#Long Flight (Instrumental)

[ohsharethekmusic]

Song : Long Flight (Instrumental)

Artist : Taeyong

Album {Single} : Long Flight

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion. 

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission. 

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky. 

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely. 

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath. 

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down. 

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble. 

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle. 

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting. 

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.” 

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer? 

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence). 

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture. 

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.” 

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.” 

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502

[nasa]

Tiny BurstCube's Tremendous Travelogue

Meet BurstCube! This shoebox-sized satellite is designed to study the most powerful explosions in the cosmos, called gamma-ray bursts. It detects gamma rays, the highest-energy form of light.

BurstCube may be small, but it had a huge journey to get to space.

First, BurstCube was designed and built at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. Here you can see Julie Cox, an early career engineer, working on BurstCube’s gamma-ray detecting instrument in the Small Satellite Lab at Goddard.

BurstCube is a type of spacecraft called a CubeSat. These tiny missions give early career engineers and scientists the chance to learn about mission development — as well as do cool science!

Then, after assembling the spacecraft, the BurstCube team took it on the road to conduct a bunch of tests to determine how it will operate in space. Here you can see another early career engineer, Kate Gasaway, working on BurstCube at NASA’s Wallops Flight Facility in Virginia.

She and other members of the team used a special facility there to map BurstCube’s magnetic field. This will help them know where the instrument is pointing when it’s in space.

The next stop was back at Goddard, where the team put BurstCube in a vacuum chamber. You can see engineers Franklin Robinson, Elliot Schwartz, and Colton Cohill lowering the lid here. They changed the temperature inside so it was very hot and then very cold. This mimics the conditions BurstCube will experience in space as it orbits in and out of sunlight.

Then, up on a Goddard rooftop, the team — including early career engineer Justin Clavette — tested BurstCube’s GPS. This so-called open-sky test helps ensure the team can locate the satellite once it’s in orbit.

The next big step in BurstCube’s journey was a flight to Houston! The team packed it up in a special case and took it to the airport. Of course, BurstCube got the window seat!

Once in Texas, the BurstCube team joined their partners at Nanoracks (part of Voyager Space) to get their tiny spacecraft ready for launch. They loaded the satellite into a rectangular frame called a deployer, along with another small satellite called SNoOPI (Signals of Opportunity P-band Investigation). The deployer is used to push spacecraft into orbit from the International Space Station.

From Houston, BurstCube traveled to Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Florida, where it launched on SpaceX’s 30th commercial resupply servicing mission on March 21, 2024. BurstCube traveled to the station along with some other small satellites, science experiments, as well as a supply of fresh fruit and coffee for the astronauts.

A few days later, the mission docked at the space station, and the astronauts aboard began unloading all the supplies, including BurstCube!

And finally, on April 18, 2024, BurstCube was released into orbit. The team will spend a month getting the satellite ready to search the skies for gamma-ray bursts. Then finally, after a long journey, this tiny satellite can embark on its big mission!

BurstCube wouldn’t be the spacecraft it is today without the input of many early career engineers and scientists. Are you interested in learning more about how you can participate in a mission like this one? There are opportunities for students in middle and high school as well as college!

Keep up on BurstCube’s journey with NASA Universe on X and Facebook. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tips for writers with ADHD that get major writers block/burnout

Writers with ADHD and Writer's Block/Burnout

Tip #1 - Troubleshoot the Problem - I want to start here, in the most obvious place, because even for writers with ADHD, writer's block is often the result of a specific issue that can be surmounted once identified. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! addresses some of the most common ones. It's worth checking to see if something on there resonates with you as a potential obstacle to progress.

Tip #2 - De-Stress Your Writing Time - Human brains are wired to respond in specific ways to perceived threats... fight, flight, or freeze. Quite often, what we call "writer's block" is actually your brain having a freeze response to writing because it's causing you stress and is therefore perceived as a threat.

So, anything you can do to de-stress your writing time can help. Troubleshooting the problem as in #1 is a good start. Set reasonable goals and deadlines... you can estimate your available writing time and calculate that with your estimated WPM to see if it's even possible for you to hit your word count goal. Go easy on yourself when you don't reach goals... celebrate even the smallest of wins, because negative thinking makes writing more stressful. Do what you can to set up an inviting writing space, light a candle (safely), play soft music, use ambient lighting, have your favorite beverage and snack at hand.

Tip #3 - "Gamify" Your Writing - Turning your writing goals into game achievements can make writing fun, which is another great way to de-stress it. You can usually find free game board templates online, or you can create your own. I like to set mine up like this:

You can set as many tasks as you want (within reason) for each goal, and your prizes can be anything from a handful of candy to buying something you really want, or doing something you really want to do. Whatever works for your budget that motivates you to get the tasks done.

Tip #4 - Do an Immersive Writing Sprint Session - YouTube is a wonderland of helpful videos for writers... not just easily digestible writing advice and research information, but also writing music, ambience rooms, and one of my favorites, immersive writing sessions. These are themed ambience rooms with ambient video, music, and sound effects, but they also have a writing sprint timer on the screen, so you are encouraged to write for however long (usually 10 to 20 minutes), then you get a five or ten-minute break before the next sprint starts. These can be a really great way to get into the zone if you're struggling otherwise.

Tip #5 - Eliminate Distractions - When you have ADHD, pretty much anything can be a distraction. If my desk is messy, I'll pause mid-sentence to clean it rather than write. If there's something on my desk I can fidget with or play with, I'll do that. If my phone is handy, I'll pick it up and start scrolling through social media. If I'm listening to music with words, I'll go look up the lyrics and fall down some weird tangentially related rabbit hole. If I'm hungry or thirsty, I'll get up fifty times to get a small snack or drink. So, I clean my desk ahead of time and remove anything I might be tempted to fiddle with. I only play instrumental music (usually an ambience room). I put my phone on silent or leave it in another room.

Literally anything I can do to head my usual distractions off at the pass. For me, it actually makes a big difference. Try keeping a running list of things that distract you while writing during a week of writing sessions. Then, go through the list and write solutions. This helps you build a pre-writing session distraction elimination routine.

I hope something here will work for you! I may do a part two to this soon, so keep an eye out!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Too stupid to be real

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

There once was a species known as the Ping that held control over several dozen star systems near the outer edges of the known universe.

Under their reign entire worlds were turned into nightmarish hellscapes the likes of which only the mad could dream of and only the dead escape from. The Ping feasted on suffering for nutrients in a process still not fully understood today despite several centuries of research, and so they tortured and mutilated all within their domain.

It took the combined efforts of half a dozen species to finally drive the Ping back to their original homeworld. Countless billions died in the struggle, and twice as many went mad from the horrific images and hallucinations; yet the death like grip of the Ping was broken.

When it came to decide the fate of the Ping there was a heated debate amongst the victors. Half felt that the Ping were too dangerous to be left free and needed to be exterminated, while the other half was hesitant to be swayed by such extreme measures as it would make them no better than those they had fought to overthrow. The debate raged on for several weeks after the final battle until the moderates emerged victorious.

A massive cryogenic vault was constructed on the Ping homeworld and every surviving member of the species was locked within. Inside their cryo tubes the Ping would serve out their sentences until such a time as the rest of the galaxy felt the Ping could be set free into the universe.

To ensure the vault was not breached several different layers of defenses were installed, each created by a different species to ensure that no one member species could enter into the vault unless each agreed. With the security features in place the Ping homeworld was vacated and orbital beacons were placed warning all who came within system that the planet was off limits.

Years turned into decades, decades to centuries, and then millennia passed without a single soul setting foot on the planet. The former victors of the war continued with their lives and managing their new found freedom amongst the stars without the threat of the Ping. Perhaps it was in this new found sense of freedom that they slowly began to forget about the Ping’s existence all together.

Had any of them given the Ping a thought for even a moment one of them could have warned Humanity to stay away; but none did.

When humanity began expanding into the stars they spread out in all directions like lightning in the sky. Their appetite for the new and wondrous universe around them was insatiable. For too long they had known only the confines of their own world and with the coming of space travel they finally saw their chance to explore the stars; which led them to stumbling upon the Ping homeworld.

Where other races would have seen the array of defenses and obstacles blocking the world and turned away, humanity saw a mystery in need of solving.

“A seemingly dead world protected by such wonders?” they thought. “What treasures are hidden here?”

So they dove head first with reckless abandon into the world, ignoring the numerous warning signals that were still being transmitted by the automated systems orbiting the planet in languages they could not understand.

The first expedition hadn’t made it through the first layer of outer atmosphere before colliding into energy barriers. Crengthi shields operated on wave lengths not detectible by human instruments and so the ships were damaged but still capable of space flight.

The second expedition was able to study the shielding and devised a jamming device that would open small holes within the shield to allow ships to pass through. They had just made it into the lower atmosphere when ground based Kentoc automated cannons targeted their vessels and obliterated them.

The third expedition was larger than the previous two by far as the military had seen the results of the ground based weaponry and wanted their scientists to reverse engineer them. A large military contingent was deployed alongside the science vessels and spear headed the landings on the surface.

Once more the Kentoc cannons roared into the heavens but the military ships were able to withstand the barrage. There were still losses and a few of the heavier landing craft were obliterated, but still many more troop carriers landed and dispersed their cargo of soldiers and scientists. It was here that they triggered the Julnu mind madness broadcaster.

Within minutes the humans who had survived to touch the surface of the Ping homeworld were driven mad by visions of such intense horror many gouged out their own eyes to make the nightmares stop. The military leaders still in orbit could only watch in horror as every human on the planet killed each other and then themselves until once more the planet lay silent.

And so it went on for decades on and off again.

Expedition after expedition would be sent to the Ping homeworld building atop the advances made by the previous until succumbing to the world themselves. Sometimes it was the military, other times private corporations, and then eventually even privateers and treasure hunter’s came drawn to the world by the ever growing legend.

The defenses of the world were extensive, but not infinite; and with each expedition they grew thinner and thinner until finally the humans had reached the cryo vault itself. It was here that the other surviving races of the universe who had once imprisoned the Ping received a final warning transmission that the vault was about to be breached.

Historical records were dusted off and it was with great horror that these races knew of what would be unleashed should they fail to keep the humans from the vault. Wars between them all but ceased as their military fleets were rerouted to the Ping homeworld.

When they arrived they were surprised to find there were no longer any humans on the world. In fact, there was not a single living human left in the entire system.

They quickly descended on the world and found that it had been stripped bare of all technology. Energy shields, automated weapons, broadcasting systems; anything of value had been taken by the humans in their relentless pursuit of the mysterious world was claimed as their prize.

Fearing the worst the races rushed deep into the confines of the world for the cryo vault , hoping beyond hope that the humans had not been so foolish as to unleash the most dangerous species the universe had ever known. Scorched and melted, they found the vault doors had been cut through and breached. With weapons drawn and at the ready they advanced into the vault but found something they had not expected.

Every single cryo pod was missing from the vault, but at the entrance of the vault casually tossed off to the side was a massive mound of dead Ping. Each body had a single hole in their forehead from what was most likely a close range human automatic weapon ensuring immediate death. While some of the races breathed a sigh of relief, others were outraged at the casual butchery carried out by the humans and sought answers.

A delegation was sent to the human homeworld to demand answers and answers they were given.

One of the pods had indeed been opened shortly after the vault had been breached and the humans interacted with the Ping for a brief time. It soon became quickly obvious that the Ping were a hostile race as they immediately attempted to kill all of the humans present and free either brethren.

After a two dozen killed soldiers and scientists it was finally brought down when an excavation bot rammed it through the chest and impaled it to the wall of the vault. It bled out screaming in its alien tongue for hours until finally it died.

The leader of the expedition was given instructions to bring back any usable technology, but nothing on what to do if encountering sentient life forms. It had been a general consensus that they had been dealing with the automated defenses of a long dead civilization so it had never been considered.

Taking into account the hostile nature of the Ping, the leader made a judgment call that they could not be safely released back into the universe. Upon the opening of each cryo pod the occupant was summarily executed before they could fully recover and tossed aside while the pod was removed from the chamber.

The gathered alien delegates were dumbfounded by the humans. They had breached one of the most secure locations in the known universe without fully understanding it and had slain the greatest evil of the universe held within, and had moved on to new endeavors as if what they had just done was as interesting as a casual walk in spring.

They worried what would happen the next time the humans became interested in something.

[relenafanel]

As promised, the threadfic from my Twitter/X account. I just copy/pasted all of it, so the flow might feel a little weird due to the word limit and ~dramatic pauses~ you know the drill.

Modern AU - wangxian, classical musician lwj x idol wwx

Secret fanboy!lwj finds out the family connection to idol wwx.

thread ⤵️

______________

Lan Zhan doesn’t use social media often. He has a professional account that he posts his appearance schedules to, where he follows other musicians of his calibre. His cohort will tag him in posts, some of them professional and some of them personal, but he rarely answers.

His professional bio has a link, so he amasses followers anyway. Such is the price of being a famous classical musician.

“It’s because you’re young and hot,” NHS reminds him during an event they’re both obligated to attend when he expresses his disinterest at his 15k followers.

Lan Zhan doesn’t know what being either of those things has to do with his field.

No one is looking at his face when he’s playing music!

👀 <- nhs’s expression in response to that.

It’s late and he’s stuck in an airport. Despite having a set bedtime, he’s not the type to sleep while in public, and the annoyance and disregulation of the flight delay have made it so he’s having trouble focusing on reading. In a rare instance, he ends up scrolling his socials.

Wei Wuxian is trending #1.

Lan Zhan doesn’t know who that is so he ignores it.

“Dizi” is trending #5. Lan Zhan’s eyebrows go up in vague surprise. He’s aware of how little the world cares about traditional music, even if he thinks they’re all wrong. So of course he clicks on it.

The video that opens is of a man playing something slow and upbeat on a dizi. His expression shows that he’s entranced with the music he’s playing and that he’s enjoying himself.

And oh

Oh

He’s beautiful.

It should NOT matter to Lan Zhan. He’s only ever cared about the music. But it matters. It feels like the dizi is being jabbed into his solar plexus with every second the man plays with his lovely face and long, graceful fingers

He finishes the video, surprised to see it’s almost 4 minutes long. The man holds his final note with impressive breath control. Then he laughs, gasping for breath. “It’s been ages since I’ve tried that” he says.

It hits LZ that this isn’t a normal video

Or, it’s far too professional of a set up for most amateur instrument players. Compared to his own v expensive marketing the lighting and sound is 🙌🏻 quality.

Lan Zhan glances down to read the discription to find the man’s name.

Wei Wuxian.

He isn’t clueless about the internet. He realizes that wwx must be someone. Someone big enough to trend #1 and make the word dizi trend at all. He should dismiss it as a lovely moment and move on.

He doesn’t dismiss it.

Instead, he watches it again.

He goes back to trending topics and clicks into the WWX tag.

He watches more videos. He reads comments.

He learns.

By the time his flight boards he's learned:

WWX is an idol turned actor

He's never played the dizi publicly before

His fans aren't shocked to learn he CAN because he typically pulls out random skills from no where

LWJ is SUPER attracted to him.

Before he gets on the plane he likes the video and it feels like a big deal. He stares at it for a moment and thinks about sharing it.

He thinks, and thinks, and ends up feeling like it's too big of a step that would tell all his followers exactly how he feels.

(worse, it would also tell his brother, who sometimes teases him for being young and so disconnected from modern music.)

That should be the end of it. He airport-exhaustion flirts with being attracted to an actor, he rationalizes himself out of it in the cold light of day.

It's not the end of it.

A timeline of lwj's fall into fanboying: 💎he lurks for a week, going video to video/post to post 💎he considers putting wwx's pic as his phone background; doesn't 💎he makes a burner account to like posts so he won't lose them 💎he likes a lot of posts

💎he gets furious when someone says something bad about wwx and thinks about answering; doesn't 💎does 💎does 💎he has RECEIPTS 💎he considers getting a burner phone so his brother can't look over his shoulder so he can save images; doesn't 💎hopelessly thinks wwx is GORGEOUS

has the following convo with LXC: LXC: i see you liked the video of wwx playing the dizi LWJ, ice spreading through his extremities: you have not spoken of him before - is he a friend? LXC: no, he's - nevermind

Maybe the first time he managed to get one over on his nosy brother

It feels thrilling to him, this secret life.

💎He plays the same song on his guqin that wwx played on the dizi and thinks about filming and posting it; doesn't. 💎He goes to see wwx's most recent movie in theatres; hates the experience but enjoys seeing him anyway

💎sees an announcement for a fanmeet out of an auditorium he plays and considers buying a ticket; doesn't 💎regrets; doesn't change his mind 💎on the day of the fanmeet he stays away. he has access - it's a surprising test of wills for him

until he gets called in for a favor

The favor* is to pre-record a short accompaniment on the guqin. It should have been done far in advance, it wasn't. It's very wwx to do something fantastic at the last second. lwj should feel more annoyed by the haste but is instead charmed.

*he is getting paid.

He's standing in the corridor w his guqin when wwx's entourage arrives, walking quickly past.

He looks.

His heart races. His palms sweat.

wwx meets his eyes and smiles, friendly & impersonal.

lwj stands there after he leaves for what feels like a long time but prob isn't.

He thinks about it for days. should he have said something? should he have asked for his ad hoc contract to include 5 minutes of time?

It all seems so impossible. force inserting himself into a moment of wwx's life makes him feel ill.

He wishes.

(he doesn't know)

[time skip]

LXC asks him if he'd be willing to play a few songs at his boyfriend's brother's son's bday party, stresses that he's not the entertainment. He agrees. It's very likely that LXC will force him along to socialize and at least if he's playing he won't need to talk.

The Jins are ostentatious; the party is not.

"friends & family," lxc explains. "JYL's brother is famous. you don't know him."

he WOULDN'T, his brother is right. He doesn't think about the surety of the phrasing until he walks through the door and comes face to face with WWX.

LWJ stills.

WWX pauses mid-sentence and looks at him. "I saw you at the fanmeet," he blurts out, surprised.

Everyone turns to stare at him. His ears flame hot. "I recorded the guqin piece."

He doesn't say how beautiful wwx is in person

"Oh thank you! I know it was so last minute. A lifesaver. A prince!" wwx effuses.

This seems to be a good enough explanation for everyone but LXC who is still staring at him. He feels pleased. His brother can tell.

He bows briefly at the praise.

Later, wwx approaches where he's sitting. "I thought you might like to hear the song."

"I heard it," he says. Wishes he hadn't. wwx was going to play it for him and he spoke without thinking. He knows better.

"Oh, did your management share it?"

"It's online."

It isn't online.

Or, it is online, but only in a certain kind of fan recording.

"You wanted to hear it that badly?"

Yes. It's the cumulation of both their talents. He's never felt that level of impatience in his life. "Yes," he says simply.

"OH!" wwx gasps delighted. "It's so good, isn't it?"

"Mn," he agrees.

"I'm going to release it. Do a concert with me!" WWX asks, shining. "Oh! An album!"

He can't. "I follow you on social media," he tells wwx, tone grave.

"You say that like it's bad. 30 million ppl follow me on social media." He pulls out his phone. Frowns.

"It doesn't say we're mutuals," he shows LWJ.

LWJ pulls out his phone and shows it to WWX.

"A FAN ACCOUNT" WWX crows in delight. "oh my god that's amazing. That's so good. You have to make music with me now that I know you like me. Yes, right? You're going to say yes?"

"Yes."

He doesn't realize until later, when he's home and still reeling from how overwhelming wwx's presence is, that he doesn't have a new follower notification on his main account.

How long has wwx been following him?

"Oh, since you played at [x] Gala two years ago. You were breathtaking. I was a guest." wwx tells him when he finally asks. "You didn't notice?"

"No."

"Haha I asked your brother when I met him and he said you wouldn't." wwx thinks this is the most hilarious thing.

"You notice me now, right gege?" wwx asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

LWJ kisses him.

[fin] 💝💝

(also share on X if you're so inclined. it's been retweeted once at this point and that's v sad 😭😂)

[caesium-55]

—everything is orange. [ iv ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.

masterlist.

Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.

But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.

“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.

“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”

You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.

“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.

“Nice place,” he compliments.

You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.

Lando is saying things out of politeness.

Your studio is shit.

You know that.

It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.

It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.

“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”

“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.

“Ah,” your tone falls flat.

A moment's pause.

“So this is where you’ve been working?”

You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.

Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.

“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”

“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”

“That explains it.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”

It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.

You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.

“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.

“Fake but okay.”

“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”

“No,” you answer.

“Should we grab something together?”

“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.

“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”

“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?

“So?”

“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.

Lando shrugs.

“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”

Your brows furrow.

“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”

“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”

“Huh?”

“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”

Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.

This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.

You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.

“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”

“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”

“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.

“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”

You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.

Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.

“We’re idiots.”

There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.

“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”

You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”

You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.

“We can eat that.”

You raise a brow.

“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”

“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.

“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.

“Tteok.”

“Tteok.”

“Bokki.”

“Bokki.”

“Tteokbokki.”

“Tteokdokki.”

You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”

“I literally said the same thing.”

“You didn't.”

“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.

“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”

You suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.

This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.

“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”

“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”

“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”

His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.

“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”

You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.

When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.

“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”

Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.

You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.

Maybe it's a sign to change careers.

You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.

You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.

The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.

Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.

You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.

“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”

“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”

Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.

“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”

You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.

“What's this place?” Lando questions.

“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”

“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”

“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”

“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”

You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”

You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”

“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”

You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”

“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”

You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.

Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”

“This is an ice cup,” you explain.

“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”

You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”

Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”

You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.

“Cool.”

“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”

You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.

“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”

Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.

The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.

“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”

A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”

You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is it delicious?” he asked.

“Very.”

You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.

“Oh wait, you should post something.”

“Now?”

“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”

“And delete it?”

“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”

Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.

“That one is good.”

“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”

“Blurry is an aesthetic.”

Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”

“I’m not good with them.”

“Me neither.”

“Your first caption was pretty good.”

“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”

That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.

Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.

Your brows furrow.

He laughs, “I’m funny.”

“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”

“So I’m not posting it now?”

“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”

“That's very smart.”

“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.

“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”

You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.

Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Okay. You understand it now.

“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”

You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you echo.

“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.

“I’m trying to be kind.”

“You don't have to try. You already are.”

“The companies make us act sometimes.”

“What?”

“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”

“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.

“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.

Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”

He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.

“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”

He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.

“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”

“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”

“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”

You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.

“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”

“You are,” he agrees seriously.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, confident.

“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.

“You're handsome but you're not my type.”

His smirk falters. You give a chortle.

“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.

You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”

Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.

“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”

“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”

Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.

“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.

“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.

“A few years older than me.”

When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”

By months only but still.

“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”

You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.

“Looks good in red.”

“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”

He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.

“You're not connecting anything.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”

You cannot help but raise an amused brow.

“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”

His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”

You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.

“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”

You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?

“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”

His forehead creases. You nod.

He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?

Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.

You blink at each other.

“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”

“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.

“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.

The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look that good.”

“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.

“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”

“Lies.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's Kim Mingyu.”

“And?”

You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”

You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.

“I’m tall.”

“You’re shorter than him.”

“You're killing me here.”

You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.

“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”

“Damn right, I am.”

You snort.

“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”

When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.

“Sand?” he questions.

“Sand,” you state.

“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.

“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.

“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”

“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.

“What if someone steals them?”

It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.

“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”

The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.

“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.

“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.

“I am palli-ing!”

You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.

Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”

“Lando!” you splash him in his face.

Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.

Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."

He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.

In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.

Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.

"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."

"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."

"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."

"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"

You shrug.

Honestly, you don't know either.

It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.

"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."

You don't want to get mobbed again.

ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.

"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."

Lando's lips form a line.

"I suppose."

"Then, I'll be there."

The song making can wait.

Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.

Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.

Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.

“How's the song coming up?”

“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”

“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”

Strongly suggesting.

Translation: commanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fuck it.

He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.

You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.

Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.

Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.

To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.

“[Name]?”

“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.

“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.

“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.

“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.

“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”

“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”

Your heart warms.

“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”

“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”

“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”

The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.

[headcanonsandmore]

This has been on my mind for a while but I know I'm not the only Whovian who hates the outfits Tegan and Nyssa were lumbered with in season 20 onwards. Most of the remit for them seems to have been "show as much skin as possible so the dads watching can leer at the actors" (they both, along with Peri, got the brunt of these awful costumes).

So, to rectify that (and inspired by @timelordian-disaster-126 's awesome artwork), here are some suggestions for outfit ideas for Tegan and Nyssa that I think would be fun.

Nyssa would probably like dungarees, so a pair of linen or corduroy dungarees are a good idea. Paired with a polka-dot or funky patterned shirt. Bonus points if Nyssa starts adding scientific instruments into the pockets. A pair of sturdy boots (either with a stack heel or no heel) would complement it nicely, plus a long raincoat (think Ms Frizzle by way of the Thirteenth Doctor).

Tegan's season 20 outfit is hated by all of us (Janet Fielding especially) so literally anything would be better. In which case, I think practicality is the best bet for our favourite Australian so a pair of jeans, t-shirt (preferably a plain colour like white or light blue but could be purple to reference the flight attendant uniform) and a plaid shirt (maybe red or a dark blue). It is Important that the plaid shirt be rolled up to the elbows. A leather jacket to complete the outfit but (if cold) could be switched out with a thick woodsman jacket. For footwear, either a pair of sturdy trainers or a good pair of Doc Martins.

Nyssa wearing a roll-neck jumper with a pair of black dungarees (sort-of a reference to her jumpsuit in season 19, but with more of a individual spin on it). Perhaps accesorised with a necklace or some pens stuck into the dungaree front pockets.

If Tegan wants more of a femme-inspired look, perhaps a long skirt with a blue-and-white striped t-shirt (either long or short sleeved). She can also wear a pair of leggings underneath, combined with some nice tennis shoes in a complimenting colour.

Nyssa in a shirt, trousers and waistcoat would be fun, perhaps accesorised with a pocket-watch on a chain. Perhaps with a boater-hat (maybe she found Romana's old one whilst rooting in the TARDIS wardrobe?). She can have a neck-tie (either done up or loosened) or go without, depending on the situation.

Dunno if it's practical for Tegan to wear a tuxedo, but maybe some sort of shirt, trousers and jacket combo. It would work well with her shorter hair in season 20, as well.

Those are my ideas, but what do you all think? Please let me know what ideas you have. :)

[babybatss-blog]

WHEN STARS ALIGN

sirius black x f!reader, 950 words

cw: Sirius has familial issues, crying, mostly just angst.

summary: fate has brought both you and Sirius to the astronomy tower after a rough night. Lucky for you two, you know just the way to comfort each other.

Letting out a deep sigh, you walk promptly towards your dorm. Merlin, you just need a break from all the stress. Between school, friends, and hobbies, you haven’t even had a moment to rest the last couple of days. It feels as if your head is underwater, and just when you break the surface a rough hand pushes you down. And right now is no exception. Bursting through the door, you see your dorm mates chatting on the floor.

“Oh hey hun! Want to join us?” One of the lively girls ask. You politely refuse, then shuffle over to your bed, pulling the curtains around it’s four posts and putting on your headphones to have a moment to yourself. Now that the music is on you close your eyes, letting yourself get pulled away by the rhythmic instruments and soothing vocals. It’s such a comforting thing, music. No matter how soft or loud, it’s there through thick and thin. Unlike your friends, who you can still hear squealing and giggling at jokes despite the volume of your music. You attempt to continue focusing on the music, but the incessant squawks from your friends completely draws you away from it.

With a huff, you get out of bed and march to the door. “Are you okay?” One asks, but you just throw a “yes” over your shoulder to her. All you need right now is some peace and quiet, high above every issue and noise. And you know exactly where to go.

Flights of stairs take you higher and higher and higher, up to the top of the colossal castle. It’s sunset now, so no one would be where your planning to go as it’s only really a night occasion. Therefore, the sight of the extroverted Sirius Black, sitting on the stone is a surprise for your weary eyes.

“Sirius?” You tentatively ask, unsure if he is just a vision from your delirious mind. The boy turns around to face you with those grey eyes that cause you to know certainly this is real. But they don’t glimmer like they usually do, instead they are misty and red behind wet eyelashes.

“Oh… Hey.”

Could he be crying? Surely not, you’ve always known him as such a enigmatic man, coated in an air of mystic and confidence that is unattainable to anyone else. “Hey Sirius. I didn’t expect to see anyone here.” He huffs a chuckle. “Me either.”

“Can I sit with you?” Ignoring your past timidness you poise the question. Why? You don’t know. But the sight of your friend whom doesn’t care about your issues seems like a welcome one, something that could ease your current tension. He nods, so you sit next to him. Against your better judgment, you ask the question weighing heavily in the air. “Are you alright…?” He thinks. Like really thinks. His brows crease and his bottom lip curls inwards at the question, as if he is a toddler asked about quantum physics. “No, not really.” He confesses, looking down at a crumpled piece of paper in his clenched hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Without a second to think, he sighs and hands you the piece of paper. It contains a long, written note, in dark blue ink and swirly cursive writing. It’s from a woman of the name Walburga, who seems to be his mother. But you wouldn’t guess she was if it wasn’t written in the piece, due to the long list of profanities and harsh words she berates him with. It outlines her disappointment in the boy for not appearing at his cousins birthday, and therefore he is a “regret” and “scorn” on the family name.

“Merlin Sirius…” You knew his family were pureblood purists who he doesn’t associate with, but not to this extent. Looking at the boy next to you, who now has tears streaming down his face you cannot believe his strength to put up with this for so many years.

“I don’t want to go back. I can’t go back and see them again I can’t take it” He admits, voice shaking and weak. You envelop him in a hug, his trembling shoulders dissolving in your touch. The two of you sit there for at least half an hour, him crying into your skin and you whispering words of affirmation as you rub his back.

“I’m here for you.” “Your safe.” “I’ve got you.”

After a bit, he calms down. You stroke his hair as he rereads the letter, before ripping it to shreds! “Sirius what are you-?” You start to laugh after realizing what he is doing, before picking up the remnants from the stone floor and throwing them off the balcony, watching them float down to the grass far below. Sirius does the same, before throwing an arm around you and smiling at your face watching the wisps of paper disappearing below.

“Thank you.” He says, more sincere than you have ever heard him before. You look up to his piercing eye contact, smiling at his gorgeous face. “Of course. I wouldn’t want my favourite friend to sit here sulking! “Favourite hey?” He wiggles his eye brows in response. You of course roll your eyes, because there is no way you would let him have the satisfaction of your softness any longer.

“Hey, want to go and steal some cake from the kitchen?” He asks.

“Hell yeah.” You respond.

[mustainegf]

OK. SO.

You edge Kirk b4 he goes on stage, and when he's soloing, the guitar rubs on his still hard cock and he comes from rutting into his guitar, but no one notices cuz his guitar covers it and that's how he usually looks when he's soloing😭😭

some picture references for u... 🐺🦐🦎⛸️🎏

Kenne I swear to god you eat with every req

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐓 ¹⁹⁹³

I stand in the midst of her eventual assault on my poor person, feeling the tidal waves of pleasure soak through every cell and fiber of my body while her velvet smooth hands dance across my pulsating member, teasing me mercilessly to slowly bring me to the edge.

Her touches send rattles through my bones. It makes me squirm under her fingers. My stomach is a bundle of knots, knowing I'll be performing for thousands of screaming fans in a few minutes, but all I can think about is the image of her hand wrapped around my pulsating cock.

A low moan escapes my lips as my hips instinctively buck against her palm. My breath stops as she leans down, taking my length into her warm mouth. She sucks softly at first, then picks up the pace, her tongue gliding around my sensitive head.

It's almost unbearable. I clench onto the shitty couch beneath me, my muscles strained, as waves of pleasure crash over me. With every stroke of her tongue, shocks shoot straight into the core of my being. I'm so close, yet she just won't stop teasing me, knowing when to stop just at the last second.

Just as I'm about to cum, she pulls away with a jerk, so that I give a desperate little pant, begging for more, but she just whispers, "Not yet," the wicked glint in her eye. "Save it for later." With which she stands up and gives me a sultry smile. "Break a leg out there, baby." She blows me a kiss before sashaying to the door, the swaying of her hips seductive.

"Baby, what?! C'mon. you can't be serious. I was so close..." I beg. But she just giggles, shaking her head as she walks out of the room. Left behind, I groan in frustration, my cock still throbbing with heat and need. I slip my hand down to my length, giving myself a few slow strokes to ease the pounding ache.

As I prepare to go on stage, the only thing that crosses my mind is just how good it felt when she touched me. I fiddle with my guitar strap, trying to conceal the bulge that's obvious through my denim.

When we reach the stage, the crowd blares in cheers and claps. There are several thousand faces looking up toward us, awaiting an exceptional performance by us. James, Jason, and Lars were already in position, their instruments at the ready.

But it's just my mind that can't seem to take Flight, but all I can think about is her. The way her fingers shoot across my skin, slippery with my excess pre-cum that she always teased me for. I shift uncomfortably, adjusting my guitar strap once again, praying nobody notices the tent of a bulge in my pants.

I glance over to the other guys as if to ask if they're all thinking about their girl waiting backstage. But then the music reaches out and grabs me, forcing me to switch gears. The opening chords or Creeping Death drop from the air, and in a heartbeat, it's all gone. Now there's only the music that counts.

I play, and my mind draws back to earlier, her hand stroking me off. I can imagine her lips wrapped around me once more, sucking me deep into her throat. The mere thought sends a run of cold shivers down my legs. I miss the chord for a moment.

Damn it! Concentrate, Kirk! I yell at myself in my head. It's just not that simple when all I can really think about is how great she'd made me feel earlier.

The show goes on, and despite my drifting thoughts, I manage to keep my shit together. I play through the pain, the pleasure, the anticipation, and the longing. Each strum of my guitar strings feels like another stroke against my needy cock.

Finally, my solo arrives, and I take one last deep breath, centering myself before launching into the song. As I start playing along, I subtly grind my hips against my guitar to use the instrument for some much-needed relief.

I can almost visualize her backstage, her eyes wide with desire, watching me squirm against my guitar. The image sends me over all the more, carrying me further and higher into the echelons of musical greatness.

My fingers glide fret to fret, pulling out those notes. Beads of sweat begin falling down my face as the adrenaline courses through my veins.

A particularly strong set of chord progressions sends a buzz of ecstasy rippling through me. My hips buck involuntarily, grinding harder against the guitar as I battle to keep control. I know I'm close. I can feel the pressure building, my climax near.

And then, in one swift movement, the guitar slips as i hike it up to my knee for better access for the solo, rubbing against my straining erection just right. The friction proves to be too much to bear, and with a muffled cry, I come apart. Hot spurts of cum coat the inside of my briefs, soaking the fabric. My mouth is wide, eyes clenched I can barely even think straight.

The crowd erupts in wild cheers as I conclude my solo. I just stand there, breathing heavily, my heart racing in my chest, hardly able to move, still returning, covered in sweat. I cannot believe I just came in front of 40,000 people. It takes me a while to collect myself mid-concert until I eventually just did my best to forget the uncomfortable stickiness in my tight black jeans.

Finally, after what felt like years yet still just a few seconds from the same breath, the gig meets its end, and I trudge off stage, wiping the sweat off my face. I find a quiet corner, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. It is then that I notice the wet spot spreading across my pants. Fuck, did she really make me cum that hard?

Just then, she's beside me, an impish grin on her face. "Looks like someone had a little accident out there," she teases, brushing her fingers against the damp fabric. "You, missy, are in trouble," I say severely to her, already hungry for payback.

[biteofcherry]

You were broke. Completely and utterly broke. Student loans were crumbling down in you and your part time job at McDonald's wasn't paying the bills anymore. Your parents had given up on you and wanted you to get married after school but you wanted to go to college and thus there was no familial support.

After a lot of contemplation and swallowing your pride. You took up the offer of your friend and tried to get a sugar daddy. She gave you ticket to a place and luckily for you. The event host took a liking to you. He was the richest of them all but also dangerous. You knew he had some shady businesses in the back and most people feared him because of that as well. But you didn't care, as long as he gave you money.

However, to your horror, you came to know that your ticket was exchanged with another lady and this was not a place to find a sugar daddy, but the host wanted a wife.

You profusely apologized to him and tried to get away but he had made up his mind. He wanted you and he was going to marry you. Whether you wanted it or not.

After all, what could be your needs that won't get fulfilled by marrying a rich man rahte than being his sugar baby? Right?

Katie, don't think I forgot about this little gem you sent me! I read it on my train ride, when you sent it and saved it to properly reply when I return 🩷

I do agree that while it was shocking to find out the mistake, it is quite a promotion. In the good way. You still get to be sugar baby, but called wife and with a ring on your finger and a husband to dote on you. Even if he is intense at times, even if he towers over you and likes to corner you as you still try to rebel against some of his decisions 😎

But you can't help the way your pupils widen and your lips part, when he proves to you that you're most eager to follow his lead not because he spoils you financially, but because he plays your body like a maestro does an instrument.

As well because he's attentive and notices the things about you that many men often ignored, or didn't appreciate.

And he will prove it every day and night on your honeymoon - showing you the most beautiful places; keeping you in luxurious villas and hotels; buying you new wardrobe and jewelry; delighting in the way you enjoy food and treats; and obviously making you scream and sob as he fucks you into compliance...

and has you softly snuggled to him on the flight home, smiling to himself in triumph when you start responding to the flight crew calling you Mrs. Barnes.

[toomanythoughts2]

Dethklok AU where the band takes on attributes from their animal forms after "Dethcarraldo".

Murderface gains a vomeronasal organ and is able to process information through smells. He hates the fact that he can smell a lot better now because he knows more about his bandmates than he necessarily wants to. However, he relishes in the fact that he does have all of this information, because he can use it to be a dick to them better.

Murderface gains the ability to purr. He doesn't know this until Pickles gives him a shoulder rub after practice and he goes off like a flight engine. He's very self conscious about it. They don't hear it again until during the events of AOTD when they give Murderface a hug. He's so loud and his body vibrates so harshly that it shakes the group.

Pickles' dreads become extensions of his hands and are able to hold and pick things up, usually around 10 pounds. He uses it mainly to hold his beers and other instruments when he needs to use his hands. He also uses them for a cool trick on stage to hold his extra drum sticks.

Pickles gains the ability to stay under the water for as long as he wants. He doesn't gain the ability to withstand the pressure though and his body still reacts to being in water for a long period of time. He mainly uses this when he doesn't want to listen to his bandmates in the hot tub and will sink under the water and stay there until they're done.

Toki's hearing increases and he is able to pick up frequencies that no other human can. (Hear over 2 miles away with a range of 96Hz [The tone a CRT television emits while running] to 49,000Hz [high notes that humans physically can't hear].) Problem is that he can't identify each note and a lot of it does hurt his hearing. The ear muffs in AOTD are specially designed to block out a lot of those sound ranges for him specifically.

Toki gains interest in a lot of green foods and eats a lot of leafy type of vegetables in his diet. This does not stop him from loving his candy and he has tried to mix the two together. It has not worked and it is very gross. He keeps trying though.

Nathan is able to stay under the water for longer than a normal human could, around 20 minutes, but he can stay under there for 2 hours if he's resting. Him and Pickles will have body language conversations under the water.

Nathan's biting power increases rapidly, and he can eat through the bone in some of his meals. This ends with him biting his tongue one day and accidently giving himself an importune tongue piercing.

Skwisgaar's eyesight increases and is able to spot minuscule things from far away. (Able to see a mouse a mile away with only the light source from a match.) He uses this to further scrutinize, and adjust, his own guitar playing and the others. Granted, with the new eyesight, he can tell exactly where certain verses are going wrong and fix them immediately. He's also able to see a lot more fans from the stage, specifically ones he wants to invite back to his room. [He's sees you up there in the stand, Grandma!]

Skwisgaar gets claws but he gets them on his feet and hands, which are very annoying and not helpful to his profession. He has to get them professional taken cared of because of how tough the nail is and how fast they grow. The claws can slice through his strings and he can't have that. Toki jokes him for his claws because he says they look like kitty cat claws. Skwisgaar snaps all of his strings in retaliation.

Toki uses his hearing ability to help Knubbler with his engineering. He doesn't always have the words to describe what he's hearing, but its a step up from Knubbler only using his human ears.

Nathan's connection with the whale is stronger when he is in the water, especially if he falls asleep. The message is not as scary under the water but it still intimidates him.

Skwisgaar has wondered if he is able to rotate his head all the way around and has attempted to do so, only for him to hurt his neck. He does not have the ability to turn his head around. However, he does get a tingly sense around the back of his head when something is happening, like spidey senses.

Murderface has been caught more than once making biscuits when he's tired. He can't help it, the feeling is just too good.

Murderface is jealous of Skwisgaar's claws, so he grows his out to appear that he has claws. No one believes him. However, his nails do take on a pointier shape, just not like Skwisgaar's claws.

Pickles has been gifted by fans hundreds and hundreds of "Emotional Flip Octopus" plushies.

[bekolxeram]

Landing on an LAX runway with autopilot is very easy. There's a technology called the Instrument Landing System (ILS). It sends radio signals to guide the aircraft towards the centerline of the runway with the optimal glide path. If the system implemented at a certain airport (like LAX) is precise enough, the plane basically lands itself with very minimum pilot input. You can land the thing without touching anything in 0 visibility, it's great.

These orange antennas at the end of a runway are the ILS localizers.

If for some reason you can't make it to a runway, and the best long flat surface you can reach is a highway, then ILS is completely out of the question. ATC may be able to point you towards the general direction of your make shift runway of choice (thanks ADS-B), but you have to manually line up your plane.

Runways have specific sets of lights to again, guide the pilots. Highways only have street lamps, and they all look the same. How do you point out where to go to a flight simulator trained child prodigy trying to make an emergency landing?

Holy shit, the cars! That's why they're all lit up but empty inside.

[k0libra]

Welcome Captain Anderson and First Officer Connor!

About a week and a half ago I came up with dbh civil aviation au, as I absolutely love jetliners. So I decided to combine both of my interests! :D

More details about the setting are under the cut!

In the 2020s, a new aerospace corporation emerged - “Cyberair”. Originally starting from light jet construction, but later in the 30s they introduced narrow-body aircraft to the production line, as the result of rapid growth and market expansion. However, throughout the years their idea remained the same: “Reliable and comprehensive automation”. Cyberair jets are everything, beyond what a modern aircraft can offer, and is capable of. Truly a creation of the 21st century.

The latest Cyberair venture – state of the art autopilot. Identical to humans in its appearance, yet so different in behaviour. It’s efficient, reliable and doesn’t make mistakes (almost. At least human ones). But to tell the truth, this development is expected – ever since the late 20s Cyberair started to slowly announce machine cabin crew, even gifting a unique RK200 air traffic controller model to the Detroit Metropolitan Airport.

Delta Air Lines received their own one-of-a-kind autopilot, a RK800 (FAA approved!) model. How? Well, something about the Cyberair CEO liking their service. After a few papers signed and a few hands shaken, Connor embarks on his first real flight as a First Officer.

No plane flies without a captain though, so Connor has company. And a superior. Even if machines are better than people in piloting the plane in almost every way, human ego and fear, maybe, can’t let them be in absolute control. “Uncanny valley” or something.

Captain Anderson is a highly experienced senior pilot at Delta. Most of his career he has been flying Airbus aircraft, piloting A350-900 in the later years. Although because of Connor working with him now he has to pilot Cyberair regional or light jets from time to time. Oh, those signed papers be damned… He misses his dear A350.

Their relationship had a rough start, with the captain calling Connor “an attempt of capitalism at stealing my job”. But Hank couldn’t help but warm up to the FO the more flight hours passed. There was something so… alive about him? No, in aviation you only trust your instrument panel, and here all of the facts loudly state that Connor is simply a RK800. This is definitely some Eliza effect shit.

Why is he so interested in the A380 then? Doesn’t he have all of the aeroplane data neatly stored in his head? What surprises Hank more is something akin to confusion on Connor’s face every time he gets overly excited about the giant of the skies. Maybe he’s surprised by his new-found interest, too. At least there’s something Hank can tell him about from the old days (ah, proud A380 pilot) during long transatlantic flights.

Fucking Eliza effect bullshit.

P.S. if you want to leave an ask about this au, please do! I get asks so rarely so I’m excited hahah. But you can ask literally anything else, too lol

[hobeemin]

the union of bacchus

⚜️ genre(s): supernatural, fantasy, greek god au, smut, romance, angst

⚜️ pairing(s): dionysus/artist! xu minghao x (f) oc

⚜️ summary: as the god of wine, you’d think he’d be just as lively. but no, this enigma of an immortal always kept others guessing. that is until he met her. she was more than he anticipated–mortal or otherwise. somehow, she put him under a spell. had he found his equal?

⚜️ rating: 18+

⚜️ warning(s): swearing, drinking excessively, ritual madness*, sensory deprivation, bdsm, soft dom! minghao, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (safe sex folks), exhibitionism, marking, hair pulling, mention of an orgy, mention of depression, break up, anxiety, heartbreak

*ritual madness: maenads (followers of dionysus) would scream and erotically/wildly dance in order to achieve a state of divine madness and ecstasy.

⚜️ word count: 11.3k

⚜️ credits: for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

⚜️ a/n: and a huge thank you to isi @raplinesmoon and aeris @beomcoups for looking this over and beta-reading it for me. I appreciate the feedback and comments 💜 sevn @aaagustd, niah @agustdef, maren @wooahaeproductions, raven @shadowkoofor their encouragement. this is my second svt fic and i was super nervous about it all. thank yall so much 💜✨💜✨

“Are you ready?”

There was a pause before she looked up at the woman and nodded reluctantly. The woman thinned her lips as she held the veil.

“Don’t go through with it if you’re not sure. You have to be willing.”

She turned to her reflection, staring back at her counterpart. This had indeed been a journey. So much had happened within the past month for her to be considered ‘normal’. Was she ready to take this leap of faith?

It was time to give her an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

The veil was clipped to her hair as more ladies assisted her with the garment. The train alone was at least six feet long. The fabric was a golden sheer material, accentuating her shape. It was ethereal. No one could take their eyes off her as she walked down the aisle guided by candles. 

There was no instrumental accompaniment; the hooded figures around chanted softly as she approached the altar. Her eyes lifted as she saw him standing there in all his glory. Power radiated from him, and an aura surrounded him. 

She was almost rendered speechless as she made her way next to him. He stepped down the stairs, holding his hand for her to take. The warmth radiated from his palm, calming her nerves ever so slightly. He gave her an assuring smile that she gratefully returned. 

This wasn’t a mistake. This was where she belonged. He lifted the veil, chuckling softly. 

“You look beautiful, Irie.”

“T-Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to make you my bride. Do you understand what this means? Do you accept?”

Irie’s heart thumped to the sound of the scepters thumping against the ground. The chants grew louder as the figures removed their hoods to reveal countless women watching. Power radiated from the earth in the middle of the bayou. He had chosen her to be his bride. In the vast selection, Irie was to be his.

The question on everyone’s mind was if she would accept.

---

She wrapped her jacket around her body as a slight chill passed through the air. New Orleans, though known for humidity, was unnaturally cool that day. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the sundress, but it was cute. None of her other clothes were going to be wasted on this trip.

So why was she in New Orleans? A simple answer would be that she needed to get away, but she could have gone anywhere: New York City, Los Angeles, Hawaii, Miami…the list was endless. But something drew her to New Orleans. Irie wasn’t sure quite what it was, but as she booked her flight, she didn’t second-guess her choice. 

The sights and smells made her smile as she walked around Jackson Square. The weather did little to sway the tourists and vendors. She stopped by Cafe Du Monde, grabbed a bag of beignets and an iced latte, parked herself on a bench, and people-watched. Street musicians played jazz on buckets and horns. Living statues stood in place, changing their positions slightly—walking tours passed as the guides pointed to historical landmarks. The city was alive and buzzing. 

Irie felt at ease in the midst of it all. Little known to her, she was also being observed. His eyes followed her as she took her seat on the bench. Studying her form, he seemed entranced by her. The subtle movements she made were unlike anything going on around her. While others brustled by, she found her peace in the stillness. 

That intrigued him. And anything that intrigued him was worth getting a closer look. But should he reveal himself so soon? Decisions…decisions. He didn’t want to frighten her or come off strong.

So what to do?

His mood perked up as an idea came to mind. He pulled out his phone and pressed one of the preassigned numbers. It didn’t ring long as he smiled at the voice answering on the other end.

“Did I wake you? Why were you still in bed? No, I don’t really care, to be honest…Then why did I call you? Of course, I needed something. What are friends for?”

He laughed at the response, shaking his head. “I’ll remember that the next time I have a party…anyway can you get here within the hour? I need you to vet someone for me. Yes, again. You know I can’t approach a potential on my own. Against the rules, remember. Great. I’m in Jackson Square. You’ll know who I’m talking about when you’re here. Perfect. Ciao.”

Placing the phone back in his pocket, he made his way down the street, a pep in his step as he came to an art gallery. Stepping inside, a few people looked up, greeting him as he passed. He nodded in their direction, walking towards a door off to the side. Pushing the door open, the office lights flickered as he approached his desk. With a soft grunt, he slumped into his seat.

A knock at the door brought him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw a woman’s face appear in the door opening.

He sat up straight, waving her in. “Is there a problem, Arsinoe?”

“No, no Minghao. The preparations for the exhibition are going smoothly. I just had questions about which pieces you wanted to sell.”

He nodded as she handed him a few sheets of paper. He flipped through them quickly, muttering to himself. “Everything but the Spell installment is available.”

Arsinoe nodded, taking the papers. Minghao closed his eyes briefly until he realized she hadn’t left. He opened his eyes, brow quirking curiously. “Is there anything else?”

She cleared her throat, taking a seat across from him. “Well, now that you mention it. The ladies and I were concerned.”

His lips thinned in annoyance. “Oh, you were? What’s got you so concerned?”

Ah. There it was, that coldness that occasionally came out. Minghao attitude could easily switch at the drop of a hat. 

Arsinoe shifted from one leg to the other. “Well…how are you holding up after getting that message from Zeus?”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted to talk about was that man. There was a lot of unfinished business between father and son that he wasn’t ready to unpack. How do you just ship off your kid to an island to be raised by nymphs? Minghao didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t care for Zeus’s approval. In fact, he managed to wiggle his way onto Olympus just on a whim. They had no idea the magnitude of his actions would rock the very foundation that was the Gods. A demi-god with God status was unheard of ever. 

He was able to charm everyone…well, not all. There was Hera to deal with, but she was a small piece compared to the others.

Minghao focused his attention back on Arsinoe. “I’m not worried about him. He’ll get a response when I feel up to it. For now, my focus is on this exhibition and other matters.”

”Such as?”

”Such as none of your business for the time being,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. “Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”

She waved it off with a smile. “I’ll let it slide. Are we going to have special guests tomorrow night?”

”Possibly. Jeonghan might stop by today,” he answered, stretching from his seat. “I’m gonna head up to the studio for a bit. Just message me if anything comes up.”

Arsinoe nodded, gathering her paper. “Got it, boss.”

He headed up the spiral staircase towards his studio with a wave as Arsinoe watched. Once she heard the door open and close, she exited the office and returned to the gallery.

One woman looked up from her work, calling out to Arsinoe. “Is he alright?”

“I think so, Nysa. We’ll all have to keep an eye on him for now.”

“May the Gods watch over him,” they said in unison.

——

Irie wiped the powdered sugar from her hands and sundress. She sipped the last remnants of her latte and threw the trash away. Stretching her limbs, she looked around, deciding what to do next. A small apothecary on the corner caught her eye as she went down the street. Stepping inside, she was met with smells of spices and herbs. Incense fumes danced around as she peered at the jars on the shelves. 

A particular one caught the corner of her eye. The liquid was bright pink and shimmery under the overhead lights at closer inspection. Irie seemed to gravitate toward it, reaching out to touch it.

”A love potion? Powerful stuff.”

Jumping in surprise, she almost dropped the bottle. The man caught it with ease, lifting the shades off his face and propping them on top of his sandy blonde hair, a playful smile on his face.

She pointed at the bottle, her brow raised in disbelief. “A love potion? Doubt it.”

He shrugged with a chuckle. “Anything’s possible in New Orleans. This city buzzes with magic and mischief.”

Irie snorted. “Magic?”

“Not a believer?”

“More like a realist.”

“Interesting. So what’s a realist doing in the most magically charged place in the United States?”

“I’m minding the business that pays me,” she snapped, staring at him. There was something about him she didn’t like. An aura surrounding him that seemed to repeal her away. Her flight response kicked into high gear.

He gave a slight bow. “I mean no disrespect, chère. In fact, to show I mean no harm, I’d love to invite you to an art exhibit a close friend of mine is hosting.”

With the flick of his wrist, he pulled a card from behind her ear and smiled as he handed it to her. Irie took the card from his fingers gingerly and glanced at it curiously.

“Xu Minghao? The surrealism experience, the ecstasy of the gods?”

“So it’s not the best title of an exhibit, but I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said.

Irie scoffed. “So what do I say when I get there? I’m pretty sure this seems exclusive and invite-only thing.”

He placed his glasses back over his eyes with a chuckle. “Just say Jeonghan sent ya. Take care, Irie.”

She looked up from the card with a start.

“Wait, how did you know my–”

He was gone.

She looked around the store. Besides a few tourists, the strange man had disappeared. How curious. She slipped the card in her purse and continued browsing. The interaction still lingered on her mind. Should she go? The event was happening the next night. It wasn’t like she had many plans. And she did appreciate a good art piece. Why not give it a chance?

---

“She’s cute.”

Minghao looked up from his canvas to see his long-time friend in the doorway. 

“I’m guessing the exchange went smoothly.”

Jeonghan shrugged, walking further into the studio and propping himself on a stool near Minhao. 

“Her name is Irie. She claims to be a realist, or whatever that means, but she’s quick-witted and feisty: all things you like.”

He nodded in agreement, “True. What else did you get from her?””

Jeonghan slightly frowned as he recalled his encounter. “She didn’t go for my usual tactics. I really had to work for it.”

Minghao laughed as he set his palette down on the table. “I like her already.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Don’t get so cocky. I invited her to your exhibit, but don’t get your hopes up if she doesn’t show.”

“Regardless, if she does, I’ll see her again. Miss Realist is attached to this city, and everyone eventually falls into the magic.”

Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head. “I wish you luck.”

“Thanks. Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Maybe. I have to run some errands for the higher-ups. Business as usual. Do you need anything for me to pass along?”

Minghao’s expression turned sour as he rummaged through his oil paints. “No.”

“Very well. Although, your father wants to see you at some point.”

“Pass,” Minghao replied.

It was a long shot, but there was no harm in asking. Jeonghan could sense the stress that request caused his friend. Zeus wasn’t known for being the ‘father of the year’–more like the millennium. The Gods weren’t the best at their parental duties; hell, he spent most of his time cleaning up the messes of various gods to keep the balance.

“Alright, I’ll be back tomorrow night for the exhibit. I’m curious to see if she’ll show.”

“Well, this will show if you still have it.”

Jeonghan laughed as his shoulders shook. “Have I ever led you astray? I always come through for you, buddy.”

Minghao nodded after a moment. “You do. No complaints about that.”

“Excuse me.”

Minghao and Jeonghan looked up to see Arisone.

“Forgive me for the interruption, but it’s time, sir.”

Minghao sighed as he rolled his shoulder. “Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Jeonghan.”

“Take care.”

Minghao wished him well and followed Arsinoe out of the gallery.

“Nysa will close up,” she called, walking down the street.

He didn’t respond; he just walked after her, hands behind his back. The nightlife was beginning to stir around the city. 

Wonderful. 

His appetite was growing with each passing moment. New Orleans was the perfect place for him to plant his roots. He was fortunate to be able to pick a place of his own, unlike his father and uncles. Zeus thought the earth was a part of his domain, but most of the Gods who lived there rarely took him seriously. He watched in amusement as diverse groups roamed Bourbon Street in various states of inebriation. 

“How about that place?”

Minghao glanced in the direction Arsinoe pointed. The band's sultry tones lured in outsiders, including himself. He walked in as the humidity swirled into an embrace. The saxophonist blew out the last few notes as everyone clapped enthusiastically.

He stood near the bar, ordering a drink and watching. The club was packed as everyone danced. Minghao exhaled as he let his influence take over. The atmosphere became hazy. He could see the results immediately. It was enough to make Aphrodite and Eros jealous. However, he’d never admit that aloud; they worked together in tandem at times.

Looking over the rim of his glass, he noticed her. Of all the places, she’d found her way there that night. Sitting in the corner, nursing her drink, she bobbed her head to the beat.

Should he make himself known? After the way Jeonghan described her, he had to hold a conversation with her at least. Sliding through the crowd, he made his way to her, holding his drink out with a smile.

“Great band tonight, don’t you think?”

Irie lifted her brow at the stranger approaching her. Guard up, she gave him her fake smile and nodded.

“Uh-huh.”

Minghao pulled back, noting her icyness. The last thing he wanted was to spook her. 

“Enjoy your night,” he said with a nod, turning his attention to the band. Irie bit her lip, slipping from her chair.

“Hey,” she placed her hand on his forearm. Minghao turned to look at her curiously.

She chuckled nervously. “Sorry. You just can’t be too careful out here with folks. Some people have ill intentions.”

Minghao nodded in understanding. “I get it. I love this town, but some things lurk in the shadows. Stay safe out here.”

A rambunctious group of college males pushed past, knocking Irie into him. She let out a yelp as she almost fell to the ground. Minghao’s quick reflexes caught her quickly, bringing her against his chest. 

Now that she was close to him, she studied his features. Long face, nose, sharp features, cold dark eyes, lean but muscular, red stained lips, slightly puffy. His hair was dark and styled in a mullet. While it wasn’t a trendy style, he pulled it off too well. She shivered as his fingers danced along her side. Even though she was clothed, she felt naked in front of him. 

He was giving her equal attention as she gazed at him. The view was undoubtedly better up close. He could feel her pulse quicken.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Minghao grinned down at her. While she wasn’t considered short by standards, he was taller than she was. His body was lean, but his muscles rippled underneath. He seemed substantial, holding onto her in the dimly lit club. They were so close now she could smell subtle notes of oak, vanilla, and caramel from the bourbon he drank. Along with his cologne, it made her lightheaded.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

Irie gripped his shirt tighter. “Yes. I’d like that.”

The double bass began the first few haunting notes as if on cue. Minghao took the lead, guiding their bodies side to side. Irie let the music roll over her, dropping her guard down as they danced. It was sensual in every way. She rolled her hips against his, making him bite down on his lip. Breathes deepened, and they seemed like they were the only two individuals in the room. 

Somehow, they made it up against the club's worn brick wall. There, Irie decided to push the envelope more. She turned her back to him, pressing her backside against his pelvis. The beat quickened as the horns joined in, accompanied by the drums. A sultry voice wove in with the instrumental, adding to the provocative nature. 

Minghao tried to keep it together. While he enjoyed taking the lead, her pushing her dominance turned him on. It stirred something profound inside him, something he hadn’t felt before. It made him pause momentarily, making Irie turn face him fully. Beads of sweat trickled down her neck and along her clavicle towards the swell of her breasts. 

“Still with me?”

“Never left,” he teased with a smile.

“Good,” she murmured in his ear. “I’d hate not to be the distraction you need.”

“Oh? I thought I was distracting you.”

“It can go both ways,” she purred.

That purr in her voice made him shiver. He pulled her flush against him, both hands placed strategically on the small of her back.

“You want to kiss me,” she stated factfully.

It wasn’t a question–more like a statement.

Damn. She was something else. 

It made his face flush.

“Yes. I-I do.”

Cute.

He was nervous. 

“Then do it,” she urged.

The friction between her legs was becoming too much. Why was her body responding so strongly to his? But she craved it, wanting him to take her in the crowd. Instead, she moved things along, gripping the front of his shirt and bringing his lips down to hers, yet she stopped before they touched. She swiped her tongue across his bottom lip. His nails dug into her back, making her whimper. 

Minghao was losing patience with her teasing, moving one hand down to her backside and grabbing a handful. Their lips finally made contact, teeth clicking as they made out furiously. No one paid them any mind; it wasn’t noticed if they did. Irie pulled away, tugging his bottom lip in between her teeth. Minghao grunted out as the pain quickly transformed into pleasure as she sucked it gently. She released his lip, smiling against him, as her chest heaved.

“Damn, that was–”

“Hot? Alluring? Piquant? Spicy?”

Irie laughed, shaking her head. “A thesaurus of knowledge.”

Minghao laughed along with her. “Not bad for two strangers, huh?”

“I’d say we’re more than well acquainted now.”

“Enough for me to ask your name?”

She poked his cheek, giving him a grin. “I think this certainly earns you the right to know. It’s–”

It seemed as if the oxygen in the room had dissipated. A force dragged her from Minghao’s arms, making her facial expression blank.

Without a word, she walked away from him. Time resumed as if nothing happened. And she was gone. Minghao looked around frantically in a panic. Where had she gone?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Arisone and Erato. Rage filled him as he stormed over to the pair. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

Arisone bowed her head. “I tried to stop her, but it was too late.”

He rounded on Erato with a snarl. “Well?! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Erato held her ground, glaring at him. “Forgive me, but you cannot further your infatuation with that mortal.”

With the snap of his fingers, they were back in his studio. With a glare, he sent Erato up against a wall, knocking the wind out of her.

“The only reason you still stand is because you helped care for me at a young age. Explain yourself.”

She let out a cough. “I-It wasn’t just me. Eros pushed his influence to help. But I had a vision. That woman will end you and all we stand for. She will bring the destruction to what you hold dear.”

Minghao snorted in disbelief. “These are ramblings. Erato, you’ve been ill for some time. You haven't been well since I took my last bride a century ago. Maybe this is too much for you to handle. Maybe I should send you back to stay with Ino.”

She shook her head angrily. “No! No! I belong here. Just keep away from that woman!”

“ENOUGH!”

Minghao glanced over at Arsinoe, giving her a look of contempt. “I hold you responsible, Arsinoe. And to make things right immediately.”

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Leave me.”

Both nymphs bowed before exiting the room. Once they were gone, he let the door slam and walked up to the balcony overlooking the city. The chill of the air was unlike the heat he felt in that club. He could still feel her lips on his, her body heat against him. 

It was like a drug; he needed another fix. No mortal had ever done that to him before. He had his list of lovers throughout time, but they were for but a season or two. Infatuations came and went as quickly as time passed. But this, this was unfamiliar.

Minghao was always so sure of himself; now, he was left alone to figure out his thoughts. 

All he knew was that he had to see her again. 

 ---

The sound of the streetcar horns woke her up. Irie blinked as her vision cleared, looking around the room. What had happened the night before? A sudden wave of nausea hit her as she fell back onto the bed with a groan. Head pounding as a migraine formed, she pulled the covers over her face to block the sun.

What the fuck? Did she drink that much? 

A shower. A shower was needed. Slipping from her bed, Irie closed the curtains so she could take some time to walk into the bathroom. The steam from the shower comforted her as it cleared her head. She wrapped her goddess braids on top of her head before stepping in. As the hot water dripped down her body, her thoughts unclouded. A ripple of emotions hit her at once. She placed her hand on the porcelain to keep her balance. The events of the previous night came flooding back.

That smile, those lips, that dance. Yes, she remembered everything. It happened, and then it was over. Turning off the water, she wrapped herself in a towel and returned to the room. She sat on the bed, deep in thought.

She felt so many emotions: excitement, panic, and maybe even desire. Who was this man? Irie turned to grab the body oil off the dresser and saw the card that the stranger had given her in the apothecary. That exhibit was to be held tonight. She picked it up, twirling it between her fingers.

Something seemed familiar about it. It may be time to find out why.

Irie held the card up to the bouncer. They nodded briefly, sliding to the side to let her through. She walked inside as her jaw slowly dropped. 

This was no ordinary art exhibit. It was a live show of sorts. Aerialists spun from the ceiling with silk fabrics as a quartet played. Wine and champagne poured from fountains as patrons took their fill. Food spilled from the tables around the gallery. It was covered in grapes, pomegranates, and figs. 

The perfect word to describe the environment was hedonism. The extravagance overwhelmed her for a moment.

And yet.

It intrigued her.

A banquet server dressed in a chiton, face covered with a mask, approached her with a tray of drinks. She took one, thanking them, and looked at the art on display. She stood in front of a canvas splattered in an array of colors. The calming blues etched across the sky made her feel wistful.

“Not my best work.”

Irie turned to the right to see him.

Him.

It was him!

Though he gave the impression of being poised, Minghao was a wreck on the inside. Now that she was standing before him, he didn’t know what to do. The god did not like the feeling of uncertainty. He was always so sure of himself and his actions. 

This woman made him second guess. She looked exquisite just standing there. Dressed in a loose blouse, jeans, and heels, it was effortlessly sexy. 

Donned in a black jacket, she noticed the skin peeking out from the zipper being pulled down. He had magenta pants and black boots, and he looked comfortable in his skin. Only someone like him could pull off that outfit.

If only she knew.

Irie felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she stared at him. They weren’t in a dimly lit club now. The spotlights above showed everything. He was ethereal, standing there, almost as if a glow was surrounding him. She averted her gaze, sipping her drink as the memory of their intimate time together returned.

“I believe introductions are in order,” he finally spoke.

She nodded in agreement as he held out his hand. “Xu Minghao. A pleasure to meet you and welcome you to my art gallery.”

Irie took his hand gingerly as he shook it gently. “Irie.”

“Beautiful. But no last name?”

She felt the embarrassment wane as she smiled. “Haven’t earned that yet.”

“Ah, there it is, that spark.”

She smirked, looking around the gallery. “If you’re lucky, you might see more. How about you show me your art pieces, Mr. Xu?”

It rolled off her tongue so eloquently. Minghao bit his lip before a mischievous smile appeared. “Very well.”

They walked around for hours, chatting as he pointed out his favorite pieces to her. Now and then, a patron would rave about his work, gushing praises. He took it in stride, being polite as he could, trying not to appear too bothered by the interruptions. 

He wanted Irie to himself. 

Under the watchful eye, Arisone dictated to the servers, making sure the drinks flowed and the food was plentiful. She kept Erato out of sight for fear of what Minghao would do if he saw her.

However, he was currently enamored with this new lady. She thanked Zeus for whatever brought that woman to him.

He was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Minghao found a quiet spot away from prying eyes and ears so they could talk more. As time went on, his infatuation with her grew deeply. He didn’t want to scare her away so soon. Irie was a breath of fresh air for him. He could have easily probed her mind to her deepest desires, but that wasn’t right. His father did plenty of that with the women he laid with. Minghao wanted this to happen organically.

“So you’re here visiting?”

“Mhmm. A vacation was needed,” she explained. “Most would wonder why I came here alone, but I like it that way.”

“The wandering traveler,” he mused.

“Something like that,” she replied. “Are you an only child?”

Minghao chuckled, shaking his head. “I wish. Unfortunately, my family is relatively large, but I have made my own way. Those close to me who have been there since the beginning, that is my true family.”

He paused, letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

“You’re not what you seem, Minghao,” Irie stated.

“As are you, Irie.”

She shook her head, toying with the cherry in her drink.

“Tell me something I don't know,” she murmured.

“I want to spend the entire night worshiping your body.”

She nearly dropped the glass she was holding. Irie let out a huff to mask her astonishment.

“Seems you got your work cut out for you then.”

“I like a challenge,” Minghao shot back with a smirk. “Though I think I would be correct in knowing you feel the same as I.”

After a moment, Irie nodded, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes wandered around the room at the other people standing around.

“So you consider me a challenge?”

He mulled over the question momentarily. “We’re equally matched, but I'm leaving all decisions to you. You'll decide how this goes from now on. I won't take offense if we leave it as it is now.”

It was tempting. Her curiosity peaked at the possibility of how this night would go. He intrigued her. Most people would jump around the bush trying to get to the point, but not him. He was something different. The aura that surrounded him seemed to leave her in a hazy uncertainty. She wasn't sure whether it was good or bad, but all Irie knew was that she was going through a dry spell, and his lips were tempting to bite. 

The thought alone made her face warm. 

She cleared her throat before finishing her drink and set the glass on the table.

“Let's say I agree to this. What's next for us?”

Minghao smiled, fiddling with his napkin. “Ladies' choice: my place or yours?”

Irie returned the smile, stepping close to him, so close he could smell the sweet remnants of her drink on her lips. 

“Yours.”

What came to pass that evening was nothing Irie had prepared herself to experience.

Minghao opened the door to his home, letting her enter before him. Irie looked around in awe. It was eccentric like him. He owned a townhouse in the French Quarter. Art hung on the walls, each with a purpose to the interior design. She slipped her shoes off, following suit, and wandered further inside. One thing caught her eye. She stepped towards a glass cabinet—two items glittered under the lights. One is a crown wrapped in gold foil ivy and grapes, and the other is a gold staff wrapped in ivy leaves with a pinecone shape on top.

“Like it?”

Irie turned to look at him. He came into the room holding two wine glasses.

“What are they?”

“That’s called a thyrsus; it’s kind of like a wand or scepter.”

“Interesting. Are those ivy and grapes?” 

“Yes,”

“Do you like Greek mythology?”

Minghao shrugged with a smile. “It’s amusing. The stories are entertaining.”

“Dionysus liked grapes, hmm?”

“I believe so. It was more so cause of wine.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

He handed her the glass and led her to the couch. She settled down as the soft cushion engulfed her. Irie let out a sigh, closing her eyes.

“You find it comfortable here?”

She opened her eyes to see Minghao sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “This place complements you and what you are.”

“Oh?” He sipped his wine, savoring the rich grape and currant notes. “What am I exactly?”

Irie leaned on her forearm on the back of the couch, examining him curiously. “I’m not sure, but you’re an enigma. I find that exhilarating.”

“You don’t mince words, Irie.”

“No use in having pretenses.”

“Touché.”

Her wine drained from the glass; Irie licked her lips and set it on the coffee table. She slithered over to Minghao, a smirk on her lips. He smiled, finishing his own as she reached to put it on the table. 

“So.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should continue where we left off that night at that club,” she suggested. Irie straddled his lap as his hands found a place on her waist, guiding her down. The wine still stained his lips, making her yearn to bite.

“That’s not a bad idea. I invite it,” he replied in a husky tone.

Her nails dragged down his chest, toying with the zipper. “I’m glad. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Minghao.”

“Maybe it was the wine,” he teased.

She laughed, tugging the zipper down. “Not at all. I’m just wondering what you meant by worshiping my body all night.”

He pondered it momentarily as his fingers drummed along the skin peeking from under her blouse.

“First, we'll have to set some ground rules.”

“Mmmkay. This isn't one of those NDA things, is it?”

For the first time, Minghao gave a genuine laugh. It made Irie think of summer rain–one of those quiet ones that happened at sunset sprinkled the ground, and cooled the earth.

He shook his head. 

“I’m all about consent and what someone’s kink preferences are.”

Irie nodded, following along with him. “Okay. Well, this might sound strange, so I’m not sure how to word it.”

Minghao urged her on with a soft smile. “Try. It’s okay.”

Irie nibbled on her bottom lip, trying not to squirm too much in his lap–he was trying not to get distracted by it.

”I’ve always been fascinated with being the dominant one in the bedroom. Choking and tying up. Being more of a giver than a taker,” she explained.

”Choking and typing up are good. Would you be open to marking?” he inquired.

Irie looked down at him, tilting her head. “I’ll be honest. I’ve wanted to since last night.”

Minghao felt a flutter in his core from her words. He gulped softly, trying to keep his pulse steady.

“What are your hard nos?”

”Bodily fluids and anything near my rear,” she answered.

He nodded. “Okay. Those are mine as well. Overstimulation and exhibitionism are also things I enjoy.”

Irie tapped her chin. “Good. Safeword?”

”How do you feel about the traffic light system? Red, yellow, and green?”

 “Fine with me.”

His hips lifted, making contact with hers, causing her to moan softly. Suddenly, he flipped their positions, her back pressing against the couch cushions. He took her wrists, placing them above her head.

“Keep these here for now, please.”

She bobbed her head, feeling that intoxicating feeling return. He was meticulous with his actions. His touches were with purpose, only adding to her pleasure. Settling between her legs, he leaned in, lips ghosting her neck. Irie gripped his back, her breathing heavy.

“What's your color, Irie?”

“G-Green.”

He looked into her eyes, smiled, and kissed down her chest, taking his time to touch any skin, all the while helping her undress. Reaching her jeans, he tugged on the band playfully before unbuttoning them. Irie lifted her hips, assisting him as he pulled them down and tossed them aside.  She laid before him only in her lingerie. The air conditioning caused goosebumps to form on her skin. He seemed under a spell looking at her on the couch. Was it possible she could have been a goddess, too? 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Irie felt the heat rise in her cheeks, avoiding his gaze.

”No, I want you to keep your eyes on me while I taste you, Irie.” Minghao looped his arms around her legs, pinning her hips to the couch.

He slipped her panties to the side, noticing her wetness collecting over her pussy lips. He blew softly, making her whimper as she tried to squirm away, but couldn’t far with her legs being held by his arms. His tongue flicked out, tasting her essence. He found her clit with ease, already swollen from her arousal. Fingers instantly went into his hair, pushing his face further down. Irie grinded on his lips as he took his fill. His hand reached up and massaged her breasts, caressing each one and rubbing her nipples softly. As they hardened under his hands, Minghao pulled lightly on her nipples. His eyes never left hers. Hearing Irie's noises only made him lick faster, and eventually, Minghao slid two of his fingers deep within. Irie threw her head back as curses flowed from her lips. 

His fingers and tongue moved in tandem, taking her to heights unknown. A sheen covered Irie's body as the pleasure became almost unbearable. She gritted her teeth, rutting against his mouth and fingers, searching for that sweet release. 

“It’s okay, love, you can let go,” he urged.

That was all she needed. Her eyes squeezed shut as if wave after wave slammed her body. Minghao moaned, feeling her muscles clench around his digits. He watched in fascination at her orgasm, arousal trickling down her thighs, coating his fingers. He lapped it all, cleaning her with care, coming up to sit next to her as she shook from the impact, letting her rest in his lap while she caught her breath. Irie nuzzled against him, kissing along his neck.

“From how that happened, I thought you’d be out for a while,” he observed.

“Hardly,” she murmured against his skin. “That was just an appetizer.”

She gripped his hair, tugging it back as he hissed. Straddling him from her position, her lips and teeth covered every inch of his skin, leaving red and purple angry marks in her wake. He tried to grip her waist, but she jerked his head back, smirking.

“Nope. Keep your hands to yourself. Understand?”

Minghao's Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, giving her a noise of cooperation. She set to work undressing him down until he sat there in his boxer briefs. She noticed his erection straining against his underwear. Her nails scratched down his chest, over his thigh, ghosting over his cock. It twitched in anticipation as she kneeled before him.

“I’ve barely touched you,” she remarked.

He bit his lip, trying to move under her. “G-Gonna tease me all night?”

“Maybe. It’s fun to watch you writhe under me.” 

Her breath tickled his cock, making Minghao wriggle. She chuckled to herself in amusement before giving him tiny kitten licks around the head and shaft. She moaned, tasting him on her tongue–sweet with a slightly salty aftertaste. Nevertheless, it was delicious, and she craved more. With one fell swoop, Irie engulfed him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. The lewd sounds that followed were music to Minghao’s ears. His hands scrambled into her hair, pulling it up in a ponytail to assist her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

His sounds of encouragement only pushed her further. She deepthroated him, reaching up to massage his balls between her hands. Eyes watery and mouth stretched, she continued her movements, wanting nothing more to make him feel good. He was in complete bliss. He would have folded already if it weren’t for his god-like abilities. Still, he didn’t want to waste any of it going down her throat. This was something he needed to fill her with. He tugged at her braids gently as she let his cock pop out her mouth, covered in saliva and cum. 

“Y-You’re amazing,” he cooed.

Grinning, she wiped her mouth, giving his cock a final kiss before rising to straddle him once again.

Irie gave him a quick peck before leaning close to his ear. “I’m not done with you yet by any means. I want to be bouncing on that cock.”

Minghao reached down, pulling his underwear down, shaft slapping against his abdomen. His fingers wrapped around Irie’s throat, putting slight pressure on it. 

“Take a ride, love.”

Haziness filled her eyes as she situated herself hovering over his cock. The head coated with precum, she slid down with ease, stretching her. They both exhaled at him being buried deep within her. His hand never left her throat, giving it another squeeze. She took that as a sign to begin stroking him slowly, her hands anchored on his shoulders as she sped up.

Irie ached for another release. She quivered each time she came down on him, moaning out, frustrated with the need to cum. Minghao used his other free hand to wrap around her waist helping her move, wanting to feel her more. The knot in her abdomen loosened as she trembled above him. Through gritted teeth, Minghao knew he wouldn’t last long. 

“F-Fuck. Cum for me, love.”

Releasing her throat, he teased her clit, flicking against it for added sensation until she unraveled above him. The silent cry racked her body as she convulsed on him. Her cunt gripped him like a vice. Minghao held onto her so she wouldn't topple off the couch. The grip on him was just too much as he pulsed inside.

“Need to cum, love.”

“I-Inside,” she rasped.

He stilled his movements as he groaned, painting her insides white—their bodies jolting from the aftermath. 

After a few moments, he moved their positions to lying on the couch. He gently brushed the braids off her face. She opened her eyes and cuddled up against him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she whispered back, suddenly feeling very shy in front of him. 

“Would you like some water?”

“I’d like that.”

He nodded, unraveling himself from her arms, and placed a blanket around her shoulders before walking into the kitchen. She could hear him rummaging around the kitchen and emerging with two glasses of ice water. He handed her one before sitting beside her. Irie sipped her water, letting it coat her vocal cords. It helped make the cloudiness clear from her head. After drinking half the glass, she set it down near the wine glasses.

Minghao set his glass down so she could curl up against him. 

“Not getting sleepy on me, are you?”

Irie fought back to hold the yawn, threatening to spill out. “Hardly.”

The following day, Irie woke up to the sound of running water. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw two women standing in the bedroom, cleaning up the place. With her eyebrow raised, she sat up, covering her body with the sheet. The woman noticed she had woken up and stopped cleaning.

He chuckled mischievously, sliding his hand down to her backside, and gave it a generous squeeze. “Good cause we’ve only just begun.”

---

“Good morning, Irie.”

“You know my name?”

“Minghao told us to ensure you were comfortable while you stayed here.”

Irie blinked a few times, staring at them. “Who are you?”

The woman with waist-length black hair pulled into a braid and smiled. “I’m Eriphia. This is Ambrosia,” she pointed to the other woman with coppery-tinted curls.

“You work for Minghao?”

“Yes. We’ve drawn a hot bath for you to relax in. What would you like for breakfast?”

Ambrosia walked over to hand her a silk robe. Irie stood, a bit self-conscious in her current state. Both women made no remarks nor changed their facial expressions as she stood to put on the robe. Eriphia led her to the luxury bathroom, where the sizeable freestanding tub sat in the middle. Steam rose from the water as lavender sprigs floated on the surface. Irie removed her robe, and Eriphia took it and hung it on a hook.

“If you need anything, just call for Ambrosia. I’ll be getting your breakfast together.”

Irie nodded as she stepped into the water. The heat soothed her muscles as she lay against the neck pillow. She was sore, but in the best way. Thinking about the previous night's activities, she couldn't help but smile. Minghao was an attentive partner…maybe even a lover. Who knew?

She was curious about his whereabouts, though. Leaving her alone with these women seemed strange, but at least they made her feel welcome in his home. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been soaking in the tub until Ambrosia held a large fluffy towel. Irie stepped out, wrapping the towel around her body.

“Your clothes are being laundered, but we have something for you to wear in the bedroom,” Eriphia explained before walking out.

Irie walked into the bedroom, quite surprised at how clean everything was. The bed was made up, the clothing spurned across the floor gone, and the candles were removed. It looked as if the previous night had been erased.

She dressed quickly, styling her braids into an updo, and went to the kitchen. Eriphia was putting down a place setting at the table. 

“That outfit looks good on you.”

“Oh, thank you,” she answered, sitting at the table. 

Ambrosia and Eriphia bought the plates in trays and placed them in front of Irie. As they lifted the lids, she pointed out the various things on the plates.

“That is eggs rossini–poached eggs on top of a foie gras mousse crostini, accompanied with a beef filet, Madeira hollandaise sauce, smoked salmon with the toppings, pain au chocolat, and fresh fruit coated in honey. We have fresh squeezed orange juice, but I’ve got French-pressed coffee if you prefer that as well, and mimosas or Bloody Marys.”

Irie’s eyes rounded to circles. Decadent wasn’t even close to what was laid out for her. What kind of man was this Minghao?

“The orange juice is perfect, thank you,” she replied as she took her fork from the linen napkin.

Ambrosia bowed. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast. Bon appétit.” 

Irie looked down in wonderment. Where would she start?

“The eggs rossini are the best.”

She jumped with a start and saw Minghao standing in the doorway, eating a few slices of mango. Smiling, he cut another piece off with a paring knife. 

How could something so mundane come off as incredibly attractive? 

Irie blinked a few moments, trying to fight off that hazy feeling returning. Then he walked over and sat beside her, still working on his mango. 

“Did you sleep well? Were they helpful?”

“The ladies?”

“Yes”

Irie nodded, using her fork to cut into the eggs. “They were great. Thank you.”

“I wanted you to be comfortable and feel welcomed.”

Irie shot him a glance, letting out a huff. “Do you treat all your one-night stands like this?”

Minghao raised his brow, returning a huff of his own. “No. Any other inquiries you wanna know?”

Well damn. 

Irie concentrated on eating her breakfast as she let his words marinate. He wasn’t like any person she had ever met. Who would go through such an elaborate gesture for someone they had only met a few nights ago? He did nothing but confuse her more and more. There was only one way to find out.

“So how does this end?”

He had finished his mango and poured himself some French press coffee. He’d been stirring sugar into his cup as she spoke her concerns.

Satisfied, he took a sip to check the sweetness level and met her gaze.

“How do you want this to end? Remember. I did say you would decide how this went.”

“I understand, but I shouldn’t be the only one making these decisions. If it was only one night, I can respectfully say it was amazing, and I wouldn’t have any regrets if it ended right now. I don’t like being toyed with, Minghao.”

“Is that how you feel? That I’ve toyed with you?”

She set her fork down, leaning back in her chair, and stared at the ceiling. “No, you’ve been great, respectful, and decent. It’s just that–”

“You don’t want to get your hopes up,” he finished.

She nodded, quite embarrassed to have the mood changed.

He got up, holding out his hand. Irie glanced at it and then up to him before taking it.

He kissed her knuckles, rubbing them gently under his thumbs. “Irie, I like you. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. I wasn’t open to getting hurt again either.”

He noticed her expression, and his anxiety rose. “That was a lot to unpack. I know we just met, but y-you make me feel…I don’t know…inspired again.”

Irie sighed softly, letting it all sink in. “I-I like you too, Minghao. And it scares me how much I have this pull towards you.”

He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her lips gently. “We can take things slow if you like. I’m in no rush.”

She felt the calm wash over her as his lips pressed to hers again. “Neither am I. But Minghao, I’m not from here–”

“We’ll cross that bridge eventually. I wanna show you something.”

She nodded as he smiled, took her hand, and walked up the stairs. They went past his room and headed towards the end of the hall. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. 

The natural light filled the room, almost blinding her, but her eyes adjusted as she looked around. Half-finished paintings and sculptures littered the room in an organized chaos. He stood by the door, watching her look around.

“I’ve never let anyone in here before, but I wanted you to see this side of me. I know you saw the art in the gallery, but this is my personal work.”

“It’s beautiful, Minghao,” she murmured.

“Would you ever let me paint you?”

She turned to him in surprise. “You wanna paint me? Like a portrait?”

“Not as formal, but yes, I’d love to.”

“I’d like that,” she answered with a smile.

They spent the rest of the day enjoying themselves, talking, and getting to know each other better. Minghao learned about her childhood and where she was raised. Like him, she came from a large family and wasn’t close with most of her siblings–he could relate. From music to food to pet peeves, they better understood each other. 

Was it possible he’d fallen for her?

Was it too soon to tell?

But he was sure there was something deeper there than just the carnal cravings. He wanted nothing more than to protect Irie.

And yet.

Something nagged the back of his mind. How would she react to his otherworldliness? He often watched the other Gods get into tragedy after tragedy when it came to love. He had heartbreaks to heal from in the past.

“Don’t move.”

Irie sighed heavily as she lay on the chaise. One hand propped over her head as her braids cascaded down the cushions, and the other rested on her hip. She was nude from the neck down as a sheet was strategically placed over her lower half. 

“My arm is itchy,” she pouted.

He glanced up from his sketch, hand moving with the charcoal. “Give me a second. I’ll come to scratch it for you.”

It felt like an eternity, but he rose and walked over to alleviate the itch. Irie sighed in contentment, closing her eyes. Minghao dragged his hand down, leaving light touches over her stomach. Irie opened her eyes and began to laugh.

“Minghao! I’m ticklish!”

“Good.”

Grinning, he started tickling her sides, making her cackle as she tried to squirm away. 

“M-Minghao,” she gasped.

He released his hold, sitting back on the chaise lounge. Irie caught her breath and tackled him playfully. His hands wrapped around her, bringing her down on top of him. She kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip.

“Guess you’re not finishing the sketch.”

He moaned, dragging his nails along her back. “I’ll finish it later. This is better.”

She kissed his neck slowly. “I agree.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the heat rise, but willed himself to pause her movements. 

“Irie?”

She looked at him in concern. They had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. She’d even decided to extend her vacation. It wasn’t hard to do. She had enough vacation time to cover a few months if she wanted to. Was he ending things? The thought flashed in her mind, making her worry. Things had been going so well. But there was one thing Irie hated: when people didn’t get to the point. 

“Yes, Minghao?”

She waited for the ball to drop.

“I need to show you something.”

What?

She looked at him curiously.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Irie’s lips pulled downward. “I really don’t like surprises.”

He exhaled slowly, trying to find the right words. “It will explain who I am, who I truly am. I care about you, and I don’t want to have any secrets between us.”

“Okay.”

He smiled, running his hands through her hair. “Thank you.”

She leaned into his touch. “When is this happening?”

“Tonight. We’re taking a short trip to a rural part of Louisiana. That’s all I’ll reveal.”

Her head jerked up, giving him a strange stare. “I don’t like the word rural.”

He kissed her forehead. “I promise it’s just the outdoors. Nothing more.”

Little did Irie know what waited for her that night.

---

“What is this place?”

The trip was only an hour outside the city, near the swamps of Baton Rouge. Irie tried not to look concerned as Minghao guided her through the brush. At night, the sounds of the forest came alive. She squeezed his hand as branches snapped around her. He kissed her cheek, and all her worries melted away.

“I own some land here,” he explained. “Before I moved to New Orleans, I preferred the quiet of the forests and the swamps. I’ve always felt calm being in nature. There is so much power that comes from the land.”

As they got closer, Irie could hear drums. The beat matched the sound of her own heart. She could see a large fire situated in the middle of the clearing. People standing around were dancing, drinking, and eating.

“Is this a party?”

“Kind of,” he answered before stepping into the clearing with her. Everyone turned to him and cheered, bowing low.

 With closer inspection, everyone was dressed similarly to his art exhibit. Masks adorned the majority of the crowd. She noticed Ambrosia and Eriphia as they approached one another, one of whom Minghao identified as Arsinoe. 

“Welcome to the Bacchanalia.”

Irie glanced at Minghao to the women. “The what?”

“It’s a celebration. A time to let loose and lower your inhibitions.”

“So it’s a rave?”

Minghao snorted, shaking his head. “Better than a rave. First impressions?”

Irie looked around the clearing, still taking it all in. “It’s interesting.”

Ambrosia walked over to her, holding out a drink. “This will help, but you don’t have to participate.”

She stared at the liquid in the goblet. “What is it?”

“Black wine made from black cherries, blackberries, and grapes. Minghao’s recipe.”

She took a sip, and the tartness made the inside of her cheeks tingle. An unknown sensation coursed through her body, and she felt like floating. She giggled, handing the goblet to Minghao as he sipped. He passed the goblet back to Arsinoe, pulling Irie flush against him.

“And so it begins.”

It was like that night they met at that club. Time seemed to slow down as everyone gave in to the enchantment. The music grew louder as everyone undressed slowly in the clearing. Not a care was given. Irie and Minghao were in their own world. Nothing mattered to them. At one point, he had her up against a tree trunk, legs wrapped around his waist. They undressed quickly, and grunts filled the air. His hips snapped in rhythm, making her dig her nails into his shoulders. Somehow, he got more of the wine, pouring it down her breasts and licked a trail along the curvature. She was in absolute bliss, not wanting it to end. 

She would have noticed everyone’s pupils turn black if her mind had been clear. The animalistic instincts had overcome the people. But she didn’t care. She only was focused on the man whose cock was buried in her pussy. He took her to heights unknown, the overstimulation making her dizzy as he changed their positions, setting them on the ground as she bounced on his cock with fevered movements. Minghao covered every inch of her body with kisses and touches, wanting to be closer to her.

“F-Fuck Irie…L-Like that, you feel so good, baby.”

“M-Minghao, I’m so close.”

He sat up, gripping her hair as she hissed. 

“Do it. I’ll fill you up. Do it, please.”

The grip around his shaft nearly made him cry out. He throbbed, stilling his movements as shockwaves passed through their bodies. Irie cried out, holding onto him as their bodies trembled from the impact. Minghao kissed her lips slowly as both collapsed in the grass as exhaustion swept over.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Irie’s eyes fluttered open when she saw Minghao lying next to her. The cloud had lifted over the clearing. She tried to sit up as the throbbing in her head returned. She groaned, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples.

“What the hell happened last night?” she murmured through her hands, trying to hide from the sun.

Minghao cradled her head in his lap, taking over to massage her temples. She sighed deeply as there was instant relief.

“What do you think happened?”

“Most of it seems like a dream or somewhere in between that sleep and awake time. I saw dancing and drinking. And sex. There was a lot of sex. It felt so raw and free,” she rambled on.

Minghao nodded. “You’re not wrong. Everything you witnessed happened. It was what some call ritual madness. It’s a state followers get into when in the presence of a god.”

Irie snorted in disbelief. “A god? They don’t exist. Those are myths told in school.”

He paused his touches, looking down at her. “You really believe that?”

“I believe what I can see and touch,” Irie replied. She laughed, returning his gaze, taken back by his expression. “Don’t tell me you believe in those things.”

“Irie–”

“Minghao,” she sat up, looking at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Nothing like that exists.”

Suddenly, his skin glowed a golden bronze as an ivy crown appeared on his head and the staff in his hand.

“Holy shit!”

Irie jumped back, almost tripping over her feet. Minghao sighed as he returned to his original form. “You see now. So you believe?”

“What the fuck are you?!”

“Surely you must know. There’s been subtle hints since I met you, Irie.”

She shook like a leaf. Everything she denied made sense.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“You’re a Greek God.”

“Yes, I’m Dionysus, and I’ve fallen in love with you, Irie.”

Oh damn.

She felt her body go numb.

“Minghao–”

“I know. I’m shocked to hear me say it, too. But it’s true. I’ve fallen for you. I don’t know what it is, but you have taken my doubts about love and devotion and turned them on my head. The last thing I want to do is scare you away. I don’t want this to seem like I’m love-bombing you. What I feel is real, Irie. I can’t go another day knowing if you’ll leave my life.”

Her lips trembled as she looked down. There was so much to take in, yet she felt the same. Never had she understood what love at first sight meant, but on that fateful night, their lives were intertwined in fate. 

He held out his hands for her, and she took them. He noticed the way she shivered.

“I’m terrified of how much I feel for you,” she whispered. 

“I am, too.”

He rubbed his thumb against her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers. “Would you be mine and I yours?”

She met his gaze, pressing her lips in a soft kiss. “I do.”

---

A month later, she walked down an aisle toward this ethereal man who had stolen her heart.

She turned to her reflection, staring back at her counterpart. This had indeed been a journey. So much had happened within the past month for her to be considered ‘normal’. Was she ready to take this leap of faith?

It was time to give her an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

The veil was clipped to her hair as more ladies assisted her with the garment. The train alone was at least six feet long. The fabric was a golden sheer material, accentuating her shape. It was ethereal. No one could take their eyes off her as she walked down the aisle guided by candles. 

There was no instrumental accompaniment; the hooded figures around chanted softly as she approached the altar. Her eyes lifted as she saw him standing there in all his glory. Power radiated from him, and an aura surrounded him. 

She was almost rendered speechless as she made her way next to him. He stepped down the stairs, holding his hand for her to take. The warmth radiated from his palm, calming her nerves ever so slightly. He gave her an assuring smile that she gratefully returned. 

This wasn’t a mistake. This was where she belonged. He lifted the veil, chuckling softly. 

“You look beautiful, Irie.”

“T-Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to make you my bride. Do you understand what this means? Do you accept it?”

Irie’s heart thumped to the sound of the scepters thumping against the ground. The chants grew louder as the figures removed their hoods to reveal countless women watching. Power radiated from the earth in the middle of the bayou. He had chosen her to be his bride. In the vast selection, Irie was to be his.

“I-I can’t,” she blurted out.

The crowd paused, staring between her and Minghao. She felt the grip on his hands tightened as she tried to pull away.

“Are you serious?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

Irie bit her lip, looking away from his gaze. 

“I can’t do this, Minghao. We can’t do this.”

“Why? We love each other, don’t we?” he questioned.

“Because I’m a horrible person,” her voice quavered as she snatched her hands away from his, turning her back to him.

MInghao felt his throat tighten as he stared at her. Irie balled her fists as she began to walk down the stairs.

Don’t go!

He wanted to shout to the heavens for her. Each time he tried to speak, his throat jerked back, making it hard for him to speak.

As Arinsoe tried to grab her, Minghao held his hand up, stopping her.

Irie ran out of the room, disappearing from view. Bromis rounded on him, sweeping her arms around angrily. 

“You’re just going to let her go?!”

Minghao’s lips thinned as he felt the rage flow through him. “Know your place, Bromis.”

She growled, shaking her head. “With all due respect–”

“I don’t care. Leave me.”

Arinsoe tried to reach out to him, only for him to avoid any touch. “Minghao–”

“I said leave me,” he ordered.

She knew that tone. It was final. She nodded curtly, gesturing for everyone to go. “You heard him. Everyone leave, now.”

---

The next few days that passed left Minghao in a deep state of depression. He never left the darkness of his room, denying anyone to see him, even Jeonghan. He refused to eat or drink, locking himself in his studio at all hours of the day.

Arsinoe couldn’t bear to watch him suffer like before. Things had to be set right.

She found Irie walking along the riverwalk, watching the cruise ships enter the port. 

“He’s a wreck, you know.” 

Irie, startled by her entrance, almost fell from her spot.’

“Why are you here, Arsinoe?”

“You know why.”

“I’m not playing these games with you. I made my decision. I couldn’t do it,” she expressed plainly.

“Bullshit. You love him. You’re just afraid to admit it to yourself,” Arsinoe snapped back.

“I’m not gonna sit here and take any verbal assault from you or anyone associated with him,” she hissed, getting up from her seat.

“You would have left the city if you really felt that way,” Arsinoe called to her back, “But you’re still here. You both deserve second chances at this. I’ve seen him at his lowest of lows. I raised him. Did you know that? Despite all the odds, that man is a fighter, and he fell in love with you, Irie. Why are you so scared to admit it to yourself?”

Irie fought back the tears, biting the inside of her cheek. It was too real. This was too real for her. She stared at the water as waves rippled from the ships.

”I’m used to being on my own. Disappointment was just a part of my life. Things got too real that night, and I panicked. It’s easier to close my heart than to anticipate the pain that comes later.”

Arsinoe listened to her carefully. She gave a small, sad smile, shaking her head.

”You’re a lot more like him than you realize. There’s love there. You both need to be willing to let the other in.”

Irie reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, but I’ve burned that bridge even if I could.”

Shaking her head, she turned and walked away. Arsinoe sighed profoundly, watching as Irie walked away, looking at the river's ebb and flow.

—-

Minghao eventually emerged from his room. It took some coaxing, but he went outside for a walk around the town. It was a small victory for the Maenads, but nonetheless, he was getting outside once more. As he turned the corner at Jackson Square, he nearly ran into Irie. They leaped back in shock, staring at each other.

“What–”

“Ambrosia said you’d be going on a walk today,” she replied.

“Oh.”

She fidgeted in her spot, switching her weight from one leg to the next. “Would you like to talk?”

“I’d like that.”

They found a quiet cafe off the main road, settling on an outdoor table. After ordering their drinks, the silence felt so thick between them. Though his heart ached, he decided to speak.

“I didn’t think you would still be here.”

“Minghao–”

“As much as I hurt, I could never hate you, Irie. I blame myself for falling so hard I couldn’t see anything around me.”

She winced at the words. “We both were fools in love caught up in this whirlwind. I-I realized I cared so much for you that it felt like we didn’t know what we were getting into. I mean, for goodness sake. You’re a god! The pressure of knowing that knowledge was terrifying!”

He frowned slightly. “I know. I’m sorry; I should have eased you into it more, but I can’t help but feel that way. I still want you, Irie.”

“I-I want you too, Minghao. But where do we go from here?”

He exited his seat, kneeling before her, hands covering hers. “Can we start over? I want to do things right. I swear I want to be the best person for you, Irie. You deserve that and so much more.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Minghao wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

“We really are so messed up.”

He chuckled with a nod. “We are, but look at my life. It’s nothing but messed up. You make it bearable.”

He pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you, Irie.”

“I love you too, Minghao.”

She pulled away, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “So because you’re a god, that means by association, I'm like a goddess, right?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Remember, we’re taking things slow.”

She scoffed, giving him a poke at his forehead. “Fine, but when the time comes, I get to choose my own thing.”

“Wouldn’t have any other way,” he promised and sealed it with a kiss. 

[harrysfolklore]

since sarah n mitch are taking a break from the band, could you write a blurb abt babysitter!y/n?? like did she stay home or is she still on tour w harry??

nanny on tour

i really really really hope you like this ! let me know your thoughts

BABYSITTER!YN MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Life couldn’t get any better for YN and Harry at the moment.

Even though they just celebrated their first anniversary together a few months ago, it felt like their relationship had been going strong for years, deciding to move in together after Harry’s Los Angeles residencies were done with the promise of a bright future.

However, not everything had been easy for them and they had to face a big challenge for their relationship in the middle of Harry's NYC residencies, when they had a pregnancy scare.

"Okay, let's not panic," Harry said when YN told him about her period being late after many days of feeling sick, taking her hand in his. "We'll figure this out together."

And they did.

After being by her side when she took the pregnancy tests that came out negative, he promised her that it would´t change their relationship, it would only make it stronger.

And now they were on their shared Los Angeles home where they were staying for a few days before embarking on the next leg of Love On Tour; Australia, New Zealand and Asia.

Harry was excited to say the least, not only because he was finally going back to playing for those crowds, but also because YN was finally going to be able to actually attend the shows, since Sarah and Mitch decided to step back from the tour life for a moment and focus on their baby son.

"I can't believe you're finally going on the road as my girlfriend and not Mitch and Sarah's nanny." Harry said as he watched her throw stuff on her suitcase from the bed, they were catching their flight to Australia early in the morning.

"I'm excited," YN told him, a small smile showing, "I'll finally have the full Love On Tour experience, huh?"

"And then some." he replied with a smirk on his face, and YN's packing up was long forgotten as he pulled her to the bed with him.

The next morning, they woke up early and headed to the airport to catch their flight to the first stop on the tour, Perth. As they arrived at their hotel, Harry watched as YN's eyes widened in amazement at the sights and sounds of the bustling city. They spent the day exploring together, trying new foods and taking in the local culture.

As Harry prepared for his first show, YN watched in awe as he rehearsed with his bandmates. It was a part of the show she rarely got to see since she was on the road working, and as she watched him command the stage and do what he enjoyed the most, she felt herself falling even more in love with him.

When the time to get dressed for the show finally came, Harry's nerves about YN being in the crowd and watching the show for the first time kicked in.

"You're going to be amazing out there," YN said, taking his hand in hers.

"I hope so, I don't want to disappoint you." Harry replied, his nerves still getting the better of him.

"Come on, how on earth could you disappoint me, lovie? You're Harry Styles, that's like, impossible" YN tenderly said, rolling her eyes with affection.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at her words. Even though he was one of the biggest stars in the world, YN had a way of making him feel like a regular guy, and that was one of the things that made him fall for her.

"I'm just a guy with a guitar," Harry said, pointing to his instrument.

"And an incredible voice, and cool outfits, and a nice arse too" YN added, standing up and walking over to him, making him laugh and pull her closer.

"I'm going to miss you while you're on stage," YN spoke again, her voice soft and sweet, making Harry melt, "But this time, I'll be right here when you get off stage and not all the way back in the hotel."

Harry instantly smiled at her words, excitement taking over her body, "I'm going to miss you too," he pulled her close and gave her a kiss, "I'll be thinking of you the whole time," Harry said, his forehead pressed against hers.

"Go make me proud, rockstar." and with a final kiss to her lips, Harry was ready to take stage

That night, YN stood in the crowd as Harry performed for thousands of fans. She felt a sense of pride and admiration wash over her as she watched him sing his heart out on stage for the first time as his girlfriend. When the show was done, Harry rushed backstage where YN was waiting for him, held her tightly in his arms.

"I'm so happy you're here with me, Nanny." he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm happy to be here," YN replied, smiling up at him. "I can't wait to see what other adventures we'll have together on this tour."

As they headed to the next city, Harry felt a sense of excitement and contentment wash over him. He knew that having YN by his side on this journey would make everything even more special, and he was grateful for every moment they had together.

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