’ve heard. That’s why he’s my favourite one,” I add innocently. 

“You said the same thing about Jimin this morning.”

“Depends on my mood. For example, last night I was in a very different mood.”

“Sexy and mysterious?”

“More like curious and horny.”

Taehyung chokes, I look back ahead, chuckling. He mutters something under his breath as his arm goes around my shoulder and he kisses the side of my head casually, naturally. My heart skips a beat and I think I see Jungkook raise his eyebrows in surprise as the car approaches and stops a few feet away from us.

Here we go, I think warily, standing up as Namjoon and Jungkook step out of the car. Namjoon waves at me as he walks over but Jungkook gets to me first, holding out a hand. “Dilara! Finally! It’s so nice to meet you - I’ve heard a lot about you,” he adds, looking over at Taehyung, who’s rolling his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I say absently, because Jeon Jungkook is even better looking in person than he is on screen. He flashes me a smile and I almost forget to breathe for a moment, but then he looks at Tae and laughs at something, nose scrunching up, and he suddenly reminds me of the puppies we’d been hanging out with an hour ago. 

Namjoon appears then and greets me with a nod and a smile, looking very tall and leader-like. His politeness is distinct, like he’s had a ton of practice at it. He asks me with a well-placed chuckle how we managed to get ourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere in the outskirts of Suzuka City. I start telling him that all Tae had to do was let me drive, but we get distracted by Jungkook running after him and leaping on his back. Taehyung catches him effortlessly and they begin laughing and joking around, too far for me to understand what they’re saying.

“Are they -” I start to ask but Namjoon beats me to it.

“Always,” he says knowingly. We all pile into the car after that, once Jungkook discovers that neither of us have eaten anything except a croissant hours ago. Namjoon gets into the drivers’ seat and, thankfully, Taehyung and Jungkook slide into the backseat, leaving the shotgun seat for me. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of sitting in the backseat alone with Tae while both his friends shot us side-eye glances trying to observe us. This way, those two have their fun giggling in the backseat while I’m up front with the most intimidating member of the band so far. 

We stop at the first fast food place we see, which ends up being a KFC. Once the three guys put on a variety of hats and hoodies, all four of us shuffle in and dive for the menu; when I realise that everything is written in Japanese, I have to rely on the boys to translate and order for me. Taehyung stands behind me at the counter, hands resting comfortably on my shoulders as he peers at the plastic menu over my head. I’m looking up at him and frowning, trying to decide whether to go for chicken or pork, when we’re interrupted by Namjoon who offers to order for all of us.

The food arrives almost immediately but when we look around and see the few other customers squinting slightly at the boys, almost as if they recognise them, we opt to head out and eat by the car. I walk with Namjoon; I discover pretty quickly that as much as my heart belongs to Taehyung, Namjoon is clearly the most interesting member. There’s something so mature, so intelligent, so attractive about him that I immediately feel like I should have been more prepared before meeting him.

It’s also clear that he knows his group members extremely well. The entire time as we walk back to the car, while he’s speaking to me, he’s also keeping a clear eye out on Taehyung as he talks with Jungkook. Even as we sit around the car and devour the food, I feel increasingly like I’m being vetted for the honour of being Taehyung’s… whatever I am. That throws me into a bit of a tangent as my mind instantly starts wondering what I am to him, what he is to me, what we’re doing, what we’re planning to do -

“You want to throw that away?” 

My head snaps up to see Taehyung to my left, two empty boxes and a cup of Coke in his hands. He points with the cup to the wrapper in my hand and tilts his head towards the trash can at the door of the restaurant. I take the hint and jump to my feet, so, so relieved at his arrival, and offer to take Namjoon’s wrappers with me as well. 

“So?” Tae asks as soon as we’re out of earshot. “Are they being nice to you?”

I scoff. “Of course they’re being nice. And Namjoon…” I glance back surreptitiously, “... God, he’s so cool. It’s like he knows everything about everything.” I look up to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Should I be worried? Am I going to lose you to my fearless leader?” he asks dryly, just as we reach the trash. “Because I can take him. Probably.”

“Probably.”

Taehyung chuckles and, lightning fast, leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. Before I can react, he gestures for me to continue walking, smiling down at me as if nothing just happened, brushing a hand down my waist comfortingly as we start walking back. “They like you, too. At least Jungkook does. And I’m guessing Jimin, too, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have tagged along today.”

“Ah, good. My favourite and my second favourite,” I say, laughing when Tae scowls. We get into the car again, everyone in the same seats, and it’s barely a five minute drive when Jungkook states that he feels like dessert - and not just any dessert, but a specific Japanese sweet that they’d had the last time they were here. Both Namjoon and Taehyung agree immediately and we drive around looking for any passing store that might sell it.

When we finally do, Taehyung volunteers to get out and go buy them while the rest of us stay in the car. He takes our order (I decline since it’s a race weekend) and walks away towards the shop. I watch him - I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop - as he walks away, how he walks with his hands in his pockets, how his long hair brushes his t-shirt at the nape of his neck, how when he turns his head slightly to look for oncoming cars, his haughty features looking like a statue’s.

“He likes you,” says Namjoon from right next to me, almost scaring the shit out of me. I turn to him to see him looking back at me with a peculiar expression, part-knowing, part… approving? Before I can examine it deeper, Jungkook speaks from behind me.

“He really likes you,” he contributes, leaning forward so that his head appears in between our seats. “He usually never makes any effort with girls. Definitely doesn’t ditch us to hang out with one. I mean, you guys are even wearing matching outfits.”

I notice then that we are, kind of; white top and black bottoms, but I ignore this statement in favour of the one before. His words are practically identical to what Jimin had said to me earlier today. Like Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t sound miffed at all; on the contrary, he sounds almost wondrous, as though this series of events had never occurred to him. I can feel my palms getting clammy and the heat rushing to my face, so all I can say is, “Oh, did you - did you guys have - have plans today?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” says Namjoon dismissively, almost like he knows what I’m thinking. “It’s just good to see him like this. Happy,” he adds for my benefit, raising his eyebrows at Taehyung who’s now started walking back with a small stack of boxes the size of my phone.

Jungkook says something to Namjoon in Korean but I lose track. As I watch Tae walk towards us, I struggle for a moment to pinpoint why Namjoon and Jungkook’s words have suddenly made my insides tight. I should be happy, I suppose. I should, knowing that Taehyung likes me so much, that his closest friends in the world have noticed and more or less approved. But all that is overshadowed by the burning question of why? Why does he like me so much when we’ve only just met, when it’s been an unspoken cloud hanging over us reminding us that this weekend is all we have?

As he approaches, our gazes meet - and his eyes light up. It’s subtle, but it’s there and I know it is because even Jungkook behind me whispers wow before asking me if I’m sure that I don’t want one of the sweets. “Um… no, I - I prefer cupcakes,” is all I can manage to say before looking away from Tae. By the time he climbs into the backseat, I’m almost angry at him for making this so much harder.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Tae holding out an open box filled with what look like Reese’s peanut butter cups. His eyebrows are raised and the hand he’d tapped me with is still lingering against my bare arm, but I suddenly find it hard to look at him. So I shake my head and turn back to look ahead.

As we continue to drive, I find that I can’t look at anyone in the car; not at Taehyung who apparently likes me way more than he should, not Namjoon who seems to know way more than he should, and not Jungkook who definitely seems way more excited than he should be. Truth be told, I haven’t the faintest idea what to do with this information and I definitely have no idea what it is that Namjoon and Jungkook were trying to achieve by telling me. So I just stare out the window at the sky, the trees, road signs - anything to distract me.

“Dilara?” Taehyung saying my name sounds like a song again, like his favourite song in the world. “Any requests?”

It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking about the music in the car. “Um…” I turn slightly in the direction of the backseat and shake my head for a moment before looking back out the window. “Not really. Anything’s fine.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence where I can practically feel Taehyung’s confusion at my change in tone. He says something in Korean to the other two, almost accusingly, and while I don’t understand a word of the language, I imagine he’s going What did you two say to her? or something to that effect. I can’t really blame him because, let’s face it, had I been in a similar situation, that’s exactly what I would’ve asked. 

My theory is more or less confirmed when, after both mumble answers in equally confused tones, Namjoon looks over at me, asking, “You alright?”

I look back, not wanting to seem rude, and nod. “Yeah. Of course.” I force a smile but I don’t think anyone is fooled. It’s almost too convenient when just a few minutes later, we make our last stop of the drive at a gas station. I mention something about using the washroom and jump out of the car, breathing in the fresh air like my life depends on it.

All I really do, though, is head over the back of the station and lean back against a wall, wondering what the hell to do now and how I can manage to avoid Taehyung for the rest of the weekend when we literally live in the same hotel -

“Hey.”

My heart skips a beat when I see Tae walking towards me, hands in his pockets, long hair falling into his eyes, face as smooth and impassive as ever. I immediately turn towards the wash basin next to me and start washing my hands, letting my hair fall in front of my shoulders and shield my face. “Hey,” I say after a moment, cringing at how fake even the simplest word sounds.

He stops a few feet away from me. “So, uh. My friends told me what they said to you. That I like you." He doesn't stutter around the inadvertent confession. "And that they might have freaked you out.” He says no more, just waiting for me to confirm it.

I swallow, wiping my hands on my leggings and still not looking at him. “Not exactly.”

“Then what is it? Dilara,” he says when I don’t respond. I finally sigh and look him in the eye, suddenly feeling guilty at shutting him out. He looks at me expectantly, perfect features betraying only the slightest bit of concern. “Tell me.”

I bite my lip and look at the ground, wondering how to word this without making it a bigger deal than it is. “You know we can’t… you know that nothing else can happen, right?”

“I know.” His response is immediate, accompanied by a small shrug, confirming that he does indeed know that nothing else can happen. And why shouldn’t he? With my calendar, his job, and both our careers in front of us, of course he knows that nothing can happen.

“Then… why do you like me so much?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change much, except for a small frown. Hands still in his pockets, he shrugs again. “Since when can anyone control how they feel?” He says it like the most obvious thing in the world and all of a sudden, I feel ridiculous. The affection and adoration in his eyes is clear even to me and I can’t believe I’ve just spent the last thirty minutes essentially icing him out, especially when I know we don’t have much time.

“Not me,” I admit quietly, looking at the ground and then back up at him.

His mouth moves just a bit, giving me a small smile. “Look, I know it’s scary and it’ll be… hard, when it finally happens.” Neither of us needs to elaborate on what ‘it’ is. “But today’s not goodbye. We’ll - we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, alright?”

I look away and nod, taking a couple of steps towards him. He meets me halfway and raises one hand to brush my arm comfortingly as his gaze drops to my mouth and back up to me, as though asking for permission. He lowers his head slightly and pauses, waiting for me to confirm that it’s all good. I get on the tips of my toes and kiss him, feeling him kiss me back immediately. It’s a nice, comforting kiss. For about a second.

He moves his hand to my waist just to steady me but it’s right at that moment that I open my mouth slightly, his tongue slips in and I moan softly, making his grip on my waist tighten. All it takes is one look between us before Taehyung has me pinned against the wall, kissing me fiercely and holding me flush against him. My hands go into his long hair and I pull at it, and Tae bites my lower lip. I snake one hand down between us and loop one finger in his belt loop and tug, feeling his pelvis against mine. His erection rubs against my core and I sigh, ready for him to fuck me right here and now. Taehyung’s hand slips down my waist, down my hip and to my arse when -

“Oi! We’re in public!” Namjoon’s furious whisper makes us jerk apart immediately and look around to see if we’ve been spotted. Fortunately, there isn’t anyone around but even I can’t believe how risky that was. That’s hot. Yes, it is, especially when I look up at Tae to see him looking right back at me, panting slightly, lips swollen and eyebrows together, looking pissed that we were caught. 

We trail quietly behind Namjoon to the car and get into our seats. While Namjoon looks exasperated as hell, Jungkook can't look either of us in the eye. My face feels so hot that I can’t look at either of them. I can’t look at Taehyung either, but that’s for a whole different reason. As we drive back with nothing but the radio providing any sound, I look out the window, trying not to think about what just transpired and what is sure to be replicated later today.

I count myself lucky; technically, I can think about whatever I want with no one the wiser. Taehyung on the other hand, can’t think of shit without an erection appearing for his friends and the world to see. I can hear Jungkook murmuring in Korean and Tae responding with short, abrupt replies. Our eyes meet in the wing mirror constantly, both of us now knowing what we want and how soon we want it.

It’s a quarter to four by the time we reach the hotel. If I have any hope of making it to PR on time, I have to leave now. I hop out of the car after Namjoon parks and fluff my hair out, checking for my bag and phone before I head out.

“Hey,” says Taehyung, coming up behind me. I turn to see the other two waiting by the car, trying to pretend like they aren’t paying any attention to us. Evidently, Tae’s noticed them too, for he glances back at them before turning back to me. “Do you have to leave now?”

“Yeah. Thankfully it’s happening here at the hotel, so we don’t have to drive to the paddock.” I bite my lip and say no more. This is the awkward part. How do two people who aren’t dating, who’ve literally just met, who aren’t even friends, say goodbye to each other? 

“So, I’ll, uh…”

Taehyung nods, taking my hand and linking his fingers with mine. “Yeah, I’ll see you later,” he agrees. I have the strongest urge to brush his long, thick hair out of his eyes, but I’m afraid it’ll be too intimate here. Taehyung sneaks another look back at his friends, who are now not even pretending to give us privacy, before rolling his eyes and quickly kissing me on the cheek.

I try to fight a smile as I shake my head and leave. I rush to the poolside after that where our thing is supposed to be taking place. Jenna from the PR team is waiting for me at a small makeshift energy station with a transparent pouch filled with make-up products and a hair straightener, heated and ready to go. 

Max arrives halfway in and Vicki briefs us both about the game while Max sips on water out of a Red Bull can and I sit painfully straight as locks of my hair fall in soft waves down my shoulders. Jehan and Pierre arrive soon after, everyone in their team hoodies. Jenna is holding up a mirror while I apply a nice brick shade of lipstick when Vicki suddenly exclaims that I’m not in Red Bull gear.

It seems to have occurred to everyone only now, five minutes before the interview. I’m still in a plain white top; I’m about to mention that I probably have an extra team t-shirt in my bag when Max tosses me his hoodie, saying with a very Max smugness that he’s not feeling cold at all. I give him a look but put the hoodie on anyway, kind of liking how nice and oversized it is.

All four of us are seated around a small poolside table, chatting as the production team sets lights and mics around us. I go onto my phone for a moment, secretly hoping for a text from Taehyung. There isn’t one, which is to be expected, so in a rare moment of initiative I text him. I send him the video I’d taken of him earlier today from the ground along with the message Thanks for today, I had a great time.

He replies almost immediately with Day’s not over ;), along with a picture. I download it and need to bite down on my lip from smiling. It’s a picture of me at the dog farm with the puppies: I’m lying on the grass upside down, two labradors clambering onto me, with my hair all dark and wavy on the grass, smiling with genuine happiness and cuddling a third puppy as I look into the camera - as I look at Taehyung.

I’m about to respond with a quick ‘thanks’ but instead, he sends a second picture, then a third, and then about ten more, all of us today with the puppies, strolling the streets together, piggybacking down the canopy. There’s one of us that he sends at the end, a few moments after the others, of us walking together. It’s obviously taken by someone else - most likely Jungkook; I realise it’s from when we’d both volunteered to chuck everyone’s trash after lunch. We’re just walking back, looking at each other, with Tae’s hand disappearing behind me.

I zoom in. I hadn’t even noticed that his hand had been on my back; in fact, it doesn’t even seem as though he’s conscious of it. It looks so natural; even the fact that we are indeed wearing very similar clothes doesn’t escape me this time. We’re walking close together - very close. I remember feeling his chest brush against my arm, feeling his fingers linger on my elbow - but I hadn’t thought about how it would look. We look like a -

“Alright, everyone ready?” 

PR forces me to abandon my train of thought and focus. It takes us about an hour and a half; it’s fun, no doubt. All four of us get along pretty well and the games include a Q&A type and a taste test of Japanese cuisine. By the end of it, after it’s confirmed that there’s no drivers’ briefing today, we start to head back into the hotel. I check my phone (not eagerly) to see a message from Taehyung. Ignoring the leap in my chest, I open it.

Once you’re done, come over to 2006.

two hotel rooms

I halt. Now I have no way of knowing who lives in 2006; for all I know, it’s just Taehyung’s room and he’s calling me over for tons of passionate sex after a day of teasing and yearning. If that’s what it is, I’m on board. 

But there’s something about the text that makes me think that that’s not all that it is. I try to figure it out; after a couple of minutes, I decide it’s not flirty enough. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered about Kim Taehyung in the last twenty-four hours, it’s that he’s smooth as shit. If he were inviting me over to fuck, I have no doubt that I’d be dripping by the time I got to his door. 

I have to ask. But not too pointedly. My fingers hover over the screen as I chew at my lower lip before finally typing out a response. What’s in 2006?

Taehyung replies in under a minute. Food and stuff. 

I frown, having learnt nothing from this incredibly vague text. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s being vague on purpose. I replay the events of today in my head, specifically the moments I spent with Jimin, Namjoon and Jungkook. I remember them looking at me like a specimen they never saw coming, but I also remember the huge, boxy smile on Tae’s face each time I joked with any of them. 

I exhale. Spending a Friday evening hanging out with members of BTS: it’s a goddamn dream - for some. I know of millions of people around the world who’d literally murder me to take my place. But nothing about it is exciting me; in fact, I think this is the most stressed I've been all weekend.

I briefly consider making an excuse. Tomorrow is Qualifying after all; I can sneak away to hang out with the other drivers while they obsess over FIFA, dull as it sounds. But I do want to see Taehyung again, so badly. I finally make my way up to the twentieth floor, the entire time debating the possible outcomes of this situation in my head, before I reach the room. I can hear muffled noises from inside, both music and voices. I find I can’t physically press the doorbell, so I text Tae instead.

I’m outside. Can you come out here for a second?

Ten seconds later, the door opens and Taehyung steps out, still in the same white t-shirt and jeans, black hair thick and long, looking so incredible that I have to consciously try not to launch myself at him. His face automatically breaks into a smile at the sight of me and my heart skips a beat.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and stopping a couple of feet in front of me. “Everything okay? Oh, hey, your hair is different,” he comments, taking a straightened lock in between his fingers.

“Yeah, for PR. Um…” I take a deep breath, folding my arms across my chest nervously. “Who else is in there?”

Taehyung glances back at the room and when he turns back to me, it’s clear that he’s immediately caught on to what’s bothering me. “It’s six of my friends.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Really. Exactly six?” 

He smiles, knowing I’m not fooled. “It’ll be fine. They’re looking forward to meeting you,” he says, dropping all pretense.

That doesn’t make me feel better at all. My face must show this, for he immediately comes up to me and places his hands on my shoulder. “Dilara, there’s no pressure. You don’t have to. But…” He shrugs. “It’ll be fun.” When I don’t respond, he squeezes my shoulders gently. “Come on, you’ve already met most of them and it’s been fine. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” I say honestly. The only ones I actually haven’t met at all have been Hoseok and Yoongi, but meeting all of them together? But I can’t say no to Tae, not when he looks this hopeful. “Just… just six friends, right?”

“Right. Oh, wait, Jimin and Jungkook are at the gym, so it’s really only four,” he adds helpfully.

I frown incredulously. “Jungkook is the one person I actually know in there.”

Taehyung bites his lip and holds his arms out wordlessly. I take the hint and step in, wrapping my arms around his waist as he hugs me back, head resting against mine and rubbing my shoulder with one hand. “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to,” he says softly.

I say nothing, revelling instead in his scent and the feel of his lean torso and strong arms around me. This is our first hug, I realise, and I hold him a bit tighter, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “You’ll be there the whole time?” I murmur into his t-shirt.

I can feel him smile as he nods. “The whole time,” he confirms. “Until we leave, that is. Which will be… early?" he guesses.

That makes me laugh. I step back and ruffle his hair affectionately. “Sure. As long as you stay by my side.” I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

Tae rolls his eyes at my theatrics but I see him smile again and it’s all worth it. He rings the doorbell and Namjoon opens it, immediately noticing me and greeting me loudly. “Oh, hey. Hey, Dilara’s here,” he calls out, beckoning me inside and shutting the door behind me. “There’s food and… well, tons of gummy bears on the table,” he adds, pointing at the coffee table.

I step in to see Seokjin on the phone in the corner of the room, Yoongi and Hoseok in front of the television, the latter laughing his head off at something before noticing me. All of them wave and call me over just as the doorbell rings again. While Jin waves at me with his free hand, we both turn to see Jimin entering, hair wet and newly washed, smelling like strawberries. The moment he sees me, his eyes widen and he turns to Taehyung, who’s standing with his back against the wall and watching me, with an impressed look and a wide smile before coming over to me.

“Hey, what’s Verst- oh, Max Verstappen?” Namjoon’s voice from behind me makes me do a double take. I turn to see him pointing at my torso and I realise he’s talking about the hoodie I’m wearing, the one that has Max’s name printed on the back.

“Hey, it’s good to see you again,” he says easily, hugging me around the waist as if we’ve known each other for ages. Jungkook follows close behind, waving enthusiastically before his gaze shifts to Namjoon and he says something. Within seconds of meeting me, everyone simply goes back to their own conversations.

“Oh, yeah,” I answer, tugging at the hoodie. “I had to borrow his hoodie for PR. I left mine in your car,” I tell Taehyung. There’s a short but unmissable moment where everyone’s eyes flit to Tae, with Jimin and Jungkook clearly fighting smiles and Yoongi rolling his eyes. But I’m only looking at Taehyung, who’s still standing against the wall with his hands in his pockets. His face is still the same, smooth and perfect with the small smile as he watches me interact with his bandmates, but I swear I can see his chin tilt up and jaw harden for just a moment. 

Fortunately, at that moment the doorbell buzzes again and he goes to get it, and everything seems to go back to normal. I take a step back and go to stand next to Namjoon who’s helping himself to a sushi roll, an exasperated smile lingering on his face. “Um,” I begin in a low voice, “what was that?”

His smile gets just a bit wider as he looks up at Taehyung across the room before looking back down at me. “Nothing. Just Taehyung… and his jealous tendencies,” he says, chuckling quietly. With a knowing raise of the eyebrows, he sweeps past me and heads towards the TV.

It turns out Namjoon is bang-on. When Tae returns, he looks like his normal self, coming back up to me with the same small smile and asking me if I’m okay. Jungkook and Jin join us and even as everyone continues talking, I feel Tae move to stand closer to me, sliding a hand down my waist to rest low on my hip. It’s subtle but I can feel a heat between my legs. I decide to experiment.

“Oh, I should text Max and tell him I have his hoodie,” I say nonchalantly, tapping my phone on but keeping all my attention on Taehyung. He doesn’t disappoint. I’ve barely opened my chat with Max as Jin and Jungkook drift away, telling us to come to the TV, when Tae casually moves to stand behind me. Both his hands are low on my hips now as he looks over my shoulder. For a moment I think he’s looking into my phone, but the next second his lips are at my ear, brushing against my hair.

“Hey.” His voice almost makes my knees buckle. It’s the deep, low baritone that I’ve come to know and be obsessed with over the years but hearing it this close while his fingers grip my hips and his pelvis brushes against mine, and especially when I can hear that slight edge in his voice, I know this is what I’ve been waiting for. “Come sit with me?”

I literally cannot think of words. Instantly forgetting all about Max, I follow Kim Taehyung to the couch where everybody else is. It’s a k-drama; I don’t recognise it, but whoever has the remote immediately turns on the English subtitles when I automatically take a seat on the floor next to Jungkook, the one person apart from Namjoon I’m slightly comfortable with at this point. Taehyung, after repeatedly offering me the one empty spot on the sofa, sits right behind me and I lean back against his legs as I try to catch up.

There’s no spotlight on me, thankfully; they don’t go out of their way to include me in conversation but they don’t ignore me either, and it ends up being just the right balance. Jimin comes after a while to sit on my other side, smiling so prettily at me that it feels like my heart will stop. 

Sometime later the doorbell rings with a package for Park Jimin; everyone turns to see him holding a pink cardboard box that I recognise as the hotel bakery’s. To my surprise, he comes straight back and places it in front of me. He opens it with a flourish to reveal six cupcakes, each with a different coloured frosting on it. “For you,” he says proudly.

It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking to me. “M-me?”

“Yeah, Jungkook told me you like them.”

Before I can ask, Jungkook shrugs on my other side. “You didn’t have dessert with us and you said you liked cupcakes.”

It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me which is why, even though I can’t eat sugar due to it being a race weekend, I pick one up and take a bite. It’s really good; I almost consider risking it and eating the whole thing but I know Lexie would end me, so I just take a second bite and turn around to offer one to Taehyung. It’s just an excuse, though; the gesture is so unexpected that I just want to share it with him - do your friends really like me? His eyebrow raise and secret smile answers it - I told you they like you - as he takes a bite from the cupcake in my hand. By the time I’ve turned around, all the other boys are helping themselves which is just as well.

“It’s amazing,” I tell Jimin, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks when he flashes me another winning smile. “Thank you.”

Nearly an hour later, after everyone has moved on from watching TV, I notice that I’ve lost track of time completely. I’ve been sitting at one of the smaller coffee tables with Jin who, after having informed me that I’ve been using chopsticks wrong my entire life, is attempting to teach me how to use it right. I look up for a moment to see Taehyung sitting on the window seat with Namjoon and Hoseok, while Jungkook lounges on his lap and scrolls through his phone. 

By the time Jin finally succeeds in teaching me a crude version of chopsticks usage, we’ve both devoured two boxes of maki - the only thing I know Lexie will be okay with me overindulging on on a race weekend. Jin leans back in his chair and sighs loudly and my eyes automatically find Taehyung again. He’s in the same place but Jungkook is no longer in his lap. Instead, Tae is leaning back against the window, one arm resting above his head while the other holds his phone, and his legs are spread out again, as though inviting me to come sit on his lap. His gaze meets mine right then and he gives me the tiniest smirk, almost as if he knows what I’m thinking.

I shake my head just as Namjoon joins us. “Aren’t you warm?” he asks, sitting on the arm of Jin’s chair and popping a gummy bear into his mouth. 

I frown and look down, realising that I’m still in Max’s hoodie and something clicks. “Oh… I hadn’t noticed.” Hesitating for a moment, I take it off the second I see that Taehyung’s looking. As expected, the smirk gets wider, as though he’s suddenly happier… or satisfied.

It’s so hot - and adorable - that it occurs to him to be jealous. It’s past nine now, which means I’m almost done with twenty-four hours of waiting since meeting Kim Taehyung before I can officially start to pursue him. My thoughts are getting dirtier by the minute and I’m just waiting for a signal from him that it’s okay to leave. 

Ten minutes pass and nothing changes. Taehyung’s still sitting with his lap looking inviting as hell and all my attempts at walking across the room, touching Jungkook’s shoulder and even wrapping Max’s discarded hoodie around my shoulders don’t work. Finally, when Tae’s alone at the food table, I fall back to Plan A.

I come up from behind him and run my hands up his arms casually, resting them on his biceps. The moment I touch them, I feel the familiar heat between my legs again. Focus, Komyshan. Tae turns slightly to see me behind him, head lingering next to his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice deep and sexy as ever.

“Hey. So, um…” I move closer to him, not wanting anyone to overhear, “Tomorrow is Qualifying and I have to be well-rested and up early, so…”

It takes him exactly half a second to catch my drift and another to drop the gummy bears in his hand back into the box. He turns to face me, leaning back against the table. “So…?”

He wants me to say it. Sneaky little shit. Taehyung’s casual confidence coupled with his laidback position, not to mention that goddamn smirk, makes me want to simultaneously choke him and ask him to -

“So… I should head out,” I tell him, mimicking his nonchalance.

“You’re leaving?”

“Mhm. Long day tomorrow.”

“Sounds like you should be good and tired to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I think I can figure something out.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches slightly again and I know it’s working. “I thought we had some… alone time planned.”

“I don’t want to take you away from your friends,” I tell him. “And besides…” I take a small step closer to him “... I’m not really sure what to expect during… alone time.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Or rather, he doesn't respond with words. Instead, his smirk gets just a bit more pronounced and he just continues looking at me, almost like he’s picturing it. Just when I feel like he’s literally undressing me with his eyes, he gives me a small shrug and an innocent smile. “Whatever you want.”

Aaaand we’re done. I want a lot - but I’m not about to tell him that. “Good. So it’s settled, then?” When he doesn’t say anything, I play my last card. “Or you can stay and I can just go take care of it myself.”

All vestiges of a smile leave Taehyung’s face. He grabs my wrist with one hand and his black hoodie with the other and turns to his friends with a completely normal expression. There’s a general dry outcry that we’re leaving so soon, followed by Jimin yelling something in Korean and everyone laughing. I look up at Tae to see him avoiding their eyes and fighting a smile when Jin shouts “Have a good night!” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and waves to them as we head out the door. Just to add to the drama, I pull him out by the hand, walking backwards and winking at the boys as the door closes behind him.

The walk back to my room is a blur. All I know is that we’re hurrying as much as we can, taking great pains to not draw any attention to ourselves until my room finally comes into view. My keycard is ready in my hand and I can feel Taehyung’s hand hovering over my lower back and I know he’s desperately resisting the urge to touch me until we’re inside. The second my door opens, I turn around and walk backwards, not bothering to turn on any lights other than the dim ones already on. The door closes behind him and I immediately hook my fingers around his belt loops and pull him towards me the same moment that his hands go up to my face and he lowers his head and kisses me.

“Finally,” he murmurs against my lips, echoing my exact thoughts, reaching one hand into my hair and pulling me closer to him with the other on my waist. Why haven’t I realised until now just how tall he is? Or how lean his torso is, or how his arms feel like the steadiest things I’ve ever felt around me? I open my mouth to let him in and sigh into the kiss, unable to help myself. I run one hand through his hair, his long, thick, sexy hair, and pull, making him grunt and move his hand down my waist and hips to my arse.

“Clothes off,” I say softly, pulling away for the briefest moment to take my top off over my head. Taehyung does the same with his t-shirt and I realise that seeing Taehyung with an unbuttoned shirt last night came nowhere close to seeing him like this, half-naked in the semi-darkness with a look of hunger in his eyes as I look right at him and unhook my bra, letting it fall on the floor next to him.

He has me pulled flush against him in a moment, kissing me harder than ever. Our hands are everywhere and our kisses are all lips and tongue and teeth; an entire day’s worth of tension and longing has finally come forth and neither of us are willing to waste even a single moment of it. My hands travel down to his jeans and I begin unbuttoning them, brushing against his hard abdomen, before I slip one hand in and feel his erection through the fabric of his boxers. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing me even harder and moving  us to the couch where I push him down and climb on to straddle him, lowering my head to kiss him again. Without thinking, I roll my hips forward and he groans into my mouth, pulling away and resting his head back against the sofa for a moment. I look at him - no, I gaze at him, never ever wanting to forget this sight. His hair is falling into his eyes, his jaw is clenched and mouth parted slightly as he catches his breath. 

Taehyung kisses me again, moving his lips down my jaw and to my neck, immediately finding the exact spot just below my ear that drives me crazy. He sucks on it as one hand moves to cup my breast, the other firm on my hip. I bite my lip to stop myself moaning too loudly, clutching at his hair and feeling his erection harden even more against me. 

“Fuck, Tae,” I whisper. I need him now. He feels so right against me that I find myself not even caring if I’m being too obvious about how much I want him. I palm him through his boxers and he groans again.

“Shit, Dilara,” he mumbles against my collarbone. “God, I need you, I -”

I pull away to stand up and peel off my leggings, standing in front of him in nothing but my underwear. His eyes rake over my entire body and I revel in it. I take a step forward and he reaches for me but instead of straddling him again, I drop to my knees in front of him.

Taehyung bites his lower lip. “Dilara -”

“I want to,” I interrupt him, reaching for his erection. His eyes shut involuntarily but he opens them again.

“You - you really don’t have to -”

“I know,” I tell him and look him in the eye. “I’ll stop if you want me to… but I don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, where have you been all my life?” he sighs.

I grin and reach for his jeans, pulling them down. He raises his pelvis off the couch so I can take them off completely along with his boxers. His erection springs free and my eyes widen at his size. I just know my jaw is going to get a workout from hell and just the thought of it makes me so fucking wet that I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him once.

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut immediately and he swears, his back against the couch and his hands clutching the fabric of the seat. I run my tongue along his tip and continue stroking him, watching him the whole time as he slowly comes undone. Somewhere along the way, I link my fingers with his and squeeze his hand. His eyes open to meet mine and he gets the hint, reaching for my hair and grabbing it hard. I moan in sweet pain and he swears again, getting close. I suck him off until my jaw hurts, until he’s louder than I’ve ever heard him and he finally finishes in my mouth, warm fluid coating my tongue as I continue stroking him slower now, letting him ride out his high.

I pull away, swallowing and wiping my mouth as he gets his bearings back. He opens his eyes and looks down at me with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “Come here,” he says softly, helping me back up onto his lap. I straddle him again and he kisses me, deep and long, holding my face in one hand and pulling me close to him with the other. His hand is big and flat on my back as I kiss him back, wanting him, needing him so badly.

Almost as though he’s read my mind, he suddenly stands up and, without breaking a sweat, carries me straight to the bed and drops me on it. He comes up to kiss me once, biting my lower lip softly, before moving down to my neck. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he murmurs in my ear. He runs one hand down my torso and abdomen to reach my core and presses against the cloth. His sharp intake of breath tells me that he can feel just how wet I am. 

He pulls my underwear off and, before I know it, sinks one finger into my folds. I whimper; it feels so fucking good, finally, finally, to have him inside of me like I’ve been thinking about all day. He slips another finger in and my back arches. “Fuck, fuck,” I moan, clutching my pillow as my knees bend automatically.

Taehyung grunts softly and kisses me, his long hair falling into his eyes and onto my forehead. “Can you take another for me, baby?”

“Yes,” I say immediately, biting my lip in anticipation as he slips a third finger into me. His thumb goes to massage my clit and I’m so close, so close… “God, Tae, I’m gonna -”

And I do. It’s like an explosion when I finally come and feel him slow his fingers down slightly as he lets me ride out my high. I open my eyes slowly to see Taehyung watching me, eyes blazing and jaw clenched, biting down on his bottom lip. He lowers his head to give me a quick kiss before his eyes flash. “Think you have one more in you?” he asks as he moves lower down my body and settles between my legs. He kisses my inner thigh before running his tongue along my folds but I know I can’t take this anymore.

“Taehyung,” I whisper, sitting up on my elbows, “I can’t. I just want… I just want you. Now.”

“Are you sure? I just want to make you feel good,” he says, frowning with what I realise is concern. “I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Mm, you won’t. Please, Tae,” I add, and apparently that’s what works. Taehyung kisses my inner thigh once again before he gets off the bed and goes to pick up his discarded jeans next to the couch. I can’t help but just stare at him as he does, long hair and lean body completely on display. Just for me, I think. Mine.

He returns with a condom and a smirk. “Always ready,” he quips, making me laugh. He puts it on and climbs on top of me, lining himself up at my entrance. Brushing my bangs off my forehead, he asks, “You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

“I will,” I promise, reaching up to kiss his jaw. Tae nods and enters me slowly; both of us groan in pleasure and I fall back on the bed, opening my legs further and taking him in until he bottoms out. He’s big - that I knew the moment I’d taken off his boxers. It hurts, but not in a bad way. Another sigh escapes my lips as he pulls out to enter me again, and again, until we establish a rhythm.

“Fuck, Dilara, you feel so good, baby,” groans Taehyung, dropping his head onto my shoulder as he goes faster. I grip his bicep and wrap my leg around him to pull him in as he turns to capture my lips in his. I kiss him back; it’s messy and desperate and full of sighs and moans as he goes even faster. His hand comes up to grip my breast, lips still against mine, and I clutch at his shoulder, feeling my nails dig into his skin.

“Oh, my -” I can’t even finish my sentence before he hits the spot and I hit my second orgasm of the night, so much louder this time as I fall back on the bed again. Taehyung’s still going but I can tell he’s close by the way his grunts are getting louder and his jaw is clenching harder. It’s another ten seconds before he slams into me a final time and finishes inside the condom, supporting himself with his hands flat on the bed.

We stay there for a few seconds, both breathing in what just happened. Then, Taehyung raises his head to look at me and presses a soft kiss to my mouth before climbing off me and going out to dispose of the condom. He comes back in a few seconds, beautifully naked, and climbs back onto the bed next to me. We lie there in comfortable silence, our hands intertwined between us, while I think about how we were lying exactly like this just last night on a hotel rooftop when we’d met for the first time.

As the high slowly dissipates, I feel goosebumps erupt on my arm from the AC. Taehyung notices too, and wraps an arm gently around my waist. “Cold?” he asks, kissing my shoulder.

“Just a bit,” I answer, turning onto my side and kissing him. He kisses me back and, contrary to the roughness of what just happened, this is slower, deeper, almost loving. I brush my thumb across his cheekbones as he pulls me closer, eventually pulling me on top of him. Straddling him again, I pull away and sit up, getting my first good look at Kim Taehyung, naked. In my bed.

He’s beautiful. Unlike Jungkook who’s all bulk and muscle, Tae is much leaner, like a tennis player or a Formula 1 driver even. His torso is long and slender, while his collarbones arch to become lean biceps, sinewy forearms and slender fingers currently resting on my thighs. I look up to meet his eyes again to see him smirking up at me, like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

“This is my favourite hair on you,” I tell him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes slightly. He flicks his hair back as though out of habit. “Black… suits you.”

“Yeah?” His hands rise up to rest on my hips. “Just black?”

“The grey is a close second,” I agree after a moment. “The dark blond, too.” The fact of the matter is that Taehyung looks fantastic no matter what his hair looks like, but I can’t tell him that. He’s looking at me far too intensely; it’s making my face heat up. I suddenly feel conscious; he’s too gorgeous himself to be looking at me with this much reverence. “I need to… clean up,” I say finally, climbing off him and the bed, gathering my hair and slipping on my underwear as I search the floor for something to wear.

“My t-shirt’s right there,” he says, apparently knowing what I’m doing. I turn to see him watching me with a content smile, hands behind his head. Wordlessly, I pick it up and put it on, waving to him as I walk into the bathroom and close it behind me. 

Once I’m in, I lean against the door and exhale. I can still smell him on me, on my skin, on his white t-shirt that reaches the tops of my thighs. I shut my eyes; it’s not that I can’t believe I just had sex with V of BTS - it’s that I can, even though just twenty-four hours ago, I was at a BTS backstage party waiting for him to just talk to me. I turn my head to look at the mirror and wince as I move closer. 

My hair is a mess - no surprise there, considering how much Tae kept running his hands through it, tangling it and pulling at it. My stomach leaps at the memory of it. My lipstick, which had stayed through the entire time I’d been with the band, has now finally disappeared as well - no surprise there either. Moving closer, I brush my hair off my neck to inspect the most critical aspect of our session; I can’t stop a smile from appearing on my face. At the side of my neck, a couple inches below my ear, is a brand new hickey, blooming red and big.

I touch it gingerly and, almost as if it’s a signal, my inner thigh tingles. I know what it is before I’ve checked; right on the inside of my left thigh, barely three inches below my crotch are two smaller hickeys. When I check, there’s another on my right. 

He’s marked me, I realise. The thought makes me feel strangely reassured. It doesn’t feel aggressive or possessive; if anything, it gives off a sense of… desperation, almost. As though he doesn’t want to miss the chance to prove that I’m -

“No,” I whisper out loud. I can’t let my thoughts go down this road, not tonight. I close my eyes, forcing myself to think about literally anything else, when I hear a soft humming of Tu les garçons et les filles again.

He’s on the bed where I’d left him, but he’s put on his boxers and is scrolling through his phone. The moment he sees me, he ceases humming and his face breaks out into the same boxy smile that regularly breaks millions of hearts around the world. 

“Don’t stop,” I tell him, climbing onto the bed next to him and settling down on my stomach. “Sounded nice.”

Tae raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You like it?”

“I always like hearing you sing,” I say honestly, my heart skipping a beat when he smiles and drops his gaze. “What? That can’t be the first time someone complimented your voice.”

“It’s not,” he admits, “but people usually prefer Jungkook or Jimin.” He says it in a matter-of-fact tone.

I shrug. “Yours is the sexiest.” He smirks, like I knew he would. When I bite my lip and raise an eyebrow, it widens into a grin.

“Will I get to see you drive tomorrow?” he asks, tugging on the ends of my hair.

“Definitely. I don’t see how they can postpone anything any further even if it pours all day,” I add, resting my head on my hands and looking up at him. “I really hope it doesn’t, though. We only get one practice session and Suzuka is hard enough for a rookie without the track being wet.”

Taehyung frowns but doesn’t say anything, brushing the back of his hand light against my cheek. My eyes flutter shut for a moment at his touch as I try to savour it as much as I can and not think about tomorrow. I’m just about to ask him if he wants to switch on some music - anything to get me to stop stressing before I really start stressing - when my phone pings, first once and then in a succession of pings.

I raise my head and turn around to the backpack I’ve been carrying around all day. I get up, leaving Tae lying on the bed, and retrieve it to see a series of messages from Lexie, all apologising for being MIA all day because of her food poisoning and that she hopes I’m ready for tomorrow. I text her back immediately, telling her to chill, when I see a notification from Max pop up just as a pair of arms wrap around my waist and my back meets a nice, warm, naked chest.

Taehyung lowers his head onto my shoulder and presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his long hair tickling my cheek. “Dilara,” he says quietly, and it sounds like his favourite song in the world. “Dilara,” he says again, this time in a whisper, grazing my ear with his teeth. My breathing stutters a bit but I don’t want him to stop; I close my eyes and sink back into him, tilting my head slightly to give him better access. I feel his breath on my ear and shiver.

“Do you want to order some food?”

My eyes snap open and I snicker, elbowing him in the ribs and pulling away. He laughs his deep, open laugh and I swoon - internally, of course. “I can’t eat anymore,” I tell him, shaking my head and leaning against the table. “I’m driving tomorrow so I have to, you know. Stay light.”

Tae nods understandingly. “Alright, I’ll just get food for me. Is that alright?”

“No, you are forbidden from eating if I’m not.”

“Hilarious. Oh, can you have ice cream?” he suggests. “Come on, who can say no to ice cream?”

I scoff. “All twenty of us getting into a car tomorrow. Food is bad enough, but sugar is absolutely the worst. Why do you think I said no to dessert in the car today?”

He frowns. “But… you ate the cupcakes,” he points out. “Why -”

I give him a look. “Well, firstly, I actually only had, like, two bites. I strategically offered bites to you and Jimin and Jungkook by which time the rest of you had finished the box. And secondly… well, of course I ate them. Jimin was so nice to get them for me,” I add, looking at the floor self-consciously. “Actually, why was he being so nice?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, clearly knowing what I want him to admit. “You ate the cupcake even though you’re not supposed to be eating sugar. Why were you being so nice?”

“Fair enough.”

He simply grins. “That’s me. I think Jimin likes you, though. He’s such a… how do you say it? Flirt?”

I laugh. “He’s cute. And, you know, my favourite member.”

Taehyung gives me an unimpressed look as my phone pings again and I go back to checking my messages. They’re mostly from Lexie and Christian, the latter of whom has sent me a screenshot of some data from last year’s race in Suzuka. 

“Something wrong?” Taehyung asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, kissing my cheek with ease, as though he does it all the time.

“No,” I sigh, “just stuff to look over for tomorrow.” I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice but I know I haven’t succeeded. Instead of random encouragement, Tae just holds me a bit tighter and rests his head on my shoulder, swaying slightly to the music. I close my eyes and sink back into him, gripping his arms and swaying along.

“I dare you to do something!” We sing together all of a sudden and I turn around to see him singing just as dramatically as I am. He takes my hand and, just like earlier today, spins me and pulls me in by my waist and we sing the entire chorus and the next verse together until his long hair in his eyes and broad shoulders get too much for me and I get up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and try to kiss him.

Except I don’t reach.

It seems to take Taehyung a moment to realise what I was trying to do before he bursts out laughing. He overdoes it for sure, even when I pick up my t-shirt from the floor and throw it at him. “You’re so cute,” he tells me, smiling fondly and coming up to me to wrap his arms around my waist even as I half-heartedly try to push him off. He lowers his head and kisses me and, without warning, places a hand under my thigh and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist out of instinct as he turns around and takes me back to the bed. I’m on my back for just a few seconds before I flip us over and straddle him.

“My turn,” I tell him, flipping my hair over my shoulders and bending over him, tucking my hair behind my ears just as my phone rings. I groan and drop my head onto his shoulder before I climb off, chuckling at his protests. I pick up the call to hear Max Verstappen’s voice.

“This better be really important,” I state, placing a hand on my hip and looking back at Tae apologetically.

“It is,” says Max confidently. He sounds like he’s with someone when he says, “You want to go get a snack from the restaurant? It’s probably empty by now.”

I frown incredulously. This is important? “I’m, uh…” I trail off, turning and looking at Taehyung again, who’s now lounging on the bed looking like a Greek statue. I get the overwhelming urge to run my tongue up his lean, hard torso and force myself to focus. “... busy.”

I can almost hear Max raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Busy?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Like last night kind of busy?”

“Alright, Verstappen, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast. Bye,” I say loudly, interrupting his joking response. I shake my head and turn around to see Taehyung now off the bed and walking towards me.

“Hey,” he says, kissing me quickly on the mouth, “do you mind if I take a quick shower? I mean, I could go back to my room and do it and then come back to -”

“Go take a shower, Tae,” I say, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek, and smacking his arse for good measure. He laughs and disappears into the bathroom while I settle on the couch in Tae’s hoodie that’s lying on the table and open up Christian’s messages.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m going through the last one, my laptop open on my side with a picture of the track on full screen. I’m frowning, trying to calculate something in the third sector, when the doorbell rings. I get off the couch and open it to reveal Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo, both in hoodies and joggers.

“Hey, we came to see if you changed your mind,” said Max, not even trying to lie. His gaze falls to your lower half and he smiles. “Looks like you didn’t, though.”

I’ve just remembered that all I’m wearing is an oversized hoodie (and it’s Max and Danny), so I don’t really care. “Afraid not.”

Daniel shrugs. “We can order in, too,” he suggests, his trademark grin appearing on his face, telling me instantly that Max has told him all about last night. 

“That’s really not a good idea,” I insist. “In fact, why don’t you -”

“Hey, Dilara, I was thinking of ordering dessert in case you want -” Taehyung’s deep voice comes from behind me and I turn around in horrendous anticipation to see him in nothing but a towel around his waist, looking up from his phone, first at me and then at my guests.

Max and Danny are evidently speechless - and so am I, but for different reasons. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been mortified, but I’m too distracted by the discovery that apparently the only thing that’s more attractive than Kim Taehyung is Kim Taehyung straight out of the shower. My eyes roam shamelessly over the beads of water still on his body, his wet hair falling into his eyes, how low that towel is…

I remember I have company and look back at Max and Danny, shrugging innocently. Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed. His smooth, impassive face reveals the slightest smirk before he turns around and nonchalantly disappears back into the room.

I turn back to the boys, both of whom have a mixture of amazement and embarrassment on their faces. “You know what,” says Daniel finally, clapping Max on the shoulder, “you do seem really busy.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you in the morning,” agrees Max quickly, winking at me before I nod and shut the door. I walk back into the room to see Tae still in his towel, scrolling through his phone as he stands near the edge of the bed. I go up to him purposefully, shedding the hoodie and t-shirt on the way. He looks up at me and his eyes widen in surprise but I don’t stop.

“That was so hot,” I tell him in a low voice, reaching up to kiss him with one hand in his hair and undoing his towel with the other. If Taehyung is taken off guard, he doesn’t really show it. His arms go around my waist and he pushes me down on the bed, kissing me back. 

This time, it isn’t quite like before, where we were just desperate to finally be together. No, this time, we go slower. Tae takes his time which, as it turns out, elicits a whole lot of other responses from me. He fully takes charge, too; it’s subtle and I don’t even realise it’s happened until I’m on my knees while he’s sucking on my neck and rubbing furious circles on my clit and I’m practically begging him to fuck me. He pulls me back flush against his chest as he begins a rhythm, each thrust making me whimper until we both finish almost at the same time and I can feel him pant against my back and kiss my shoulder.

We stay in bed after that, under the covers. We talk about indie music; he tells me he writes it and I inform him that I listen to it, followed by a bunch of recommendations. I tell him about the time I was at a music festival back home and was waiting for my friends at the smallest, least crowded stage and how much I don’t regret that decision to this day. He tells me about the first song he wrote and produced and how the songwriting process makes him feel lonelier than he’d imagined. I, after privately considering, end up telling him about my mother, and how Rudy Komyshan treating me like his real child is the only reason I’m able to race today.

Taehyung kisses me at that, a gentle, protective kiss, holding my face and brushing his thumb across my cheek. He doesn’t say anything but then again, he doesn’t need to. We lie next to each other and at some point I fall asleep, smelling lotion and feeling hard muscle underneath my fingers.

When I wake up the next morning, I'm alone.

~

Thank you for reading. Check out the link for Part 2 in the description, and don't forget to drop a review :)

[koffeetips]

The Coffee Clash: Arabica vs Robusta - 2 Beans' Battle for Your Buzz

Verdict: Arabica vs Robusta, A Draw of Deliciousness For centuries, Arabica vs Robusta, the two most popular coffee beans on Earth, have fueled empires, fueled creativity, and fueled late-night study sessions. But beneath their foamy surface, a battle rages on. Which bean reigns supreme in the land of coffee? Let's brew up some facts and dive into the heart of this caffeinated conflict.

But,

first I will tell you a few interesting stories: 1. The Secret Society of Coffee Smugglers In the 17th century, when coffee was still a rare and valuable commodity, a group of enterprising individuals known as the "Grand Babas" emerged in the Ottoman Empire. These smugglers risked their lives to transport coveted Arabica beans from Yemen to other parts of the empire, defying strict export bans and fueling the growing demand for coffee. Their intricate network of spies, disguises, and secret routes ensured a steady supply of these precious beans, shaping the early history of the coffee trade and contributing to its global spread. 2. The Rise of the Resilient Bean Robusta thrives in harsh environments with less-than-ideal conditions. This hardy character led to its cultivation in Vietnam, where French colonists first planted it in the early 1900s. During the Vietnam War, Robusta proved its resilience, growing strong even amidst bombings and defoliation. Today, Vietnam remains the world's leading Robusta producer, and its unique, earthy coffee flavor has become a national symbol. 3. The Coffee Cat Caper Legend has it that the Dutch East India Company, fiercely protective of its Arabica monopoly in the 17th century, attempted to prevent the spread of coffee beans by prohibiting their export from Indonesia. However, a determined captain named Pieter van der Stel, determined to cultivate coffee in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), devised a cunning plan. He snuck Arabica beans aboard his ship by hiding them in his pet cat's fur! Upon arrival in Ceylon, the sprightly feline "accidentally" released the beans, allowing van der Stel to establish the first coffee plantation outside of Indonesia and break the Dutch monopoly. This story, while possibly questionable, highlights the lengths people have gone to in the pursuit of this beloved bean. 4. From Backyards to Billionaires The story of Starbucks, a global coffee giant, began with a single store in Seattle in 1971. Their focus on high-quality Arabica beans and creating a welcoming atmosphere revolutionized the coffee industry. Their success not only made Arabica accessible to a wider audience but also inspired countless small-batch roasters and independent cafes, showcasing the diverse appeal and economic potential of this versatile bean.These stories showcase the diverse and captivating world of coffee, from the daring exploits of smugglers to its global expansion of coffee shops. As we continue to explore and appreciate this delicious beverage, these fascinating tales remind us of the rich history, cultural significance, and human ingenuity that have shaped its journey from bean to cup. Most Prominent Characters, Arabica vs Robusta 1: Arabica vs Robusta, Taste and Aroma - A Tale of Two Tongues Arabica, the undisputed champion of flavor, boasts a nuanced orchestra of tastes. Imagine notes of chocolate, berries, and even flowers waltzing across your tongue. Robusta, however, prefers a punk rock solo - bold, bitter, and earthy, with a slightly rubbery finish. Some find its intensity exhilarating, while others prefer the smooth sweetness of Arabica. Studies by the National Coffee Association show that a whopping 60% of consumers favor the delicate flavors of Arabica, making it the star of specialty coffee shops. 2: Arabica vs Robusta, Caffeine Kick - Who Packs the Bigger Punch? Think you need Robusta for that extra jolt? Surprise! This underdog contains almost double the caffeine content of Arabica! But here's the twist: that potent punch can come with jitters and anxiety. Arabica, with its lower caffeine dose, delivers a more sustained energy boost, like a gentle wave, not a crashing tidal wave. Research by the European Food Safety Authority confirms this, highlighting that high caffeine intake can lead to increased anxiety and blood pressure. So, for a balanced buzz, Arabica takes the prize. 3: Arabica vs Robusta, Price and Production - A Matter of Money and Mountains Arabica, the diva of the bean world, demands a royal ransom. Its delicate, finicky nature requires higher altitudes and specific climates, making it more expensive to grow. Robusta, on the other hand, thrives in less fancy digs, growing happily at lower altitudes and withstanding pests and diseases better. This translates to a significantly lower price tag, making it the go-to for instant coffees and blends. 4: Arabica vs Robusta, Hidden Secrets of the Bean Bowl - Brain Benefits: Recent scientific studies suggest that Arabica, with its higher antioxidant content, may offer neuroprotective benefits and even improve cognitive function, while Robusta's high caffeine content might enhance alertness and focus. Both beans offer cognitive perks but in different ways. - Sustainable Sipping: Robusta's hardy nature makes it a more sustainable choice, requiring less water and pesticides to grow. This is crucial for coffee's future, as climate change impacts traditional Arabica-growing regions. Thus, Robusta emerges as a potential savior. Its adaptability to warmer temperatures and resistance to pests make it a more sustainable option for future coffee production. Research is underway to improve the taste and processing of Robusta, potentially paving the way for a future where this resilient bean plays a key role in ensuring a sustainable coffee supply. - Local Legends: Beyond the big two, a colorful cast of lesser-known coffee beans emerges, each with its unique flavor profile and cultural significance. Liberica from Southeast Asia has a woody, floral aroma, while Ethiopian Sidamo offers a vibrant citrusy zing. Exploring these diverse beans can be a delicious adventure for any coffee enthusiast. The Verdict: Arabica vs Robusta, A Draw of Deliciousness So, who truly wins the Arabica vs Robusta battle? There's no clear-cut victor. Both beans bring their strengths and weaknesses to the table, offering a spectrum of flavors and effects. Ultimately, the champion is you, my fellow coffee lovers, who get to choose your perfect cup based on your taste buds and your caffeine needs. Whether you crave the refined elegance of Arabica or the raw power of Robusta, remember, every cup is an adventure – so brew on, and enjoy the journey!I would love to know, Arabica vs Robusta: Which bean is your favorite? Email Twitter Pinterest Facebook LinkedIn Reddit Keep In Touch If You Like My Articles. As much as I like to share my knowledge and skills with you, I love to hear from you. If you have any suggestions or comments, please click here. Also don't forget to subscribe to our quarterly newsletters if you like my blogs and like to keep in touch.Of course, read more blog posts I post now and then, such as  "Which Coffee Is The Healthiest". Read the full article

[inevertookart]

Music Response

Album Cover Imagery -

Designed in 1939 by twenty three year old Alex steinweiss while working at Columbia records. Taken from New York's West 45th Street and stood outside the city's famous Imperial Theatre. This was one of the first album covers to use a photography.

As the first album art cover and with no previous subjects to take inspiration from i think this is a great use of imagery, imagination and colour to start.

5O'S

Elvis Presley 1956 was taken by William V. "Red" Robertson from the debut studio album, The picture of Elvis playing the guitar and singing during a performance at the Fort Homer Hesterly Armory, Tampa, Florida, on July 31, 1955 was used here with the singers name and album title vertically and horizontally in some bright cool colours. The set up of this album would go on to be, I used the word reference lightly in a later massive album cover. I thought this was really cool for the time of the album.

60s

A great visual and cover to reflect the time the psychedelic 60s, Jimi Hendrix’s Axis Bold As Love (1967) was created by David King and Roger Law shows art work of religious faith with the bright 60s colours. The artwork would go on to be the source of complaints and banned by the Malaysian government's Home Ministry and Jimi himself explaining how he had nothing to do with the choice of the cover. Its great reference to something to looks good but the more information you gather about it the more questions it raises.

I have also included this album cover by Led Zeplin from the 1969 self titled album, photographed by Sam Shere on 6 May 1937, during the hidenburg disaster. taken from a joke about the band starting and how it would go down like a lead balloon. The design was coordinated by George Hardie the front cover illustration, rendering the famous original black-and-white photograph in ink using a radiograph technical pen and a mezzotint technique.

70s

Designed by Paula Scher and illustrated by Roger Huyssen for Epic Records the cover of Boston's album is one of my favourites even if it designer Paula Scher does not understand why it got a backing when released, “The Boston cover was designed in 1976 and is now 39 years old,” she says. “It was, and still is, in my opinion, a mediocre piece of work.” The guitar shaped spaceships have become a trademark for the band and other album covers. Paula had a meeting with Tom scholz guitarist for Boston and the bands product manager, “The first space ship cover idea we showed Scholz had a Boston invasion of the planet, but Scholz said that space ships should be saving the planet, not attacking. So we came up with the Earth-blowing-up idea.

Rogger Huyssen has created close to 100 album including James Brown and has work in the Smithsonian National Portrait gallery in Washington DC, his work is amazing and very recognisable.

80s

Released on October 8th 1980 Talking Heads Remain in the light album is a great alternative album cover. Using and image of the band the Massachusetts Institute of Technology blotted out the band face using red and keeping the bands eyes and mouth. Painstakingly the job took hours due to the lack of computer power in the 80s. The rest of the artwork was created by graphic designer Tibor Kilman. It was Kilman that came up with the idea of inverting the A's in the bands name, I think this is a great addition and simple idea but also has a great effect that pulls you to the writing. This and the what would be a simple job now but lengthy job in the 80s creates a great cover.

90s

The Glasgow boys make my top album on the 90s. Released in September 1991 and created by Paul Cannell the psychedelic sunburst that adorns the album’s sleeve has become the bands recognisable calling card featuring on countless t-shirts, posters and other memorabilia. According to myth the picture was created after artist Paul had taken LSD at the Creation Records office in Westgate London and Paul was inspired by a damp patch. Paul would go on to create other album covers for Primal Scream and also created work for the Manic Street Preachers. Sadly Paul passed away in 2005 but thankfully his amazing artwork lives on.

Released in June 2003 and Created by English artist Stanley Donwood. Donwood has created all the artwork for Radiohead with Thom Yorke. The cover art is a roadmap of Hollywood, with words and phrases taken from roadside advertising in Los Angeles, such as "God", "TV" and "oil". Not only did Donwood use the advertising but he also used songs from the album such as Burn the Witch and also used some political reference due to the ongoing war on terror at this time.

2010s

Bon Iver's second studio album Bon Iver album was released in June 2011 and the album cover was created by American contemporary artist and teacher Gregory Euclide. Gregory's artwork is most recognisable for its water colour look and its focus on nature and the outdoors. Gregory's work has had plenty of recognition from appearing on album covers and in magazines to the museum of Art and Design in New York and exhibitions on Nevada's Museum of Art. Euclide has went on to do many more Album covers and book covers.

2020s

Released in August 2020 the Killers most recent Album 'Imploding The Mirage' album artwork was created by Thomas Blackshears piece called 'Dance of the Wind and Storm'. The Killers have noted that the artwork is the main source for most of the inspiration for the entire album, the band have said there is a number of direct links between the art and song lyrics. Thomas Blackshear work has been exhibited at The Smithsonian National Museum of American History and has created work for stamps, Hallmark cards and illustrations, He has also created artwork for Disney pictures, George Lucas Studios and National Geographic magazine.

Below are some other amazing album covers.....

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Caring for Zero; Four/Billy x reader

*Author’s note*

Wow so many updates for you guys (even though the last two have been done for years) but still. Now ever since watching 6 underground like all of you out there I have been DYING to make a Four/Billy fanfic and so this was born. Now I apologize for the laziness in the main mission idk how to write an action sequence Michael Bay style (even though it’s all action and explosions and that’s it). So I hope you all can forgive me for it.

Warnings: MAJOR swearing, like rated R swearing, ANGST, some fluff, paralysis (you’ll find out I won’t spoil it for you), explosions, cultural references.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@psychosupernatural​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@mexifangorl​

@fan-of-everything-and-nothing​

@bohemiansweede​

@simonedk​

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“But the entire perimeter is patrolled not only by guards but by air fleets.” Said Three as the entire 6 Underground was looking over the map of their next missions, well mission and a half, maybe a quarter.

“Wait an air fleet? Why the fuck would someone have an air fleet patrol?” Four snapped.

“Because the guy’s an arrogant, cheap asshole that has cause too much military abuse of power. But no worries guys we’ve got an Ace up our sleeve.” One stated proudly.

“And just who is that exactly?” asked Seven.

“To answer that question with a question of my own, how do some of you deal with the cold?”

“Wait you don’t mean….” Started Five.

“Oh I mean.” One grinned.

“You know she won’t do it.” Two stated coldly.

“I agree with Two on this One, she said she never wanted a part of this again.” Four said defensively.

“Coming from the guy that slept with her.” One snapped at him like the smartass billionaire he was.

“Okay wait, wait just who are you all talking about?” asked Seven.

“No more questions, we’re going to see her now. Pack the gas jugs and let’s go.”

With that the group were forced to packed up their stuff from their haunted house in California and headed up North to the Yukon Alaskan provenience.  When all they saw was nothing but forests, Seven just had to ask Four.

“So who exactly are we going to see? And did One really mean what he said about you slept with her?”

“Look you’ll find out soon but I guarantee she’s not gonna help us.” Four spoke with a hint of pain and heartbreak in his voice.  Eventually after another hour of driving through the endless forest, they soon came up to a cabin that stood all alone in the middle of the woods.

From the chimney smoke came up which indicated that someone was home.

“And here we are.” One stated as he got out of the jeep in front.  Suddenly jumping out from the woods was a pack of wolves.  All ranging from light tan color to pure black.

“Oh shit!” Three cried out.

“In the cars now!” screamed Two.  But before they could make a run for it, two charcoal wolves came in front of the team snarling and snapping their fangs almost telling them ‘Just try and get past us!’

Soon the pack of almost over 10 wolves surrounded the team and just circled them.  All the team members withdrew their guns but it did nothing to stir the wolves out of fear.  The pack continued to circle the group and that’s when Five said.

“Still think this is a good idea One?”

“Well I could be wrong.”

It was then one of the wolves, particularly the large white one came right up to Four.  To say that Billy wasn’t scared shitless right now, he’d be lying.  He’s done many dangerous things in his life being the ‘Skywalker’ of the group, but staring down a possibly rabid, giant wolf was something he NEVER in a million years thought he’d be doing.

The white wolf looked at Billy and sniffed him a couple of times before ceasing his snarling and walked closer to him and sniffed his leg even closer.  It was like—the wolf detected something familiar on him. It was a faint scent but it still lingered there on his pant leg.

Then something caught the wolves attention as every single one of them ceased snarling and their ears erected as they turned towards the house.  The white wolf looked back towards Billy and Billy looked down at the haunting golden eyes of the black wolf before it took off running. Followed by the rest of the pack who barked and howled away as they disappeared back into the forest.

“Okay what just……” started Seven and that’s when a voice came out from the speakers of the cabin.

“You’re lucky I let them spare you, otherwise I’d let them rip you all apart.” With that the team slowly approached the cabin and when One was the first to look inside, he saw just a few feet away a young woman with (h/l) (h/c) doing pullups on a set of monkey bars.

“Sarah Connor, from Terminator 2.” One proclaimed.  The woman then flipped herself around and just hung onto the bars and sneered.

“Fuck you’re old!” At that One just let out a fake gasped-out laugh as he mocked her.

“Fake laugh, hiding real pain.”

*My POV*

I can’t believe this guys would come back, and what’s with the new guy? Where was six? I swear if this is the new six I’ll call my children back and have him ripped to pieces.

“Whose this guy?” I asked gesturing to the gunman still holding the AK-47 in his hands.

“This is Seven.” One simply stated.

“It’s Blaine actually.” Seven or should I say Blaine answered.

“Okay I’m still not gonna get used to that. Yeah a lot’s happened since you left.” One told me.

“So what? You’re now all chummy with each other? Going to café’s together to sit on a couch like you’re a group of Friends?”

“Yep that’s our Queen of the North, heart like Ice. This past two years have not done you well socially.” Said Three.

“Like you’re one to talk Three. Our last mission in Budapest you nearly killed our target just because he wouldn’t cooperate with the kidnapping.”

“Oh and he did it again with our real mission.” Said Two.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I muttered.

“Look we came to ask for your help. Can you come with us?”

“Why would you need me One? I told you I can’t help you. Not in that way anymore.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” asked Blaine.  At that point I knew I had to show him.  Might as well get it over with.  I released my right hand and touched my watch with my nose and soon my automatic wheel chair came rolling under me.  I released my grip and landed right on my wheelchair and just stared at Blain like I was expecting the sympathetic eyes.

And there they were. His eyes widened and his jaw unclenched and dropped even though his mouth remained closed.

“Yeah, you can take a picture it’ll fuckin last longer you know.” I then took the motor handle and moved my chair towards One.  “And as I told you before, I won’t help you. I know the only reason you would come up here in person, with the whole team for that matter, is because you physically need me.”

“C’mon Zero we need our Ace back. For the new mission. It’s right up your alley and you know military corruption like no one else.”

“True but that still won’t make me help you.”

“(Y/n),” I heard Billy’s voice say.  I looked up at him and he looked at me with those kicked puppy dog eyes of his. “We need you.”

“You don’t need me. None of you do. Now please leave my cabin. I’ll give you the weapons you’ll need by tomorrow.” I wheeled out of my cabin and headed out to the backyard.

I looked out into the lake that stood by my backyard and that’s when I heard his voice say.

“(Y/n)—”

“I already told you Billy nothing you say will make me change my mind!”

“I already knew that.” I turned and looked at him and said.

“You do?” he nodded. “Then why are you here?”

“I just—wanted to see you. It’s been…..awhile.”

“Yeah, a long time since we—we’ve seen each other.” God the awkwardness you could just cut the tension with a knife.  Why did I have to fall in love with the cute green eyed thief? Why?! WHY!?

“Can’t we talk about….what happened between us?”

“Billy we talked about this.”

“No you just decided that we should end it! Why couldn’t you give me a chance to speak about how I felt!?”

“BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOUR FUCKING SYMPATHY BILLY!!! Every day all I kept seeing was the look of sympathy in your eyes after that day. I knew you’d try to make me stay out of sympathy, not just for what you wanted. One knew I was practically useless except for building weapons. He wants all of us on the field or none at all. Cause if you aren’t, then you’re nothing but collateral damage.”

“He’s actually started to loosen up on the rules.”

“Oh really? The day I see that is the day I can walk again, and without the help of machines.”

“(Y/n), please.” He then kneeled down beside me and gently cupped my face in his hand.  I tried to fight back his touch but I couldn’t help but swoon at finally feeling that calloused touch that I’ve missed so much. “I’m sorry okay. I never wanted you to think I was acting out of sympathy, I was—you don’t know how hard it was for me to see you in that pain. I’d give anything for it to have been me in that crash instead of you. I thought I lost you that day, but in the end I did end up losing you. I’d give anything to go back in time to that day and stop you from getting in that plane.”

As he spoke, he pressed his forehead to mine (a common form of affection the two of us did to each other) his nose gently brushing against mine.  I then felt the familiar, intoxicating taste of his lips on mine. It was a brief kiss but it still held so much love, passion and regret behind it.  He then kissed my cheek, then my jaw, but just before he could kiss my neck I stopped him and rolled away snapping out.

“NO BILLY! Don’t! You can’t just—kiss me and expect everything to be okay! I already told you…..it’s over. So please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” His eyes were full of pain as he looked at me in shock.

“As you wish.” Damnit why say that? He knew that was our secret code for ‘I love you’.  And with that he just walked away.  I sniffled and wiped the tears that were starting to form in my eyes away.  I then heard a soft grunt at my side and there I saw my white wolf mixed German shepherd “Ghost” standing beside me.

He whimpered and sniffed my hand and licked it comfortingly before placing his head down on my lap. All the while he let out another whimper as he looked up at me with those haunting yet beautiful golden eyes.

“Oh Ghost.” I stroked through his thick white fur and I told him. “I know you smelled me on him. But I can’t go back to him. He—deserves better than a handicapped.”

“So you do still care about him?” we both turned around, Ghost snarling defensively as we turned and saw Blain standing behind us just a few feet away.

“Ghost Platz!” He turned toward me and using his former commands that he once learned as a K9 officer, he obeyed immediately.

“You taught a wolf K9 commands?” asked Blaine.

“He’s a wolfdog actually. All those dogs you saw were in some degree a species of wolf dogs. From mixed huskies or German shepherds like Ghost here, to the traditional Czech wolfdogs.”

“So what you just—rescued them?”

“Some. Others I found as puppies at the puppy mill just half an hour away from here. I found them, busted them out and raised them. But of course I kept my distance because of the wolf blood within them. What people don’t seem to understand with wolfdogs is that they are just dogs that look like wolves. But they are also half wolf too, and sometimes that trumps the dog half within them. Two different species colliding together trying to overcome till one just takes over whether dog or wolf. And when the wolf takes over, people reject it. Fear it.”

“You say that like you’re talking from experience.” I grinned.

“You could say that. My team didn’t call me ‘Bad Wolf’ for nothing.”

“You mean the others?”

“No. My old team, my flying team. Before I got this job I—was an officer in the US Air Force. Officer (Y/n) “Bad Wolf” (L/n).”

“Wait. I think I heard about you from a former friend of mine. Carol Larson.”

“Ahh good old Carol. How was she last time you ever saw her?”

“She seemed fine. Last I knew she was gonna have a baby.”

“Ahh my older sista from another mista. That girl taught me everything I needed to know. I became the female Maverick thanks to her.”

“Now I hope you don’t mind me asking but from one Military officer to the other, was it a field mission that—”

“Oh no this? Nah this was from working with those sons of bitches you’ve got roped in with. Can’t say I blame them, hell none of us saw it coming.”

“What exactly happened?” I sighed heavily and turned towards him.  Sensing my distress and anxiety, Ghost came up to me and placed his head back on my lap and I explained.

“It was while we were still looking for information on the Turgistan dictator. One of our quarter missions. I was the eye in the sky for the team to take out any in coming police choppers or dick face’s military birds. I was having the time of my life, taking down one bird after the next. I was on point, before I knew it I had a bandit at my six. I tried to shake it off but it wouldn’t get off, nothing I did deterred it. Next thing I knew I was flying dead stick.”

I lowered my head remembering that horrible day like it was yesterday.  It’s true what they say about PTSD.  It never leaves you, even when you’re no longer part of the military.

“As you know One was gonna leave me out there, the entire plane was leaking of fluid and gas. It was gonna blow, but—for some miracle Billy managed to find me and he—pulled me out of the wreckage just as the plane blew up. Next thing I knew when I woke up, I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. At first I thought Five had to amputate my legs. Then again I wish she had.” I chuckled icily. “L3-L4 spinal injury, been paralyzed from the waist down for the past two years.”

“But you should be thankful that you’re alive.” Said Blaine.

“Is it really worth living when you have to look down at your feet and be reminded that they are useless. Like I said, I wish Five had amputated them. So that way I wouldn’t have to fucking look down at these useless mother fuckers and be reminded of my screw up! And Billy he—”

“Deserved better. Yeah I heard that, but did it ever occur to you that he would rather want you alive than to see you dead that day? On the way up here he just got this heartbroken look in his eyes. And I know he tries to hide it but I’ve seen the picture of you two together in his trailer.”

“Oh my god I thought I told him to burn that picture.”

“Billy loves you (y/n). And he still seems to.”

“I wish he didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because after my accident I can’t give him what we once had. I’m just dead weight to him at this point. A Zero. And nobody cares about Zero.”

“He does. But then again I guess that is you. So if you wanna sit here in self-pity licking your wounds, that’s fine by me. But if you’re as good as One says you are, then prove that not even losing the ability to walk can’t stop you.”

“You know you speak as if this is from experience yourself. What branch were you from soldier?”

“Army. Delta Force.”

“Huh, and just what were you to them?”

“Sniper.”

“Ohh well look whose special. Got a Hawkeye on the team now.” Blaine grinned softly.

“Yeah. Survivor’s guilt is a bitch so I know about military corruption too. What it’s like for you to try and do your own thing but your superiors won’t do that. So if you can find it in your heart to save those soldiers under Hassan’s ruling from making the biggest mistake of their lives, then come with us. Or like I said just sit here and wallow like a wounded dog. Your choice Officer (l/n).” he saluted me before walking off.

*3rd Person POV*

After the failed attempt at getting their Ace back, Two asked as they arrived back at the cars.

“So now what? We knew she wouldn’t help us, so what do we do now?”

“We still stick with the plan and hopefully those weapons she gives us tomorrow won’t fuck us over.” One stated as he got back in the front car.  As Billy and Blaine got in the second car, Blaine couldn’t help but notice the heartbroken expression on his face.

“She’ll come around.”

“I doubt it. Two years and she still doesn’t want to see me.”

“Every soldier goes through grief differently. But when she snaps out of it, she’ll be back, and she’ll need you when she does.” He gave Billy a brotherly pat on the shoulder as Five drove them out of (y/n) home and they drove all the way back to their home base.

The next day the weapons arrived from (y/n) and so the team decided to go on and move forward with the mission so they were on their way to Iran through one of One’s personal jets.

After awhile they arrived just a few miles away from where their target, Iranian military General Hassan Yazin was currently residing in his home palace just behind the Iranian military station.

“I still can’t believe this guy would choose the build his palace behind a military station.” Said Three.

“Look the quicker we’re in the quicker we’re out.” Snapped Four.

“I don’t know something doesn’t feel right here, usually a military base wouldn’t allow anything not even a jet to land within 100 miles of their base perimeter. So how were we able to get close enough?” asked Seven.

“I don’t know, but I prefer not to question it. Four’s right the sooner we get him, the sooner this mission is done. And I don’t want any fuck ups like what happened on our first mission.” One said.

“Okay fine, fine.” And with that the team moved forward.  Quick as they could they raced towards the base towards the first hiding spot they could find which was a tank.

“Alright I think I can make it to the east side of the tower and get a clear viewing of Hassan’s palace but I’ll need backup.” Seven said.

“Three and I got you covered till you clear it.” Two told him.

“You know I’m beginning to agree with Seven. I mean we haven’t even seen a single guard on patrol. And usually we run into some by now.” Said Five.

“Again not questioning it! Now get into your positions.” At that point the team started to move forward.  Seven raced towards the tower with Two and Three covering him in case of an ambush. Once they cleared the tower, Seven proceeded to scale up the tower thanks to the tools designed by Zero.

But just as he was about halfway up the tower, suddenly the sound of a jet flew right over head.  However it wasn’t just any jet or plane for that matter, it was a C-5 Super Galaxy.

“Ahh shit!” Seven swore.

“Motherfucker!” swore One.

‘Did you all really think I would make it easy for you?’ through the speaker’s Hassan’s voice rang out.

“Shit, he knew we were coming for him.” Two snapped.

‘Now I may not know who you six are exactly, but it seems you all are of unimportance. So your death wouldn’t even matter. Especially if it were from shall we say…..an accidental base explosion.’ The Galaxy C-% opened up and soon about 20 jets flew out of it and began to circle around the base.

Then faster than anyone could blink, all 20 jets rained fire down onto the base.

Seven scaled down the tower as fast as he could but was soon caught in the explosion and fell the rest of about 6 feet from the ground before he, Three and Two made a break for it before the tower could crush them.

Meanwhile One, Five and Four tried to find cover but every step they were blocked off by an exploding blaze of fire.  They knew they were majorly fucked.  With this constant rain fire, One knew there was no way he or his team was gonna get out of this alive.  As he managed to crawl

From his palace, General Hassan Yazin watched with pride as his military force rained fire on the supposed coup were now nothing but ants ready to be disintegrated one by one with each shots each of his jets dished out.

But suddenly the ships stopped firing down at the six members and changed their firing from the ground to further out into the sky.

“What the hell? Lieutenant what is going on?” he snapped into the commlinks.

‘Sorry General, our radars have detected something from the upper atmosphere.’ His Lieutenant spoke out.  Peeking out from their hiding spots, all the members just looked up confused.

“The hell are they shooting at?” muttered Two.  But it was then they saw it.  Something came right out of the clouds and it turned out to be a Grumman F-14 Tomcat was heading straight for the giant C-5 Super Galaxy.  The Tomcat soon then just rammed into the side of the C-5 like it was nothing as it exploded.

It was soon the team began to realize that this was a very familiar Tomcat that circled back around towards the underbelly of the C-5 and it was at that point Three laughed manically as he cheered out.

“OH YEAH KAMIKAZE!!” The tomcat once again went through the C-5 from bottom to top and the explosion boomed like a firework as the team were in awe.

“God I love that psychotic bitch.” One said in awe. While Billy couldn’t help but smile and laugh ecstatically.

“That’s my girl.” He muttered softly.

*My POV*

As I shot back up over the roof of the C5 Super Galaxy jet, I watched as it fell to the ground in a grand overture of explosions knowing that not only that giant ship was now gone, but the rest of the artillery inside was gone too.  I knew the team was dealing with more jets than they had out there, so I downsized the problem.

Because no one messes with my family.

“You guys take care of the General and his ground fleet. I’ve got your back on the aerial ambush.”

‘It is good to see you again Zero, cutting it kinda close aren’t yah though?’ One’s voice spoke through my radio.

“C’mon One you knew I was one for dramatics. Plus you gotta admit I looked like Captain Marvel back there.”

‘God you and Four with your millennial references.’ I grinned smugly.

‘Glad to see you’ve come to your senses Zero!’ I heard Blaine say.

“Thank me once you guys get that son of a bitch in his palace. You all finished one mission without me, I intend to see this one to the end.”

‘You got it. Care to be our eye in the sky?’

“It’d be my pleasure sniper.” I then pulled the accelerator and my Tomcat took off.  I flew after the jets that were still out that didn’t get caught in the C-5’s takedown and had them chase after me, leaving my friends alone down there.

So far I managed to take five of the 20 jets so far and nearly got shot out of the sky by a few others.  But it wasn’t until I saw Billy was in trouble from not only the ground assault but the incoming aerial attack he didn’t know was coming right at his front.

‘Billy 12 o’clock!’ I proclaimed as I chased after one of the jets and fired at ready.

*Billy’s POV*

I heard (Y/n)’s voice in my earpiece and I saw one of Hassan’s jets heading right for me.  Just before I knew I was a goner, the jet exploded right before my eyes and I watched as (Y/n)’s tomcat flew right past me.  Up and down I saw her fly with ease and grace taking down each plane in her sight.

Even when some of Hassan’s soldiers tried to take down her plane, she fired at them blowing the ground from beneath them.  Doing her famed loop-de-loops and even going in between a tag team of jets forcing them to lose control before firing at them before they could get the chance to recover.

As I fired at any soldier nearby I could help but cheer for my baby. As he place flew right over me once again I couldn’t help but cry out.

“TOM CRUISE DOESN’T COMPETE WITH YOU LOVE!!!”

‘Damn straight he don’t!’ She cheered.  I widely grinned and shook my head at seeing her in her element.  She really was like a Falcon in the air, but a She wolf on the attack.

‘Hate to interrupt the little love fest going on here but can we please focus back on the mission? Four I want you, Three and Two to head into the mansion and get that slimy son of a bitch before he tries to deck out.’ One’s voice rang out.

“Got it.” I then raced on ahead with Two and Three coming right beside me and the two of us entered the mansion.

For some reason and I have no idea why but Hassan barely had any guards left to protect him inside which was suspicious to me.  After I had just taken down a guy along the upper hallway near where Hassan’s room was said to be, I looked out the window to see Hassan trying an escape attempt through a chopper.

“Fuck!”

‘What’s going on Four?’ Five asked.

“He’s making an escape in a chopper.”

‘Not for long he won’t.’ (y/n)’s voice said.  Soon enough I saw her flying in and with just a few dropped bombs I saw the fireworks blow up his chopper.

“Two, three he’s outside let’s go!” I slid down the railings before successfully landing on the ground and we raced out the backdoor.  There I saw the rest of the team surrounding him, my girl’s Tomcat having an addition to it as she now aimed a GAU-17A machine gun aimed right at Hassan.

He turned towards us and he must’ve known he couldn’t win.  Wow what a pussy.  He surrendered right then and there and we exposed him to the Iranian President with the recorded confession Two got out of him.  Soon the news blew up with News about the military corruption Hassan had played in the Iranian government.

And with that another mission concluded and we all once again went our separate ways, except (y/n) and I.

*My POV*

After the mission, Billy and I went back to my cabin because the two of us deserved to talk about what happens now since I’m officially back in the game.  Billy and I were lying on my bed and the two of us were staring at each other, our hands softly and occasionally brushing up against one another’s.

“You were right Billy.” He grinned and said.

“I know I’m right.”

“I’m trying to be sincere here, don’t push it.”

“You’re right, you’re right I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t give you a chance to explain because—well I thought you could do better than me. You know that I—can’t perform well anymore so I’m basically a rag doll from the waist down. How could you love someone like that?”

“For one thing that girl’s got a whole lot more to offer than just the incredible sex we used to have together.” He tipped my chin upwards so that I was caught once again in the spell of those enticing green eyes. “Love the sex was just a plus from you. What I really fell in love with was your wicked sense of humor, you’re a fucking badass pilot, you’re beautiful inside and out, and even when you fall down like shit on the ground, you pick yourself up and brush yourself off and keep moving forward. Like today for example, you didn’t let your paralysis stop you from flying that plane and taking down a C-5 Super Galaxy. A fuckin C-5, do you know how big those things are?”

“75.53m in length, 19.84m in height and wingspan of 67.91m.”

“See? Even your brain is beautiful love.” He praised as he cupped both sides of my face.  The two of us smiled as I felt his thumbs brush against my cheeks.  “You see love, there is so much I loved about you. That I still love about you. So can we—pick up where we left off?” I thought about it and I said.

“Will you still make me those warm pancakes in the morning?” he laughed and said.

“I will make you pancakes for every single meal if it means that we can be together again.”

“Okay I’ll take you back.” He cheered and leaned forward and began to frantically kiss me all over my face.  I giggled as he was now starting to act like Max, my youngest pup who was such a lovebug even after the hell his owners put him through.

“Oh you won’t regret it love, I promise! I’ll help take care of the dogs, I’ll help with the chores, I’ll be your workout buddy, I’ll even push your wheelchair around—no screw it I’ll carry you from place to place.”

“Billy, I’m paralyzed but not incompetent.”

“Oh c’mon love, please let me just spoil you. Just this once please?” he cooed out as he pouted his bottom lip out and looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes again.  I groaned and said.

“Fine. But you can carry me only once a month.”

“Seven times a week.”

“Twice a month.”

“Ten times a month.”

“Billy!” I laughed.

“Okay, okay fine. Three times a month, that’s as low as I’ll go.”

“Twice a month.” I confirmed again.

“Okay. Twice a month.” We then kissed each other to seal the agreement.  “Why must you be so cute in order to get your way?”

“Not my fault.”

“No I think it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” It was then he gave my sides a quick tickle which made me jerk up and take his hands in mine.

“No don’t do that!” I laughed.

“Why can’t I?”

“Because you know what tickling does to me, and I’m at a disadvantage now that I can’t kick you away anymore.”

“Oh really? Well then I think I may be tempted even more.”

“Billy!”

“Okay, okay I won’t tickle you. Yet.” I groaned and punched his arm which made him groan in pain. “Ow what the fuck that was hard!”

“Oh you big baby it didn’t hurt that bad.” He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me to pull me in closer to him.

“God I love you.”

“I love you too. And I really did miss you Billy, really.”

“Of course you did.”

“Don’t push it.” He smirked before capturing my lips with his again.  This time our kiss deepened as I felt him cup the side of my face. When air became a desperate thing, he separated from me and our breaths intertwined with each other’s.  “God I’ve missed kissing you.”

“How do you think I’ve felt?” he kissed my cheek and snuggled close to me.

“So you—you don’t mind if we don’t…..”

“(Y/n), it’s fine. The sex was just a plus with you. I don’t mind just cuddling close with my best girl.” He lay down and pulled me close so that my head was resting on his chest and I felt him stroke my back, specifically my lower back where my L3-L4 spinal points were located at.

“So you don’t mind having a paralyzed girlfriend?” I asked him.

“So long as that paralyzed girlfriend is you. I’m always gonna love you (y/n) no matter what. Never, ever doubt that.”

“I—I think I may need to be reminded again.”

“I’ll gladly tell it to you a million times a day if it’ll get you to understand.” I felt him kiss the crown of my forehead lovingly and I breathed in his intoxicating scent that I always found addictive.  His cologne mixed with a bit of sweat from his parkour scaling.  I closed my eyes and buried my face into his chest and embraced my love once again for the first time in two years.

“I love you Billy. My King of the skies.”

“And I love you (y/n), my Queen of the skies.” And with that the two of us fell asleep together holding each other close and exchanging kisses every now and then.

[spilledcoffeestudios]

IMAGINE having a low profile/almost secret relationship with Ben for the past couple of years, only now he gets questions about it

[disasterdeacy]

Guys I’m desperate

Drop me your face Ben Hardy fics plz I’m having a crisis and I need more Ben in my life plzzzzz.

It can be smut, angst, fluff, multichapter I DON’T CARE MY DUDES I JUST NEED IT🥺

[rarepears]

Shadow summons during the holiday season

I know Halloween and Christmas are more of a US/ Western thing, but Jinwoo's shadow summons glow like a demented jack o'latern and purple Christmas lights. So let's just imagine that Korea celebrates both holidays like the US does. Because capitalism or whatever.

So just Jinah using the shadow summons to make the apartment complex extra spooky for trick-or-treaters, Jinah making scarves made of Christmas lights for the Beru to wear whenever he follows her around during December because she thinks it's funny, and Jinah hanging little jingle bells and reindeer headbands on the shadow summons "to get into that festive spirit".

(Jinah soon quits on the last one when Jinwoo and said summons keep returning from the gates with all the bells rusted over with blood and gore and nasty stuff.)

And then, because she can, she has a shadow summon pop out of the Christmas present when gifts are being unwrapped. She failed at scaring the crap out of Jinwoo (which was her primary goal), but she did give Jinho a heart attack. So not bad.

The local Santa at the mall wasn't too happy having a large ant sitting on his lap for pictures.

Jinwoo had to ban all his shadow summons from the experience of having snowball fights given that said snowfalls are being launched at speeds of over 100mph, looking and acting more like projectile missiles made of snow than, well, fun.

Beru hates snow. As an ant dealing with cold weather, Beru ends up burrowing in layers and layers of blankets. He doesn't need to - he's hardy enough that the cold is no problem - but his ant instincts are directing him to find warmer spots.

Jinwoo keeps finding his closet emptied out, his clothes are strewn on the ground where Beru is dozing away at.

[illfoandillfie]

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist:  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​

@veriloquently​

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.  

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.  

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.  

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.  

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.  

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉  

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.  

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.  

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.  

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text.   “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure.   “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?”   “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently.   “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?”   “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass.   “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke.   “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

[hillnerd]

puppies for sale

Rating: PG  AO3  ff.net Summary: Ron goes to pick up the kids from the Burrow, which should be an easy thing- but there are puppies for sale down the road. Domestic Weasley-Granger family fluff. not beta-ed. we die like men ;)   ------------------

“Mum, I’m here!” called Ron, as he stepped out of the floo to his childhood home, spelling away the soot before he tromped it all over and got an ear-full for it. The Burrow always remained the same, the only sign of the passage of time was the people inside, and the occasional photo or children’s artwork being changed out on the walls. A fragrant baking smell wafted through the house, and he could faintly hear the sound of children laughing. 

“In the kitchen, dear!”

He happily trounced over to see what his Mum had been baking, hoping she wasn’t saving it for anyone. He hadn’t gotten in much of a lunch and his stomach was fiercely growling.

“Something smells good.”

“Fig rolls,” she said with a satisfied smile. Like his dad and all the rest of their older redheaded relatives, her hair wasn’t graying, just fading into a pale rose color with little white streaks here and there. “You look hungry. Help yourself to some rolls and a glass of milk.”

Ron gave her a kiss on the cheek before taking a still warm fig roll from the plate and quickly tucking in. He gave an appreciative sigh. “Can you write up the recipe for these?”

She took out a card from her recipe box and quickly duplicated it onto a spare slip of parchment. 

“How was the shop?”

“Chaos as usual,” he said, wiping some crumbs from his beard. “But we’ve been working on some ideas recently that really have potential in defense and business markets, so I’m feeling rather good about that… Where are the kids at?”

“With your father near his shed. Don’t worry, I don’t let them go inside it!” 

Ron furtively rolled his eyes. No matter how many times they all assured her of the shed’s safety, she remained staunchly convinced that everything in there could spring to life with ‘ekeltrickedy’ and murder any visitors. Why she thought only her husband could survive the death trap was beyond him, but he knew better than to question her at this point. 

“Thanks for the food and the recipe! I’ll take a whack at it after the Halloween rush,” he said, heading out to find the children.

His dad was sitting in a Muggle folding camp chair Hermione had gifted him. He’d been giddy about it for months, and took it out so regularly it got banned from the house itself after he’d set it up in the dining room one too many times.

“Watch out, you might be accosted soon,” he warned Ron, twitching his head near the garden wall. There stood a few lean-tos, made from pieces of apple boxes, sticks, and decorated with a great deal of leaves. Magic was surely holding them in place, because they looked incredibly structurally unsound.

“Halt!” cried Rose, jumping from behind a tree. She jabbed a wand-shaped stick in Ron’s direction as he approached. “This is our society!”

“Yeah! Our sosety!” Hugo repeated from inside an apple box. He laid on his stomach and poked the dirt with his ‘wand.’

“It’s society,” Rose harshly whispered at her brother, making Ron shake his head at her tone. She sounded just like Hermione when she’d been a snooty first year. He’d have to work on that with her. Last thing he wanted was his little girl getting bullied for the same stuff her mother had. If Hugo had seemed at all upset Ron would have intervened, but instead Hugo had a gleeful grin on his face.

“SOCIETY!” Hugo boldly bellowed, pointing his own ‘wand,’ before laughing and flapping his hands in excitement. 

“Careful now. Don’t put your eye out,” Ron said, flicking his wand to keep the flailing stick away from Hugo’s face, narrowly avoiding an accident.  

“We made our own society!” Rose proclaimed. “You need to ask permission to come in.”

“Ah, well, may I enter your society?”

 It wasn’t that hard to get into their society. Rose immediately took him by the hand and started giving a tour.

“Over there is our ministry, and a museum, and over here is the hospital, and over there the jail. Hugo’s been there a lot.”

“Oh? Now why is that?” Ron asked, looking over to his dad in concern. He didn’t want Hugo being picked on.

“He just liked that box the most,” Dad replied for them, as Rose had lost interest in the tour and was decorating the ministry roof with more leaves. “Rosie dubbed it a jail, and Hugo didn’t much care until she said it’s where ‘bad men go’. There was a spot of caterwauling about that, but then he found he’d rather be in a spacious apple box jail instead of the other buildings that were so cramped and falling over. Also, no spider webs in the jailhouse.”

“There are spiders in these?” Ron asked, voice going high. He began to tromp towards the ‘museum.’

“No no, only webs,” Dad laughed, patting Ron on the arm.

Not feeling as amused about the society Rose had created, he announced, “alright, kids. Time to wrap it up and head home.”

“No! We can’t go home yet!” Rose yelled, accidentally knocking her precarious ministry  decorations to the ground as she ran over. “We were supposed to go look at puppies!”

“Daddy, we hafta see the puppies! We hafta!” Hugo whined, shimmying along his belly to work his way out of the apple box. 

“Puppies?” Ron repeated.

“The Watsons have some puppies down the road,” said Dad, polishing his glasses. “They have them for sale right now.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Nooo, they might all be sold and gone by then!” Rose practically wailed, her face starting to turn red. Hugo’s brown eyes started to fill with tears at the idea.

Ron gave a sigh and looked to his father, who gave a shrug. He’d never hear the end of it if they didn’t get to see them.

“The Watsons…” Ron asked. “They’re the ones to the West with the goats?”

“That’s right.”

“Pleeeease can we see the puppies, Daddy?” Hugo asked, pulling at Ron’s trouser leg. 

Unable to think of a reason to disappoint his children, Ron promptly told them yes. He made sure to bundle them up, as a crisp fall wind had picked up, then the three of them walked to the Watsons’ small farm.

Sure enough along the dirt country road was a cardboard sign stating ‘puppies for sale.’ Rose read the sign out loud for Hugo, and Ron had to quickly grab their hands before they dashed into the property. He helped them over the cattle guard, then walked them to the barn door where he could see old Mrs Watson shaking out a blanket. She was a stout hardy looking old woman, who had a genial face with deep craggy smile lines all over the place.

“Hello, dears. You must be one of them Weasley boys, aren’t you?” she asked, straightening her apron in a way that reminded him of his mother. Rose politely smiled at her while Hugo quietly hid himself behind Ron’s leg.

“That’s right, Mrs Watson. I’m Ron, Molly and Arthur’s youngest of the boys,” he said with a smile. “And these are mine. Rose and Hugo.”

“Goodness! I remember when you were just a sprout of a thing toddling about behind your other brothers. Can’t believe you’re old enough to have your own children!” She gave a shake of her head then squinted down at Rose and Hugo. “I imagine you want to see some puppies, don’t you?”

“Yes please,” Rose said in a burst of enthusiasm, as Hugo’s hands began to tug at Ron’s trouser leg. 

“Well you go on in. We have them in the birthing stall to the right. Feel free to let yourself into it and pet them, just don’t let them out,” she said. Without prompting Rose hurried into the barn, while Hugo stayed attached to Ron’s leg. “Would you all like some hot chocolate to warm you up?”

“What do you say, Hugh?” Ron asked, craning his neck to see Hugo’s face. 

Hugo pulled his father’s hand until Ron was leaning over, and whispered in his ear, “I wanna have chocolate and puppies.”

“You can do both,” Ron assured him, in a low voice. Hugo gave a small smile.

“Hot chocolate sounds lovely, Mrs Watson, thank you.”

“Alright me lovers, you go see puppies and I’ll have some hot chocolate in no time!” she said with a kindly look at Hugo.

Once Mrs Watson was gone Hugo enthusiastically pulled Ron into the barn, with Ron stooped the whole way. 

Rose had waited outside the pen, though Ron wasn’t sure if it was for Hugo’s sake or because she wasn’t sure how to open the two-way gate latch. 

Toddling about the hay were seven or so adorable fluffy puppies, some black and some brown. Rose and Hugo immediately were all giggles and squeals, kneeling down and enthusiastically getting investigated by the curious pups. They spent a long time getting licked and playfully nipped at, and Ron felt immensely grateful he’d decided to let them visit the pups, despite one chewing on his shoelaces and another whizzing on him. He surreptitiously spelled it away, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Oooooh, look at its little paws!” Rose cooed, holding one in her lap, not noticing it enthusiastically teething her messy braid. 

“I like this one!” Hugo said, holding a much more calm pup, who looked smaller than the rest of them. It happily nuzzled into Hugo’s arms.

“I have some hot chocolate here,” said Mrs Watson, bringing over some throw away mugs with plastic lids. “Figured if you couldn’t drink it all, you could bring it home for later.”

“Quite thoughtful, thank you,” said Ron, accepting the drinks, noting the kids had little enthusiasm for anything but the puppies still. Not wanting to be rude, he stayed next to Mrs Watson to chat, while the kids continued to play.

“How are your mother and father doing?” she asked.

“Mum’s still cooking away, Dad’s still working, but they watch the grandkids a lot. That’s why we’re here today.”

“How many grandkids are there now?”

“Hard to keep count!” he said with a smile. “But I think it’s... twelve now? I don’t think I’m leaving anyone out.”

“Christmas must be spectacular!”

“A bit crowded, but yeah, it’s quite nice.”

“I’m sure it is. I only have two grandchildren, but I love it when they visit. Had them up last weekend to get one of the puppies. Started with twelve puppies, same as your family, but now all are spoken for but one.”

“Which one?”

“The littlest one, but that Clark White down the road’s been saying he might come by to get one.”

Ron bristled a bit. He remembered Mr White, a sinister old bugger of a man. He never tended his fences, was always in disputes with neighbors, and his animals all had a forlorn look about them. 

Just then there was a brisk knock on the barn door, and in came the man himself, looking surly as ever. He resembled a dried fig that had been bleached by the sun, and his thin lips were turned down in a permanent frown that only served to emphasize his jowls. He and Mrs Watson exchanged pleasantries, though neither looked particularly pleased about it. 

“Which ones are available still?” 

“I’m afraid only one,” answered Mrs Watson.

“Ain’t the runt, is it?” He snorted.

“It is, but he’s a hardy little thing. I doubt he’ll end up much smaller than the rest of the pups when he’s grown.”

The old man peered into the stall, and pointed a gnarled finger.

“That’s it, yeah?” 

Hugo looked up at the old man and his eyes widened. He clutched the little puppy closer to himself. 

“That’s the puppy, yes.” 

Without preamble he opened the stall door and reached toward the puppy in Hugo’s arms. 

“Now wait a second,” Ron began, but it was too late.

Hugo gave a small cry and the dog gave a sharp yipe, jerked by the scruff of his neck by the savage Mr White. Rose looked to her father with pleading blue eyes. Hugo let out a sob and buried his face in Rose’s stomach. 

“Looks healthy enough,” Mr White said, roughly opening the puppy’s mouth to inspect its teeth. “I’ll take—”

“We’ll take him!” Ron cried out. Rose gasped, while Hugo kept his face safely tucked into his sister. 

“What?” Mr White snapped, his severe face contorting into a nasty mix of shock and rage. Ron used the man’s surprise to pluck away the puppy and bring it to his own chest.

Ron found it hard not to smirk at the old sour faced prune. “I said, we’re taking him.”

“Really?!” Rose cried out, patting her brothers russet curls. “Hugo! It’s ok! Daddy’s getting the puppy!”

“I’ll give you five hundred cash, right now,” said Mr White, reaching into his mangy work coat to bring a wad of Muggle paper money out.

Ron’s self assured smile began to falter when he realized he wasn’t sure if he had any Muggle money on him. He patted himself, but realized there was no wallet. He didn’t have so much as two pence on him, just some knuts and galleons he decidedly could not give Mrs Watson. Panic reeled as his daughter looked at him with nothing but confidence in her beaming freckled face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr White, but I’m afraid the puppy’s spoken for already,” said Mrs Watson, shaking her head. “Plus, as you said, it’s the runt. I’m just trading it for a few of Molly Weasley’s pies.”

“You’re joking,” Mr White snarled. “This is ridiculous! I told you I wanted one last week!”

“Well you never said which one, that I recall, but my memory’s not what it used to be… Sorry to disappoint you, Clarke,” she said with a large smile. 

He gave an ugly look at them all before stomping out of the barn and slamming the door behind him. Hugo’s hands went to his ears and he further buried his face in Rose’s stomach. Not wanting to overwhelm Hugo further, Ron turned to Mrs Watson.

“I didn’t mean to cause you trouble,” he said, with an apologetic look.

“Oh it’s no trouble. Any excuse to slight Clarke White makes my day a little bit brighter, truth be told.”

 “Well, I can’t let you give away the puppy for a few pies. How much is the pup, really?”

“Well, I’ve been asking three hundred. They’re purebred, good guard stock, with all their shots and de-worming and such. But I meant what I said. You just have two of Molly’s pies here some time before Christmas and we’ll call it quite even.”

“I’ll make sure you have them whenever you want. Thank you, Mrs Watson. And I’ll add in something more than just the pies,” Ron said, before slowly approaching the children. 

Rose was still stroking Hugo, whose hands were firmly stuck to his ears. Ron knelt down and brought the puppy up between them. “Let’s sit down and sip our hot chocolate, and pet this new puppy of ours. We don’t have to deal with that mean, scary old man again, I promise you.”

It took some coaxing, but Hugo finally removed his hands and stroked the puppy’s fluffy little head, worrying the ear of the dog between his fingers. After some more calming down they drank most of their hot chocolate, bid Mrs Watson a fond goodbye (she was kind enough to give him a collar and enough kibble for a few days), and walked back to the Burrow, puppy buried in Ron’s coat. Even being a ‘runt’ and ten weeks old it was too heavy for the kids to carry for long.

Both his mother and father shook their heads at him for buying the puppy, but he didn’t want to bring up Mr White in front of the children so held his tongue. They flooed home, and Ron set about making a nesting box for the pup. Hugo and Rose were eager to help make it as cozy as they could with long abandoned stuffed animals and blankets. 

“What should we name him?” Ron asked them, as the little pup sleepily walked in a circle before toppling onto his side to sleep.

“Broomstick,” said Hugo.

“Quaffle,” Rosie offered.

“I’m sensing a theme…” said Ron, looking about the nearest shelf for a quidditch book. “Perhaps we can name him after a famous quidditch player?”

“We could name him after Aunt Ginny!” 

“He’s a boy, though,” Rose protested. 

“Names are just names, they don’t have to be ‘boy or girl’ names,” Ron supplied, remembering an article Hermione’d given him to read about it a few years prior. “But I don’t think Aunt Ginny wants to share her name with a dog.”

“Why not name him after Viktor Krum?” Rose said with a smile. 

Ron couldn’t deny the idea of having his dog named Krum wouldn’t be that bad, but then again he didn’t want to deal with Hermione’s wrath should she find it insulting.

“Hmm… Someone we don’t know?” he prompted.

“The Cannons!” Hugo crowed. “Wait I know!”

“Chudley!” they all three chorused together.

Ron gave a hearty laugh that made Chudley open his eyes before promptly falling asleep again. “You definitely are my children!”

Hugo lettered, with help from Rose, Chudley’s name across the side of the box. Only one of the letters was backwards, which was quite the accomplishment. Rose decorated it with a variety of stickers and hand drawn flowers, stars and Cannons logos.

Hermione owled to say she was running late. He would have preferred the ‘we have a dog now’ reveal to happen with the children present so she couldn’t give him as much of an earful, but her schedule had been quite mad at the Ministry recently.

The children were exhausted from all the excitement, so he managed to get them fed, bathed and asleep early and without much fuss. 

Ron put on the radio, sat on the sofa and took out a notebook to make some notes for the Wheezes marketing campaign for Halloween. Chudley was curled up in his box with old Crookshanks curiously peering down from the hearth.

“You be nice, you old ginger bastard,” Ron said with a warning look. Crookshanks turned his yellow glare at Ron before jumping from the hearth onto the sofa, butting his head against Ron’s leg. He rolled over to show his old pudgy tummy. 

“Oh I know that’s a trap! But nice try,” said Ron, remembering quite vividly the last time a vindictive Crookshanks had pretended to want tummy rubs. 

The flames of the fire brightened, and he smiled knowing Hermione would be home in a moment. Crookshanks quickly schooled himself into a ‘good cat’ position for her, giving Ron the opportunity to rub the cat’s fur the wrong way tail to head.

“That’s what happens when you try to trick me into getting stabbed by your claws.”

Hermione flooed into the house, and a smile curled his lips. He hated when she was kept at work longer, but the one silver lining was that it always led to her hair going a bit mussed and wild. Today was not an exception. 

“Hello, love,” he murmured, eyeing the ringlets around her face. “Did you already eat? I have Hugo’s favorite ‘spagooters’ ready and can heat it up in a jiff.”

She gave a tired but contented smile and collapsed onto the sofa beside him, giving Crookshank’s chin a scratch as the cat purred and preened for her, pitifully meowing for attention.

“We should call it spaghetti. I don’t want Hugo learning the wrong words for things.”

“Hugh knows it’s spaghetti,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Plus there’s nothing funnier than seeing that look on your face when we chant for spagooters.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see them tonight... It was horrible at work. That abuse allegation mess I was telling you about last week is really coming to a head and some of those damn Wizengamots are just… I thought I couldn’t be shocked anymore by anything awful that happens, but then they really just prove they can sink to an even lower level than I’d ever thought possible! The way they sit there and act like over one hundred and fifty allegations of abuse is nothing is beyond me. They’re so bloody corrupt and uncaring I’m left truly shocked and speechless!”

Despite being speechless, she was able to rant about the Wizengamot for another fifteen minutes. While she ranted, he managed to get her shoes off, find out she had not eaten, and bring a meal. She ate around the ‘spagooters’ while nearly flinging tomato basil sauce onto his shirt as she gesticulated about the injustices in the world. 

“So is there anything in place for victims?” Ron asked, taking her plate into the kitchen.

“You mean for victim support?” He nodded at her. “Nothing official yet, but I’m seeing what we can do. The Wizengamot has many in denial of there actually being victims, let alone that they need help and counseling.”

“Maybe we can figure something outside of the Ministry. Perhaps we could do a fund or something through Wheezes? I could talk to some other businesses or something... Have the proceeds go to some foundation or other?”

“That’s a lovely idea,” she said with a small sniff. 

He leaned over the couch and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll talk to George in the morning.”

Chudley’s box gave a bit of a shudder and she finally noticed it.

“What’s that?” she asked looking over to the box.

“Er…” His hand went to the back of his neck. “That would be Chudley.”

“I gathered that much, since Chudley’s written on the outside of the box,” she said, raising her eyebrow at him and walking over to peer inside the box. “Ron…”

“So… I didn’t get a chance to ask if this is alright, but I bought us a puppy.”

She pursed her lips and said nothing as she stared into the box.

Ron felt a small touch of frenzied dread at how quiet she was.

“Normally I wouldn’t make such a big decision without you, but we were with Muggles and this old bleeder Mr White was about to buy it and I just knew he’d be treating it like shit because I’ve known him since I was a kid and he always treats his animals horribly, and the kids were crying as this old man made the puppy cry and buying it was the only way I could save it from him in the moment. I didn’t have my mobile on me, and even if I did I don’t think I could have reached you in time. It all happened really fast, and the kids were looking at me like ‘you can fix this!’ and I just had to, and Hugo had his little hands on his ears and- and if we have to find it a new home I completely understand and will make sure it’s all on me with the kids and not you at all, because this is really truly on me and—”

“Hush,” she said with a small laugh. “I think you’re upsetting Chudley.”

With that she reached into the box and gently cradled the little pup. She rubbed his little snout and scratched behind his ear making the dog’s tiny tail wag something mad.

“So you’re okay with us keeping him?” Ron asked hopefully. She nodded and continued to pet the small pup, who was crawling up her body to lick her jaw. Ron’s face split into a grin. “You won’t have to lift a finger for him. It’ll be me doing everything! Well me and maybe the kids a bit.”

“I can’t turn down a deal like that, can I Chudley?” she asked as the dog continued to lick at her. Crookshanks went to the top of the mantle to glare at them. “Be nice, Crookshanks! From the sound of it he was rescued from a dire situation!”

“He really was. I’m not just making excuses to have a dog.”

“I expect to hear the whole harrowing tale of why we needed to save Chudley later,” she replied, putting the pup in his box before casting a calming spell and accident-proofing his blanket. 

“In bed?”

“I was thinking we could expand the tub tonight and catch up there.” She had a saucy smile on her face he couldn’t resist. He quickly took her hand and they laughed all the way up the stairs.

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

author’s note- let me know what you think! :) or reblog if wording is hard

[justforbooks]

The physicist Freeman Dyson, who has died aged 96, became famous within science for mathematical solutions so advanced that they could only be applied to complex problems of atomic theory and popular with the public for ideas so far-fetched they seemed beyond lunacy.

As a young postgraduate student, Dyson devised – while taking a Greyhound bus ride in America – the answer to a conundrum in quantum electrodynamics that had stumped giants of physics such as Richard Feynman and Hans Bethe. As an author, guru and apostle for science, Dyson also cheerfully proposed that humans might genetically engineer trees that could grow on comets, to provide new habitats for genetically altered humans.

He had already proposed the ultimate solution to the energy crisis: a sufficiently advanced civilisation would, he argued, crunch up all the unused planets and asteroids to form a giant shell around its parent star, to reflect and exploit its radiation. Science fiction writers were delighted. The first suggestion became known as the Dyson tree. The second is called the Dyson sphere.

He was born in Crowthorne, Berkshire. His father, George Dyson, was a musician and composer, and his mother, Mildred Atkey, a lawyer. The young Dyson reported that his happiest ever school holiday – from Winchester college – was spent working his way, from 6am to 10pm, through 700 problems in Piaggio’s Differential Equations. “I intended to speak the language of Einstein,” he said in his 1979 memoir Disturbing the Universe. “I was in love with mathematics and nothing else mattered.”

He graduated from Cambridge and in 1943 became a civilian scientist with RAF Bomber Command, which experienced hideous losses with each raid over Germany. Dyson and his colleagues suggested that the Lancaster bomber’s gun turrets slowed the plane, increased its burden and made it more vulnerable to German fighters: without the turrets, it might gain an extra 50mph and be much more manoeuvrable.

He was ignored. Bomber Command, he was later to write, “might have been invented by a mad scientist as an example to exhibit as clearly as possible the evil aspects of science and technology: the Lancaster, in itself a magnificent flying machine, made into a death trap for the boys who flew it. A huge organisation dedicated to the purpose of burning cities and killing people, and doing it badly.”

The young Dyson was already convinced of some moral purpose to the universe and remained a non-denominational Christian all his life.

After the second world war he went to Cornell University in New York state to begin research in physics under Bethe, one of the team at Los Alamos that fashioned the atomic bomb.

By 1947, the challenge was one of pure science: to forge an accurate theory that described how atoms and electrons behaved when they absorbed or emitted light. The broad basis of what was called quantum electrodynamics had been proposed by the British scientist Paul Dirac and other giants of physics. The next step was to calculate the precise behaviour inside an atom. Using different approaches, both Julian Schwinger and Feynman delivered convincing solutions, but their answers did not quite square with each other.

It was while crossing Nebraska by bus, reading James Joyce and the biography of Pandit Nehru, that the young Dyson saw how to resolve the work of the two men and help win them the 1965 Nobel prize: “It came bursting into my consciousness, like an explosion,” Dyson wrote. “I had no pencil and paper, but everything was so clear I did not need to write it down.”

A few days later he moved – for almost all of the rest of his life – to the Institute of Advanced Study at Princeton, home of Albert Einstein and Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb. “It was exactly a year since I had left England to learn physics from the Americans. And now here I was a year later, walking down the road to the institute on a fine September morning, to teach the great Oppenheimer how to do physics. The whole situation seemed too absurd to be credible,” Dyson wrote later.

He went on to deliver a series of papers that resolved the problems of quantum electrodynamics. He did not share in Feynman’s and Schwinger’s Nobel prize. He did not complain. “I was not inventing new physics,” he said. “I merely clarified what was already there so that others could see the larger picture.”

Dyson tackled complex problems in theoretical physics and mathematics – there is a mathematical tool called the Dyson series, and another called Dyson’s transform – and enjoyed the affection and respect of scientists everywhere. He took US citizenship, and worked on Project Orion, one of America’s oddest and most ambitious space ventures.

Orion was to be an enormous spacecraft, with a crew of 200 scientists and engineers, driven by nuclear weapons: warheads would be ejected one after another from the spaceship and detonated. This repeated pulse of blasts would generate speeds so colossal that the spacecraft could reach Mars in two weeks, and get to Saturn, explore the planet’s moons, and get back to Earth again within seven months. Modern spacecraft launched by chemical rockets can take 12 months to reach Mars, and more than seven years to reach Saturn.

The Orion project faltered under the burden of technical problems, and then was abandoned in 1965 after the partial test ban treaty that outlawed nuclear explosions in space.

Dyson was a widely read man with a gift for memorable remarks and a great talent for presenting – with calm logic and bright language – ideas for which the term “outside the envelope” could only be the most feeble understatement.

In 1960, in a paper for the journal Science, he argued that a technologically advanced civilisation would sooner or later surround its home star with reflective material to make full use of all its radiation. The extraterrestrials could do this by pulverising a planet the size of Jupiter, and spreading its fabric in a thin shell around their star, at twice the distance of the Earth from the sun. Although the starlight would be masked, the shell or sphere would inevitably warm up. So people seeking extraterrestrial intelligence should first look for a very large infrared glow somewhere in the galaxy.

In 1972 – a year before the first serious experiments in manipulating DNA – Dyson outlined, in a Birkbeck College lecture, in London, his vision of biological engineering. He predicted that scavenging microbes could be altered to harvest minerals, neutralise toxins and to clean up plastic litter and hazardous radioactive materials.

He then proposed that comets – lumps of ice and organic chemicals that periodically orbit the sun – could serve as nurseries for genetically altered trees that could grow, in the absence of gravity, to heights of hundreds of miles, and release oxygen from their roots to sustain human life. “Seen from far away, the comet will look like a small potato sprouting an immense growth of stems and foliage. When man comes to live on the comets, he will find himself returning to the arboreal existence of his ancestors,” he told a delighted audience.

He went on to predict robot explorers that could replicate themselves, and plants that would make seeds and propagate across the galaxy. Plants could grow their own greenhouses, he argued, just as turtles could grow shells and polar bears grow fur. His audience may not have believed a word, but they listened intently.

Dyson had a gift for the memorable line and a disarming honesty that admitted the possibility of error. It was, he would say, better to be wrong than to be vague, and much more fun to be contradicted than to be ignored. Dyson was by instinct and reason a pacifist, but he understood the fascination with nuclear weaponry.

He enjoyed unorthodox propositions and contrarian arguments; he maintained a certain scepticism about climate change (“the fuss about global warming is greatly exaggerated”) and he argued that a commercial free-for-all was more likely to deliver the right design for spacecraft than a government-directed effort.

He had little patience with those physicists who argued that the world was the consequence of blind chance. “The more I examine the universe and the details of its architecture, the more evidence I find that the universe must in some sense have known we were coming,” he once said.

His Cambridge mentor, the mathematician GH Hardy, had told him: “Young men should prove theorems, old men should write books.” After Disturbing the Universe, Dyson wrote a number of compelling books, including Infinite in All Directions (1988) and Imagined Worlds (1997). In 2000, he was awarded the Templeton prize – worth more than the Nobel – given annually for progress towards discoveries about spiritual realities.

He was a frequent essayist and to the end a contributor to the New York Review of Books. But he continued to think as a scientist and in 2012 entered the field of mathematical biology with a published paper on game theory in human cooperation and Darwinian evolution.

Dyson is survived by his second wife, Imme (nee Jung), whom he married in 1958, and their four daughters, Dorothy, Emily, Mia and Rebecca; by a son, George, and daughter, Esther, from his first marriage, to Verena Huber, which ended in divorce; and by a stepdaughter, Katarina, and 16 grandchildren.

• Freeman John Dyson, mathematician and physicist, born 15 December 1923; died 28 February 2020

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[artcademia]

Bodies

I have been grappling with this assignment for weeks now. Amidst the absurdities of an ongoing global pandemic that forces us to work, write and study from home, and the partial lockdown which forced my workplace to close for an indefinite time many weeks ago, I suddenly find myself with an abundance of time and a complete lack of inspiration and motivation at once. It took me forever to figure out which approach to take to this assignment. This was, however, not because the topics that we talked about in class did not stay with me – because they did. I very often find myself thinking about our session with Stacy Hardy and the way she drew our attention to our relationships with our own bodies. I have since made it a habit to actively try to sense myself in my whole body.

I remember back when I was younger, when I was still training for and performing in the circus, I used to be very much aware of my body and its strengths and limitations at all times. We spent months trying to push our bodies to new limits, constantly urging for more – more flexibility, more strength, more control. And we did it without consciously knowing that this was what we were doing. It never felt like exercising. It was merely part of the build-up to the annual climax: the public circus shows during the last week of summer break. Our bodies were our instruments; we used them as a means to tell stories to an audience.

In fact, many artists – particularly those who work in the performative sector – rely on their bodies to narrate stories or impart knowledge or emotions. And while actors or clowns usually use both their bodies and voices to portray characters and to narrate stories, dancers and acrobats are mostly restricted to their bodies. They move their bodies to tell their tales. The body is an important and absolutely essential part – not just of artists – but of every single person on this planet. By ‘body/-ies’, I refer to our actual physical bodies; that is our skeleton, muscles, organs, flesh, blood and skin. Bodies come in many sizes, shapes and colours. They can be flexible or stiff, tender or hard, fit or flabby, strong or weak, big or small, injured or healthy. They are incredibly versatile and can be shaped with the help of nutrition, exercise or drugs or even permanently altered through surgical intervention. Bodies can be decorated with tattoos, piercings, jewellery and clothes. Bodies can get ill or injured and bodies can be healed or even heal themselves.

And bodies have – at least in some way – been a very prominent topic throughout these past couple of months. The pandemic has forced us to focus thoroughly on how bodies work, how they can be vulnerable, how they can transmit diseases and what we have to do to keep them safe. Our bodies vulnerability to external hazards such as viruses has dominated and determined all kinds of decision-making during this pandemic. Decisions that were designed to protect as many bodies as possible, ironically forced many bodies into intermission. As theatres, opera houses, circuses, concert halls, sports stadiums and all sorts of stages had to shut their doors, millions of artists and performers suddenly find themselves unable to do the very thing they need to do to survive – both financially, physically and emotionally.

The movement of bodies has been restricted in various ways during this seemingly never-ending pandemic. Borders have been closed – not for goods, but for bodies – airplanes have been grounded, trains, trams and busses have come to a halt, ships were stuck in harbours, some governments have imposed curfews. And so, all over the world bodies have been stuck at home – at least those that have a home – to prevent them from ending up in body bags.

And many – including myself – have experienced feelings of rustiness, stiffness and ache due to a lack of movement. Confined to the safety of my apartment, I have come to re-evaluate my relationship with my body and the part I play in my physical and emotional wellbeing. I cannot even begin to imagine what this must feel like for dancers, acrobats or athletes. What if they are not only prevented from performing in front of an audience, but are also banned from their training halls, stages and dance studios? What does this situation do to people who are used to expressing their emotions through their bodies?

Back in May 2019, I went to see Jeremy Nedd & Impilo Mapantsula’s (CH/ZA) dance performance The Ecstatic at Kaserne Basel (co-production). The description of their show read as follows:

Pantsula, a historically significant South African subculture. Expressed not only as a powerful dance form which is well known for it’s [sic] high-speed virtuosic footwork, but also evident through a dress code, language, music, and a particular philosophy of life that is all it’s [sic] own. An expression that during Apartheid gave a voice to a whole generation. Praise Break, a mode of praise. A moment... a pause… a break in the context of the Christian Pentecostal Church service, where the dancing body, voice and music energetically coalesce and as a result blur the difference between ecstatic and cathartic. What happens when the aesthetics of these two worlds converge? What happens in this transcendental moment of “break”[?] Within the dance piece The Ecstatic six Pantsula dancers turn to the motions that lead up to the praise break in order to find out, and “break open” a new space all their own.

– https://www.kaserne-basel.ch/en/programme/the-ecstatic/07-05-2019_20-00

The show was phenomenal, and the audience seemed to be blown away throughout. The lightness, humour and flow with which the dancers moved across the stage was stunning and intoxicating. The performance was celebrated with a roaring round of applause and a standing ovation.

After the show, the audience had the opportunity to meet the crew and ask questions during an open discussion with the dancers and choreographers. Jeremy Nedd (CH) and the dancers (Impilo Mapantsula, ZA) explained, that the pantsula dance had its origins in the black townships of apartheid South Africa – particularly in Sophiatown and Alexandra in Johannesburg. The pantsula dance style and culture was developed by black South Africans as a form of peaceful protest against the racist apartheid regime. The dance moves originate from various everyday actions or movements frequently performed by black workers – for example running alongside and jumping on a moving train, sweeping the floor, or assembly-line work. Therefore, the pantsula dance tells the story of black South African workers. This is also reflected in their dance uniforms: pantsula dancers typically dress in colourful work wear inspired clothes, such as bib overalls and converse. According to Impilo Mapantsula, pantsula is not only a dance style, but rather a lifestyle and culture in itself.

What struck me, was the complete absence of women in the Impilo Mapantsula dance crew. When I questioned them about it, they explained that pantsula was originally developed and performed by men only. From the 1980s onwards, there was also an increasing number of female pantsula dancers. Impilo Mapantsula is actually a larger network of pantsula dancers in South Africa, which also includes women. However, they did not specify as to why they did not include any of them in the show.

I wonder what the pandemic with its curfews and lockdowns has done to the pantsula dancers and culture. Do they still meet in secret to dance? Do they dance together via skype or zoom in front of their smartphones? Do they now have to dance alone? What will happen to this culture and art form if it is forced to stand still for too long? How are they going to teach the next generations of pantsula dancers? How do they ensure that the knowledge and history communicated through this highly complex dance style will live on?

Pantsula is but one of countless forms of performative art which are practiced all over the world. How many of them will survive the pandemic? How will they change? Is the performative culture going to be changed throughout? Will dancers, actors and acrobats start to integrate physical distancing into their performances? I guess only time will tell.

Wanda Rutishauser

January 2021

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

FREEMAN J. DYSON (1923-2020): SCIENTIST AND WRITER, WHO DREAMT AMONG THE STARS, DIES AT 96 Freeman J. Dyson, theoretical physicist and writer, who embraced the stunning diversity of the universe with unique spirit, died on February 28, 2020, in Princeton, New Jersey, at the age of 96. Dyson generated revolutionary scientific insights, including calculations bridging the quantum and human worlds. His contributions stem from his work in numerous areas, including nuclear engineering, solid state physics, ferromagnetism, astrophysics, biology, and applied mathematics. The Institute for Advanced Study (IAS), which was Dyson’s academic home for more than 60 years, announced his death. “No life is more entangled with the Institute and impossible to capture -- architect of modern particle physics, free-range mathematician, advocate of space travel, astrobiology and disarmament, futurist, eternal graduate student, rebel to many preconceived ideas including his own, thoughtful essayist, all the time a wise observer of the human scene,” stated Robbert Dijkgraaf, IAS Director and Leon Levy Professor. “His secret was simply saying ‘yes’ to everything in life, till the very end. We are blessed and honored that Freeman, Imme, and their family made the Institute their home. It will be so forever.” “Freeman Dyson made fundamental contributions in an incredibly wide variety of fields in physics and mathematics,” stated Edward Witten, Charles Simonyi Professor in the School of Natural Sciences. “His contributions were so wide-ranging that it is virtually impossible for any one person to summarize them adequately. Quantum electrodynamics, quantum statistical mechanics, Diophantine approximation of numbers, and random matrix ensembles are just a few of the fields to which Freeman contributed at the highest level. But really, he left his mark almost everywhere.” In 1941, as an undergraduate at Trinity College in Cambridge, Dyson studied physics with Paul Dirac and Arthur Eddington and found an intellectual role model in the famed English mathematician G. H. Hardy, who had previously mentored the mathematical prodigy, Srinivasa Ramanujan. As a mathematician, Dyson published papers on number theory, analysis, and algebraic topology, developing the concept known as “Dyson’s transform” as part of his proof of Mann’s theorem, which serves as a fundamental technique in additive number theory. “Freeman Dyson was truly a ‘free thinker’ -- there were absolutely no bounds to what he was willing to imagine, no bounds of complexity, of conventional wisdom, of scope and time,” stated Charles Simonyi, IAS Board Chair. “His thoughts, just as the universe he was exploring, and expressed in the title of one of his many books, were truly ‘Infinite in All Directions.’” “A mathematician, physicist, writer, and explorer, who was never afraid to speak his mind, Freeman embodied the values of IAS and more importantly represented the principles that all great scientists aspire to uphold,” stated Jim Simons, IAS Trustee Emeritus and former Member in the School of Mathematics. “Freeman was a marvelous role model, bringing out the best in all those around him. He will be deeply missed.” During the Second World War, Dyson worked for two years as a civilian scientist conducting operations research for the Royal Airforce’s Bomber Command. He then enrolled at Cambridge University and graduated with a B.A. in mathematics in 1945. Dyson was awarded a Commonwealth Fellowship in 1947, bringing him to Cornell University, where he continued to focus his mathematical acumen on theoretical physics, pursuing his graduate work with Hans Bethe and Richard Feynman. In the spring of 1948, Dyson accompanied Feynman on a fabled cross-country road trip that culminated in one of the most remarkable breakthroughs of 20th century physics. After being steeped in the work of Feynman for months and spending six weeks listening to Julian Schwinger’s ideas in Ann Arbor, Dyson was able to prove the equivalency of their two competing theories of quantum electrodynamics (QED), which describes how light and matter interact. Dyson recalled the moment of discovery as a “flash of illumination on the Greyhound bus.” He had been traveling alone for more than 48 hours, making his way to Princeton, NJ, to begin his first membership at the Institute for Advanced Study. The seminal paper outlining Dyson’s discovery was published by The Physical Review in 1949 under the title, “The Radiation Theories of Tomonaga, Schwinger, and Feynman.” While this question was a central problem of physics, the solution was a mathematical one that Dyson was uniquely positioned to solve given his quantitative training. Dyson’s insights -- a Rosetta Stone of physics -- provided a more precise understanding of sub-atomic particles consistent with quantum mechanics and special relativity, enabled the first use of Feynman diagrams in calculating scattering amplitudes, and showed how perturbative QED could be logically understood. Shin’ichiro Tomonaga, Julian Schwinger, and Richard Feynman were jointly awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1965 for their work in this area. At the invitation of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the Institute’s longest-serving director, Dyson joined IAS as a member in 1948. Dyson returned to the Institute for a second membership in 1950. The following year, he accepted an offer of a full professorship from Cornell University. Dyson was invited back to IAS for a third time in 1953 to take up a permanent appointment to the faculty, joining a group of the century’s top physicists and mathematicians, including Albert Einstein, Kurt Gödel, Tsung-Dao Lee, Deane Montgomery, Marston Morse, Abraham Pais, Carl Ludwig Siegel, Atle Selberg, Oswald Veblen, John von Neumann, Hermann Weyl, and Chen Ning Yang. The Institute provided Dyson the freedom and flexibility to follow his curiosity to new areas and fields that interested him. In 1956, Dyson began a three-year association with General Atomic, where he worked to design a nuclear reactor that would be inherently safe, or, as colleague Edward Teller put it, “not only idiot-proof, but PhD proof.” The TRIGA reactor is still in production today and used mostly by hospitals. In 1958, he took a leave of absence from the Institute and moved to La Jolla, California to join General Atomic’s “Project Orion,” working with forty scientists to design an atomic spaceship capable of riding a wave of controlled nuclear pulses into deep space. Dyson recalled the fifteen months spent on the short-lived project as “the most exciting and in many ways the happiest of my scientific life.” The ambitious project had once set its sights on “Mars by 1965, Saturn by 1970.” Dyson was engaged in the public debate regarding the nuclear test ban treaty and whether or not an exception should be made for purposes of experimentation. In 1960, he was elected to the council of the Federation of American Scientists, and selected as its chair two years later. From this post, he became an effective advocate for the creation of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, which existed until 1999 when it was merged with the U.S. State Department. Dyson’s work with this newly created agency gave him greater opportunities to examine the potential consequences of a nuclear war. Concluding that further nuclear testing was “wrong technically, wrong militarily, wrong politically, and wrong morally,” Dyson testified before the U.S. Senate in favor of the nuclear test ban treaty in 1963. Dyson continued to educate the public on important questions of science, becoming a highly sought-after lecturer and frequent contributor to popular scientific publications on a wide variety of topics, including the relation of science to religion, the prospective colonization of the solar system, harnessing the energy of stars, and climate change. In turning from science to writing, Dyson often recalled the advice of his undergraduate mentor G. H. Hardy, “‘Young men should prove theorems, old men should write books.’ So I decided in 1975 to follow Hardy’s example. Like Hardy, I did not stop proving theorems altogether, but my output of theorems gradually diminished as my output of books increased. I have found, like Hardy, that the art of weaving sentences into a story can be as creative as the art of weaving ideas into a theorem.” Dyson produced a steady stream of books geared for the scientifically curious among the general public. Disturbing the Universe (1979) is a portrait-gallery of people he had known during his career as a scientist. Weapons and Hope (1984), which won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction in 1984, is a study of ethical problems of war and peace. Infinite in All Directions (1988) is a philosophical meditation based on Dyson’s Gifford Lectures on Natural Theology given at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland. Origins of Life (1986) is a study of one of the major unsolved problems of science. From Eros to Gaia (1992) is a collection of essays and lectures, starting with a science-fiction story written at the age of nine, and ending with a mugging in Washington at age fifty-four. Imagined Worlds (1997) is an edited version of a set of lectures given in 1995 at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem about human destiny, literature, and science. The Sun, the Genome and the Internet (1999) discusses the question of whether modern technology could be used to narrow the gap between rich and poor rather than widen it. The Scientist as Rebel (2006) is a collection of book reviews and essays, mostly published in the New York Review of Books. A Many-colored Glass: Reflections on the Place of Life in the Universe (2007) is an edited version of a set of lectures given in 2004 at the University of Virginia. Maker of Patterns (2018) is an autobiographical account of Freeman’s life through letters written to his parents. For his contributions to science, mathematics, and public policy, Dyson has been honored with over twenty honorary degrees and has been elected to numerous learned societies, including the Royal Society and the National Academy of Sciences. Among Dyson’s accolades are the National Space Society’s Robert Heinlein Memorial Award (2018), the Henri Poincaré Prize of the International Mathematical Physics Congress (2012), the Templeton Prize for Progress in Religion (2000), the Enrico Fermi Award of the U.S. Department of Energy (1995), the Oersted Medal of the American Association of Physics Teachers (1991), the Wolf Prize in Physics (1981), the Harvey Prize (1977), the Max Planck Medal of the German Physical Society (1969), the Hughes Medal of the London Royal Society (1968), the Lorentz Medal of the Royal Netherlands Academy (1966), and the Danny Heineman Prize for Mathematical Physics of the American Institute of Physics (1965). Freeman John Dyson was born on December 15, 1923, in Crowthorne, Berkshire, in the United Kingdom. His father was the musician and composer Sir George Dyson; his mother, Mildred Lucy Atkey, a lawyer and social worker. Dyson is survived by his wife, Imme; children Esther, George, Dorothy, Emily, Mia, Rebecca, and step-daughter Katarina; and 16 grandchildren.

[rogertaylorstories]

Tomboy Troubles

Everyone at school thinks that you are a boy, but you are Clare Taylors Best Friend and roger Taylor’s best friend until you moved she didn’t have anyone to go to prom with, and you being older by a few years had nothing to do on a Friday night so you decide to go with Clare. But what happens when you have to meet the Taylor family out of tradition? And show them that you are worthy of taking Clare? (imagine that you have short shaved hair, (Like Ben Hardy’s For example at the Oscars.) or any boy-ish looking haircut for this story to work)

You were the person who moved in next door to the Taylors. You came from America and your parents were both business people. You had no siblings and it sucked. Your mother always wanted a daughter, and your father always wanted a Son. You were never around your mum as much as your dad. You and your dad would fix the car on days off, and teach you how to fight for self-defence he said that you could have the car, If you could fix it. You ended up doing more things that a boy would do instead of a girl. All the kids that were on your street were girls. What they wished for was being a princess and going to meet prince charming and that they were better than everyone else. But no, your dream was to be either in a band, or a race car driver. Maybe a professional skate boarder you said, or a bmx bike rider but you didn’t really care.

You were riding your bmx bike down a street one day, and you heard yelling. You were in your usual baggy t-shirt and a shorts with high top shoes. When you were getting closer, you saw that it was a fight. You being, 8 or whatever you thought that it would be a good idea to go have a look. You biked over and you saw a blonde kid getting kicked up on the floor. They were calling him names, and they wouldn’t stop hitting him. You walked over after putting your bike down and walked over to them. “What do you think your doing?” you say as you pushed the person against the wall. They wouldn’t give you an answer so you threw him against the wall a little bit harder. He said something along the lines of ‘Because he is different and he sucked at soccer.’ You beat all of them up and walked over to the blonde on the floor. “Hi love are you alright?” you ask as you put your hand on his head. He said, “it all hurts, my body hurts.” He said as he started to cry. You then picked him up and started walking to your BMX bike. You but him on the seat while you stood up and started to pedal down a hill. He started screaming while you started to laugh as you went through all the streets until you got to the shops.

“Come with me kid.” You say as you walked into the shop and to the counter where your mother worked part time for more money. “Hey mum.” You say as you walked over to her. “Hey sweetie what happened?” she asked as she saw the blood on your shirt. You helped roger walk over to the counter as he was limping down one isle. “Yeah my friend.” “roger.” He interrupted. “Yeah, my friend roger got hurt and I thought that you could help.” You say as you help roger walk around to the back of the counter so your mum could take a look. “Yeah he is pretty bad, maybe some cream for the bruises and you just need to rest buddy.” She said as she petted his head. You nodded and helped roger back to the bike. You took roger home and that is where it started.

Your friendship blossomed and you were connected at the hip. You were the one that turned Roger Taylor bad. He was that good student at school, but you liked to mess around. You would prank the teachers, get into fights with other people and wouldn’t give a dam. You were a straight A and B student and you would love to play sports. But the day came when you had to go. You were 16 and roger was 15. You said that you would get a tattoo, to remember each other. On your wrist you had Forever is our today and Roger Taylor in cursive writing on your other one. On rogers he had who waits forever anyway? And your name in cursive writing in the other one. When you were leaving you kissed roger on the lips and said, “If I come back, say we will meet with each other or something?” you say. He nodded and said “I love you.” and you said “I love you too.” You then walked to the car and you never looked back, never laughed, never cried.

  You are now 22 Walking around at the back of the school/uni wearing a black hoodie and skinny black jeans is what you did every day after school while waiting for Clare. Wearing sunglasses was your choice and when you would smoke girls would look at you wishing that they could have a date. They would ask Clare every time if you guys were together, or if you guys were dating, but all you wanted to be was alone. You didn’t want or need anybody, or that is what you say to yourself because no boy would come up to you and ask you out because you are a ‘boy’ in their eyes. You were good at nearly any sport, and you didn’t give a shit if you break a nail, or if you got dirty. You would stand up for Clare when she couldn’t, and you protected other people when they couldn’t either.

You got snapped out of your thoughts when Clare came running up to you. “Y/N! hi” she yelled as she was nearly next to you. “Sup Clare how are ya?” you say as you keep walking with Clare. “Well the good news is that Prom is on Friday!” she said. “And…” you say sarcastically. “And I don’t have a date.” She said. “No one wants to go with me Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” she said as she was looking at the ground. Until her head shot up, “You could go with me!” she said as she turned to you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth. “What?” you say as you give her a serious look. “Yeah you could go with me! Everybody thinks that you are a boy anyway so why would this be any different?” she said. “everyone thinks that I am a boy, because I wear skinny jeans, and boy clothes all of the time.” You said while you grew nearer to her house. “Yeah but still please!” she said as you got to the front of her house. “Bye Clare, I hope you can find a date love. Bye” you say as you wave to her. “Bye” she said to you as she hugs you. You blew out some more smoke and put the cigarette out with the bottom of your heel. And you walked back to your house.

Every time you would go to uni, the girls that were younger than you we would ask you out to prom, but you said no you are not going. When class is over you go to the fence where you normally go. You pull out a cigarette and light it with you lighter. Then you see someone walking over to you. He had Black hair and he wore the most outrages of outfits. But you didn’t mind. “can I have one Darling?” he asks you as he walks and stands next to you. “Sure thing mate.” You answer as you gave him one. “Are you going to the prom?” he looks at you. “No mate, I’m not. But all of these girls keep wanting to go with me I don’t get it!” you say as you put out your cigarette. “Maybe they find you as an attractive man?” he said as he there away his cigarette. The word ‘Man’ but I’m a woman. “Well what if I told you that I wasn’t a boy? That I was a girl?” you say. “I would say your crazy darling! But who am I to judge?” he said as he started to walk back to his locker.

Friday Night

Friday came along too quickly. Clare said that she doesn’t have a date yet, but she is still going to go, because she doesn’t want to be that person that didn’t go. She said for you to have a good night and that you guys would catch up on the weekend. You got home and lay on the balcony. Your parents are never home, them both business people and going to different parts if the country for work and on business trips. You blew the smoke out of your cigarette, and you looked at the time. You realised that you didn’t have anything to do that night. You knew that Clare wouldn’t have left for prom yet. You walk to you dresser and pull out a suit, you have your ray bans as well. You think to yourself that you clean up pretty well.

                             What you look like LOL WE ALL LOVE BEN

You go to your garage and pull out your Black Ford Mustang 68. You hop in and drive over to Clare’s house. Clare said that if you are going to be her date you have to have something in common with her brother, so you just threw a pair of Drumsticks in your pocket. You pull up out of the front of her house and you see a green looking mini in the drive way. Must be her brothers you say to yourself. You get out of the car, and you walk up the steps to her house. With some roses in your hand and your sunglasses still on your face you knock on the door. You wait a moment until an older lady comes and answers the door. “Yes can I help you?” she asks kindly. “Yes I’m here to pick up Clare for Prom?” you ask. “Oh Yes but Clare didn’t say anything about someone picking her up?” she said. “Yes, it was a last minute sort of thing.” You said really convincingly. She looked at you for a moment and yelled. “Clare there is someone at the door!”  and you hear patter feet down the hallway. “Yes who is it?” she said and looked at you. “Surprise?” you say as you hand her the roses. Your drumsticks sticking out of the back pocket of your pants. “Thankyou!” she said as she hugged you. You even put more effort and put on some boy perfume to make it more convincing. Then a boy with long blonde hair walked down the corridor. “Who are you?” he asked as he looked at you. “I’m Clare’s date.” You say in a duh tone. You see her looking at you while you take her hand and kiss it. She giggled playing along.  “Bye now.” You say as you two walked to the car. You thought that he looked familiar but you couldn’t say who he was. You didn’t mind though, you opened up the car door for Clare while she hopped in. You closed her door, and went around and opened your door and got in. Before you could, you could still see the outline of Clare’s brother. Leaning up against the door frame, smoking a cigarette you could see the light of the cigarette light up his face every time. Next you get in the car and start the engine.

When you get to the place, you help Clare out of the car and link your arm in hers. You are walking into the Gym and walk through where you get you couple Photos. You keep your sunglasses on as you two pose for the photo. You guys walk into the gym and you guys are met with The Beatles and a lot of people dancing. You take Clare’s hand and lead her to the dancefloor. You are suddenly dancing and you look around. People making out in the bathrooms, people putting liquor in the punch bowls and all the other lonely people that don’t have a date, that would of been Clare, but being the person that I am, I couldn’t do that to her. You were currently dancing with Clare, when they were going to announce the Prom King And Queen. Yay! I cant wait to find out who they are.

“ok guys welcome to Prom! Now we are going to announce our prom King and Queen! Now our Prom Queen is….” Clare shoved you and you just laughed, “Clare Taylor!” “and the Prom King is…..” you just looked at Clare as they put the little crown on her head. Then the Prom King was announced and they had a little dance. You didn’t care, so you sat on a chair near the back of the dance floor and took a smoke. You looked at your tattoo and ran your hand over the top of the writing. You remembered the time when you first taught roger to smoke, You were around 14 years of age and that made his 13. You chuckled remembering the memory.

 Now you were at school, and Roger walks into the classroom and sits next to you. The class was over and the day was aswell. You were in the thetre room and you were just watching something about UK history. You pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. You inhaled and blew the smoke in the air. “Are you even allowed to do that?” roger asked you a he was watching you curiously. “Yeah the smoke alarm doesn’t work and so it doesn’t pick up the smoke.” You say as you blow out more smoke. You smiled at roger and looked at him, “what have you never smoked before?” you say as you run a hand through your hair. “No never been allowed to. My father always did, but I could never, I never tried.” He said as he looked at you. You then stood up and walked behind him. You put a cigarette in his mouth, and told him to hold it. You them flicked on the lighter and lit it up. “Now inhale it a bite and then blow it out.” You say as you just look at him. He inhales and then starts to cough. “Don’t worry, it happens to everyone on their first time.” You say as roger keeps going. You laugh as you keep going.

[rogertaylorislife]

Tomboy Troubles Roger Taylor AU

Just a roger taylor imagine that i wrote nothing big but yeah

Everyone at school thinks that you are a boy, but you are Clare Taylors Best Friend and roger Taylor’s best friend until you moved. Clare didn’t have anyone to go to prom with, and you being older by a few years had nothing to do on a Friday night so you decide to go with Clare. But when you meet Roger after you come back, he had changed For better or for worse? (imagine that you have short shaved hair, (Like Ben Hardy’s For example at the Oscars.) or any boy-ish looking haircut for this story to work)

You were the person who moved in next door to the Taylors. You came from America and your parents were both business people. You had no siblings and it sucked. Your mother always wanted a daughter, and your father always wanted a Son. You were never around your mum as much as your dad. You and your dad would fix the car on days off, and teach you how to fight for self-defence he said that you could have the car, If you could fix it. You ended up doing more things that a boy would do instead of a girl. All the kids that were on your street were girls. What they wished for was being a princess and going to meet prince charming and that they were better than everyone else. But no, your dream was to be either in a band, or a race car driver. Maybe a professional skate boarder you said, or a bmx bike rider but you didn’t really care.

You were riding your bmx bike down a street one day, and you heard yelling. You were in your usual baggy t-shirt and a shorts with high top shoes. When you were getting closer, you saw that it was a fight. You being, 8 or whatever you thought that it would be a good idea to go have a look. You biked over and you saw a blonde kid getting kicked up on the floor. They were calling him names, and they wouldn’t stop hitting him. You walked over after putting your bike down and walked over to them. “What do you think your doing?” you say as you pushed the person against the wall. They wouldn’t give you an answer so you threw him against the wall a little bit harder “Talk short stack before you cant ask me to stop.”. He said something along the lines of ‘Because he is different and he sucked at soccer.’ You beat all of them up and walked over to the blonde on the floor. “Hi love you alright? You look like Rocky Balboa after he fought Ivan Drago!” you said as you put your hand on his head. He said, “it all hurts, my body hurts.” He said as he started to cry. You then picked him up and started walking to your BMX bike. You put him on the seat while you stood up and started to pedal down a hill. He started screaming while you started to laugh as you went through all the streets until you got to the shops.

“Come with me kid.” You say as you walked into the shop and to the counter where your mother worked part time for more money. “Hey mum.” You say as you walked over to her. “Hey sweetie what happened?” she asked as she saw the blood on your shirt. You helped roger walk over to the counter as he was limping down one isle. “Yeah my friend.” “roger.” He interrupted. “Yeah, my friend roger got hurt and I thought that you could help.” You say as you help roger walk around to the back of the counter so your mum could take a look. “Yeah he is pretty bad, maybe some cream for the bruises and you just need to rest buddy.” She said as she petted his head. You nodded and helped roger back to the bike. You took roger home and that is where it started.

Your friendship blossomed and you were connected at the hip. You were the one that turned Roger Taylor bad. He was that good student at school, but you liked to mess around. You would prank the teachers, get into fights with other people and wouldn’t give a dam. You were a straight A and B student and you would love to play sports. But the day came when you had to go. You were 16 and roger was 15. You said that you would get a tattoo, to remember each other. On your wrist you had Forever is our today and Roger Taylor in cursive writing on your other one. On rogers he had who waits forever anyway? And your name in cursive writing in the other one. When you were leaving you kissed roger on the lips and said, “By my little Rocky, we will meet again yes? And if we don’t I will kick your arse when we die, be we will never break the chain right?” you say as you put a silver around his neck you have one exactly like it with your names carved in. He nodded and said “I love you.” and you said “I love you too.” You then walked to the car and you never looked back, never feared, never cried.

  You are now 22 Walking around at the back of the school/uni wearing a black hoodie and skinny black jeans is what you did every day after school while waiting for Clare. Wearing sunglasses was your choice and when you would smoke girls would look at you wishing that they could have a date. They would ask Clare every time if you guys were together, or if you guys were dating, but all you wanted to be was alone. You didn’t want or need anybody, or that is what you say to yourself because no boy would come up to you and ask you out because you are a ‘boy’ in their eyes. You were good at nearly any sport, and you didn’t give a shit if you break a nail, or if you got dirty. You would stand up for Clare when she couldn’t, and you protected other people when they couldn’t either.

You got snapped out of your thoughts when Clare came running up to you. “Y/N! hi” she yelled as she was nearly next to you. “Sup Clare how are ya?” you say as you keep walking with Clare. “Well the good news is that Prom is on Friday!” she said. “And…” you say sarcastically. “And I don’t have a date.” She said. “No one wants to go with me Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” she said as she was looking at the ground. Until her head shot up, “You could go with me!” she said as she turned to you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth. “What?” you say as you give her a serious look. “Yeah you could go with me! Everybody thinks that you are a boy anyway so why would this be any different?” she said. “everyone thinks that I am a boy, because I wear skinny jeans, and boy clothes all of the time.” You said while you grew nearer to her house. “Yeah but still please!” she said as you got to the front of her house. “Bye Clare, I hope you can find a date love. Bye” you say as you wave to her. “Bye” she said to you as she hugs you. You blew out some more smoke and put the cigarette out with the bottom of your heel. And you walked back to your house.

Every time you would go to uni, the girls that were younger than you we would ask you out to prom, but you said no you are not going. When class is over you go to the fence where you normally go. You pull out a cigarette and light it with you lighter. Then you see someone walking over to you. He had Black hair and he wore the most outrages of outfits. But you didn’t mind. “can I have one Darling?” he asks you as he walks and stands next to you. “Sure thing mate.” You answer as you gave him one. “Are you going to the prom?” he looks at you. “No mate, I’m not. But all of these girls keep wanting to go with me I don’t get it!” you say as you put out your cigarette. “Maybe they find you as an attractive man?” he said as he there away his cigarette. The word ‘Man’ but I’m a woman. “Well what if I told you that I wasn’t a boy? That I was a girl?” you say. “I would say your crazy darling! But who am I to judge?” he said as he started to walk back to his locker.

Friday Night

Friday came along too quickly. Clare said that she doesn’t have a date yet, but she is still going to go, because she doesn’t want to be that person that didn’t go. She said for you to have a good night and that you guys would catch up on the weekend. You got home and lay on the balcony. Your parents are never home, them both business people and going to different parts if the country for work and on business trips. You blew the smoke out of your cigarette, and you looked at the time. You realised that you didn’t have anything to do that night. You knew that Clare wouldn’t have left for prom yet. You walk to your dresser and pull out a suit, you have your ray bans as well. You think to yourself that you clean up pretty well.

                         What you look like LOL WE ALL LOVE BEN

You go to your garage and pull out your Black Ford Mustang 68. You hop in and drive over to Clare’s house. Clare said that if you are going to be her date you have to have something in common with her brother, so you just threw a pair of Drumsticks in your pocket. You pull up out of the front of her house and you see a green looking mini in the drive way. Must be her brothers you say to yourself. You get out of the car, and you walk up the steps to her house. With some roses in your hand and your sunglasses still on your face you knock on the door. You wait a moment until an older lady comes and answers the door. “Yes can I help you?” she asks kindly. “Yes I’m here to pick up Clare for Prom?” you ask. “Oh Yes but Clare didn’t say anything about someone picking her up?” she said. “Yes, it was a last minute sort of thing.” You said really convincingly. She looked at you for a moment and yelled. “Clare there is someone at the door!”  and you hear patter feet down the hallway. “Yes who is it?” she said and looked at you. “Surprise?” you say as you hand her the roses. Your drumsticks sticking out of the back pocket of your pants. “Thankyou!” she said as she hugged you. You even put more effort and put on some boy perfume to make it more convincing. Then a boy with long blonde hair walked down the corridor. “Who are you?” he asked as he looked at you. “I’m Clare’s date.” You say in a duh tone. You see her looking at you while you take her hand and kiss it. She giggled playing along.  “Bye now.” You say as you two walked to the car. You thought that he looked familiar but you couldn’t say who he was. You didn’t mind though, you opened up the car door for Clare while she hopped in. You closed her door, and went around and opened your door and got in. Before you could, you could still see the outline of Clare’s brother. Leaning up against the door frame, smoking a cigarette you could see the light of the cigarette light up his face every time. Next you get in the car and start the engine.

When you get to the place, you help Clare out of the car and link your arm in hers. You are walking into the Gym and walk through where you get you couple Photos. You keep your sunglasses on as you two pose for the photo. You guys walk into the gym and you guys are met with The Beatles and a lot of people dancing. You take Clare’s hand and lead her to the dancefloor. You are suddenly dancing and you look around. People making out in the bathrooms, people putting liquor in the punch bowls and all the other lonely people that don’t have a date, that would of been Clare, but being the person that I am, I couldn’t do that to her. You were currently dancing with Clare, when they were going to announce the Prom King And Queen. Yay! I cant wait to find out who they are.

“ok guys welcome to Prom! Now we are going to announce our prom King and Queen! Now our Prom Queen is….” Clare shoved you and you just laughed, “Clare Taylor!” “and the Prom King is…..” you just looked at Clare as they put the little crown on her head. Then the Prom King was announced and they had a little dance. You didn’t care, so you sat on a chair near the back of the dance floor and took a smoke. You looked at your tattoo and ran your hand over the top of the writing. You remembered the time when you first taught roger to smoke, You were around 14 years of age and that made his 13. You chuckled remembering the memory.

 Now you were at school, and Roger walks into the classroom and sits next to you. The class was over and the day was as well. You were in the theatre room and you were just watching something about UK history. You pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. You inhaled and blew the smoke in the air. “Are you even allowed to do that?” roger asked you a he was watching you curiously. “Yeah the smoke alarm doesn’t work and so it doesn’t pick up the smoke.” You say as you blow out more smoke. You smiled at roger and looked at him, “what have you never smoked before?” you say as you run a hand through your hair. “No never been allowed to. My father always did, but I could never, I never tried.” He said as he looked at you. You then stood up and walked behind him. You put a cigarette in his mouth, and told him to hold it. You them flicked on the lighter and lit it up. “Now inhale it a bit and then blow it out.” You say as you just look at him. He inhales and then starts to cough. “Don’t worry, it happens to everyone on their first time.” You say as roger keeps going. You laugh as you keep going. And now you laugh as you remember the memory.

By the end of prom Clare soon found out that they put liquor in the Punch bowl. She came walking over to you with her small crown falling off her head a bit and her uneasy on her two feet. “Enjoying yourself Clare?” you say as you look at her. “Can we go home now?” she said as she grabbed onto your jacket. You quickly jumped out of the way to grab her as she nearly fell over. You walked with her hand in hand to your car. You helped her in and you drove her back to her house. When you pulled up to her driveway you looked and saw that none of the lights were on. They all went to sleep. You took your jacket off and checked everywhere for a spare key but they didn’t have one. You jump their fence and look around the back for some kind of opening. You see that someone left their window open so you went back to get Clare.

Once you got Clare you threw yourself over the fence and with your legs either side of the fence you grabbed onto Clare’s arms and lifted her up and over the fence. You laugh as she nearly falls over. You carry her Bridal style over to where you could see to climb up on the house. You saw a few drain pipes, they had a little veranda out the back so maybe something there. You see that there is a wood looking frame, so that was your best option. With Clare drifting to sleep on your back you wake her up and say, “Clare we are nearly there I need your help love to get up.” So you put her on your back as you make your way up the wooden frame, and onto the roof. Once you got to the window you saw that there was someone in there, they had a drum kit and a lot of posters. ‘Must be her brothers room’ You think to yourself. You pulled Clare through the window, and quietly walked over the carpet to the door. It had a British flag on the back and you chuckle to yourself. You open the door quietly and see someone walking across the hallway. You freeze. He had long hair, by the outline. But he walked straight past you as it was dark and walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Clare where is your room?” You whisper as she wakes up. She points to one down next to her brother’s room. You walk her in as she undresses and puts on her pyjamas. You sat her on the bed as you took her hair out and brushed a brush through so it wouldn’t be hard to brush in the morning. You lay her down on her bed as she grabbed your wrist as you were walking away. You turned around and you looked at her. “Sing me a song?” She said as you turned around. You nodded and walked over to where she was. You sat on the bed and began to sing

Time Of your Life Green Day

You got up when you saw that she was asleep. You then started to walk to where her brothers room is. You open the door and you see no one is in there. You walk through and you see that the window is locked. Dam. You look around and you see Clare’s brother walk into the Room. You rush behind his bed and you duck down. You hope he doesn’t see you. Then you see he has a gap underneath his bed. You haven’t done this in a while but you slipped underneath the bed. You were met, with records, you lay in a pair of drumsticks, and a pack of cigarettes, you just slipped those in your back pocket. You saw feet walk over to the edge of the bed, you hear some noises and then you see the person’s pants fall to the floor, must be getting ready for bed you think to yourself.

Then you see him walk over to the dresser and you think is he going to open the window? You look and see him open the window and walk back out of his room. You then make your move and jump out of the window. You made a loud noise but you slid off the roof and walked to where their back gate was. You threw yourself over the top and walked to your car. You jumped in and started the engine. You drove off and back to your house. When you got home, you walked upstairs into your room. You walked in and went over to your dresser. You took your suit off and slipped on your pyjamas. Then you slipped into bed, but felt something poke into your back. You sat up and looked at the photo on your bed. You turned your room lamp on and took a look. It was a photo of you and roger when he was 15. You laughed and placed it back on your drawer. You looked up at the sky and fell asleep.

When you woke up, you had breakfast and threw on your normal black hoodie and a pair of Black Jeans. You went to you garage where you had your BMX bike kept. You pulled it out and threw a cap on backwards as your helmet. You rode out of your garage and went rode down your street. You saw that they had a skate park so you were going to go down there and see how good these kids really are. You keep your hood up and you ride into the park. You ride over to the halfpipe is. You go up all the steps and you kick off.  Your just doing simple turns and a few turns. You then go onto some of the jump while you then start hearing clapping. You look up and it is a blonde kid with long hair, maybe down to his shoulder blades? And he looked at you. “Wow good skills kid.” He said as he approached you while his friends were standing behind him. “Really? Wow never got congratulated before.” You say sarcastically wanting to drop this conversation. “Yeah so what are you doing at our skate park? Aren’t you a city kid? We don’t like city kids.” He said as his friend stood around you. “So what are you gonna do about it huh?” You say as you look him in the eyes. “I don’t know maybe a little lesson so you don’t come back.” He said as his friends push you over. You then got kicked in the face he came at it again, and you grabbed his leg. You pull it hard at yourself and he goes flying over. His friends then proceed to kick and punch you. You are now on the floor. Only if they saw you as a girl, they wouldn’t do this to you. The blonde kid then makes his friends pick you up, underneath the underarms and lift you up to face him. They take off your hoodie as you look at him dead in the eye.

You then proceed to say, “What is your name?” you say as you spit some blood out of your mouth. “Roger.” He said. “Roger who?” you say and his friends start to laugh. “Roger Taylor.” Then it finally clicks. The person in front of you is Roger Taylor, your childhood friend and boyfriend when you were 16. You look at him and he looks you in the eyes. “Now I’m gonna make a mark that you would never forget.” He said as you brings a pocket knife out of his pocket. His friends throw you to the floor, while you hit your head. You stand up and his friends form a circle around of you two. They wanted you to fight. Yay!

Roger was never good at fighting, when he fought you he never won. “are you sure you want to do this roger?” you say as you look at him in the eye. “Done it thousands of times.” He leans on his right leg more so he is most likely going to use his right for everything. Make his left hurt. He came at you with the knife as you ducked and sent his doubling over and face to the floor. He got back up and he sliced your arm with the knife. He then proceeded to try and punch your head, but you hit the knife out of his hands and sliced the inside of his thigh.

You then grabbed the knife as you jumped back on him and smacked him In his left rib. He ends up hitting you while you just keep hitting him. You feel his punches getting weaker and his face being more pale. You saw more blood come out of his nose while his hands are up trying to defend himself from getting more hurt. You stand up while he tries to grab your leg you just kick him harder so he went flying back to the ground. You didn’t mean to do this to your best friend but he tried to hurt you first, all out of self-defence.

His friends fled while he was just left lying on the ground helpless. You looked at him, he had hurt on his feature, blood on his face and his eyes were closed. He looked like a beaten angel. You picked him up while you biked to the shop. He woke up while you were riding down a hill, but this time he just looked up at you. You put your hoodie on him, because he was just wearing a white T-shirt. You pulled the hood over his head, and you pulled around the corner. Roger looked at what you were doing and he saw your wrists. Then Roger had flashbacks to when you guys were kids.

After I got hurt, I looked up and I thought I saw an angel, she asked me if I was alright I said yeah and she picked me up. I looked up at the sky and I saw her look down at me. Then my eyes fluttered closed and I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke I was in someone’s chest and it smelt like male perfume. I looked up and it was the angel that saved me. We were speeding down a hill and out of memory I screamed when I felt myself tilting downward and the wind flying past me faster than ever. When I looked at the girl her hair was being pushed back by the wind. And showing all her facial features. I knew I fell in love with her then.

“Is that you y/n?” roger said in a whisper that nearly no one could hear. “Yes I’m here mate? You got beaten pretty bad how you holding up?” you say as you speed down another hill. You then stroke your hand though his hair and laughed at how cute he looked in your black hoodie. “What happened? How are you here?” Roger said as you turned another corner. “well let’s just say you tried to fight me and failed and I moved back here a few months ago, and I never saw you around so yeah.” You say as you stop at the shop. “Isn’t this the shop where your mum used to work at?” roger said coughing a bit out of pain. “Yeah It was, are you alright what hurts?” you say as you walk down an isle. “Everything.” He said grabbing onto you with every step he took. You went and grabbed some bandages, disinfected and some patches. You went up to the counter and also brought a backpack and a pack of gum. You threw it all on the counter and you pull out some money.

You pay for the stuff and help Roger out of the shop. “I can’t go back to my house looking like this, if my mum sees me like this she will make me go through x-rays for a whole week!” roger said as he grabbed onto you more. “Yeah that sounds like your mum. Did Clare go to Prom?” you ask as you sat roger down on your lap on the bike. “Yeah she did, she went with this guy I didn’t catch his name but she seemed happy.” You just laughed as roger held onto you for dear life. He was so precious. You got back to your house as roger nearly fell asleep. You picked him up bridal style as you brought him into the house. You opened up the door and you lay him on the couch. You woke him up and started to treat his well cuts. You took off his shirt and you caught roger looking. You flashed him a smile while his cheeks flushed Red. You laughed and hit his chest playfully but started to instantly apologize as he started to weez.

Once you cleaned roger up you walked back into the living room and found him snuggled into the couch, and searching for warmth as he looked cold. You went over to the couch and when you sat down, roger instantly snuggled into you. You chuckle and look down at him. He opens his eyes and looks at you. “I love you.” Roger said as he put his face in your neck. “I love you too love.” You say as you hold him in your arms.