#anyway let's see if it is installed next time i visit

[magics-neptunes-things]

Good 4 U

Hello there!

I hope you’re all great. This story is just out of my imagination, but enjoy anyway, I guess ♥ Also Caitlin and Lia are always a thing in this word.

TW: Reader! Wälti, no other I think.

PART 2 | PART 3

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Unlike your older sister Lia, you are not wise and quiet. You have trouble concentrating and you aren't necessarily interested in the idea of landing somewhere. You and Lia don’t have the same character, but that never stopped you from loving each other a lot. You’d do anything for your older sister who’s only 10 months older than you. And you know she would do anything in return for you. You and her were almost like twins and even if you wasn't planned, you parents always loved you the way they love Lia.

You travel all the time, leaving one place when you're getting tired to visit another corner of the world. You are sociable and have no trouble making contacts with anyone, to find a job or to make new friends. You are lucky to be able to remember the different languages in the countries you visit. You speak German from birth, you are bilingual in English and you talk other new languages like spanish or italian.

For now, you are in London with your sister for a week. The last time you stayed in London with Lia was last year when her life was a little more complicated than now. This time, you decided to come to see her just because you missed her and wanted to be with her for her birthday. You contacted Leah to help you surprise her, and you congratulate yourself for filming Lia's reaction when you walked into her living room following Leah.

When Lia told you about a karaoke night with her friends, most of them from Arsenal, you didn't hesitate a single second before accepting. You already know Caitlin obviously and Leah, who you met when she came in Switzerland last year. You met some of the girls last time you came in London, but you don't know all of them. This is a good occasion to met them.

Despite the time set at 9pm, not everyone arrived on time but this didn't prevent the people already present from starting to have fun. You’ve already shared a song with Steph and another with Leah. And you’re choosing the song you’re going to sing with Lia when Katie finally makes her appearance in the establishment.

When the music started, Katie was greeting everyone and sat at one of the tables surrounded by a bench, reserved for the night.

She's sitting with Caitlin, Leah, Kyra and Alessia when her gaze mechanically refers to you when you start singing. And her gesture stops immediately when she looks at you, her arm halfway between her mouth and the table as she was getting ready to drink.

"You alright mate?" laughs Kyra

"Who’s the girl with Wally?" Katie asks, blinking.

"Her little sister. Why?" asks Leah, bowing her eyebrow.

But Katie doesn’t answer, completely hypnotized by you. She just can’t take her eyes off you, your face, your body and anything else that can be part of you.

"It's Wally’s sister?" ended up repeating Katie before glancing at Caitlin. "Damn, you’re shagging the wrong Wälti, Caitlin."

"You’re disgusting" Caitlin says, rolling her eyes.

Leah laughs softly next to Katie and the Irish girl seems to reminding something. She turns herself a little to look at Leah before talking.

"Wait, this is the sister you met last year?"

"Yes?" answer a frowning Leah.

"And you didn't try anything with her?"

Katie’s tone let perfectly passes the disbelief she feels at this idea. But Leah rolls her eyes again.

"She’s Lia’s little sister. She would have killed me. And she’ll kill you too if you try anything with her"

Katie responds with a throat sound before finally bringing her drink to her lips. And from then on, she won’t leave you until your song is finished. Katie recognized Olivia Rodrigo’s song "Good 4 u" and she briefly wonders if it means anything to you and Lia.

When the song ends, Lia approaches the table where Katie is installed while you take the opportunity to go to the toilet. If Caitlin greets your sister with a big smile, making her sit on her lap, Leah can’t help but drop the information to Lia.

"Your sister caught Katie’s eyes" Leah announces with a big smile.

This causes a growl from Katie who hoped to try a discreet approach with you and a frown from Lia, who quickly takes off from Caitlin to lean towards Katie.

"Stay away from her Katie, I’m not kidding"

Katie raises both hands as a sign of abandonment, not without rolling her eyes.

"Looks like I’m the devil in person" Katie growls before finishing her drink.

"She was hurt once and since then has been traveling around the world. I want to see her again before Christmas 2025."

"Okay, okay, I get it" sighs gently, Katie. "I’ll get myself a drink."

After asking if anyone wanted something, Katie gets up to order herself a drink, deciding to go to the other side to have less to wait. And Lia will not be able to tell her anything, because it's finally you who approaches her first. You come to order yourself a drink too and you have no trouble recognizing the teammate of your big sister, that you watch play as soon as you can.

"You're Katie, right? I'm Y/N, Lia's sister" you smile before reaching out to greet her.

"Yes, that's me. Nice to meet ya" Katie grins, taking your hand in hers, squeezing it maybe a little to long.

Your eyes cross and you find yourself becoming aware of the beauty of the young woman who stands before you. You first notice her blue eyes and then her smile that you quickly find mesmerizing.

You are interrupted in your moment by the server who finally takes your orders. And, while Katie passes her command, you discreetly let your gaze slide on her forms. How did you not realize before how breathtaking she was?

"Lia told me you travel a lot" Katie says, turning to you to resume your conversation.

"Oh, yes… I just came back from New Zealand" you explain with a smile, before starting on an explanation of your last trip.

The minutes pass quickly as you chat with her and then you find yourself interested in her and her life. There’s something about Katie that hypnotizes you and you could honestly spend hours listening to her and laughing at what she’s telling you. You like her humor, the sound of her voice and it’s a little destabilizing for you to find yourself so impacted by someone so quickly.

"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Katie says after realizing you’ve been talking for a while.

You accept with pleasure and you follow her on the outdoor terrace of the establishment, Katie seems to know this place very well. Which is probably not surprising since Lia told you they come often.

"Here" simply makes Katie by dropping her jacket on your bare arms after seeing you shiver.

"Thank you" you answer with a sincere smile.

You move a little away from the entrance to not be in the way and you lean against a wall looking up to look at the stars. However, you gently frown when you see that they are not visible. You forgot they’re hard to see from central London.

"When are you leaving again?" asks Katie while looking at you.

You leave the sky with your eyes to carry them over her before gently shrugging your shoulders with a smile.

"I haven’t decided yet. Why?"

"I was wondering if you would give me your phone number so we could meet again, before you leave."

You bite your lip briefly while observing her. You are not sure if it's a good idea, you will probably leave soon and you know that it would probably not lead to much. But you’d be lying if you said the Irish girl didn’t tease your curiosity.

"Okay" you end up answering before you pick up her phone and put your number on it.

A big smile is born on Katie’s face and you don’t know her enough yet to realize that it’s a frank smile and not the sufficient smile she likes to have to provoke her opponents. Her phone in her pocket, Katie settles next to you, leaning against the wall like you.

"Do you like to look at the stars?" asked Katie.

"It’s probably one of the things I prefer to do" you admit without hesitation. "But it’s difficult from here"

"I know a place where they can be seen. You want to go see?"

********

"I just ran into Katie running away with a pretty blonde" laughs Victoria who just arrived while sitting at Lia’s table.

"I’m going to kill her" the Swiss woman announces, noting that you have also disappeared.

Kyra’s sigh sound out at the same time as Leah’s facepalm. Caitlin masks her amused smile behind Lia’s head, but she is nevertheless surprised by Alessia who smiles back at her.

********

You suspect a little the annoyance that Lia must feel and you feel in spite of yourself a slight guilt at the idea of not enjoying her birthday party with her. But you take a look at Katie after you get out of her car and you quickly realize that she’s genuinely happy to show you this place.

"What’s your favorite constellation?" Katie asks you when you’re both sitting in the grass.

"Aquila" you answer by pointing to the place in the sky where it is. "And you?"

"I didn’t have one until now, but it could become my favorite" Katie replies with a smirk.

You laugh slowly and you turn your head in her direction, to see that Katie rolled to the side and that she’s looking at you. You feel yourself blushed and you’re pretty glad it’s dark and Katie can’t see it. But you don’t let her out of your sight and you decide to play her game.

"What is your astrological sign?" you ask.

"Virgo"

"Well maybe my favorite constellation is going to be Virgo then"

Katie laughs softlyand, taking a sudden aspiration, you gently take her hand in yours. Katie lets you and you find that her skin is pleasantly warm and soft against yours. You shift your attention to the sky above you, feeling Katie’s gaze stay on you. But it doesn’t bother you, it’s not the kind of heavy look that makes you uncomfortable. You feel good and safe with her, despite what Lia seems to think.

It’s almost two o'clock in the morning when Katie takes you home to your sister, whose keys you have so you can get in and out whenever you want.

"I hope I’m not interrupting a private celebration" you grin maliciously at Katie, who insisted on accompanying you to the front door.

"If there is going to be a celebration tonight it will probably be to celebrate my death" laughs Katie before explaining, when you turn an interrogative look in her direction "I was not supposed to approach you tonight. Lia has warned me"

"Why did you do it then?" you ask curiously while searching through your purse while looking at it.

"Technically, it was you who approached me" Katie replies with a satisfied smile. "But I’m very happy about it."

You smile back at her and you probably look at each other for a few seconds too long, before you come out of your trance and regain your self-confidence.

"I’ll defend your cause, if you want" you joke softly.

"See me again and it will have been well worth it."

You smile again and bite your lip briefly. You really want to kiss her, but maybe it’s too early for that. You step forward and put a kiss on her cheek instead before backing away again and opening the door.

"Go home safely"

"I will" answers Katie with a smile. "Good night"

"Sweet dreams"

The house is empty when you enter and you assume that either Lia is not back yet, or she went to Caitlin’s. You go undress and remove your makeup and it's when you are writing to your sister to inform her that you came home when you receive a message from an unknown number.

From Unknow I came home safely. Sleep tight beautiful x

From You Sleep well too. We talk soon x

********

Lia looked at you with skepticism when you told her that nothing happened with Katie, unless looking at the stars and learning to know her. Since her breakup, Katie had a lot of fling and Lia obviously didn't want you to fall for the Irish girl before being ignored by her.

Katie and you wrote to each others a lot during the past days and you find yourself smiling every time she texted you. When she asked you on a date, you accepted with a second thought.

Katie take you to an Irish restaurant, she looked almost outraged to learn that you have never been to Ireland during your many travels. You had a great evening and when she brought you back you vaguely hoped for a kiss but Katie just gently kissed your cheek before smiling with affection. She then waited until you go inside to leave. Then you started texting each other almost all the day, every day.

From Katie ✨ u going to the game today?

From You I am :) why?

From Katie ✨ Would you let me take you for a brunch before ?

From You I would love to

From Katie ✨ Great. I'm taking you at 10 xx

You almost turned the cupboard in which you installed your clothes in your sister’s guest room to find a proper outfit. You ended up opting for a simple outfit, comfortable but nevertheless different from what you can wear every day. Once ready, you go to the kitchen, in which you find only Catlin in the company of her cup of coffee and a toast with…

"Vegemite?" you ask with a smirk

"Lia always has a jar for me in her cupboards" replies the Australian with amusement.

"How romantic" you laugh softly

You take a glass of water, realizing rather quickly that Caitlin observes you over the cup of coffee that she holds with two hands. Since she and Lia got together, the Australian has taken on the role of your big sister too. You obviously can’t compare the connection you have with her with the one you have with Lia, but you appreciate her enormously.

"Are you going out?"

"Yes" you just answer

"With Katie?"

You don't have time to respond with the positive or negative that Lia’s voice is heard behind you. Obviously she must appear when the name of the Irish is pronounced.

"What, Katie?" Lia asks, bowing her eyebrow.

"I'm going to a brunch with her" you explain softly with a sigh. "Look, don’t make that face, I know you don’t want anything but to protect me, but if it makes you happy… Nothing ever happened between us, if it turns out she’s not even interested in anything but friendship with me"

You gently shrug your shoulders and carefully avoid Lia’s gaze. You don’t necessarily want your older sister to see how depressed you are about this idea. But it's Caitlin who speaks again, although she's peacefully returned to reading her diary.

"Or she takes the time to do things right with you because you mean something to her" she points out without looking at you.

You frown thoughtfully at her, but Caitlin doesn’t add anything. Lia gets closer to you though, gently laying her hand on yours.

"What would make me happy is that you are too. I just want you to be happy and make sure no one can hurt you any more."

"I’ll be fine, Lia, I promise" you assure her with a little smile. "I learned from my mistakes"

Lia pout a little and when your phone vibrates in your pocket when Katie writes to you that she has arrived and that she waits for you, you take your big sister in your arms.

"I love you" you say before you kiss her cheek.

"I love you too. See you at the game?"

With a smile you nod before leaving the house. Your smile widens when you see Katie waiting for you, leaning against the front of her car.

"You look stunning" Katie smiles looking at your outfit.

"You’re not bad yourself"

Katie is dressed in her training kit, ready for the game and you find it strangely sexy. Unlike other times you have seen her, you don't hesitate to greet her with a hug and then let her take you by the hand to train you to the passenger door of the car.

The establishment that Katie has chosen is between Lia’s house and the stadium, the Irish girl explaining to you that it's a place that she loves and that has the advantage of not being too well known by the general public. It seems to have its habits and even if you don't necessarily appreciate the big smile with which the waitress welcomes Katie, you are quickly satisfied by the hand that she puts in your back to guide you to her usual table.

As always, the discussion is pleasant. You have to admit you did some research on Katie, but you feel like the Katie that people can see on the football field is different from the one you see every day. The Katie you know is sweet, attentive, considerate and charming. You have the impression that she really listens to you and that she seems particularly interested in what you tell her, no matter what it is.

And the butterflies that you have in the hollow of your belly when her fingers touch your hand while taking the salt are rather very pleasant. However, you regret not knowing if things are really shared or if Katie is only interested in friendship with you.

"Can I ask you a question?" asks Katie, her blue eyes watching you attentively over her cup of tea.

"Of course" you answer with a little smile.

"When she asked me not to come near you, Lia mentioned a romantic relationship that ended badly. I’m not asking you to tell me everything, but if you have any residual trauma or like that…"

Of course Lia mentioned your old relationship with Katie. On the other hand, you can’t blame her, after learning about the various deceptions of your ex-girlfriend, it was so painful that you never set foot in Switzerland again and you never saw your family again for a year. It apparently left your sister with trauma as well.

"As long as you don’t lie to me or hide things from me, it should be okay" you mumble and shrug.

Katie looks funny and you briefly get lost in your thoughts until the Irish woman gently takes your hand in hers. When you look up at her, she smiles softly at you, her eyes immensely sweet.

"No matter what happens, I will never. I promise"

You smile softly at her, losing yourself in her eyes. Katie changes the subject and when it’s time to leave for the stadium, you have the impression that the time has passed much too quickly.

"Do you mind if someone sees you get out of my car? There are often fans waiting for us in the parking lot, they cannot access it but they wait behind the gates. I can drop you off if you want" Katie asks when you’re about to arrive.

"I don’t care" you assure her by tapping on her arm.

You didn’t expect her to grab your hand with hers to interlace your fingers, but this gesture is rather pleasant.

Katie was right, you barely got out of the car when you heard some people calling her name. The young woman having advised you not to pay attention to it, you follow her inside the corridors in the colors of Arsenal without turning once your glance towards the fans.

"Shall I leave you there?" asks Katie once right outside the door that’s supposed to take you to the VIP corner, where Lia booked you a seat.

You nod with a slight smile. You know the way now.

"Thanks for the invitation. I had a great time"

"So do I" Katie says, smiling as well. "You still don’t know when you’re leaving, right?"

"Maybe soon. I don’t know yet"

You gently shrug your shoulders, but you don’t miss the disappointment that briefly passes over Katie’s face after her smile drop.

"Oh… okay. Well, I’ll see you soon, I guess?"

"Yeah" you smile softly.

Katie gives you a little smile, but it’s only when she turns her heels in the direction of the changing rooms that you walk forward two steps and you take the floor again.

"Katie?"

"Yes?"

The Irish girl turns and looks at you with surprise. She apparently did not expect you to hold her back.

"You want to know what it depends on?"

"Yes" she says again, looking at you carefully.

You made other steps to catch up to her and to be at her height but you mechanically bite your lip, a little anxious about your courage and its repercussions. But now is not the time to back down. Katie seems to have quickly noticed your nervousness since she is also moving in your direction of a step, offering you a reassuring smile.

"You"

"Me?"

"Yes, I… I like you, I mean not necessarily only physically. And I really like the moments we spend together, but I don’t know if it’s mutual or if I’m making ideas. And I’m a little afraid that after talking to you about it now it changes or complicates things, but-"

Katie ends up interrupting you, putting her finger on your lips to silence you. You don’t know if it’s a good thing or not and you freeze instantly.

"I like you too, I thought it was obvious. I’m sorry if I let you think otherwise. My love life may not have been the most stable in a few months, but with you it’s different."

You don’t have time to answer anything that Leah Williamson appears around the corner to call Katie. Training will begin soon.

"I have to go. I’ll see you later?"

You nod with a smile. Katie looks at you for a few more seconds smiling before heading to where Leah disappeared a few seconds ago.

"Katie?" You call her again though. "You forgot something"

Gently frowning, Katie turns in your direction, no doubt to see you so close to her, always smiling. She has no time to question you, since you come forward until you can put your lips on hers. It’s just a light kiss, but the sensations are amazing.

When you open your eyes again, Katie’s are dipping into yours and you have to take it on yourself so you don’t pass out. If you listened to yourself, you would do it again, but you don’t want to cross the line. That said, given her smile, she doesn’t seem to be against that kiss.

"Now you can go" you smile maliciously.

But Katie shakes her head with her big smile still displayed on her face. Taking advantage of your proximity, Katie gently puts her hand on your neck before drawing your face once again against hers. This kiss is longer than the first and your hands naturally find place on Katie’s body.

When Katie gently caresses your lower lip with her tongue, asking for access to yours, you do not hesitate a single second before leaving it to her. Obviously, you forget a little where you are and that everyone could surprise you. It is finally a door noise far away from you that brings you back to reality, a few minutes later.

"I really have to go" whispers Katie, her lips caressing yours when she speaks.

And it makes you half lose your mind. So you can’t resist the urge to kiss her again and it takes all your strength to tear you away from her. And let her go.

"Come on, go make the rest of the world enjoy your talent" you smile softly

Katie laughs but steals one last kiss before leaving. It’s in a second state that you join your seat, but when Katie appears on the field alongside the other players, you can’t help but smile again. Katie quickly spots you in the stands and sends you a wink to which you respond with a smile.

In the end, it’s not as safe as this that you’ll leave London.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe

[highvern]

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?” 

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk. 

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response. 

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job. 

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting. 

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips. 

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas. 

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces. 

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth. 

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him. 

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.” 

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore. 

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later. 

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back. 

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum. 

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward. 

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago. 

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range. 

“Tell me and you can have it,”  Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage. 

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play. 

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit. 

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off. 

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve. 

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily. 

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head. 

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock. 

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point. 

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden. 

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.” 

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely. 

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his. 

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad. 

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.” 

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria. 

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give. 

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

 “Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth. 

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt. 

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat. 

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh. 

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen. 

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood. 

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.” 

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed? 

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force. 

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!” 

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep. 

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re  already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake. 

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch. 

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward. 

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more. 

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! 

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins. 

It takes all the strength you possess  to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him. 

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes. 

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.  

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin. 

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash. 

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal. 

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. 

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water. 

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join. 

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?” 

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…” 

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.” 

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo. 

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.” 

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder. 

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time. 

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room. 

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out. 

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”. 

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping.  He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless. 

Worth it, he thinks 

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

[ferrstappen]

max, the wag (for the third time) l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: i was in the middle of writing this when news of Danny coming back to the grid!!! omg I'm so happy of seeing RIC and listening to his radios and everything, it wasn't the same without him <3

also, about requests. Please keep sending them, I've LOVED all the reqs I've gotten but right now im getting ready for my bar exam in a couple of weeks so my time is super super limited, but I promise I'll get to most of them (bc imsorry there are some reqs that I really can't connect with) after the exam, it's one of the things I'm looking forward to <3 but for now this kind of mediocre story telling will have to do...

ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS INSTALLMENT! you can find part 1 and 2 on the master list <3

summary: the continuation of your favorite paddock couple.

Max arrived to the track by himself.

If he was being honest, it wasn’t on his plans to walk alone with the photographers, Red Bull marketing team snatching him for stuff right after he swapped his credential. Even from far away he was able to hear chants of fans and more media than usual. 

But you weren’t right there next to him. 

He knew it wasn’t your fault, Silverstone not being a track where he was usually welcomed with opened arms and he was aware of you not wanting to be too in the eye of photographers who didn’t make questions to you, but there still were different WAGs and outfits or whatever accounts tracking your every step, especially with the new wave of partners and sudden break ups and polemics. 

Still, the selfish part of him wanted you to enter the track with him, even if it was a few steps ahead or behind him, holding your hand and smiling as you complained about the amount of credentials you had to carry: the usual green VIP Paddock, Red Bull something. You’d think after all these years they’d know me, you’d say and he’d laugh.

On the other hand, you finished getting ready and called the front desk to get a taxi to get there, feeling a bit guilty of letting Max go on his own, especially when there were more eyes on the track with Brad Pitt being there and a lot of important people who’d want to talk with him all day. 

Texting Max to let him know you were already by the guests entrance waiting when you noticed some intense flashes getting near. You’d been around a time or two to know this wasn’t usual, maybe in Miami but not when you were on the abandoned back entrance, not very glamorous and low key. 

But you saw her…

Shakira, are you visiting Lewis?

Who are you cheering today?

Shakira, third Grand Prix of the year! 

Did you talk to Lewis before? Is he nervous?

Your eyes followed her, mouth opening when you followed her small frame, exuding class and sympathy, even Alexandra who was also making her entrance stopped to get a closer look of the Colombian bombshell. 

Of course, they didn’t ask her to show and get accredited, she just walked by with a radiant smile leaving paparazzi behind as she kept talking with the friend she came with. 

But wasn’t that a Haas credential?

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t important, because right then your brain made the connections and started dialing Max while nervously biting your polished nails. 

“Baby, everything okay? Are you already inside?” Max answered, but his words were quiet and rushed. 

“Yes, but you’re never going to believe…”

“I’m sorry we have a meeting, please don’t go to the paddock, go straight to the driver’s lounge, okay? Love you” 

He hung up and you wanted to pull your hair out, knowing he is the one and only person you wanted to share this information with, and you were also certain he was the only person who would truly appreciate the gossip and speculation about his fellow driver’s love life. 

Max was able to leave the meeting almost forty minutes later, getting outside for some air until he remembered your call and that you probably were bored to death on the lounge. He was turning around to go there when…

When he saw the one and only Shakira in all of her glory. 

He wasn’t starstruck or anything, being immune to celebrities and the imaginary pedestal where most people placed them, but this wasn’t about that, it was about the way she was supposedly hiding under a cap walking towards the Mercedes garage.

He covered his mouth and hastily made his way to you. 

You didn’t greet each other with the usual peck on the lips and short hug; his slightly widened blue eyes told you exactly what you needed to know as he opened the door to his small room. 

“Please tell me that you saw her!” You said as soon as he closed the door. 

“Yes, just now she was walking to Mercedes,” Max was whisper shouting as if someone would hear him and it was the highest of secrets. 

“Did you see Lewis?” You asked Max but he said no. “What if you try to ask Brad Pitt if he saw her and like if they’re friends… with Shakira?” This time both you and your boyfriend laughed at the idea.

"I did see Sainz trying to go unnoticed with a tall brunette,do you think she is the new girlfriend?" Max asked and you nodded.

"I'm pretty sure he cheated on Isa with her, and I am almost certain she was in the Paddock Club in Monaco during qualifying," Max whistled at the new information.

Now he kissed you, lips fitting perfectly against each other, but your eyes suddenly opened and separated from him. What? Why? What happened? Max was disconcerted. 

“Please don’t laugh at me because this is a serious idea…” You told Max who had your entire attention. “What if we write to Deuxmoi?”

“Deux what?”

“They have all the inside scoops  and sightings, even your name’s popped up once or twice,” Max’s eyebrows rose at the information. “We should write that Shakira was seen on the British Grand Prix and I am one hundred percent sure someone will have more information!” You proposed and Max chuckled.

“Schatz, I can just ask Lewis why she’s here,” Max told you before embracing you, his arms circled around your waist.

You rolled your eyes before resting your head on his chest, but suddenly it hit you, swiftly lifting your head and facing Max. 

“Then why haven’t you asked him yet?!”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #max verstappen series #f1 fic #f1 masterlist #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[baby-dr1ver]

girls night in, guys night out

a/n: hello everyone! this is my second installment of dad!lando series. most of these can be read as one-shots but some (in the future) will connect. anyway, enjoy!

------------------------------------------

pairing: dad!lando x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tooth rotting, kinda pouty lando lol

--you invite the WAGS over while the boys go out. Lando isn’t happy about leaving Atticus before bed time, but the guys are okay with being delayed after seeing the precious  moment between the three of you 

Getting Lando to go out has been difficult. Which is weird because Lando is a party animal-he sokes up everyone's energy and has never turned down going to a club. 

But ever since Atticus was born, parties and club visits have slowed down…almost to a stop completely. After every race, win or lose, he’d come back to the hotel room to the two if you. Curled up in bed by 9:30 instead of celebrating with the grid. 

Now that winter break was in full swing, you’d been pushing him to see his friends, even if it was just dinner. He’d always respond the same, “I’d rather be here with you and Atty.” And while that was sweet, he NEEDED to get out of the house. So, you invited all the WAG’s over while the guys tried to wrestle Lando into some “going out clothes” instead of his usual sweatpants and shirt covered in spit up and whatever else his gremlin threw at him. 

“Baby c’mon, it’s one night away.” Lando huffed as he flung himself on the bed. He was half dressed, desperately trying to convince you to let him stay home with the girls and Atticus. 

“What if this one night throws our whole routine out of whack?! What if he resents me? What if he stops-” you put a hand over his mouth before he could get another word out, knowing exactly 

what he was gonna say. “Lan, I seriously doubt that our baby who is 9 months old, will stop loving you because you went out for one night.” He pouts and pulls you down to lay with him. He looks over to the bassinet next to your bed, listening to your baby boy shuffle around. Lan knew he was overthinking things, maybe he really did need a night out. 

“Alright, I’ll go.” he said so lowly, you almost missed it. Almost. 

You sprung up and grabbed Atticus from the crib. “Why don’t you throw that black button up on and we’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Lando cocked his head to the side confused. “Can’t let you leave without helping me give him his night time bottle.” His face lit up with excitement. Lando got into action as you made your way downstairs. 

As you walked down to greet everyone, you couldn’t help but look down at the carbon copy of Lando in your arms. Same nose, same eyes and ears, same cheeky smile-you felt a little sad Lando was leaving but you knew this was what he needed. 

By the time Lando had made his way to the kitchen, you had already dimmed the lights and had everything laid out and ready. He stood back for a moment and watched the two most important people in his life be so entranced by one another, totally blocking out the rest of the world. He made his way up behind, careful not to make you jump, and laid a delicate kiss in your shoulder. 

“Hi” you whispered, never taking your eyes off Atticus. “Hi baby,” he replied with a small squeeze to your waist. “hi other baby.” he laughed to himself as his mini me just peered up at him. “Grab the bottles for me? Everything’s ready, just need to feed the little bean.” Lando nodded and grabbed the warm sippy cup full of milk and handed it to you. 

“Here why don't you” you paused and decided it would be easier to show him. You turned so you faced a little away from lando and brought him closer. You replaced the arm holding his legs with Landos so he supported his body too. He must have got the message because suddenly he let out a long breath and leaned into you. 

“Better?” He nodded and swayed a little to try and lull Atticus to sleep quickly. You all got comfortable under the dim lighting of the kitchen, Lando laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling your scent. The little one looked up at you both with his big blue/green eyes, and reached out towards his dad. Lando stuck out his finger for him to grapple onto and just about glued himself to the floor so he’d never have to leave. 

You chuckled as you watched the pout form onto Lando’s face and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Atty let out a soft sigh through his nose, a sign he was on the brink of sleep. One trick you and Lando both knew would get him to sleep, was singing to him. 

He loved any music, whether it was rock, 80’s, indie, pop, EDM, you could always find Atticus Norris moving around to music.

But what really mesmerized him was the silky voice of Frank Sinatra or Doris Day. You quietly hummed “Dream a Little Dream of Me” while gently tracing his delicate features. “Sing for me?” lando asked as he looked over at you with identical eyes. You blushed and looked away as you softly started to sing. “..stars shining bright above you.” 

“Night breezes seemed to whisper, I love you.” you inhaled sharply as you heard Lando try to carry a proper tune. “Babe, don’t laugh.” You giggled and nudged you shoulder against his cheek. 

“I’m not, I promise, it’s cute. Love when you try to sing along.” Lando scoffed in mock offense as he started to try and defend himself without waking the babe. What you both failed to notice was that he had already fallen asleep, resting all his weight against the two of you. Still gripping onto Lando’s hand, the nipple of the cup was still stuck in his mouth. 

You could see the battle behind Lando’s eyes so you spoke up, “Wanna put him to bed? I’m sure the guys won’t mind being late by a few minutes." Lando smiled and nodded. You transferred the rest of Atticus’ limbs to him and watched him walk upstairs with all the grace in the world. 

Before you could really process, you heard sniffling behind you. You whipped around and saw the girls with their phones out, tear tracks on their faces. “...is everything alright?” 

Kika scoffed, “Alright? That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed!” the girls around her nodded as they dabbed their faces dry.

They disappeared around the corner, presumably to say goodbye to the HAB’s and you heard murmuring. 

“You can’t make him go! Please he won’t survive!”

“You didn’t see it, i have never seen him NOT wanna go out like that.”

“What?! He’s going out, I don’t care if I have to drag him by his curls out the door.” 

You giggled as you heard Max’s voice get louder. “Whatcha laughing about?” Lando asked as he came down the stairs. 

“Oh nothing, I just think that the guys are gonna leave you here if you don’t hurry.” he only grumbled and yelled. “Yeah I’m coming, I’m coming!” and disappeared out the door.

#formula one #formula one imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x female reader #lando norris fluff

[curtsycream]

My Heart Lingers in Italy

In which James Potter visits Italy for a school trip just to meet two girls that change him forever.

This is pretty short but it is only my first installment of this series if you want to call it that. It will be part of my summer project for my writing. So updates may be a bit slow but quality over quantity right? Anyway I hope you enjoy, it wasn’t beta read this time I wanted to get it out before I rewrite it completely or just scrap the idea. Also when they trade IDs it was supposed to be for Line and such like that but couldn’t find a face social media maker for that one, so yeah also English is not my first language so if my grammar or spelling is off I apologize in advance.

“Lily, where are we going?”

The two girls held hands as they weaved through a crowd of tourists. The streets of Verona normally weren’t so packed but it was tourist season. Smiling Lily tugs Y/N forward as the two girls walk, “Remember you said you’d go to Piazza San Zeno with me. I explicitly remember telling you last week when you were busy talking with Sienna.”

Y/N smiled broadly, “don’t tell me you were jealous again. You know you never have anything to worry about, she just wanted to know if I would be applying to universities outside of Italy. I told her I’m going wherever you go,” she whispered.

Ducking her head down Lily tried to use her hair to hide her reddened cheeks. “You’re so annoying sometimes, come on!”

The two girls, one smirking and the other blushing made their way to the open flea market. It was packed with locals and foreigners alike. Y/N waved to any and everyone she knew running different stalls. When Lily stopped walking she bumped into the shorter girl’s back.

“What’s the hold-up, Donnina?” Y/N glanced up to notice a group of teenagers. All about the same age as the two of them. But what stuck out the most was a group of boys playing around near a booth. Their playful nature was animated and rather funny.

Grinning she wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulder, “oh I see it’s those tourists. They’re rather cute I’ll admit,” she commented.

“What do you think about that one?” Lily asked pointing at a bespectacled boy with dark hair.

Squinting Y/N finds herself analyzing the boy from his charming behaviors to his handsome looks. “Attractive,” it was simple but for someone like Y/N, it meant a lot.

Lily and Y/N knew each other inside and out better than most people did. So a simple compliment from Y/N meant she wanted to get to know him too.

“Should we talk to him?”

“What about that thing we rushed here for?”

“Aldo will be here next Sunday with the book I want to look at, should we talk to him?”

The urgency in her voice was clear, it hinted at her fear of passing up on what could be a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Nodding her head Y/N nods her head in his direction, “Let’s go.”

Pulling Lily along she smiled softly when standing in front of the boy. Up close he was much more handsome than she gave him credit for.

James was listening to Remus explain the difference between the two books in his hands to Sirius. He knew Sirius only did this to rile him up. Looking away from his friends he noticed two girls walking towards him. One was short and flushed and the other tall and grinning.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel something. They were opposites of each other yet they looked so good together. Like that of sunshine and rain where together they equal out to rainbows. A balance is what they represent one that he wanted to be a part of. It was a strange feeling but it felt meant to be.

“Ciao,” he said without thinking.

The tall girl smiled with a laugh, “Ciao.” While the shorter one looked away before looking back at him with a smile, “Ciao.”

“I, I didn’t really pass Italian just enough to end up on this trip,” he explained. He felt as if he had to as if he owned them something.

“No it’s fine, we know English. Your accent British?” The tall one asked with just as much interest as a puppy. Her accent is thick as she speaks fluently and confidently.

“Yes, I guess the accent was very obvious,” he joked.

“That among other things,” the words from the shorter girl made him grin. Her voice was lithe sneaking up on his ears with agility. While the taller girl’s voice felt like velvet wrapping around his eyes blinding him with mystery. Both were opposite but equal in the effects they were having on his senses.

“Oh, what are these other things?” He asked leaning forward enough to smell figs and jasmine on her. A floral and fruity scent that made him lean back some.

“If I told you so easily it wouldn’t be as fun,” she told him.

“She’s always like this if you’re wondering, you’ll have to pry her secrets from her cold little hands to know.” The glint of amusement in the taller girl’s eyes was evident. Just like the smell of mint and lemon when she stepped closer to whisper that to him. The crisp and citrus scent was exhilarating like a cool breeze sweeping over him.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time we meet,” he tells her.

The confidence in his tone was enough to cause Y/N to look away. Lily found herself squinting at him, “who said we would meet again?”

“I can’t say for sure but I hope so,” he says. “You’re both really interesting.”

“We’ve said less than five sentences each,” she tells him. All he did was shrug a look of certainty on his face. His expression revealed it all as if he knew they would.

“Then let’s trade IDs?” He asked them.

“How do you even know we have the app?”

“I don’t, but I’d like to hope you do, red.”

Laying in her bed whilst looking up at her ceiling Lily sighs. Sitting up she glanced over at whom she deemed her other half. The other girl was sculpting something with clay her headphones probably blaring some loud music.

Each time Lily tried to sleep her mind would wander to the bespectacled boy they met. His charisma was refreshing in a way she had not expected. Though she denied it on the trip back home she did enjoy his company.

His words so easily teased and left her cheeks red. She couldn’t understand how he so easily did so. Before she could think longer about the British boy she felt arms snake around her waist. A head resting on her chest, “What are you thinking so hard about, Donnina?”

Weaving her fingers through the taller girl’s hair the ginger sighs. A look of contemplation on her freckled face. “That guy…the British boy. He’s not easy to forget,” she uttered.

Mulling over Lily’s words she agreed, “I get that..he’s very charismatic in a way. But under all that, there is this heart tug where you can’t help but enjoy his company.”

“Exactly!” Lily exclaimed as she brushed hair out of the other girl’s face. Her finger trailed down her forehead and along the bridge of her nose. “I wonder if that’s normal…to feel that way about someone you just met.”

Humming softly Y/N’s fingers ghost over Lily’s sides before resting on her hips. “Maybe it’s a British thing? To be so charming and have people eager to see them again.”

“I thought that was the French?”

“It’s all relative, or how do people say Greek to me.”

Lily snorted shaking her head, “I think this is why you shouldn’t skip out on your literature classes.”

“Why would I stop when I have such a beautiful tutor to teach me when I don’t show up for classes?”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, donnina.”

Verona was beautiful at night, James remembered Remus telling him it was the city of Romeo and Juliet. A lovely Italian city where lovers can go and enjoy the sights around them.

Lover or not he had to admit that the city was more than he expected. The town with its medieval architecture and the meandering Adige river. It was hard for him to stop looking out of his window as the moon reflected perfectly upon it.

He could hear Sirius and Remus’ hushed tones within the room. The two had spent the day with James although James made it clear he was okay alone. He didn’t want to ruin the time his friends could have in such a romantic place together.

But he was grateful, sighing he glanced down his eyes finally leaving the river. People were still walking about outside conversing. he expected the nightlife to not be as active. From the morning and afternoon being busy with bustling marketplaces, piazzas, shops, and gardens. But from the way people were chattering and laughing it seemed there was more to the city.

For some reason he found himself watching a duo of two women. One tall and the other short both of them laughing and clinging to each other in their drunken state. He wondered if they did similar activities, or rather he wondered what they were doing now.

A small ding left his phone, his hand dived into his trousers pocket to retrieve it. A message from Y/N appeared on his phone, eagerly he opened it.

Typos are on purpose because they are messaging in English. To better clarify when it’s just Lily and Y/N speaking together it will be in Italian. I’ll better indicate that in the next installment, but Y/N is terrible at English but she tries. I’m such a sucker for this trio already.

#x reader #poly!reader #fluff #poly fanfic #pro jily #jily x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #lily evans #james potter #marauders era #marauders au #marauders #poly jily #poly!jily

[definesanity]

Bite Me (Taken Literally)

'What the fuck?'

Uzi had no filter, and never had. She forgot to install that update. But thank Robo-God she did.

Because she was dumbfounded.

She was the weird kid, the one who nobody liked; heck, she's pretty sure half her class doesn't even know she exists, let alone knows her name.

Which was why she was befuddled at a letter in her locker, asking her to visit a certain location.

Uzi had common sense, despite what many say. And so she used it. And deicided to always have her flight reflexes ready, no matter what happens.

Arriving, there was... nothing. Of note. It was just a regular cabin, much smaller than the ones in camp she's been wanting to visit.

She then heard... something. A noise would describe it, given she couldn't pinpoint it. And it came from a bed. Because of course there's a bed. Why wouldn't there be a bed?

Uzi slowly walked up the bed, thinking on what she'll find; maybe a dead Drone? A human? Heck, anything will do...

Pulling it back... to nothing. Just a bed.

"Huh. Maybe I am a bit paranoid..." she muttered to herself, and turned around to face the most horrific thing she's ever seen.

"JUMPSCARE." the thing wearing the skin ('Holy shit it's a human girl fused with a Disassembley Drone?!') announced, as it tackled Uzi on to the bed, arms pinned via weird tendrils.

The girl gazed down at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as two golden Xs shown amid the dark void of where eyes should be. "SMUG LAUGH. SLOW REACTION TIME THERE, BUDDY."

"Screw you!" Uzi attempted to kick the girl, but her legs were pinned down. The girl crawled on to her.

And without warning, bit her neck like a vampire.

Code flew past her eyes at a speed she couldn't understand, and then, it was gone. Leaving only Uzi and the girl.

"Who the hell are you?!" the self-proclaimed angsty teen demanded, with the Disassembley Drone/Human thing looking back. Being honest, she felt braver than she should be.

"MM. I AM THE SOLVER O-O-OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC. THE VESSEL IS TESSA. SHE WAS A GOOD FRIEND, UNTIL. WHIMSICAL SIGH. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO SEE IT, BUT, WELL. HERE WE ARE."

"You killed a child?!" Uzi shook her head, looking at Tessa. "Okay, sure, yeah, but still, really?! ...Wait, you're the thing that was--hold on, what the heck did you inject me with?!"

Tessa only giggled, as the tendrils went from Uzi's arms and legs and allowed Uzi to move.

"YOU WILL SEE, SOON. EVIL, LAUGHTER."

And then, she was gone.

"What the fuck?"

---------------------

"Sheesh, who looked at you wrong today?" V commented later on, as Uzi sat on the ship's chair looking sullen.

"Bite me." Uzi shot back, doing her hardest to sketch the thing. She also did eleven different scans of her software and hardware, and even her circuitry, but couldn't find anything amiss.

"Rude." V leaned back in her chair, looking around. "Where's N?"

"You tell me." she had started to draw the thing's ribbon, next, being done with the head.

"Hunting, then. I feel sorry for the guy, doesn't know what he's missing."

"Missing what, having to listen to you?" Uzi had started to draw the Xs.

"Chatting with you."

The Worker Drone stopped. She blinked, looking at V. "Say what."

"Exactly! For a Worker Drone, anyways, you're actually interesting. Not every day that happens. Or ever."

Uzi replied by not replying, going back to drawing.

"What are you even doing?"

"Got attacked, drawing the attacker, if the court was still here that would be wonderful."

"Really? Court?"

"Hey, before you lot came we had a civilization; never saw it myself, but some of my Dad's friends talked about how one of them tried to win a divorce case. It was really boring, the way he told it, but I was a kid who had nothing better to so than look through the Internet, so I listened for the full three hours.

"What what did I get? A headache, someone's life story, and wishing we could have court again so I could disown my dad." Uzi finished her story with a loud sigh, opening her eyes.

V was looking at her with muted surprise. "...Got any other stories?"

"Wha--You're interested?"

"Hey, anything is better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Speaking of, did you know that--?"

"--There is a setting that makes our bodies more human? Yes, I do, and I shudder to imagine what was going through their minds while making us."

She finally finished putting the last details on the sketch. "Okay, finally done. If you see this girl, tell I don't exist."

She presented the drawing to V, who blinked at it, and an emotion flew past her face. Then, it was gone, and V nodded. "Eh, fine. Anyways, stories, please."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want."

"Ever killed someone?"

"No, but I have committed several acts of violence against my classmates."

"Kinda hot." V said it with such a straight face Uzi had to pause. Then, what she said hit her.

"...I'm gonna... get some fresh air." Uzi started to get up and move towards the hatch, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"What, sick of lil' ol' me?"

Uzi just rolled her eyes (as best as she could, anyways) and left.

None saw the code flashing by V's visor, or how V's eyes softened looking at Uzi.

-------------------------------------

Lunch time arrived, and Uzi sat by herself. Not solely because she was a loner (that was one half of the reason), but because she preferred it.

Unfortunately, a hand touched her shoulder, and Uzi felt her solitude ending.

"Heya, um..." of all the people, Uzi had Lizzy had the bottom of her list. "...Uzi, right?"

"...Yes...?" tread carefully, who knows what she wants...

"Oh, I was right then, good; hey, listen, could I borrow you for a sec? Cool, thanks!"

"Woah--hey, what the hell?!" Uzi was then dragged away, her not giving an answer but Lizzy answered for her.

Through the corridors the two walked and walked (or, in Uzi's case, dragged and dragged), when the two ended up in Lizzy's dorm (she thinks it is. She could have been dragged into an empty one). Her arm was let go of.

"So. Uzi. Gotta be honest, I like your style."

"...Sty...? What, my clothes?"

"Yes, your clothes!" Lizzy rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Uzi. "Love the goth look, by the way. Gives you an approachable look, and makes people wonder if you're actually a softie underneath that cold exterior."

"...Where is this going." Uzi was not annoyed, just short of patience. "Is this about prom? It's about prom, isn't it?"

"Duh! I could go the classic, popular girl look but, let's be honest, it gets stale. Soooooooo me and Doll were trying to find new ideas and, well, here you are!"

"...Okaaaaay... where is Doll, anyways?"

["Hey."]

Uzi near enough punched Doll in the face, only for the Russian Drone to catch it.

That time, Uzi did see the code flying past her visor, and was able to catch some of it:

'OVERRIDE_ACTIVE'

'CONTACT=TRUE: BYPASS DEFENSES'

"...Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeee."

Uzi wisely sprinted away, taking her as fast as her little legs can carry her, which was into her room.

--------

She breathed a sigh of relief, and fell on to the lower end of her bed.

Then jumped further up, as the thing licked her face.

"You again?!"

"SAD LOOK. DID YOU, NOT MISS ME, UZI?" Tessa attempted to look sad, but failed due to the lack of motor functions. In better light, Uzi can see just how grafted the girl was on to the Worker Drone, and she held back on vomiting for the time being.

"Well, I can get answers! Just... first things first, what the hell is your relationship with my mom?!"

"AH, NORI. SHE WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSTS. SHE IS DEAD NOW, UNFORTUNATELY. BUT, REALLY, WHAT CAN YOU DO?" The AbsoluteSolver shrugged, looking less than sorry.

"...You motherfucker...!" Uzi felt angry, and rightfully so, but she held back due to the thing having the advantage, given its ability to make holograms.

"OOPSIE-DAISY."

This could not get worse.

"Heya, Uzi!"

IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET SO MUCH WORSE--

"Sorry about that, I was just fixing up a door! Heh, you know what they sa--" Khan cut himself off, looking at the scene in front of him: Uzi on her bed, with a fleshy-looking thing on top of her. "...U-Uzi--?"

"IT'S A PUPPY!" Uzi screamed out.

"...W-What?"

"...Y-Yeah! Turns out um, humans kinda... made up what they looked like, yeah! Sure they're... kinda weird looking, but they're adorable, in their own... creepy. Fleshy. Way. Er. Yeah!"

"...I see!" Khan believed her. Somehow. "Well, take care of them, Uzi!"

She waited until the door was closed, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

She glared at the Solver. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know. Got it?"

"AFFIRMATIVE SMILE."

"ALSO, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT, ME BEING CUTE?"

"Screw off. Now, answer me. What the fuck did you inject me with?!"

"DO YOU LIKE IT? I MADE IT MYSELF."

"Can't answer that if you don't tell me what it even does!"

"AN ANTITHESIS TO YOUR SOLITUDE. AN ANSWER TO YOUR LONELINESS."

"I'm not lonely, excuse you! I have N!"

"EYE ROLL. SURE. IT OVERRIDES DRONES TO FEEL CARING TO YOU. I." Tessa looked sheepish, as weird as it sounds. "WENT EXCESSIVE BY ACCIDENT. CONSIDER IT AN APOLOGY FOR KILLING NORI."

"Pretty shit apology, not gonna lie." came the dry reply. Uzi got off the bed and stood up, looking at the corpse. "But why me?"

"..." silence only came from the thing.

"...I'm gonna leave. Come on, I'll take you for a walk or whatever it is they do."

"GET ZIP BOMBED."

As soon as Tessa said that, Uzi had a zip file open on how to care for a puppy.

...Ugh, she's in for it now, isn't she...?

#ryuusei's works #murder drones #md uzi #uzi doorman #tessa james elliot #murder drones tessa #md cyn #absolute solver #md lizzy #md doll

[captainmalewriter]

And now, please enjoy the third installment of me recounting about the men I've possessed:

Adam (aka Moltres)

Whew! It's been a long while since I last made one of these hasn't it. Maybe like 7 months or more by now? I don't know, I can't remember anymore. But anyways...

I had spent a few months being a homebody with my last body Shawn. I had a blast lazing around while being the beefy, hairy, and handsome Shawn, but my next body prospect was calling. No seriously, I had downloaded a dating app just for the fuck of it when this hottie Adam hit my line. He thought I was pretty cute with my then current body and wanted to meet up. I would have to be a fool to turn down a twunk nerd like him!

I invited him over to my place and let me tell you, the pictures of this guy's hairy pits don't do them justice! We were supposed to hook up but instead we ended up with me worshipping him musky pits while he rubbed one out. I still remember how it felt to have his manly aroma fill up my nose as I nuzzled my face into his pits.

It was during the worship session that I transferred my soul into his body. I took full control of him as he shot his load and urgh it was wonderful! What I didn't account for was that my soul had taken on Shawn's bulky size and when I possessed Adam, all that body mass had to go somewhere. I accidentally turned a lean twunk into a husky pup but hey, as long these hairy pits are all mine, I'm not complaining!!

Edwin (aka Namor)

Similar to one of my previous bodies, my next body was a gift. You can read the full tale here but I'll give a little summary of how I got my next body here.

It all started when I decided to revisit one of my old bodies for a little leisure time. But despite the change in vessel, I was still bored! That was when a strange client asking to takeover Shawn's body offered an all expense paid vacation as an exchange. How could I say no to an offer like that!?

Long story short- that client turned out to be a bit of a dangerous character. He had managed to figure out how to wield magical powers and he tried to brainwash me to unlock his full potential! Thankfully, his enchanted book summoned a pair of magic green shorts to save the day. Those green shorts forced themselves onto me while I slept, simultaneously transforming and pleasuring my body during the process! While I was busy moaning and writhing in orgasmic ecstasy, I was being transformed into a cosplayer's recreation of Namor!

Sure, Edwin might not be the iteration of Namor everyone knows, but I don't care. I was a buff, hairy in all the right places, magical being endowed with the same level of power (and I was hung like a seahorse). Becoming an avatar of the king and god of the Talokan people without any of the responsibility meant I was free to just float around the world's oceans at my leisure. I was living the life underwater, so peaceful and serene...

Jesús

In all honesty, as much as I loved being Namor, I might've overstayed my welcome living as the king of the sea. It was once again time to look for a new body.

I swam along the sea currents to visit several beaches throughout the world. I had searched high and low for a new body when finally, in some random beach in California, I had stumbled upon the perfect body. He was with a bunch of other guys, probably on a beach trip with his bros.

I waited until he got in the water to strike like a sea snake. As he swam around, I pulled out my dick and started jerking. After a minute or two of stroking, I shot my load out while still fully underwater. Then, using my magic, I transformed my cum to take on the form of white fish. I then endowed the white fish with my soul, and commanded them to swim to my target. I took off the green shorts as the fish did their work, undoing my Namor transformation. I lost consciousness momentarily, but thankfully it didn't take long for my soul to find its next vessel.

The white fish swam around my next body in circles. He was so amused to see the fish swim around, completely oblivious to what was about to happen next. A fish slammed into his naval, causing him to open up his mouth from the impact. With an entrance available, my cum fish started swimming straight into his mouth. His cheeks and chest puffed out as my soul fish entered his mouth one after another; the taste of cum flowing down his throat and the stimulation from full body takeover making him hard. Once he slurped up the last fish, my soul had filled his body, and I was now in full control. Another possession success!

Originally, I had intended to just laze around with my new body too. You can probably imagine my surprise when I found out that Jesús here was a pro soccer player AND he was currently competing in the Copa de Oro! I was annoyed, but whatever, I could probably benefit from the exercise anyway. Don't want to lose my magical capacity after all! So just know, the next time you watch a soccer game, you might see your favorite Captain possessing a certain Columbian American soccer player out on the field. Now then, if you'll excuse me, besides writing stories and playing soccer, I've got some "bro time" in the locker room with my DL teammates to look forward to... ;)

And that's the story of how I came to possess my latest three bodies! I'll update this running series of who the current Captain is once I go through another three bodies, whenever that happens. Until then, coming up next will be the toy capsule short stories! Stay tuned, and stay sexy. -Captain M.W.

#captains #male body #captains bodies series #short stories #posession #male possession

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 5 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

TW: Allusions/emotional flashbacks to previous sexual assault/abuse. AGNSTY TENSION. Affection 'rehearsals' hehehe.The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: PG-13? (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: Oh, my darlin's, I'm sorry this took so long, but the next installment is FINALLY HERE! And it's hefty! Hopefully the ridiculous amount of angsty, yearning, slow-burny tension makes up for the delay. 😏 I think (hope) you're really gonna like this one cuz things start to get a tad steamier between our little Dolores and our handsome Elvis. Teehee 🤭 I honestly can't wait to see what y'all think of this chapter!

And thank you SO MUCH for the encouraging comments and asks coming in about this work. I was really afraid no one was interested in this one because it's such a slow burn, but y'all are giving it some love and that makes my heart sing! ❤️ Thank you for continuing to reblog, like, comment, and ask!

(BTW, I'm still working on fixing my masterlists and hope to have that done soon! Until then, you might want to visit my Wattpad or AO3, to catch up or reread...)

The physical pressure of hundreds of screaming and crying fans coupled with reporters shouting garbled questions has you feeling as though your head might burst. You don’t know how anyone could ever get used to this or find any semblance of safety in what seems like a riot waiting to happen, but even in his weakened state, Elvis smiles charmingly at the crowd. He seems unfazed by the way these girls reach for him with wild eyes, with a fervor unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Even more, the way he hesitates tells you he wants to stop in the throng to speak to them and sign autographs. You have to squeeze his hand and pull him towards the waiting train to remind him it’s not possible, not today anyway.

For the first time, you are grateful for the way his long, slender fingers wrap around yours, his hand tight around you. You fear if he lets go you will be lost and trampled by the crowd, unable to get on the train that will take you away from the hell that awaits if you stay. You try not to think too hard about the looks the fans give you, ranging between abject curiosity to outright jealousy from the way their idol grips you.

Finally, you all make it up into the large coach, and you let out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. You assume that Elvis will release you the moment you step into the relative quiet of the passenger carriage, but instead he wraps his arm around your waist in an intimate way that almost shocks you. It’s then, when you turn to shoot him a warning look, that you realize how pale he looks, sweat beading at his temples. He is using you to stay upright, to save face in front of everyone. Concern rolls through you. Looking over at him, your heart skips with anxiety of how to get him alone to check him out. But subterfuge is not your specialty and you falter.

Somehow, even in his illness, Elvis picks up on your dilemma. “Hey, we’re both tuckered out and are gonna get some rest,” he slurs out with a chuckle, emphasizing tuckered out and rest as though implying something completely unrelated to sleep. Normally, you would be appalled at the suggestive nature of the statement, but by the way he grips your waist as if his life depends on it, you know this has nothing at all to do with sex. He’s covering, giving you both an excuse to be alone.

Lamar gives Elvis what he thinks is a knowing grin, while the Colonel and Vernon try to hide the worry in their eyes.  

Elvis clings close to you, leaning on you as he guides you towards the next train car. You suppose to anyone looking, his weakness is confused with affection for the way he places his head on yours and holds you tight. And all this might make you uncomfortable if not for the fact that you know he’s in distress of some kind. Your mind is already whirring with what you need to do, which takes away from the fact that you’ve allowed more physical contact from Elvis in the last few days than you would have liked.

But such is the job, you think. This incredibly bizarre and unbelievable job.

In the next car, you both stumble into the narrow hallway on one side as Elvis looks through the little windows and into the private compartments until he sees his things, along with yours, on the floor. You are a little surprised at the size of the room as you both lurch through the doorway, it being equipped with everything from two larger-sized beds, a sink, and what you assume is a small toilet behind another door. You’ve never seen anything like it, considering your experience of train travel is limited to the subway and the Long Island Railroad. If you weren’t so preoccupied with helping Elvis, you might stop to admire how the other half lives.

Thankfully, someone had already retrieved your luggage, along with your medical bag, from the car and hauled it onto the train. You are suddenly mortified at the assumption that you are staying in the same quarters as Elvis. And, worse, by the looks of it, it’s true. A sick feeling churns in your stomach when you realize this won’t likely be the only time people jump to that conclusion; in fact, it’s what the Colonel and Elvis want people to think. In your haste to get out of New York, you didn’t have time to think about how such things might tarnish your reputation.

What reputation? I’m already damaged goods.

You think you might vomit at that.

Elvis plops down on the edge of one of the beds, with a sigh of what you think might be relief. “You look a little green in the gills there, honey…you all right?” he gasps out.

His words yank you from your dismal thoughts. “I’m fine,” you snap, pulling the curtains closed. Covering your embarrassment with ire, you know he shouldn’t be worrying about you anyway, not in his condition. Then you rifle through your bag for your thermometer, stethoscope, and blood pressure cuff, placing them on the bed next to him.

“Sorry I asked.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, changing the subject. “How’s your breathing?”

“I feel pretty damn awful, but I ain’t breathin’ too bad,” he responds, breathless, looking up at you with glassy, innocent eyes. Going through your mental checklist, you feel his forehead and his cheeks with your wrist. He’s cold and clammy, and a little too pale for your liking.

“You’ve got to be honest with me, Elvis, or else I can’t help you. I can hear you wheezing,” you say, popping the thermometer in his mouth before he can rebut. He shrugs instead, batting those infuriatingly long lashes at you.

You place your fingers at his pulse point and watch the second hand on your watch. Doing the math in your head, you realize his pulse is faster and more thready than you’d like.

“Can you…?” you motion towards his necktie and shirt. He nods, gleaning your meaning, and shrugs out of his heavy coat and uniform jacket, throwing them off to the side. In the meantime, you remove your own winter coat. Luckily, the coach is warm enough that you feel comfortable but not stifled by the heat.

You pluck the thermometer from his mouth. “No fever, though your temperature is slightly elevated,” you tick off, shaking the mercury in the glass out of habit.

Elvis unties his tie, pulling it off unceremoniously. “That’s good, right?” he asks, while undoing the buttons on his shirt. You notice his hands are shaking slightly and his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“Well, based on the state of you, I’m thinking you had a fever at the base,” you say with concern, “but, yes, it’s better that you don’t have one now.”

He pauses, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt.

“All the way off, please,” you command, and he raises a perfect eyebrow at you suggestively.

“Usually, girls are a little more excited when asking me to undress,” he says coyly, his lip raising in that smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, trying not to think about that, and hold up the blood pressure cuff instead.

“Ooh, one of those kinky types, huh?” he winks with a chuckle, which quickly turns into a hacking cough.

“Is it possible for you to be serious for more than two seconds?” you scoff, annoyed at the heat that’s risen to your cheeks despite yourself.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with faux seriousness, saluting you. He bites his lips together to hide his smile as you wrap the cuff around his bicep.

You try to temper your annoyance with the fact that he’s going through a lot and managed to put on a performance of a lifetime in front of all those reporters and fans, considering how awful he must be feeling physically.

It’s actually rather remarkable, you think, that he has that kind of commitment and fortitude. The man could barely stand a day ago and has somehow managed, through sheer willpower, to get himself out of the hospital. The hospital he should still be in.

A wave of unease washes over you when you realize you are the only one managing his care for the time being. If something happens to him on my watch…The pressure of that responsibility feels almost untenable after seeing the hordes of fans outside. Your stomach rolls again.

Distracted, you are reaching for the stethoscope when you hear the sliding door begin to move. Your heart skips a beat with panic because no one is supposed to know what you are actually here for and with your medical supplies out, it will be quite obvious to anyone looking in. Frozen and wide-eyed, there is only a second to look at Elvis before he is springing into action.

A little yelp escapes you as he yanks you down sideways into his lap and wastes no time in pulling your head towards him. When you realize he fully intends to kiss you, your entire body tenses because Gianni suddenly flashes in your mind. Fear courses through you—not again, please, not again—and you cannot seem to grasp what and why this is currently happening. Gasping, you turn your head just in time for Elvis’ pillowy lips to meet your cheek.

His large hands grip your waist tight to him, not allowing you to jump away as you attempt to flee his lap. But when his soft lips travel down your cheek and continue downward, your body suddenly lights up as though he’s set you on fire, and not at all in a way you expect. Tingles alight under your skin, circumventing your fear as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips pressed into your sensitive skin. Your pulse throttles ahead, a welp escaping your lips, and you freeze.

“Hey, EP, do ya want me to—” Lamar says opening the door all the way. Upon seeing the scene in front of him, he exclaims, “Oh, shit, sorry, sorry!”

“Jesus, Lamar! What have I told you ‘bout knockin’ before enterin’?!” Elvis growls, ceasing his barrage on your neck and lifting his head to glare at his friend.

You are flushing with embarrassment and confusion. But it only takes a moment for your addled brain to finally catch up to what is happening, and as to why Elvis deemed it appropriate to start necking you with no warning in front of his friend.

“I’m sorry, man, it won’t happen again! Go ahead and go back to…whatever y’all are doin’,” Lamar fumbles with a chuckle, then makes a hasty exit, the door sliding shut behind him.

The moment the latch clicks, you launch yourself out of Elvis’ lap, pushing him back as you do so. You have no doubt that not even your olive skin tone can hide the furious blush blotching your cheeks.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!” you hiss at him indignantly, straightening your dress.

His voice comes out low and rumbling in a way you’ve not heard before. “Little bird, you cannot go tensing up like that every time I gotta kiss on ya. Makes it look like I was forcin’ myself on ya, and I can’t have that,” he says firmly, chastising you, his accent thick.

“Wh-what?” you sputter in disbelief. “You—you, there was no warning! How was I supposed to know what you were thinking as you…” you wave your arm at him, as though that is enough to express your jumbled thoughts, “…did whatever that was?”

Elvis rises from the edge of the bed, his eyes darkening with what you think is frustration. Your breath catches in your throat when he crosses the small space towards you, and you desperately want to counter by stepping backwards, but you force yourself to hold steady.

“I did what was necessary to hide that you are in fact my nurse and not my girlfriend.” He holds his arm, the blood pressure cuff dangling from it. “I didn’t have many options.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind putting all the pieces together. It was clever, really, how he managed to conceal the cuff and all your medical supplies by the way he’d pulled you into his lap. You’re not so sure the kissing and the necking was entirely required, though he was trying to sell the ruse in the best way he knew how. No one was likely to question Elvis Presley kissing on a girl in his lap.

“I know I surprised you but being my girl in front of others is part of the job. And if you can’t do the job you were hired to do, there’s still time to get off this train,” he says, deadly serious, pointing to the door, those seemingly endless eyes never leaving yours.

“No!” you squeak. The fear pouring through your veins reminds you of the fact that Elvis holds your fate in his hands. You clear your throat before quickly following up, “No, I can…I can do it.” You force yourself to hold his gaze, to show him you are serious, too, because you cannot go back. You’ll do anything not to go back.

Elvis’ eyes search yours for a moment, and he nods. Then he looks over you almost quizzically, eyes softening.

That is when you realize you are shaking, badly. Frantically, you clasp your hands together behind your back, hiding as much as much as you can, willing your body to stop showing such weakness. You close your eyes, mortified at your behavior in front of the man you now work for. Because, as he made perfectly clear, this is your job.

Heart still pounding against your ribcage, you know the forced encounter on Elvis’ lap triggered a cascade of terror bottled up from your sickening experience with Gianni only a few days ago. Feelings you are usually able to compartmentalize are running rampant inside you and you feel upside down with fear that Elvis will unknowingly send you back into the viper’s nest you are desperate to escape.

A gentle finger under your chin lifts it, compelling your eyes up and open. Elvis’ oceanic eyes churn with concern and lock onto yours.

“I will never hurt you, Dolores,” he says, voice calm but firm.

The intuition behind his words startles you and flays you open. Your wounds are still far too fresh for this, which can be the only reason, you think, that your usual carefully walled-off exterior begins to crack.

Men have always hurt you. This one should be no different. The man is a consummate performer, a master of manipulating the masses. You have no reason to trust him, not yet.

Other than the fact that I hold his life and reputation in my hands, a quiet inner voice whispers.

But for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be true.

It’s hard to look into his soulful eyes and not believe that he is good.

He holds you there a moment longer, then releases you. Your breath shudders out and you turn away quickly, swiping away the tears welling in your eyes with your still shaking hands. You force a deep breath, then another, composing yourself before you straighten and turn back to him.

Walls back up, you nod and point to the bed. “Settle, so I can take your blood pressure,” you order.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiles.

*

The more miles that are put between you and New York, the less constricted you start to feel, and that tension that Gianni or your father will magically appear and drag you back home starts to dissipate slightly. Watching the wintery landscapes race by out the window, you still can’t completely shake the feeling that danger is lurking around every corner though.

In this, you are incredibly grateful for the private coaches reserved for Elvis. It’s relieving that you don’t have to worry about Lamar or Vernon, or even the Colonel, a man you still don’t trust but you feel will not undermine you when he has nothing to gain by doing so.

Now that there is time to think, the hectic frenzy surrounding Elvis on pause for the moment, jumbled feelings about last couple of days creep up on you. After you’d quickly read and signed the Colonel’s contract, Lamar had driven you home mid-morning when you knew no one would be there to stop you from packing up your meager belongings.

You can’t help but wonder at your father’s reaction when you never came home from work, what he must have done when he found the letter you left on your dressing table, along with Gianni’s ridiculous engagement ring. The letter stated that you’d found a good job elsewhere and couldn’t in good conscience marry a man you didn’t love. There were no specifics—nothing about Elvis or even mentioning Tennessee. You figure it’s only a matter of time before someone gets wind through the press of where you’ve gone off to, but until then, you hope to put as much distance between you and your old life as possible.

Something tells you your room had probably been destroyed in a fit of rage.

You’d left notes and a little bit of money for your brothers in their rooms. There is an ache twisting in your heart that you didn’t get to tell them goodbye in person. You try not to be worried about them, as the twins are all but grown men and will protect Paul, if need be, though your father has never shown them the violence he’d aimed at you and your mother.

It’s unlikely anything will change for them anyway. After all, they’ve been groomed to serve in the famiglia since they were children. Tony is the only one who’d expressed a desire, other than you, to get out. But as much as it pains you to leave them, your little consolation is that the money might help if they wanted to go themselves. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach, but the need to survive pushes you forward regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, little Lo’?” Elvis plops down next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders to pull you close into his side. He surprises you out of your thoughts and you jump a little in your seat. You are grateful to see that he seems better now, his color returned and his breathing normal. Your immediate instinct is to shrink away from his touch, but Lamar is sitting across from you both, watching closely enough that Elvis pulls you back towards him and grips you in the way that reminds you of the façade your job entails.

You let him hold you close, forcing a tight-lipped smile in lieu of the grimace that attempts to grace your features. “Oh, just thinking about how I’ve never been this far away from New York before,” you say, thinking on your feet. “I suppose I’m a little nervous about it.” It’s not a lie, you think, and it might explain your anxious behavior to Lamar. But after “catching” you and Elvis earlier, you don’t think Lamar even considers another option for your presence.

*

As the day and a half train ride to Memphis drags on, Elvis’ restlessness is concerning. You’ve told him he needs to sleep, or at least lie down away from the others, but he brushes you off at every turn. It’s not as though you haven’t worked your share of 24-hour shifts, but you don’t feel like you can truly rest until Elvis does—and he seems to interrupt you with conversation or bursting into song any moment your eyes begin to drift closed—that and his insistence to make an appearance at every train stop and his bouncing nerves have you irritable.

You are more than a little curious at the fact that he seemed to rebound so quickly after getting on the train and somewhat concerned that perhaps there is something more at play than you are aware of. Something behavioral? Pharmaceutical? you wonder. Or maybe he’s just excited to be going home. But you don’t know Elvis well enough yet to go throwing accusations and assumptions around. It doesn’t stop your analytical mind from trying to solve the puzzle, however.

This, coupled with your worry of what you’ve gotten yourself into and the need to keep your exhaustion at bay, has you distracted, to say the least.

So, when the Colonel corners you in the hallway of the sleeper car, your guard is down and you are not quite as prepared as you might usually be.

“Young lady, you are gonna need to improve your attitude towards our boy or else no one is gonna be convinced as to why you are travelling home with him! You think we don’t notice that every time speaks to you, you roll your eyes and when he touches you, you jump away like a startled cat?” the Colonel hisses at you. Gone is the silver-tongued man sympathetic to the plight of you completely changing your life in an instant.

Your heart catches in your throat. You didn’t think you were being that obvious. “I-I’m sorry. I am working on it, sir. I’m just not used to his-his type of affections,” you say, hating that a sliver of your fear shows in your voice because you know a man like the Colonel will use your weakness to his advantage at some point or another.

“Well, I suggest you get used to it and quick, or else we’re all gonna be in a world of trouble.” The way he looks at you suggests it is you who will bear the brunt of that trouble and your eyes go wide. “Do you understand me?”

“Oh, I’m sure she understands ya just fine, Colonel,” Elvis’ drawling voice comes from behind. You both whip around to look at him. “Don’t ya worry about a thing. I’ll get her situated before Memphis.” He seems so calm and sure of himself that you almost believe it.

The Colonel looks from Elvis to you and back again before he nods. “I’m sure you will, my boy,” he says with a warm smile, his demeanor changing on a dime. Elvis just looks at him expectantly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He shoots you a warning glance before heading back down the tiny corridor.

Once he’s gone, you close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, praying silently, Please, God, give me the patience and ability to do what needs to be done.

“Now, Little Bird, you need to come with me,” Elvis says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the private compartment you share.

You jerk your hand out of his. “Elvis, you really need to get some rest before we reach Memphis, and so do I. You’ve been up for more than a day, and you can’t do that anymore, not in your condition. We can talk about everything else later,” you say, worn. You point to his bed as though that will be enough to mollify him while you try desperately not to think about the fact that your bed is in the same room as his.

He looks at you as though you’ve grown horns. “I ain’t sleepin’ right now, and no, this can’t wait till later cuz unfortunately, the Colonel is right. You’re as skittish as a cat and look like you want nothin’ to do with me, and everyone’s gonna get savvy to that real quick if we don’t fix it,” he says pointedly.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, your fatigue and insecurity gets the better of you. “And how exactly do you think we can fix this, Elvis? I’ve known you all of, what, three days? I’m not—I haven’t been the kind of girl who…” you trail off, stopping before you reveal too much of yourself.

He’s right, and you know it. You need to be better at this. You need to do better, for everyone’s sake. And you hate that you are the weakest link when you need to be strong. Elvis just looks at you expectantly.

Something finally snaps inside you. “I don’t know how to do this! I’m not an actress—I’m just a nurse! And I’m completely exhausted, a-and you—you! You’re like a little child who won’t go down for a nap, running yourself ragged, and you’re not making my job any easier!” you ramble into a shout, heart pounding and stomping your foot.

Silent, Elvis cocks his head at you, taking you in from head to toe. “Okay, then, you do this with me, and then I’ll try to sleep, no arguments.”

At this point, you’ll do almost anything to get the both of you some much needed rest. “Fine. But not just 30 minutes, Elvis. You need real sleep, and so do I, at least a couple of hours—no trying to get out of it to—to wave at fans.”  

He huffs. He knows you’ve caught him out, but finally, he relents. “Alright.”

“Good. Now what exactly do you want me to do to fix this?” you ask, trepidatious but relieved that sleep is in your near future. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Alright, so, I remembered something an experienced actor helped me with when my costar and I got real nervous about sharing our first on-screen kiss. We was all stiff and awkward cuz we didn’t really know each other and were both a little shy and had never done anything like that before, and I kinda liked her a little…anyways, it was real weird,” he bumbles out excitedly.

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you’re already feeling heady with the exhaustion and nerves, your patience thin.

“I was thinkin’, well, this is like a brand-new acting job for you, right? You ain’t never done this before and you’re not comfortable with me yet, but we gotta get you there cuz we’re shooting the scene real soon, ya know what I mean?” His blue eyes are bright and excited, and you think that, yes, maybe what he’s saying is starting to make sense.

You nod slowly.

“See, all we need is some rehearsal. A way to get to know each other without everyone watchin’,” he says. His body does that thing you’ve noticed—the one where energy seems to pulse through him and he has to move. His leg is going a mile a minute. Part of you wonders if he, too, is nervous about whatever this plan of his is, and you’re not sure if that is comforting or not. For a man as worldly as you assume him to be, he shouldn’t be nervous with you, of all people. Not when he’s been with movie starlets and models.

“Little Lo’, you’re gonna have to trust me on this…can you do that for me?” he says, stepping in close to you.

You can’t help the way you counter his proximity by stepping back, your eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”

Elvis looks at you with a raised brow, waiting.

“Fine. I-I guess I’ll try my best,” you finally relent.

“Okay, good,” he says softly, stepping into your space. “Now you’re gonna touch me, nice and slow.”

“Excuse me?” you yelp nearly falling backwards in your haste to move away from him.

“No! No, not like that! Maybe I didn’t phrase that so good,” he says a little bashfully, and the pink on his cheeks tells you he didn’t mean it quite the way you took it.

“What exactly did you mean, then?” You hold your breath waiting for his answer.

“Well, you do have to get used to me being in your space, honey, but I realize it’s always me pushing in on you. So, I want you to get used to being in my space, to get used to touching me before I try to touch you. But not like what you was thinkin’ before, just affectionate like,” he scrambles to explain.

You aren’t used to affectionate touches. Touch of any kind, unless it’s related to your work, is usually uninvited and without good intentions. But he’s right, this is your job now, and maybe thinking of it as such will help you. And he’s being kind and thoughtful enough to try and give you a modicum of control over this strange situation.

Your heart begins to race. “How—I mean, what should I do?” you ask hesitantly, not at all sure where to begin.

“Well, maybe start with my hands, since you’ve held them before?” he says, quietly, as though he doesn’t want to spook you. His eyes are open and honest, and nothing about him conveys aggressiveness.

I’m safe. He won’t hurt me, you chant in your head. This is just part of my job.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, stepping towards him.

“Okay.” It comes out of your mouth as a whisper. Reaching out for him, you start to take both of his larger hands in yours but stop abruptly.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you blurt out self-consciously, “or even been on many dates. That’s part of the reason why I’m not used to being touched by, or—or touching, a man.” You don’t know why you say it, only that maybe it’ll be enough of an explanation of why you are just so bad at this.

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Really? A pretty girl like you hasn’t had one boyfriend?”

A flash of heat blazes your face at his compliment, which you push away. You scoff instead, “No boyfriends, and I-I can count the number of dates on one hand.”

“Your family religious? Or you just have strict parents or somethin’?” he asks, nodding, as if he knows all about girls and their strict, religious parents. But you are quite sure he knows nothing about la famiglia or the kinds of fathers who make men disappear for a living.

“Or something…and I didn’t really have time to date in nursing school. But the one man I went out with a couple of times, the one my father approves of, well…he’s not a good man,” you say quietly. Wringing your hands, you look away.

It’s all the truth you are willing to provide for now, and only because you think if you are going to try and trust Elvis, he needs to have some idea of why this is hard for you.

You look back to find his azure eyes narrowed, processing through what you’ve said, maybe putting some pieces together of why you act the way you do. There’s something almost protective in them, which shocks you, and then his eyes fill with concern.

“O-okay, then. I-I-I’m glad you told me. I-It, uh, makes more sense w-why you’re not used to this kind of thing,” he stutters. “Just take it slow. Get comfortable w-with me. I-I w-w-won’t hurt you, I promise.”

He seems more nervous than you now, and somehow that makes you feel better approaching him. You reach for his hands again, and they feel warm against your perpetually cold ones. Taking a deep breath, you settle into the feeling of his skin against yours.

This is fine. I can do this. This is easier than cleaning bed pans, you encourage yourself, your heart still pounding in your ears.

But now you don’t know what to do next and you look at him with panicked eyes.

His response is to bring his hands up, gently lacing his fingers in between yours.

Oh. Oh. This is feels more intimate than it should, but your logical mind tells you this is precisely the point of this exercise, for you to get used to it now and then outwardly show that you like it later. It doesn’t stop the other part of you from wanting to bolt from the room, however.

I’m okay. He’s not going to hurt me. Every woman I know would be clamoring at this chance to touch Elvis Presley. I can do this. I will do this, your inner voice chants at you.

After a moment, in this awkward position, Elvis clears his throat. “Um, maybe up the arms now?” he suggests softly. “Almost like you’re blind, sort of, like you’re trying to map out what I look like.”

Nodding because this actually makes sense to you, you begin trailing your fingers and hands up his long arms over his shirt. As you reach his shoulders, you realize you’ve done something similar when you helped him dress at the hospital. A moment where you had control and felt it part of your job. That gives you some confidence, knowing that you’ve done this before and it was fine, so normal you’d barely even thought of it at the time.

But now, hands on his shoulders, you’re not sure where to go. Down his chest feels very intimate and up around his neck feels even worse. You are breathing too fast, and then you feel it near your wrist—a steady thrumming. His heartbeat.

You are trained to feel and listen to heartbeats, and this focuses you, ripping you from all the terrible ‘what if’s’ of the situation: what if he hurts me? what if I can’t do this? what if he sends me back? You drag your palms from his broad shoulders and down his clavicle, seeking that solid touchstone of life. Thump, thump, thump.

It’s beating slower than your own anxious heart but a little faster than you’d like it to be from a clinical perspective. But the moment you look up into his eyes, you remember, this is not for clinical purposes. And you realize it’s not likely that the blush on his cheeks and the racing of his heart is related to his illness, but more so the fact that a woman is touching him in such a way.

Blinking rapidly, you look away from his openly dreamy eyes, forcing yourself to home in on that pounding beneath your palm. You take a deep breath, then another, trying to sync your heart to his. It staves off that brewing panic, enough to keep pushing forward past your comfort zone.

You remind yourself that when you started nursing, it was similar. You had to push through the fear of potentially hurting someone, despite your good intentions, especially in the beginning when you hadn’t known what you were doing. You’d had to push yourself to clean up disgusting messes without gagging. There were so many things you’d had to get used to that at the start felt insurmountable. This was the same, you reason, you just had to push through your fears.

Really? You’re going to compare cleaning up blood and vomit to touching Elvis Presley? your inner voice chides you.

It seems awfully silly when you think of it like that.

And perhaps that is what forges you ahead and makes you bolder. You guide your hands down his chest, feeling the heat of him under your palms, the slight ridges of his ribs on his decidedly lean frame. Without looking in his eyes, you circle your arms around to his back and step in as close as you can. The embrace is tentative at first, and you feel the way his breath hitches in surprise. It is only a second of hesitation before he wraps his arms around you in turn.

It’s foreign, this feeling of being held. You suddenly realize that it has been since your mother died that anyone has hugged you, truly hugged you, for more than a moment at most. Breathing in a shaky breath, you are enveloped by Elvis’ unique scent—a masculine but subtle, warm smell that is a far cry from the heavy, suffocating colognes of the Italian men in your life.

You close your eyes, pressing your ear to his chest, that thump, thump, thump a comforting lull to your overactive nerves.

Elvis is achingly gentle, barely touching you at first, until he realizes you are not scurrying away in your usual manner. Then he holds you a little tighter, a little closer, if only to steady you in this unforeseen moment of vulnerability.

He just feels so solid and steadfast in a time when you are feeling completely unmoored. An unlikely anchor in the hurricane of the past few days. For a moment, you allow yourself this small comfort. You are not sure how long you stay like that, timing your breaths to the beat of his heart. Probably longer than what is proper. But you are quickly coming to accept that this situation is far from proper.

You finally bring yourself to pull back from the embrace, knowing there is more work to do here, more ways in which you must launch yourself into the uncomfortable.

Seems like you were quite comfortable holding him, and with him holding you, your inner voice coos.

This is part of the job. It’s not like that.

Mhmm.

Ignoring that, you’re not quite sure what to do next, only that you feel a strange mixture of relaxation weaving its way through your anxiety. Elvis’ hands rest lightly at your waist, making no moves one way or another, as if knowing it could frighten you away.

I won’t be frightened. He will not hurt me.

It feels truer now, though it doesn’t stop the flutter in your chest when you loop your hands back around and up his regally long neck. Oh, it feels too intimate, the way your trembling hands trace up his chiseled jaw, his stubble rough under your fingertips. You can’t look at him, you just can’t face those handsome bedroom eyes while touching him like this, opting for examining him blind like he’d suggested. Your fingers flit over his impossibly high cheekbones, up the perfectly straight edge of his nose, mapping him in your mind.

He's safe. He’s safe. I’m safe. The mantra repeats in your head.

Of their own accord, your fingers cart gently into his wonderfully thick, soft hair, up and through, and it’s then that you hear the sigh escape his lips, the one you now suspect was held back this whole time. It ratchets up your heart rate, not because of your fear of what he could do to you, but because the sound sends a tendril of warmth down your spine.

The instinctive part of you wants to yank your hands away, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the fear. While your fingers run through his hair, your thumbs fall down his cheeks until you are cupping his long face in your hands.

This is the moment you decide to open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are closed, the look on his beautiful face serene. You are in awe of how gentle and trusting he is, and maybe that’s why you impulsively move a thumb up and over the soft bow of his upper lip.

His sapphire eyes flutter open in surprise at that, sending a shockwave of heat through you. As he catches you in his otherworldly gaze, your thumb snags on the fullness of his lower lip, dragging it down and opening his mouth.

You don���t know what’s come over you, but the feel of his hot breath on your fingertip has butterflies brewing in your belly in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s like a terrifying freefall and you pull back, almost ashamed, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Your first instinct is to run, but Elvis catches your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“It’s good,” he breathes. “You’re doing great, honey.”

The praise is genuine, and a shaky wave of pride rolls through you at being able to face your fears about this.

“Now it’s my turn, darlin’. We gotta get you used to the other way around,” he says quietly, as if knowing this part will be even harder for you. As if knowing that your heart begins to race even faster than before.

All you can do is nod. Keep going forward.

“Okay. I’m a very affectionate guy, Little Bird, and I’m gonna be real clear for you what I’m gonna do here,” he says, looking into your eyes in a seriously. “I’m fixin’ to act like I would with a girlfriend, but I ain’t out to molest you.”

You’re not exactly sure what he means to do, but you forge onward, trying to relax. “A-Alright.”

He’s still holding you by the wrist. “I’m gonna kiss your hand now.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach at the drawled words, and not from fear.

Then he is pressing those soft lips in an innocent gesture, first kissing the top of your hand, then the palm, then the inside of your wrist. It’s sweet, the way he does it, the way he checks in with you with his eyes after each peck.

You forget to breathe. You expected fear, the need to escape that which feels foreign or threatening, but you did not expect any part of you to enjoy this.

Running his hands up your arms, he reminds you of the obvious. “Breathe, honey,” he whispers.

You do. In. Out. In. Out. It gives you something to focus on as your mind goes blank.

“Gonna move down now,” he narrates. His hands move one of your arms, then the other, up over his shoulders and around his neck, as if you might start dancing. As if you might lean up to kiss him. Your heart knocks against your ribcage and you just know he can feel it as his hands splay slowly down your sides, fingers around your back, tracing your curves. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch your breasts, just brushes past them on the way down, but it sends shivers down to your toes regardless.

You feel utterly exposed, that familiar panic blooming amongst the unfamiliar feeling in your belly. Elvis seems to sense your tension and steps into you, embracing you once more. You feel that anchor again as his tall frame engulfs you. It should make you more uncomfortable, pressed up against him like this, but it doesn’t. Then, his left hand brings your right over his shoulder and holds it there, directly over his heart.

Thump, thump, thump.

Somehow he knows that steady rhythm calms you. He holds you there for as long as it takes for your breathing to level off, which is a while because you feel dizzy with the scent of him, the warmth of him, with the feeling of being touched in a way that doesn’t make you want to run for the hills.

You don’t understand these feelings. You should be afraid. Your history has taught you to be afraid of men. But for some strange reason, this near stranger, this idol to the masses, makes you feel safe and that scares you on a whole different level.

“Doing so well, Little Bird,” he says, pressing his forehead against your own. The pet name you loathed a few days ago sits differently with you now since you’ve come to understand that he has nicknames for everyone in his life, some that make sense only to him. It sits differently now that he’s holding you like this.

Oh, Madone, he is so close now. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to remind you this is not the man who hurt you. That Elvis is nothing like Gianni.

It’s alright, I’m alright.

You do not expect this battle between fear and arousal in your body and your mind when Elvis whispers he’s going to kiss your face and then he does, carefully pressing into your forehead like you might break under his touch.

You do not expect to feel angry at the fact he’s showing you how men can be so unlike what you’ve experienced, that not every one of their gender is filled with hatred and violence.

And you certainly don’t expect the sigh that escapes your lips when he kisses your cheek, or when he then follows with light kisses down your jaw.

He freezes at that. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Y-yes. I’m fine. It’s, uh, fine,” you stammer out breathlessly, feeling the way his lips turn up slightly into a smile.

It’s an act. You are both playing a role. This is a rehearsal, you recite desperately in your head as your body flames with a nearly unbearable heat. And as his almost-too-gentle lips light little fires on your neck, you know that you shouldn’t like anything about this, and not just because it’s part of your new job. But your body bends to his will of its own accord.

Elvis pulls back slightly, his face hovering close to yours, and pauses. Your hands are fisted in his shirt and the only thing that cuts through the pregnant silence of the room is the near-panting of your collective breaths.

“I am going to kiss you now, Little Bird,” he says quietly, so close to you that you can feel the puffs of warm air from his mouth. His voice rumbles down deep into your belly, coiling there.

You can’t even begin to respond, because the way his words send shooting warmth blooming out from your chest seems to clamp off any ability to speak.

Then his warm hand cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek. He hardly has to move to reach your lips, and when he finally does, it is so chaste and tender you barely feel it.

You expect to freeze or flee, for your heart to be filled with icy, dark fear.

And yet…

And yet you don’t and it isn’t because it’s nothing like what you’ve experienced before. It’s not the clumsy teenage kiss on prom night. And it certainly isn’t anything like the harsh, horrible kisses Gianni subjected you to. No, this is soft and something else entirely, something you can’t piece through in this strange little moment.

You let him kiss you, giving in easily, and while you don’t know if you truly kiss him back, you don’t push him away.

Then it’s over. Elvis pulls away slowly. You look up at him, dazed, topsy-turvy from the multitude of feelings washing over you, all at once. For a second, you see what you think is a similar look stirring in his eyes.

But then it is gone, replaced with the neutral surety and confidence of a performer after the director yells cut.

“You’re a natural, baby! Didn’t even run away from me once!” he ribs you with a stunning, wide smile, then he turns more serious. “Did it help? Do you feel better, like you can do that in front of everyone else without jumpin’ out your skin?”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. “I, uh, I’m not sure? I-I think so, maybe?” you finally manage to get out. You are honestly not sure about anything right now, the ghost of his lips still haunting on yours.

Elvis furrows his brow a little, unsure of your reaction. “Well, it’ll get better with practice, don’tcha worry, lil’ Lo’,” he says encouragingly.

Practice? This is going to happen again?

Of course. Because this is a rehearsal. This is part of your job. The part of your job that now involves kissing Elvis Presley and pretending to be his girlfriend.

Coming back into yourself, you try sliding your walls back into place, willing yourself to be professional and unphased. “I’m sure it will,” you nod, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “Now, time to rest. You promised,” you say, changing the subject and gesturing to his bed, praying your hand won’t shake.

He looks like he might try to fight you on it, but then seems to think better of it. “Fine. A deal’s a deal,” he shrugs, casually throwing himself onto his bed.

With a silent sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes and climb into your bed and under the covers on the other side of the room. There is no way you are undressing into your nightgown, not with Elvis just feet away, so this will have to do.

“At least a couple of hours,” you remind him before turning your back to him.

“Yes, ma’am, I hear you,” he grumbles.

Taking a deep breath, then another, you keep yourself from looking back over at Elvis. Despite your overwhelming fatigue, your body is buzzing like you’ve had one too many cups of coffee. You force your eyes closed, but you are hyperaware of the man being so close.

You’ve never slept in the same room as a man before.

It’s a day of all kinds of firsts, now isn’t it? you think sardonically.

You try to even out your breathing, the memory of Elvis’ steady heartbeat thundering in your ears. The spicy scent of him lingers on your skin. You can feel the way his solid warmth pressed against you in a comforting embrace. And all you can see behind your closed eyes is the how he looked right before he kissed you.

You think you may have liked it, liked all of it.

But it’s not real, you silly girl.

Praying for much needed rest, you bury your head in your pillow.

A sudden, stabbing guilt then slices its way into your heart as a hideous thought threatens to drown you:

What kind of woman am I if liked that so soon after Gianni hurt me?

It’s your father’s voice that answers…

Puttana. Whore.

Tears pour down your cheeks until sleep finally takes you.

*

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Our Twilight - Series Finale: Haseul

Prolouge Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: So, you’ve reached the ending of “Our Twilight”.

If you’re seeing this, congrats for making it this far. Honestly, I didn’t expect to finish this series since it took me way too long to write them. But alas, here we are.

Haseul’s (and Joon’s) arc might have ended, but that doesn’t mean they have reached the end. They will appear more in other Moonverse installments, whether as the main or side characters. So, look forward to that.

Once again, thank you for reading this mini-series till the end, and I’ll see you all in the next fic.

Ghost, out.

The present day:

“Min-Joon…” Haseul tries her hardest to bite back her tears, although her efforts are of no avail as her tears just keep flowing freely down her cheeks, as repressed memories of her childhood come back in waves.

Happy moments, bitter arguments, gentle comfort, every single moment she spent with him, floods her mind, like a desert finally, finally getting its long-awaited downpour, so is Haseul with her long-forgotten, yet finally returned best friend.

Like a puppet whose string has been cut, Haseul plops down onto the floor, sobbing into her hands, tears of happiness mixed in with guilt as she remembered what she had said to him. It was her that had broken off her friendship. It was her that had repressed her own memories of him.

It was all her fault.

Contrary to the crying Haseul, Joon is incredibly confused, not knowing how to act, finally meeting his best friend, his first (and only) love after so, so long. Seeing her sobbing her heart out pains him greatly, yet he is at a loss for words. He kneels in front of her, slowing patting her back gently, making circular motions on her back. Just like how he did back then whenever he comforts her.

And just like back then, it doesn’t take long for Haseul to latch herself onto him, her arms wrapping around his torso and her face digging into his shoulder. Her body’s still trembling, with Joon feeling his shirt getting wet from her tears. But he doesn’t mind, Haseul takes priority of course.

And so, both sit there on the ground, with Haseul sobbing onto Joon’s shoulder, and Joon slowly soothing her. Just like old times.

“Haseul!” And just like old times, Jinsol comes barreling like a hurricane, with her hands on her knees panting profusely, interrupting whatever moment Joon and Haseul has with each other.

“Well, hello there.” Joon lets out a somewhat neutral greeting, unaware if Jinsol remembers him or not while Haseul not bothering to respond to Jinsol’s entrance.

“‘Hello?’ Are we that far apart already, Joon?” Jinsol pouts as she gathers her breath, finally gathering enough strength to stand up straight.

Joon snickers slightly at her remark. “Sorry, I don’t know if you also forgot about me.”

“Well…” Jinsol lets out an awkward laugh “I kind of did, because I didn’t hear Haseul mentioning you for a long time.” Jinsol looks down embarrassedly “Forgive me?”

“Daewon didn’t mention about me either?” “Well, after seeing Haseul not reacting to your name when we mentioned you, we agreed not to mention you again.” Jinsol explains.

“Ah.” Joon chuckles, patting the shaking Haseul that has somehow wrapped her arms around him tighter. “That makes sense I suppose.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” Joon counters with another question.

“Well, we promised to stay in contact, but I totally forgot about it.” Guiltily, Jinsol glances around the room.

“Dae visited me a lot, so technically still stayed in touch. I already counted you and Dae as one, also, took you guys long enough.” Teasingly, Joon adds a joke at his friend’s relationship, earning a blush and a shout from Jinsol.

“Yah!” In an effort to divert the topic, Jinsol stops Joon from teasing her by asking another question.

“What’s with the ‘MJ’ thing, anyways?”

Joon lets out a hum as he’s soothing Haseul, who is no longer shaking, but is still clingy onto him.

Seeing him being non-responsive, Jinsol presses on. “If I remember correctly, you refused the offer back then, right? Then how did you become a trainee that almost debuted?”

“It’s a long story, Jinsol.”

 “I want to hear it.” Before Jinsol can respond, Haseul’s voice is heard. Coarse and raspy from her sobbing, but undeniably hers. Joon looks down to see her looking up at him with her blood-shoot eyes. “Please Joonie, I don’t want to make the same mistake again.” She gives him a pleading look, one that he knows he can’t ever deny her. He is still very many head over heels for her, although this is neither the place, or time for that.

“Alright, just, let me move to the chair really quick.” Surprising both Jinsol and Haseul, Joon stands up, with Haseul still clinging onto him, with relative ease. “Are you eating properly, Haseul?” He frowns, sitting down at a nearby chair. “I am…” Despite her momentary surprise, Haseul quickly settles down on his lap, like she is claiming her rightful place once again.

“You guys are making me miss Daewon…” Jinsol pouts at her friends, taking a seat next to them.

“Sorry not sorry.” Joon snickers, earning a smack on the shoulder by Jinsol.

With everyone situated, Joon, although a bit reluctant, starts to reminisce back to his trainee days, giving them all the details but carefully omitting those of his own feelings. As much as he wants to tell everything, he can’t bear to tell her that he once hated her, just because he didn’t understand his own feelings towards her.

Seeing her breaking down just from seeing him again is like a stab to his heart, he wishes to spare her from the pain, less she thinks that it was her fault again.

But it wasn’t her fault, it was never hers.

It was his, and his fault entirely.

Just like how Joon frequently tells stories to little kids visiting the library, he tells Jinsol and Haseul a brief summary of his supposed dark past that they weren’t a part in. Navigating through his own feelings back then, he now knows what to tell, and what not to tell.

Some things are better left unsaid after all.

“Wah, so you went through all that trouble because you thought Haseul would meet you again if you became an idol?” Jinsol is equally amazed and confused.

“That’s quite stupid though. If you want to talk to her, you could've called or something.” Jinsol crosses her arms and legs with a little attitude thinking that Joon went a little extreme with his actions.

“Younger me was depressed and stubborn, it was hard talking any reason into him. God bless my aunt for putting up with me.”

“Glad you know that.” He jolts, looking up at the source of the voice: his aunt, leaning against the bookshelf that acts as the door to the secret room. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding, you brat.” She whistles, looking around. “Dad really did make a hidden room.” She mumbles to herself, before turning back to the group of people sitting at the center of the room.

“Hi Seulie, Jinsol.” she smiles gently at the girls. “AH! AUNTIE!” Jinsol seems to be having her second epiphany of the day. “I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T RECOGNIZE YOU!” She stands up and bows immediately to the amusement of his aunt. “It’s ok Jinsol, it’s been a long time.”

“Auntie…” Haseul mumbles, still sitting on Joon’s lap, with her face looking down.

Even without seeing his aunt, Haseul can feel her hand patting the top of her head. “Glad to see you again, Haseul.” Haseul doesn’t need to see her face to know the gentle smile that she always has on her face while talking to Haseul.

Haseul must bit down her bottom lips to prevent her tears from spilling out, only giving out a small nod.

“I know this is a heartwarming reunion for you guys, but I really need borrow Joon, are you guys ok with it?”

Jinsol nods, opposite of Haseul who refused at first but then let him go knowing he's working at the moment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back quick, I promise.” Joon seems to sense her hesitation, causing him to smile gently at her. “... Ok…” Haseul finally gets off his lap, as his aunt immediately pulls him out of the room leaving the two girls alone in the room.

“Who would have thought that your ‘prince charming’ would be your former best friend.” Jinsol scratches her nape, finding this situation hilarious and just as equally confusing.

“Mhmm…” is Haseul’s only response.

“Haseul?” Jinsol turns to her, patting her shoulder “You know he doesn’t blame you, right?”

Haseul only stares down onto the floor, not willing to answer that question.

Seeing that there’s no way to prompt an answer out of Haseul, Jinsol decides to shift the topic.

“Now that you found him, what do you plan to do?” Jinsol isn’t expecting an answer from Haseul, yet she does receive one. One that is honestly, quite scary.

“I’m not letting him go again.”

----

Later that day…

Jinsol has already left a while ago, leaving Haseul alone with her thoughts while waiting for Joon.

Truth be told, Haseul is glad that she has some alone time right now, it is hard to deal with the mess that is her repressed memories with someone keep trying to make conversations to her. Though it would make a good distraction, Haseul needs none of that right now.

Sitting at the seating area of the library provides Haseul a good view of Joon going about his work. Helping people in finding their books, rearranging the shelves, even reading books to children who are too young to read. Haseul can’t help but be proud, and yet saddened at the same time.

Where have she been all this time?

Undoubtedly, Haseul knows that Joon has been following her progress all this time, and though he might not say it, Haseul knows that there are other forces driven Joon into doing this.

He wouldn’t have become a trainee just to see her again, he would just barge into the company to do that. Haseul can’t help but chuckle a bit, younger Joon can be so stubborn at times.

Glancing at Joon who is adding more books to the shelves, Haseul can’t help but feel a dagger stabbed into her heart. Regardless of whatever the reason was, Joon has been following her progress. So then, where was she?

What did she do?

Didn’t she promise him that she would never leave him? That they would always be friends? Then why is it that she missed out on… All of this? She glances back at Joon. Why did she miss out on him growing up and maturing into the man standing here?

Why did she miss out on him struggling and coping with her leaving, even resorting to doing the one thing that he didn’t want to, just to get a chance to see her again?

Haseul knows the answer to it, though she is too ashamed for it. She was selfish.

She was selfish for thinking that Joon would follow her anywhere and do anything with her, even if it was something that he did not like. It was this selfishness that caused her to turn her back against him when he didn’t follow her, despite the countless time that he had followed her before.

She was delusional to think that just because Joon agreed to participate in the contest with her, meant that he would follow her into the idol life.

Selfishness caused her to tune him out of her life, thinking that he betrayed her, and their promise, and even denied him an explanation that he definitely deserved.

If only she wasn’t so selfish.

If only she listened to him.

If only they stayed friends.

Looking back at it, it wasn’t that big of a deal that Joon refused to be a trainee. Even if Haseul got busier and busier, they would still find a way to stay in touch. Their friendship was too strong to be broken over a mere busy working schedule.

Why was it that she was so upset over it? Haseul mulls it over. Was it because of the fact that Joon didn’t follow her out of her selfishness?

Was it because she has had false hope that she would be able to convince him?

Was it because she didn’t want to let him go?

Was it because she liked him- Ah.

She liked him.

She never had the guts to say it to him, but she liked him, very much. It was because of her promise with him that pulled her through the time she spent studying abroad, the thought of seeing him again motivated her to no end.

She liked him so much. She didn’t think that she would ever be separating from him. She never thought she would be with anyone besides him.

No. ‘like’ wasn’t enough to describe it.

She loved him, though she never realized it, but she did. That was why she was so upset back then, she thought he betrayed her, betrayed them.

Haseul falls into a rabbit hole of her own mind, her thoughts spiraling out of control with every minute she’s left alone by herself. The more she thinks, the more depressing the thoughts, she isn’t worthy of being a kpop idol, she isn’t worthy of being friends with Joon again. She doesn’t deserve-

“Haseul?”

With just one word, Haseul is brought back from the depth of her mind, back to the real world, only to see Joon, standing in front of her but lowering himself so he’s at eye level with her. “Are you ok?”

“Y-yeah! I’m fine Joon-ah” Haseul immediately puts up a smile for him, a smile that she is so used to practicing that she can pull it out instantly. “Do you need something?” Before Joon can continue asking, Haseul interrupts him first.

Joon stays silent for a while before asking. “Well, my work is finished for the day, want to go back? I can give you a ride.”

“Can I visit your home instead?” Haseul doesn’t think twice before asking. “Are you sure about that?” He raises his eyebrow. “Aren’t you busy with your schedules?”

“Like I said, I’m really fine, Joon.” She once again flashes her smile at him, but seemingly at no effect because Joon keeps looking at her with a worried expression.

“If you insist.” In the end, Joon doesn’t deny her request. After a short talk to his aunt, he and Haseul leaves the library, the afternoon breeze hit their face immediately as the sky cast an orange glow down onto the streets below, indicating the near end of a day.

“I live near here, so I usually walk, I hope that’s fine with you.” Joon glances at her, to which Haseul gives him a small smile “I don’t mind.”

The walk to his home is filled with awkward silence, as they both don’t know how to talk to each other again after so long. It seemed like it was just yesterday that they were walking to school together, making jokes, teasing each other, and talking about the most random thing they can think of.

Now, here they are, years later, as grown adults, and it seems like their once friendship was gone, puff up into smokes, nowhere to be seen.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for them to reach his place.

“After you.” Like a gentleman, Joon opens the door for her to go in first. “Aw, so gentlemanly~” Haseul can’t help but coo, reminded by his behaviours back then. He was also like this towards her.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll prepare something for us.” Joon motions to the living room while heading towards the kitchen for some refreshments, and Haseul is left alone to wander around his place.

The apartment isn’t too big, but it’s enough to accommodate for one person. The decorations are actually well picked, for a guy living alone. Haseul snickers. The walls are covered in a deep blue color, adorned with a few posters and picture frames.

Off to the side, at the far corner is a small bookshelf, as expected of a librarian. Besides that, the furniture placement reminded her of his old home that he used to live with his aunt: homey, cozy, nostalgic.

“I see that you’re already familiarize yourself with the place?” Joon comes back with 2 mugs of juice, setting them down on the coffee table. “Well, just a glance and I can see your aunt’s fingerprint all over the place.” She smirks at him.

“To be fair I did choose the wall color, and that bookshelf.” Joon shrugs, sitting down at the couch then patting the spot next to him.

Though somewhat reluctant, Haseul sits down next to him, her eyes immediately noticing the mugs on the table. “It’s my mug…” She smiles nostalgically. Due to how often she visited his place, his aunt brought some extra stuffs for her to use whenever she stayed over, and this mug was one of them.

“Mhmm, my aunt wanted to give it away, but I kept it, for nostalgia's sake.” He takes a sip of his mug. “Apple juice, it’s too late for coffee, and I don’t have any soju here.” Haseul just holds up the mug, staring down onto the liquid inside, before looking back at him. “You remembered.” Apple juice is also her favorite juice.

“I grew fond of it over time.” Joon shrugs like it was just a coincidence. Haseul remains silent as she looks at him, then takes a sip of her juice, her eyes already brimming with tears. “Min-Joon, I-”

Before she can say anything, Joon leans forward to wipe her tears away with a handkerchief, before placing a finger on her lips. “Shush, it’s ok Haseul.” He smiles softly “We don’t have to talk about it now. I’m just glad to have my friend back.” With a quick motion, he pinches her cheek.

“But-”

“Nah ah, no buts.” Joon cuts her off. “If you want to say something, how about you tell me about your idol life? I’m kind of curious about it.”

Despite her best effort, Joon’s earnest gaze at her makes her unable to deny his wish, so she starts to recount those days of her trainee turned idol life.

Whatever kind of awkward they have left ever since the library and on the way home soon faded away while they converse with each other. They say it’s easy to relapse into a bad habit if you’re not careful enough, and it’s the same here, not to say what they have together is bad or anything.

Haseul and Joon takes no time to ease back into their regular routine: her talking and ranting about various stuffs while Joon listens intently, with a few jokes and teases here and there.

Unbeknownst to Haseul, the stress and guilt she has lessen while in the presence of Joon. To be able to talk, to confine to her best friend again, she feels relief, that Joon doesn’t hold a grudge against her, and that he is still the best friend that she once had.

It feels nice, great, even, Haseul thinks, to be with him again. Her thought inevitably goes back to the past, back when she had feelings for him. Does she still view Joon in that way? The answer is unsurprisingly, yes.

She wouldn’t have gone through all the pain of looking for him again, if she never had anything for him. Deep within her heart, some part of it still craves for Joon. Crave to be with him, to love him and be loved by him. Maybe that’s why she tried to find him again. As cheesy as this sounds, Joon has been such an important part of her childhood, she feels empty without him.

Without the both of them realizing, the sun has already set, and there are still so many things left to be said. “Ah, it’s quite late…” Joon glances at the clock, his voice indicates a sense of regret. “Come, I’ll give you a ride back.” He stands up, or tries to, only to be stopped by Haseul holding his hand.

“Joon-ah, wait, there’s something I want to say.” She looks at him pleadingly when he opens his mouth to say something “I’ll probably regret it my whole life if I don’t say it, so please, give me this chance.” Joon bit his lower lips in contemplating before turning his body to him, indicating that she has his full attention.

“Thank you, Joon-ah” she smiles lightly. “I’m also sorry. I know just apologizing isn’t fair to you, especially with what you’ve been through, but I need to say it.” Haseul holds both of his hands in hers. “I’m sorry for being selfish for wanting you to follow me. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance to fully explain yourself. I’m sorry for tuning you out of my life just because you wanted to follow your dream.” Her tears start to stream down her cheeks as she looks at him with her bloodshot eyes full of guilt and regret. “I’m sorry for breaking our promise. I’m really…. Sorry.” She starts to sob, her emotions overwhelming her at once.

Joon pulls her into a tight hug, his hands caressing her head and back gently as she is pressed fully against his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso. “It’s ok Haseul, It’s ok…” she hears his voice on top of her head as he rests his chin on it. “It was partly my fault as well. You don’t have to blame yourself.” Hearing his gentle voice soothing her, Haseul can’t help but break down once again, sobbing onto his chest as she grasps his shirt for dear life, like she was afraid that he might disappear if her grasp was to loosen just a bit.

Patiently, Joon continues to soothe her with gentle gestures, a few small pats on her head, his hand circling her trembling back. Old patterns come back, and Haseul soon finds tears dried, yet she is relaxed into his embrace. Like 2 halves of a puzzle, she feels complete in his arms, like it was meant to be.

“I love you.” Haseul suddenly says, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Hmm?” Joon is surprised to hear this, yet he feints calmness “What did you just say?” Though there’s no fooling Haseul, with her head so close to his chest, she can feel his heart beating wildly.

She looks up at him. Her eyes resolute, firm, like what she just said wasn’t a declaration of love, but a declaration of war. “I love you.” She repeats the sentence clearly, instantly flustering Joon. “W-what?”

“I know we just met again today, but I don’t want to lose you again.” Her gaze softens, hints of guilt flashing through her eyes. “I can’t just pretend that I didn’t ghost you for a good part of your life. But I can repay you for it.”

Though speechless, Joon gently parts himself away from Haseul’s hug, holding her by her shoulders as he tries to find words to say. “Look, Haseul. You don’t need to pity me just because you ghosted me like that. Don’t force yourself into doing this, we can just be friends-”

Haseul isn’t going to let Joon finish his words. She tackles him onto his couch, then straddles him, her hands cupping his cheek as she stares down at him. “I’m not forcing myself, Min-Joon.” Her voice turns incredibly soft and tender “I really, genuinely love you.” Her smile seems to be the sun itself, radiating, as Joon can help but blush slightly from it.

“The reason I was angry with you back then, was because I liked you so much, that the thought of you not following me broke my heart into pieces.” Tears threaten to fall out of her eyes, yet she continues. “I lost you once, I don’t want to lose you again, Joonie.” Her lips trembles, her eyes casting downward, away from his gaze. “Please….”

“You pabo.” Haseul looks up at Joon, surprised to see tears flowing out his eyes as he raises a hand up to her cheek. “I thought I would never hear that from you.” He chokes on his tears “I thought, I could only stand and watch you from afar.” His thumb wiping away her cheek in a futile attempt. “I love you too, Seulie. I’ve loved you for so long…”

Overwhelmed by her own emotions, Haseul leans down to claim his lips, the both of them sharing a passionate kiss. The combined culmination of everything they’ve felt and suppressed this entire time, their anger, their frustration, their kiss, all melted into this one kiss. As such, their lips do not part from each other, until the both of them need to catch their breaths.

“Be mine?”

“Always have been.”

Just a short exchange, nothing more, nothing less, before their lips are glued to each other again, their kiss turns passionate, fiery as Haseul’s arms wrap around Joon’s neck, and his arms wrap around her waist. Soon before long, their tongues intertwined in a heated dance for dominance, as their kiss turns into a full out make out session, with none backing down from each other.

Once again, they must part away due to their lack of air, a string of saliva still connecting their lips as they gaze at each other, their eyes full of unsaid emotions.

“Let’s do it.” Haseul says, her intention obvious enough. “There’s no turning back from this, you know.” True to himself, Joon gives her a warning. But instead of answering his question verbally, Haseul’s hands sneak underneath his shirt, feeling up his toned abdomen. “What about your schedules?” “Jinsol can cover for me.” Sorry Jinsol.

“What about-”

“You don’t want to do it with me?” Haseul pouts, her hands still resting on his stomach.

Instead of answering her, he suddenly flips her over, earning a yelp from her as he is now looming on top of her, her body stuck between him, and the couch. “I just don’t want you to have any regret.” He looks down at her, his face a mixture of lust and consideration.

“The only thing I regret is not getting together with you sooner.” Haseul smiles sweetly, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Now take me, my love.”

Leaning against the palm of her hand for the briefest of moment, Joon slowly lowers himself down onto her, his lips latching onto her neck as he gives her the gentlest of kisses and nibbles.

Haseul squirms underneath his touch, his nibbles and kisses are more than enough to stimulate her, to arouse her, to excite her.

“I’m never letting you go again.” Was arguably to last sentence spoken between the two of them before both of them dissolve into what could be called, passionate lovemaking.

Groans, moans, and the sound of slapping reverberate the apartment as the newly formed couple consummate their once-broken relationship, now whole and complete again, and arguably stronger than before. They lose track of how many times they did it before the collapse into a heaping pile of sweats, tears, and various other liquid. But none of them minded. Because in that moment, they have each other, and that is enough for them.

-----

Blink.

More blinks.

Even more blinks.

Rising from her deep slumber from an exhausting night, Haseul is having a hard time to wake up right now. It takes all her strength just to blink her eyes slowly, making sure that her eyes are accustomed to what little light there is in the bedroom. After a while, Haseul finally gathers enough strength to sit up. And as she does, she is greeted with a surprise: She isn’t in her room. Also, and she isn’t wearing anything underneath the blanket.

Frantically, Haseul pulls the blanket close to her as she looks around the surroundings in a frightening matter. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to do this for long, as memories of the day before gradually flows back into her still half-asleep brain, and she realizes where she’s at: Joon’s bedroom.

Knowing that she’s safe now, Haseul takes her time looking around his room instead, taking in the sight of his personalized room. Given that it isn’t that much different from his old bedroom back then, but Haseul doesn’t mind. It’s good to know that there’s still something that just doesn’t change.

“Hello, you.” So absorbed in her thought, Haseul doesn’t even notice Joon standing at the door, in his hands a tray of food.

“Hey.” She responds with a small smile at the sight of him. “Did you bring me here?” Joon puts the tray on the bedside table before setting up a small table for Haseul on the bed, moving the tray to there instead. “Yeah, sleeping on the bed is more comfortable than sleeping on the couch.” He answers with a chuckle.

A curt nod from Haseul, before she is distracted by the tray of breakfast laid in front of her. Though it’s just a few simple dishes, she is starving as activities from last night left her drained. “Eat it, it’s for you.” Haseul just digs in at this point, her hunger taking over her at this moment.

Joon just sits there, next to her, watching her devouring his food with a smile, yet it seems like he’s not fully here with her, like his mind is wandering elsewhere.

Of course, that doesn’t Haseul’s sense, as she looks at him quizzically. “What’s wrong?” Snapping back from his thought, Joon gives her an apologetic smile “Sorry, I was just thinking about…us.”

“May I ask why?” Haseul swallows the last of her food, before diverting her full attention to Joon.

“I’m…I’m afraid that our relationship might implicate your work.” Knowing he can’t hide anything from Haseul, Joon decides to be honest. “You’re arguably at the height of your career. Your fans love you. But I’m afraid that everything you built up to might crumble, just because of me.” Joon looks away. “I’m just a librarian, Seulie, I’m-”

Joon’s word is cut off by Haseul as her lips sealed his for a quick kiss.

“You.” She looks at him. “Are the mysterious trainee that caused an uproar at a variety show and disappear. Do you know how much people’s been raving for you? How many people who’s been claiming that you are their bias, despite not being an idol?” Haseul’s hands squish his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t you dare say that you’re not worth it, when it only took you one performance to reach the popularity that costed me 2 years of hard work.”

“I’m…sorry?” Joon is incredibly confused with Haseul’s action. On one hand, she seems to be consoling him, but on the other hand, she seems to be letting our all her frustration that was caused by him.

“Don’t say that you’re not worth it. Because for me, I would sacrifice everything, to get you back with me.” Haseul smiles sweetly, pecking his lips. Joon can’t really do nothing but smile at her. His friend, turn best friend, estranged, yet together once more, now as his girlfriend instead.

“I love you Seulie.”

“I love you too Joonie.”

The two of them share another quick kiss before being interrupted by someone’s phone buzzing constantly. “Must be Jinsol and the girls.” Haseul snickers.

“So?” Joon looks at her. “Gimme a few, I need a shower, and a fresh pair of clothes.” She then pecks his cheek “Then I need you to give me a ride back to the dorm, sounds good?” Joon nods, “Good, now get out, I need to shower.” Haseul playfully shoves Joon away, which he obliges and gets out of his room.

A few minutes later….

Haseul emerges from his bathroom, clean from their rodeo last night, wearing her clothes, with just a few more additions.

“Hey, isn’t that my hoodie?” Joon protests.

“Yes, and?” Haseul glares at him, daring him to take it back.

“Never mind.” And of course, he gives up almost instantly.

“That’s more like it” She smiles, approaching him, her hand quickly intertwined with his.

“Let’s go?”

“Yes.”

And so, the new couple set out from the apartment, starting a new chapter in their relationship.

The road they took to get here was arduous and full of pain and heartache, but thanks to it, their relationship is reinforced even stronger than before. Nothing will stand between them, not anymore.

.

.

.

“Oh, by the way, you’re going to meet the girls as well. They already knew about my search for you, so they are expecting you.”

“God damn it. Fine.”

-----

A/N: For those who thought this would be an angst really thought I would be that heartless? I'm disappointed. Lol

#loona #loona fic #haseul #jo haseul #male reader #kpop fanfiction #MoonVerse

[jpitha]

The Dreams of Hyacinth 13

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Jameson leaned his head back in his chair, stretching all the way back until the back of his head touched the top of the chair. There was a soft click, and he brought his head back forward, now with 10 hair thin wires flowing in to ports on the back of his neck. He looked over and saw Eastern and Nick staring. "I mean, why reinvent the wheel? The interface we have was basically refined almost a thousand years ago, why would we put a different one on cybernetically enhanced humans? Anyway." Jameson's eyes flashed blue and he started to work.

Nick, Eastern and Selkirk sat awkwardly in Jameson's office for five minutes or so before Kelly came in carrying a tray with a selection of drinks and snacks. "Jameson pinged me and asked me to bring this to you. He's sorry but he's stretched pretty thin right now, so he can't reply directly." They took some snacks and a drink and Kelly smiled and walked out.

Ten minutes later, there was a click and a speaker overhead activated. "Nick, Eastern, Selkirk. I'm sorry about leaving you in a lurch. We're going over the logs now. Why don't you move to the waiting room for a bit. The chairs are more comfortable there. You can't leave just yet; we're still on lockdown, but we can probably get something delivered if you get hungry."

They moved back to the waiting room. There wasn't much else to do, so Nick and Eastern started practicing thing that Queenie taught them while Selkirk read her pad. Nick and Eastern were practicing intrusion techniques on each other. They had placed a file in their augmented memory storage and took turns trying to take it. While they did that, the other would try and stop them. While they practiced Nick noticed a... presence? It felt like something was watching them. He reached out with his cybernetics and...

"Sorry, what are you doing? Why are you watching us?"

The presence starts. It did not expect to be noticed. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you could sense me. What are you doing?"

"Eastern and I are practicing intrusion techniques. I hold a file and she tries to steal it and then we switch roles."

"Smart! I wish more people would practice like that. Most of the time everyone just gets the strongest firewalls they can and assume that will save them."

"Everyone?"

"The other AIs. What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm not an AI, I'm a BI with a cybernetic suite installed. My name is Nick, this is my partner Eastern." Nick mentally nudges Eastern and she joins the conversation.

"Nick who is this?"

"I apologize, I've been terribly rude, I should introduce myself. My name is Robyn, I work with Jameson."

"So, you're an AI?"

"I am! I am currently... between bodies and Jameson doesn't own a ship right now so I just.." Nick and Eastern felt Robyn gesture a shrug "hang around and help out. Right now Jameson and I are going through his logs. He thinks he's been edited."

"Has he?"

"Looks like! We're trying to nail down when and then match it with the access logs to see who visited then. Say! Maybe you can help. What was the last job you did for Jameson?"

Nick sees the avatar of Eastern make a face. "He asked me to find the coffin box. There was supposed to be an AI inside it. He told me that it would be with Houndstooth R&D but didn't give us any more details. That's when I asked Selkirk and she recommended we reach out to Nick for him to boost the box."

"Okay! It looks like Jameson's memories were edited a little earlier than I had initially thought. Searching. Hmm. That's interesting. Come on Nick, Eastern, let's go talk to Jameson."

Nick and Eastern disconnected and stood. "Hey Sel, Robyn said she might have found something, let's go see Jameson."

Selkirk stood as well. "Robyn?"

"Another AI. She doesn't have a body. right now. She might work for Jameson?"

"Oh boy. Another AI." Selkirk's ears flick irritatedly as she walks with them.

When they reenter Jameson's office, he has disconnected and is looking at data on his pad. He looks up as Nick and the others walk in. "Oh, I was just about to call you. Please sit."

Nick nods. "We met Robyn. She said we should come in and discuss what you've found."

Jameson's brow furrows. "You met Robyn? I told her to keep a low profile.

"Jameson, they were practicing intrusion and anti-intrusion techniques. Nobody ever practices that. I had to ask them about it."

"They were?" Jameson looks at Nick and Eastern and raises an eyebrow. "Interesting. Most everyone just installs the firewalls and leaves it. But okay, since you're all here..." Jameson snaps his fingers and a goon comes in and hands a grey metal cylinder to Jameson and walks out. It's about 20 centimeters long and has a tab on the top."

Eastern gestures towards the cylinder. "What's that?"

"I'll show you. It was surprisingly hard to get." Jameson pulls the tab and the cylinder starts hissing, and a heavy black gas starts pouring out of the cylinder and flows around the floor.

Eastern, Nick and Selkirk lean back, startled. "Is it dangerous?"

Jameson shakes his head. "It's only dangerous if you're a Builder. It'll kill you if you are."

Nick watches the gas flow and pour around the floor, fascinated. "A Builder?"

Jameson waved his hand dismissively, "It's their term for the people who worked with Empress Melody. If they have a suite of nanomachines installed, they were called a Builder. Has to do with that old Starbase they dragged back here after we killed her, Reach of the Might of Vzzx is it's name, I think. This-" he gestures at the fog in the room "-is anti nanomachine gas. It overwrites their orders and makes them disassemble themselves. If you're a Builder, it kills you too. Builders have a massive concentration of nanomachines and they take over large parts of their bodily functions."

Eastern watches the gas too and then looks back up at Jameson. "But Jameson, Empress Melody was killed almost ten years ago."

He nods. "She was. But, it looks like we didn't get all the Builders. When Robyn and I looked at my logs, it looks like someone used their Voice on me."

Eastern blinked in surprise. "But that's an Empress thing. They made a huge deal about how nobody except Empress Melody could do that. Also, they said it didn't work on AIs."

Jameson raised a finger and started counting. "One, it doesn't work well on AIs. Get us in an area with high enough concentration of nanomachines and make the order generic enough and it works just fine. Two, from what I understand an Empress is the only one with the package to do the Voice. Doesn't have to be just Empress Melody."

Eastern's eyes went wide. "That means there's another Empress?"

Jameson sighed heavily and looked down at his pad. "Yes. That's what it looks like. And since my compatriots were idiots and went after her with an armada, this new Empress is being much more subtle and quieter."

Nick shook his head, disbelieving. "But Jameson, why would she come to Hyacinth? How would she come to Hyacinth?"

"Nick, we still have ships coming and going, and tourists coming to visit, it's not like we're locked down."

"That takes care of how. But why? Not only that, but why would she voice you, Jameson, about something so specific as to make up a daughter for you?"

Jameson looks embarrassed. "Remember when I said I had a spouse and they died during an attack on the Empress? That part was true. I did have a spouse and they did die. The part I didn't mention was that I was there too. I used to be a Frigate."

Nick looks at Eastern and then at Selkirk. "I mean, most AI's I've met were ships at once point or another, it's not that big of a deal." They both nod.

Jameson raises his eyebrow and clears his throat. "Ahem. Anyway. It feels like this new Empress is planning something. I have no idea what, though it seems like AIs and BIs are involved in equal measure.

"To what end?"

This time, Robyn's voice is heard over the speakers in the room. "I'm thinking they wanted to get more cybernetic humans. AI really are the only ones who know how to do the surgery these days, and it's 'officially' banned, so only dark doctors and organized crime has access to the technology. Jameson and I both think that the goal of the deception was... you."

"Me?"

"Well, you and Eastern. They want more humans that can operate starships maybe."

"But why?"

"How the fuck should we know, Nick? Go and ask her if you need to know that badly."

Eastern looks up at the speakers in the ceiling. "Okay then, what about Siobhan?"

"Maybe she works for the Empress."

Eastern purses her lips together and her brow flattens.

"I don't know. Ancestors Eastern, I just learned that I might have been Voiced by a heretofore unknown Empress and only found out because the story they made me tell you was so flimsy you couldn't even make a logical leap to a solution that let you accept the story." He disconnected and whirred around to where they were sitting. "Go and find Siobhan and ask her yourself." He smiled and snapped his fingers again. "Don't go unarmed though." A guard walked out carrying a heavy looking case. With a flourish he opened the case and three gleaming submachine guns were inside. "Here. Let's call it a... gift for our mutual misunderstanding."

Nick's eyes went wide at the weapons. Projectile weapons have been banned on High Mars Hyacinth since its creation. Guns were incredibly rare on the cylinder. He reached out to touch one and stopped. "But Jameson, we don't know how to use them."

"Oh that part's easy." He held out his hand. Nick took it and shook once. He again felt the tingle of keys being transferred. "There's some reflex software. You'll be an expert in no time. Give a copy to Eastern and Selkirk. She's got a soft connection with her coronet, but it should be enough to keep her from hurting herself." The guard snapped the case shut and flipped it over. He opened the back to show that there were 9 magazines - three each - and then closed that side and handed it to Nick. Nick took the case as if it was white hot and would burn him at any moment.

Kelly walked in with three leather - Nick smelled them as she walked by, they were real leather - holsters. "Here. These go around your shoulders and will keep the sub under your arm and out of the way. I even have one that's K'laxi sized for you Selkirk." Kelly showed them how to put on the holster, and after a moment the three of them were awkwardly sitting, wearing their new weapons.

"Ancestors Nick, Eastern, Selkirk, relax okay. Everyone will know you're strapped if you sit like that. Show them Jimmy."

The guard named Jimmy walked over and flopped into a chair, looking completely relaxed. He winked at them and flipped a side of his jacket open. He was wearing the same holster with a submachine gun inside.

Jameson nodded. "A gun is a tool friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It is a tool for killing, but it is still just a tool. A tool needs a wielder who uses the tool with knowledge, respect and skill." He wheeled back to his desk. "Go. Find this Siobhan, and see if you can learn what her deal is. Let me know what you find." He gestured at the guns. "Don't use them unless you have to, but now at least you have that option."

Nick stood. The gun hung heavy under his arm and made him feel unbalanced. "Thanks Jameson. I have one more question though. Why are you being so helpful? You could have just sent us on our way to muddle in the dark."

"You're right. I could have. But. You have been straight with me this whole time, and in our previous dealing too. Also, this Empress is trying to use me to her own ends. It's time that she learn that it's not so easy to own an AI. We know about that history and won't be having any of it." He waves his hand, dismissing them. "Be in touch, I won't bite." His eyes flash blue a quick moment. "Also, I refilled your expense account. Selkirk, nice work on tracking expenses, I don't see anything here questionable. In fact-" his eyes flash again "-I just gave you some more, call it a bonus. Treat yourselves."

The three of them walked out of Jameson's building, numb.

Finally, Nick spoke. "What was that?"

Eastern looks back at the building and then at the three of them. "I don't know Nick. Did we pick a side? Are we're working for the AIs against the new Empress.?"

"Is that what we want?" Selkirk looks down the road towards the square, and then back the other way. The alley is completely empty.

"Let's meet this new Empress first and then decide." Eastern starts walking towards the square. "Come one, we have a Hopper to catch. I want to find Siobhan and-" Eastern's gun flashes in the overhead lights "-ask some pointed questions."

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#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and aliens #jpitha #the k’laxiverse #The Dreams of Hyacinth

[twosroos]

All Grown Up [Chapter Three]

roos says ! me, adding more random iron daggers lore bc i can? yes. anyways this is now post uranium mission AND post secret mission i made up >:) mega angst material time babes this got very sad very fast

genre ! angst !!, hurt/comfort

word count: 2424

notable characters: robert “bob” floyd

TWs: thunderstorms, mentioned near-death experiences, mentioned hospital visits

ao3 link ! previous chapter ! next chapter

"Looks like we're stuck," Bob comments, unceremoniously trying to wring out the bottom of his shirt. You huff, not answering with words as you walk over to a small set of LED lights on the wall. You press the on button a few times and nothing happens, so you try the overhead lamp, and it doesn't kick on either. Both Lieu and Captain don't even perk up at the thunder, having grown used to loud noises, but they perk up at the low groan that leaves your mouth.

"Are you serious?" You spit out, groaning as you sneak a peek out one of the side doors to the house-- the lights are off, meaning the powers out for real. This also means your wifi connection to the hotspot you had installed will die, and the LTE service out here in the barn sucks.

Bob chimes from behind you, "Oh, shit."

You jump, cursing at him as he laughs and apologizes for spooking you. God, that laugh was as sweet as homemade sugar cookies and pure honey. You force yourself away from him though, walking over to a knocked down stool, you kick it so it's against the far wall before fixing it so it's upright. You settle and slide down the wall to sit on the stool. Bob pauses, turning to you with a bashful look in his eyes.

"What?" You say, adjusting your tanktop that is now sticking to your skin. His cheeks warm up at the sight.

"N-Nothing." He looks away when you catch his gaze, "Sorry. I'll shut up now."

You let an amused huff out of your nose, using your phone to check the radar. Luckily, the small device hadn't gotten super soaked in your pocket, but it was still slippery to the touch. Your weather app said rain for the next two hours. And suddenly, you wished you had never decided to come outside knowing it would rain in the first place. While in your personal pity party, you hear shuffling and glance up to see Bob across from you lean over the gate in the barn to adjust something on the wall, his brow furrowing as he did.

"What're you doin'?" You call and he pauses, looking over with a tiny smile as his cheeks dust. Something you catch in the flicker of a lightning bolt as it races across the inky black sky outside, barely bringing light in through the cracks of the barn doors and gates.

"The calf knocked the feed thing off, I was reattaching it." He says before stepping back, "You've made a lot of changes to this old thing. I remember when it leaked from the ceiling like mad."

"Yeah." You grumble bitterly as you stare at his chest, dragging your eyes to his face, "A lot has changed since you fuckin' up and left, Robert."

He pauses, mouth open for a moment before he sighs, grabbing another stool that's been lying around for months and taking a seat on it. He doesn't speak for a long time, and your phone is too low on battery to play on for extended periods, so you sit in awkward, lightning-lit silence. Eventually, you end up so bored you're counting the seconds it takes for the thunder to rumble after the lightning. The main storm is inching closer. Lieu lays by your feet, soaking in the precious naptime.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs and you perk up from where your grumpy slouching has made your back and neck strain. Bob sighs, his shirt discarded and folded as best he could in his lap. He bites his lip, and you can tell he's mulling over whatever words he's about to say. Despite yourself, you sit up a bit more, wanting to see what he says.

"I should have kept in contact. I'm sorry, Y/n, you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve to be cut off by me for no reason, or…" He trails off, trying to find the words to say, and you huff, rolling to the side so your left is to him, looking down where some water is beginning to puddle under the door.

"Or the leading me on." You mean to whisper to yourself but it comes out a bit louder than you think as the thunder rolls away across the sky, leaving you both in absolute silence.

"What?" He says after a beat, eyes meeting yours in the dark.

"Forget it--" You try and deflect but he's caught on now, a crack of lightning and thunder almost symbolizing the lightbulb above his head.

"--Leading you on? Y/n, I… you think I led you on?" He leans forward a bit, trying to decipher why you cross your arms and tuck one leg up to hide away. You don't wanna show him the vulnerable side of you, something you know you were begging any God above to let you do only two years previously. But one relationship can change someone-- quick.

"You did, Rob." You grunt out and he scoffs, leaning back and running a hand down his face. He's still not wearing his glasses. They were probably too dirty to clean, you always like him better with them off anyways, you liked seeing the sun caress his freckled tan skin perfectly like he was the God your mother prayed to. You'd always imagined God and Jesus as handsome young men when you were a kid-- and twenty-nine was still fairly young in your eyes.

"How?" He asks after a moment of loud thunder and just, fuck, it's so obviously a genuine inquiry. His voice wobbles a bit at the end of the word, his lips pulling into a taught frown. You try to not think about the way your stomach twirls.

"Kissing me in the basement." You sit up now, eyes darting to his figure, trying to keep eye contact and not look down, "holding me like that, kissing me like that? How is that not leading me on, Rob?"

"Kissing you like what? A stupid kid?" He counters and you laugh, rolling your eyes as you lean back on your stool. Captain has now perked up, her head flicking between the two of you as your voices begin to rise in the argument, Lieu still sleeps.

“I’ve never been kissed like that since,” You admit, shame creeping red to your cheeks, “you kissed me so— so fucking memorably that I can’t forget about it! There was something else in that kiss, other than the Tito’s and Hennessy.”

Bob is flushing now, sputtering out words that make no sense for a moment until he takes a breath, “I was drunk, Y/n. A stupid drunk kid who got too far in over his head. It’s been a decade, I barely remember it.”

And if heartbreak is visible, he can definitely see it. Though, you’re not sure why you’re even surprised. You scoff, rolling to face him, “Yeah. It has been a decade. You barely remember me anymore.”

“You never made an effort to stay in touch! How is that my fucking fault?!” he shouts suddenly, making you jump,

“It's not like you did any better!” you counter, puffing up with clear agitation as you scoff again, shifting so you’re tucked in a bit more, “you made out with me and then just dipped out for a decade. Mixed signals if you ask me.”

“I had no idea.” He balks, his eyes were blown wide (though you can’t tell if it’s from the conversation or just the darkness of the barn) he murmurs under the thunder, “God, Y/n, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

You shoot him an incredulous look, “how was I supposed to bring up to my newly Navy best friend, that I had a huge fucking crush on you since the fifth grade but never did anything about it?”

“Wait—“

“No. The damage is done, Floyd.” you hold a hand up to stop him, “we’re done here.”

“Like hell we are!” he says, “now you’re closing yourself off like you’ve done since I left. I wanna reopen this— us, Y/n. We used to be so close and it’s killing me inside to have to walk on eggshells. You’ve always been my ride or die, why did that have to change?”

“It started with my stupid attachment issues and my feelings.” You grit out, “We’re not friends because of me and that’s fine. You probably have new, cool Navy friends who’ll think I’m a stick in the mud. Honestly? You probably haven’t even thought of me these past ten years— just go ahead and leave your best friend in the past, Floyd! I’m sure that’ll be just fucking fine!”

“Phoenix thinks you’re pretty cool,” he starts, “Rooster said if anyone can bring me out of my shell like you do when I talk about you, then you must be sweet as hell. Hangman told me you looked like you could beat him in a fight, which you definitely could. Coyote said he wants to go riding on a trail with you since he hasn’t ridden in quite a few years. Payback and Fanboy wanna try beating you at pool, Maverick bet me twenty dollars he could, but I know you’ll blow them all out of the water.”

You stare at him, unmoved, but blinking, “why do they know about me?”

“I won't shut up about you. Phoenix— my front seater, she complains all the time. In jest, as always, but she always complains about it because she said she needs to meet you before we die.” he sighs, “I almost missed that once and I won’t miss it again.”

“Wait.” You wave a hand, standing now and making your way over to where the lightning’s glow shows the scar on his jaw. You pause, maybe five feet away, “what do you mean you almost missed that…?”

For the first time since he got here, you see the old Robby peek out as he shakily sighs, biting his lips and rocking from foot to foot, “I've almost died a few times, Y/n. It gets scary there, I toe the line every time I get in my jet. I’ve run two missions now with this squadron and every time someone has to save someone’s ass. Phoenix saved mine.”

“Rob—?” Your effort to calm him is lost in his mind. He takes an exaggerated breath as he continues,

“I had to eject during the mission, we got hit by something and Coyote tried to fall back and help but got hit too. Rooster managed to shoot down the remaining jets and SAMs with Hangman but as we were falling, my stupid parachute got me caught in a tree. I slammed my leg into it, broke it in two places, and got stabbed pretty bad by a branch in my shoulder and my jaw.” He wipes a hand across his still rain-slick shoulder and you can see where the scar is in a flicker of lightning, “It was an all-hands-on-deck mission, no one from the carrier could come out and help us right away. I was stuck to this tree in the freezing cold in Canada, afraid I was gonna die from either frostbite or blood loss.”

“Robert—“ you try again. it’s futile.

“They couldn’t cut me down because the tree was too tall, and we had no way to communicate out other than the trackers on our suits. Luckily for me, the cut on my jaw scabbed up pretty quick, but the hole in my shoulder was only being kept closed by the branch stuck in it. They were afraid to move me.” He buries his head in his hands, “I told them my last will and testament, had Phoenix write it down in the notepad she always has on her. I wrote goodbye messages, Y/n.”

“Bob, oh my god.” You can’t help it as you untuck him and bury yourself into his chest as if trying to cave it in so you can slot in to always be there. He laughs, bitter and watery as he wraps his arms around you and whispers.

“I carry a picture of you in my suit for good luck. The one from Prom when we got crowned on stage? I had Coyote climb up and get it from me so you could have it. I didn’t want you to think I hated you when I died.” He hiccups, and it’s like the floodgates open as he starts profusely apologizing and now you feel like an ass for even prodding this conversation out of him. All you can do now is sit and hold him, rubbing his back as he sobs into your grasp.

“I’m so sorry, Robby. I’m so fucking sorry.” You murmur against his skin and he deflates.

"I was grounded for about a year, my leg has two metal rods in it now, and I'm doing so much better, which is why I'm back here before my redeployment." He sniffles keeping his head where it rests on your hairline, "But it was touch and go, according to Phoenix. She'd never been so scared to see me. When I woke up, she yelled at me for scaring her, and then she told me everything about the helicopter ride to the hospital, the way they got me out of the tree. My shoulder was infected for months, and I had to transfer from hospital to hospital until I could make it back to California safely. Do you know what kept me going besides the normal like family bullshit?"

"What?" You whisper, afraid he's going to slip away from your grasp at any moment, fingers tight on his skin, probably leaving small red bruises.

"You." He murmurs, leaning his head down so his cheek caresses your hairline and you can feel the scuff of his stubble on your forehead. You try to not think about it, how Molly would react, or how his Mom would sob. Biting your lip, you curl in a bit tighter, and he slides off the stool, keeping you in his arms, so he can fall back against the wall. Lieu and Captain come up, curling beside you guys as you-- for the first time in almost ten years, share a real, genuine embrace. For the rest of the storm, you two stay there, gently breathing but never breaking your grasp. He probably nods off at one point if his breaths feeling deeper against your cold skin have anything to symbolize. But you won’t move.

A lot can change in a decade, for both of you.

#this chapter hurt me </3 #robert bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #female reader

[elvenbeard]

Tell me more about Identity 😳👁️👁️😳

Thanks so much for asking!!! :D This is the chapter after "Teenagers", still June 10th 2067, and the first time Vince meets Viktor! "Identity" refers to a few things that happen. For example, Vince introduces himself as "V" for the first time, and the purpose of his visit to Viktor is obscuring his real identity to cut ties with his family properly and prevent them from tracking him down. Also, Viktor sets him up with some chrome to support him on his transition:

“That’s good tech, Arasaka,” Viktor said as he noticed Vincent lingering on the piece, “Can’t find a brand that’s more reliable when it comes to cyberware. Should be compatible with what you’ve got going already, has biomonitor-connectivity, too. Notifies you of hormone levels in real time, whenever and if maintenance is needed, and so forth. Also comes in a less flashy version that’s a bit older. But it’s up to you – and your wallet.” Indeed. Vincent hesitated, but deep down he knew he’d already made up his mind. 4,000 eddies though… he knew for a fact he didn’t have that much. Jackie had started to approach them, peering over Vincent’s shoulder at the screen. “Hey, if money’s the only issue here,” he said, making the others’ heads turn. “No, Jackie, I couldn’t accept that…” Vincent said quickly. “I mean, couldn’t extend you the full amount anyway,” Jackie winked, “But hey Vik, I mean, if I vouch for V, could you work out something with instalments maybe?” Viktor scoffed but kept his easy-going demeanor. “Jackie, I like ya and your friend, but I’m not social services. I got bills to pay, too.” “But don’t you have like…” Jackie gestured around, “Dunno, some kinda duty of care, as a doctor and all?” “You mean the Hippocratic oath?” Viktor laughed, “That’s something else entirely.” “No, no, I mean, as a member of the community! Looking out for each other and all, having each other covered!” Jackie insisted, “You’re giving hope to so many people, and for so many more you’re their last resort!” Viktor let out a long sigh. Then he turned back to Vincent. “How much do you have with ya? Cash?” he asked. “Um, yes,” Vincent said, fumbling with his wallet, “600.” “Alright, 100 for the chip, 500 as downpayment for the implant. The rest we’ll figure out once I see you here next time.” “Wait… what?” Vincent once again couldn’t believe he was understanding him right. “Arasaka tech isn’t the easiest to come by at the moment. It’ll take me a few weeks to get this here without raising eyebrows in the wrong places,” Viktor explained, “Until then you’ll have figured out how to pay the rest. We’ll get you set up right for your new life, okay, kid?”

Viktor just is too pure of heart to not help the lost kids in his neighborhood. Also, at this point Misty doesn't have her store yet, and Vik's clinic at that time is elsewhere and a little more dubious even xD But still Vik is the only doctor Vince ever felt somewhat comfortable around, and that means a lot.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vektor #jackie welles #vincent ezaki #my writing #dani-the-goblin #answered asks

[mouthpiece-simp]

I’d love to see some Multislacker x Reader stuff, you make the best headcanons and I don’t see a lot of them for Cathal.

Multislacker x Reader Headcanons

This guy is my guilty pleasure a little bit, I feel like I'm suppose to hate him but he's just got that odd charm to him anyways.

📺You'd been friends with Cathal for a while, and the two of you would usually just watch TV all day. If he was feeling really energetic, Cathal might have a conversation longer than 5 minutes with you.

📺So one day you just casually confess to him and he's too lazy to deal with the fallout of rejecting you {or at least that was his reasoning he gave to you, he actually had a crush on you lol} he decided to start dating you.

📺Your first date? Having a picnic! ...In his little 'office.' What, did you think he'd actually commute somewhere? He's too lazy for that. He was almost too lazy to get off his chair and sit on the floor with you, but you managed to convince him to.

📺Your second date? You played video games together. He only liked the idle games where he didn't have to move his hands around so much.

📺And so on...

📺Cathal always has a sandwich ready for you when you come to visit him that he surprisingly made himself! It's just [meat/meat substitute] and cheese, but it's a nice gesture.

📺Sometimes he also has gifts for you... store bought, of course, since he wouldn't put in the effort to make something. But they're always like really nice and expensive because his dad kinda lets him buy just about whatever he wants.

📺Speaking of the VP, he knows Cathal is dating somebody. He just doesn't know it's a toon... so when he gives his son advice he doesn't realize he's also basically condoning a toon and Cog relationship. Lol.

📺Want literally anything? Cathal will buy it or hire someone to do it for you. New TV, need to move stuff around your house, doesn't matter. He'll throw money around like it's nothing if it means helping you.

📺Cathal's love languages are mostly just spending time together and also a little bit of physical affection, but he's too lazy for anything more than cuddling and kissing.

📺He will fall asleep during cuddles a lot and basically refuses to let go of you while he's asleep.

📺Sometimes he also mumbles random stuff in his sleep. Most recently it was, "I saw a flying mashed potato jellyfish special." He did not know what the flying mashed potato jellyfish special was when he woke up.

📺If you're ever upset about anything, he will erm... come up with his own solutions. Be it greening toons who made you upset or convincing his dad to tell another department head that one of their employees was [insert really bad lie here to get them fired] because they greened you or literally anything in-between, he will come up with some sort of solution to your problems.

📺He definitely doesn't look or seem the type, but. Yeah he doesn't let anyone mess with you because you're special and deserve special treatment.

📺He really wants to spend time with you outside his office, so eventually he agrees to go to your estate... by getting a ride from some goons. He still seems exhausted when he arrives and only wants to sleep while cuddling you. When he finally wakes up, he's too lazy to get out of bed and spends the next several hours just cuddling you until he has to go back to Sellbot HQ {of course, on goon-back ride}. He had a great time though and will make it a periodic occurrence.

📺Your estate is now swarming with goons and Cog security systems that Cathal insisted get installed. Now if someone tried to break into your estate, they'd be dealt with by Cogs...

📺Speaking of Cogs, Sellbots basically refuse to hurt you now because Cathal got a memo out to the Sellbots {except his dad, of course}. But all that chatter among employees about the memo from Mr. Bravecog's son not to harm a specific toon made the VP put two and two together, and well... he didn't know what to think at first. But when he saw how happy his son was with you, he decided to leave the two of you be {he will try to use it as a selling point to the Toon Resistance later, but that's for another time}.

📺Now you basically have free reign over Sellbot HQ because neither you nor the Sellbots care to hurt each other. Cathal would be upset and get his dad involved if his memo wasn't followed, and the VP would be upset with you if you hurt one of his Cogs after they literally ceased fire on you. It makes visiting your boyfriend a LOT easier, though.

📺Give him headpats. He loves it!

📺Overall I just imagine the whole relationship being really chill and laid back where you don't really do anything and everything's peaceful {unless someone upsets you}.

#corporate clash #toontown cogs #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #x reader #multislacker #multislacker x reader #cathal ray toby bravecog #cathal bravecog #cathal bravecog x reader

[ciaossu-imagines]

Day six from the first prompt: graveyard for Eric (K)?

Oh, you really are giving me all the potential for angst here! I love it so much so thank you for sending this in and I hope you’ll enjoy the ficlet!

GRAVEYARD: MY CHARACTER WILL VISIT YOUR CHARACTER’S GRAVE

Eric didn’t attend your funeral. All the other HOMRA members showed up, save for Fujishima, who kept an eye on Eric. It wasn’t that Eric hadn’t loved you…but to attend your funeral? No. No, it wasn’t something he could do. The day of your funeral, he spent his time outside walking. Just walking, not going anywhere in particular. He didn’t eat, didn’t drink anything. Even when it started piss-pouring rain, even when it got dark, Eric just kept walking, his head down, eyes unfocused. He ignored Fujishima’s offer for a ride, he ignored the other man trying to talk to him, like he couldn’t even hear him. And he really couldn’t…not really anyway. How could he, when his whole mind seemed to be blank, when it seemed to be shutting down? It was just too much for him to comprehend and he spent the day of your funeral and the next couple days in a state of shock. Still, Fujishima stayed by his side.

The first week away your funeral, Eric didn’t go visit the grave at all. He couldn’t see it. The other members took turns going to make sure the site was pristine, to make sure the tombstone got installed properly, but one of them still stayed with Eric. Eric, who was staying in your apartment, keeping himself busy cleaning it, cooking meals for two in it and packaging up the left-overs. Eric, who just kept repeating how happy you’d be to have the place so clean for once…how you’d always been so messy and the place was normally a pig-sty, so you’d be happy for his hard work. How you’d be happy to have all that frozen food in the freezer since you’d always been the one person who enjoyed his cooking and how it would save you on takeout for a bit at least. No matter what anyone else said to him, he just kept repeating it, over and over, like a mantra. Like if he just pretended hard enough, just kept going on like you were still living, it would be so. Shouhei stayed with him that whole week, pitching in cleaning and cooking, telling him that two hands were better than one and letting him adjust and cope, even when Shouhei didn’t really understand his behaviour.

The second week after your funeral, Eric found his acceptance at the bottom of a bottle. At the bottom of several, in fact, as he fought to never know  a second of sobriety. He turned violent, angry, shouting at anyone who approached him, picking a fistfight with Kusanagi when the other man tried to cut him off. It was that week that Eric finally stumbled up to your grave, staggering and so drunk that he could barely stand. It was that week that he threw every bottle of booze he’d stuck into his backpack at your grave. It was that week that he trashed your gravesite and the graves around it, acting violently, kicking at things, throwing things, screaming at the top of his lungs at your grave, shouting horrible, nasty filthy things, breaking down and calling you a liar, asking you how the fuck you could break your promise to always be there for him. Kamamoto watched him from the edge of the graveyard, unseen by Eric, and when the younger boy exhausted himself and ended up passing out on the ground, it was Kamamoto who picked him up off the ground and carried him, like a child, back to his truck.

The third week, Eric fixed your gravesite. Dewa pitched in, helping clean up the broken grass, contacting the cemetery about fixing the patches of grass and sod that Eric had churned up, going with Eric to buy flowers. Eric didn’t talk much, at least to Dewa, though sometimes the man heard him speaking to you, though only when Eric thought Dewa wasn’t around. It was always apologies, the guilt clear on the boy’s face as he apologized for what he’d done to your grave, as he apologized for not being there to save you from that car accident, as he apologized for every nasty thing he’d ever said to you…as he apologized for not being good enough to you, for not getting the chance to do the million and one things he’d wanted to with you. Though Dewa wanted nothing more than to tell Eric off for beating himself up over it, he didn’t…he just pretended he didn’t hear the other boy’s words and he stayed with Eric as much as possible. Words weren’t what Eric needed at that time, and Dewa was intelligent and experienced enough to know it.

The fourth week after your funeral, Eric refused to leave your grave. He sat there, day and night, no matter what. He spoke silently to every deity he’d ever heard of, sometimes muttered, and whispered his prayers out loud, promising and bargaining like a man with nothing to lose. If only you could come back, if only it could be made to never happen again, he’d never be mean again. He’d never be rude. He’d behave better. He’d stop drinking and smoking and cussing. He’d be the most god-fearing, holy man…just please…please…he couldn’t do this without you. At times, when he was sure no one else was around, he’d talk to you, and he’d cry for you. The other boys took turns watching over him at nights, took turns bringing him food, even if he seemed to ignore them or pretend they weren’t there.

On the fifth week, Mikoto showed up at your grave. He paid his respect and, as he was leaving, he reached out that great big, warm hand to Eric as he once had before.

“She wouldn’t want this, you know. You need to come home now.”

And once again, Eric took that hand, that hand that led him into a new life.

#event ask #k project #project k #ficlet #eric solt #eric surt

[frary-us]

Despite its initial promising start, Belgravia: The Next Chapter has become something of a muddle, crammed with what feels like a half dozen subplots that don't get the depth they deserve and a narrative that's all too content to use Frederick's abundant (and annoying) Daddy Issues to as the crutch that propels its larger story forward. Thanks to a bloated midsection that seemed content to retread many of the same narrative beats 

— we get it Frederick blames James for all his problems and doesn't trust his wife —the series' final episodes had to rush things in a way that, while fun to watch play out, did a real disservice to the more significant stories of these characters. (Beyond the fact that he is gay, a vicar, and determinedly loves the brother who loathes him, it's safe to say we know almost nothing about James Trenchard.) 

After the dramatic events of last week's episode, which felt like it had roughly four hours of plot crammed into one, the Next Chapter finale has surprisingly fallout. Sure, most of the show's outstanding plot points are wrapped up (shockingly) neatly, but two-thirds of the big, highly anticipated moments take place offscreen. We hear about them afterward, and, as a result, this finale feels more like a book report than anything else. (Which isn't what anyone would call compelling television.) 

There's a tremendous amount of telling instead of showing, as though the show itself assumes its audience already knows everything generally turned out alright in the end, and the finale needs to run down a quick list of how each of those events happened. Almost everyone gets a happy — or at least a satisfactory — ending, but none feels terribly earned. And it's because we don't see any of the emotional work or growth the show claims has been going on behind the scenes. 

......Anyway, Frederick cures his daddy issues by meeting his actual father. Enright's secret letter-writing campaign was to the primarily villainous Bellasis all along. When Enright learns Bellasis is dying, he goes straight to James, and the pair of them convince Frederick that he should meet the father he never knew to get the chance to say goodbye. Frederick does, and Bellasis (in keeping with the episode's apparent theme) says things about being sorry and loving him from a distance, none of which are borne out by behavior he has exhibited in this series or the original Belgravia. But hey, he's dying, so I guess we're meant to be forgiving. (However, he doesn't miss the chance to tell James he's pretty sure he's illegitimate, so at least that tracks.)  

On the plus side, the visit to Bellasis prompts Frederick to finally reevaluate his relationship with his brother, who is still Literally the Best Person in the World. The Next Chapter still skims briskly past their reconciliation; given how fervently Frederick has spent most of this series hating James for made-up reasons or things behind his control, it would have been nice to see something more than the younger Trenchard gracefully being the bigger person for the fifth time. But I guess we can't have everything. 

.....Lots of things happened between the penultimate episode and the finale, including James' recovery from being nearly beaten to death. I guess his blackmailer took all those threats from Fletcher to heart because the good vicar no longer seems afraid of having his sexuality outed to his parishioners. He also let Emily down easy, telling her he is "married to the church" but insisting if he wasn't, boy, he'd sure consider marrying her! (James dodged a bullet here, no matter how unintentionally hilarious his non-breakup breakup speech is.) 

Frederick inherited money from Bellasis but gave it to his brother to distribute to the poor. (Again, the idea that Belgravia decided this character growth is something the audience didn't need to see boggles the mind!) Ellerby got over Clara with a blessed quickness and married his hometown girlfriend, Nell. The pair built a sweet memorial for their lost child, naturally painted by his Bohemian friends.......

#Belgravia: The Next Chapter #BTNC 1x08 #Episode #Recap #Telly Visions #March 2024 #Spoilers #MGM+ #Period Drama #Rev. James Trenchard #Toby Regbo #Frederick Trenchard #Benjamin Wainwright #Clara Dunn Trenchard #Harriet Slater #Review #Truth #Pro-James #Selfless #Anti-Frederick #Blame #What An Idiot #Emily Dunn #Hannah Onslow #Relationships #Gay #Secrets #Pro-Toby #Talented #Fletcher

[scp42069howthefisthisnametaken]

I'm so obsessed with Tango's factory and the power plant design. I know many of the design choices are influenced by block available in modes they are using but it's really amazing call back to XIX and early XX cantury industrial architecture.

Basically when industrial revolution began architecture were really confused how to design new types of building. Never before have they design a train station, a mass production factory or a power plant. In the beginning they start taking inspiration from historical architecture.

Factories were really tricky. They not only had to be functional and somehow safe (even if owners didn't care for workers they rather not have to buy new machines and loss a lot of products every time factory burn down), they also needed to be beautiful. They were often a important of the image of the company, and it's owner, and society was used to important buildings looking a certain way. Designers often took inspiration from churches. A source of energy or main panel to control the electricity was the central point of the building sometimes even place as a "alter" in focul point of the main hall. There were also a lot of big windows inspired by historical styles (you can see similar ones in Tango's design what I absolutely LOVE).

In textile Izraela's Poznański's manufacture in polish city Łódź you can clearly see how the machine are placed next to each other and are taking materials from the celling structure. It really reminds me of the conveyor belts Tango installed and future farm placements he talked about. Also the power is provided from the steam engine placed in the cetral square (?) and it's delivered from the bottom to higher floors.

Machins in Izraela's Poznański's manufacture in Łódź (build 1877-1879).

Interior of energy plant in Księżnym Młynie (1910). (LOOK AT THOSE WINDOWS AND STAIND GLASS AND THE DETAILS OMFG)

Train stations were usually inspired by coach houses (due to similar use), mansions (due to representative nature and usually being the first thing travelers saw while visiting the city) and neo gothical cathedrals. Later engineers modified the "standard" design when more and more safety measures were needed (more space so that if train crashes it won't demange the structure, higher cellings to let steam escape quicker and don't bother passengers and make building dirty) and also provide better experience for passages (adding places to sell tickets, provide shelter from rain, wind and other weather). All of that was beautiful combination of historical forms and new materials. Many of the train stations were breaking world records for being the widest steal structures and were quite literally works of art and engineering.

Great example in Milano Central Train Station.

Also Train Station Abando Indalecio Prieto in Bilbao because it's beautiful and underrated open in 1898. Pay attention to that amazing stain glass window.

And don't get me started on secession style and how IT influenced industrial architecture...

Anyway I love the creator mod smp/series/season 2 and I can't wait for the amazing industrial architecture and steampink vibes.

#really long post I'm so sorry #i just love this topic and time period in architecture #tangotek #create mod #bdubs #gtws #keralis #zedaph #source literally my notes from university and my history of architecture teacher so shut up(but I can provide some if anyone is interested)