#Oh yeah and they don't tell you your apartment number until the day you move in so I genuinely have no idea where I'm going :)

[starscreamingg]

My college is like Yeah you should be able to fit everything you're bringing to residence in a single taxi and if you even think about needing more than a single matchbox of items brother you can just die :)

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GLAD I AM THAT YOUR WRITE FOR SPTO THANK YOUUUU

UGH okay, my craziness aside; could you try “I think I’m in love with you” with Matthew Patel? It doesn’t matter who says it, I jsut think it’d be adorable (I adore that funky theatre punk so so much <3)

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!

"Do it!"

"Come on, Lord Matthew!"

"We're getting impatient.."

"Maybe we'll go in and tell them ourselves-"

"Ladies, that's enough! I will tell them myself...i-in a minute. First, I need to rehearse what I'm going to say..I can't mess this up."

The demon hipster chicks could only stare at their master with blank expressions, knowing damn well that he was stalling the inevitable:

That being his confession to you.

You two go back as far as middle school, with you being the first friend he ever made who didn't mind his weirdness or mystical powers. Plus, you shared his admiration for the theater and dramatics when he started obsessing over those, becoming his number one supporter.

Until now, Matthew never thought he'd fall for you like he did Ramona. But he feared rejection, ridicule, or worse--the relationship being extremely short-lived and him never getting to experience a "true love's kiss".

Once was painful enough.

He couldn't go through that again.

Of course, his demon hipster chicks knew all about this and the months he's spent pining after you. As much as they didn't like you "stealing" away his attention...they realized you made their master genuinely happy.

And above everything else, they wanted him to be happy.

So they were thrilled when he summoned them, seeing that they were at the doorstep to your apartment and squealing upon noticing the giftbox he had for you.

Finally, he seemed ready to move on from Ramona.

Yet....he had spent ten solid minutes pacing along the floor and trying to hype himself up, his confidence totally shot, before he eventually stopped in front of your door again.

"Okay, I got it! Erm..."Roses are red, violets are--" no, that's stupid. It's too cliche! Everybody uses that!" Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else. ""Hey, would you like to be the Romeo to my Juliet--" ohh, what am I saying?! That's not romantic!! That would mean our relationship could end in tragedy...UGH!!"

"Don't overthink it, my lord." One of the demons whispered to him. "Just tell them how you feel."

"....it can't be that simple, can it?"

"....."

"..alright. I'll take your advice. I'm going for it." With a nervous swallow, he bowed his head and raised a hand to knock at the door-

Only for it to swing open, causing him to freeze in-place and look up to see you on the other side. He quickly hid both hands behind his back, hoping you didn't see the gift. "H-Hi.."

"Oh hey, Matty. Hey, girls." You smiled, looking past him and waving to the demons. But as your gaze shifted back to his, you wondered why he seemed extremely nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"

"..yeah. Just..wanted to see how you were doing." Pink was starting to dust his cheeks. "Did you uh...know I was going to come visit?"

"Um...yeah? You texted me earlier."

"......"

"And I saw you outside my window and figured you forgot the spare key."

"Shit..did I?" Matthew checked his coat pockets, feeling more embarrassed to know he forgot such a simple thing. All because he couldn't stop thinking about you. "I guess I did forget.......how about I go get it?"

You blinked in confusion. "Huh? But you're-"

"I'll be back, I swear-?!!"

The second he tried to run away, two of the demons grabbed a hold of his arms, dragging him into your apartment, while the other two guarded the door it in case he attempted another escape. He yelled in outrage, putting up a bit of struggle before they let go.

At this point, he was seething red, prepared to yell at them for their betrayal and the humiliation it brought upon him...

But they just winked and disappeared, the last one wishing him luck.

Of course.

"I can't believe it! The nerve of those-"

"What was that all about? You're acting kinda..odd, Matthew." Raising an eyebrow, you sat down on your sofa, having no clue why the man in front of you looked so flustered.

"I....have something I need to say." He decided to sit beside you, sighing heavily. "[Y/n], I think....I..I..."

"Yes?"

"...I-I think I'm in love with you!" Finally blurting it out, he closed his eyes and handed you the box, too afraid to see your expression. "I know it's sudden but..you've always been there for me. Ever since I found my passion for theater. Ever since Ramona dumped me...you were by my side. A-And I feel like I took that for granted. I thought I only wanted revenge against those who wronged me....but no. I want something better. I want love...and I want to be yours. So please...let me prove that I can be a good boyfriend and not evil!"

Part of him wanted to curl up and die as he continued babbling on and on about his feelings, thinking about the hundreds of other ways he could have done this.

He could flawlessly play the role of a love interest in a musical or play and move the audience to tears so effortlessly. But off-stage, he felt like a bumbling lovesick idiot who isn't making any sense to his crush..

There's no way you could love him back.

Not after seeing him like this.

Yet after feeling the box being removed from his hands, Matthew bravely opened his eyes, watching as you took out the black and red roses he put inside it. The thorns have been clipped off, allowing you to twirl the stems in your fingers for a moment or two.

Then you looked at him with the brightest of smiles, laughing softly. "Of course you'd give me roses, you dork. That's so....you." You set them aside before moving closer, taking his hands into yours. "I'm trusting you to uphold that promise."

His heart was soaring.

He must definitely be dreaming right now.

"S-So...it's a yes?"

You chuckled, nodding. "Yes. And...I promise to be with you for longer than a week."

That got him choked up. He couldn't say anything else in that moment, as his only response was pulling you into a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

Thank god he didn't ruin this.

You just smiled and held him close, relieved that he finally decided to try loving again. When he calmed down enough to look back up into your eyes, that's when you both decided to go for the kiss--just in case he had any more doubts in his mind.

And there were sparks galore.

[totaly-obsessed]

Unexpected Meetings

Alessia Russo x reader fic

-> The reader forgets Alessia's team bonding and bursts into the room, her teammates don't know about the reader

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Alessia had been at the Arsenal Women’s Football Club for about three weeks now. She was settling in nicely. The girls were welcoming and happy to have her, most of them already familiar with each other in one way or the other.

Every Friday there was a team bonding session, those were quite helpful for the new girls to get to know the team and form friendships. The blonde had offered a movie night at her place for this week's ‘Team Date’ as she liked to call them.

None of the girls had been around to her place after the move. It was her family and Ella who helped her move. Oh – and you of course! Being the striker’s girlfriend of just shy of two years you were living with her. So, it was not only the blonde's move, but yours as well, being offered a position as a teacher at one of London’s many schools. It could not have been more perfect.

You knew that the girls were going to be at your apartment, you really did. A co-worker of yours, a quick new friend offering you a place to stay for the night. But somehow, you forgot.

The girls were arriving at your apartment, one after the other, getting comfortable on the large couch Alessia had insisted on buying as you moved in. The floor in front of the TV had been covered with a mattress as well as a mountain of blankets and pillows.

“Less this place is incredible. Just look at your kitchen, man!” Beth was in awe of the apartment. To be fair you had put a lot into making it as comfortable and homey as possible for the both of you.

“Yeah w- I am really happy with it.” With a deep blush, she was hoping, that no one noticed the deep blush on her face. And no one did – except the ever so attentive Leah Williamson.

“It is quite big though Less. Don’t you get lonely?” The Italian sputtered out some weird response about getting a dog to fill the void.

“Where is your bathroom then Russo?” Katie had been suspecting nothing to this point, but it was in the bathroom, where she noticed it. Two toothbrushes, towel sets, and bathrobes. Upon further inspection, she noticed the many shoes in the cabinet, many of them with heels and a lot smaller than the sneakers that undoubtedly belonged to her teammate.

The brunette saw Alessia’s gaze, wary of her wandering around her apartment. Then her eyes fell to Leah who had a subtle smirk on her face. “Oy, Viccy! Change with me, would ya?”

And just like that McCabe had gotten what she wanted, leaning close to Leah. “When do ya reckon she’ll tell us?”

The blonde shrugged. Carefully she pushed aside the fringe that had fallen into her eyes, once again. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile: You have had a shit night. The school was holding a teacher conference until late in the evening wanting to discuss changes in the school. You had not even been there for longer than three weeks and you were already starting fights with misogynistic, homophobic, old, white men.

With all of that still fresh on your mind, you could not wait to tell Lessi everything. The footballer understood that you did not need or want solutions, you needed someone to be angry with you and still hold you when you cried.

And she could do that incredibly well.

In a hurry you threw the apartment door open, it was freezing outside and you could not wait to fall into bed with your girlfriend. How you did not notice the massive number of shoes in your hallway, you still do not understand to this day.

It was quiet, aside from a movie blaring from the TV. Alessia liked her movies and shows, always having something on in the background. “Less! You won’t believe what happened, baby!”

Hastily you threw your coat onto the bench, stumbling over one of your own shoes. The woman in question shot up in her position on the couch, as did every other woman in the room, looking at her with wide eyes, but keeping quiet.

“That old twat Mister Grimm, or whatever-“ you were out of breath stumbling over your words, still loaded with anger, “said, that it is ‘okay for boys to slack off but girls need to work even harder’.”

An angry huff could be heard from the hallway, where you were fighting with your scarf, not finding the way out of it. “And he wants the girls' grading to be harsher, because ‘boys need more concentration to pay attention than the girls’”, while Alessia couldn’t see you yet, she could imagine the air quotes you were inevitably doing – her teammates were quite amused by your annoyance, but interested nonetheless.

“What does that even mean? How can someone be so-“ By that point you had wandered into the living room, at least twenty women were looking at you.

Fuck.

You had forgotten Alessia’s team night. “

Less I am so sorry.” The blonde however wasn’t even mad (or surprised).

“It’s fine baby, I wanted to introduce you to them anyways – just made it easier.” She stood up, hugging you close to her. “C’mon Russo! Don’t be shy, give ya missus a kiss!” It was Katie who found her words first, wanting to embarrass the Italian.

But Alessia was not as bashful as expected, and instead pulled you into a bruising, passionate kiss – her teammates cheering in the background, hollering at the two of you. After pulling away, because you were still out of breath due to your ranting, she mumbled a quick “I missed ya, amore.”

Now it started to sink in, the reality of standing in front of the entirety of the Arsenal girls, who didn’t even know you existed up until now. Alessia however was beaming next to you, swaying your joined hands between you. “Guys, this is my girlfriend. Baby, these are my teammates.” 

“Hi. Nice to meet you guys.”

It was silent for a second, but it was Caitlyn who started the conversation – “So what did that Mister Grimm say?”

Just hours later Alessia could not help but smile – you were cuddled on top of her, in a deep conversation with Lotte, next to her, about some book both of you had read.

This day could not have been better if she tried. She was home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44.331 others

alessiarusso99: Team-Bonding Movie Night style!

[hoiststowline]

mercy's shore

ratchet x female!reader

originally posted on my ao3 here!

"What is the point of having your number if you never pick up the fragging phone?" Startled, your hold on the device wavers as you yank it away from your ear, his volume loud and displeased. "I've been trying to contact you all damn morning, where have you been?" 

His grouchiness overlays his concern, but it's not as heavy as it normally is, bearable to a wide extent. "Sorry. I got caught up with something, but I have a free minute. What's up?"

Ratchet sputters, and his engine revs theatrically in the background alerting you that he's driving, likely on the way to your house. "Oh, you can spare me a minute?" That may not have been the best sentence to say, even in your delirious state. "And you got 'caught up with something?' y/n, that is probably the poorest excuse I've ever heard, and trust me, I've heard it all." 

Your nose wrinkles, carefully surveying your options in the next reply you dare provide. It would appear no matter what you said unless it was the plain truth, it would not satisfy the doctor. "I...can I try again?" It comes out eventually, meek and stifled with exhaustion alongside a bout of attempted humor. 

"Can you what?!" Wrong choice slapping you profoundly in the face, the phone moves apart from your ear as he shouts. "Did you hit your head? What the scrap is the matter with you?" 

Sighing, you stand off the couch, hesitantly bringing the phone back to your ear, achy joints expecting his anger to flare once more. "It's been a long day," You start, pausing in case he decides to interject. "I was sleeping when you called, I really am sorry."

"It is only two in the afternoon," It's quieter, but still overmuch alarmed. "And sleeping? This isn't like you. I know your schedule very well, you don't take your 'naps' at this time of day." The fact that Ratchet claims to know your schedule is amusing, but you don't have the energy to tease him for the sentiment. 

"I was-" You move around the furniture, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. "I was tired, Ratch. I didn't get much sleep last night." Part of you questioned if divulging the medic was the best idea, for he would only insist upon checking you over and monitoring your symptoms if he found any. 

"And why is that? Assignments, or work-related activities?" Unable to remember the last time you felt such fatigue, the only thing you wanted at this very moment was to go back to sleep, alone, in a dark room. "It better not have been to watch garbage on television." 

"That doesn't matter." You start, knowing what comes next. 

"It does." Going to argue back, you spin to the window in the kitchen as the tell-tale sound of a truck coming down the road reaches your ears. "Open the garage, now. I'm outside."

Groaning, the line clicks dead, leaving no option available to defend the idea that you were fine. You could hide, and claim you weren't home, but you know he's seen your car in the driveway already, and he wouldn't leave until he saw you. With dread, you watch the red and white ambulance pull onto the pavement, radiating the vibe that you were really in for it this afternoon. 

"Hi Ratchet," Your palm hits the button that opens the garage door, exasperation filling your tone as he pulls inside. "So kind of you to say you were dropping by."

"Hush up, I've just about had it with your nonsense." He doesn't mean it, because he wouldn't be here if he did. "If you run and lock yourself inside like last time, I will throw something at you." 

The idea had crossed your mind, but you knew it was all in vain, even if you did try such an escape. "Yeah, okay. I'll just remember to wash you with paint stripper next time around." 

"That is not funny." His passenger-side door pops open, impatience showing clear as day. "Get in y/n. And it's not a request." 

Your hand squeezes into a fist, but relents, knowing you were at the end of a losing battle. "Fine. Can I go get my bag, at least?"

As if he was anticipating you to quarrel with him, Ratchet begins his sentence without thinking. "I just said-!" When he processes your words, his voice box spatters, followed by an ex-vent. "Very well. But don't try anything, I'll be waiting." 

You disappear back through the interior garage door, back into your kitchen, and out of Ratchet's line of sight. In his initial investigation, your outward appearance seemed normal, with no obvious signs of trauma or injury. Still, you did have an aura of distress and melancholy, even if you were bickering with him habitually. Ratchet reviews his options, mindful of what he understood was the best solution to your long day, and after a few kliks pass, you return to the garage, bag on your shoulder as you close the door over behind you. 

"Told you I'd be right back," Shuffling around the ambulance, you step up into his cabin, sliding into the seat as the door swings shut. 

"I have validation for my wariness." His center console blinks as he speaks. "If you must sleep, go ahead. I'll be quiet."

"I'm good," Head tilting back, you're met with the soft beige of the headrest, and seatbelt clicking over your waist. "I'm sure you'll give me a run for my money when we get back to the base, so I'll sleep after." 

"You're lucky that I don't understand that idiom, or I'd probably leave you on the side of the road." Another jab he has no intention of following through with. "Are you going to discuss then why you are so exhausted? And don't give me the scrap about how you didn't sleep well. I know that. I want to know what was keeping you up."

The urge to scream at him 'You aren't my doctor' is nearly irresistible. You physically have to bite your lip, staring out the window with declination in your body language, but you have to take a step back to confront the larger picture. Ratchet hardly ever left the base, and it appears this journey was made entirely on your behalf, but the reason you felt so coddled and overwhelmed was because he was demonstrating compassion the only way he knew how. Ratchet was a worrier at heart, and him coming out here because he couldn't get ahold of you made guilt settle in the bottom of your stomach. 

"I know you're not ignoring me, y/n." His voice is flat as the seat nudges your back. "You're on such thin ice, I-"

"I'm sorry." It comes out a bit more warble than you intend, watching as his rearview mirror tilts downwards to look at you. "I was up all night overthinking. My brain was going a hundred miles a minute, I-" Your voice hitches, swallowing down a sob that rises in your throat. "You were only trying to help. I'm sorry." 

Ratchet doesn't reply immediately, but the mirror doesn't move from its position. Eventually, he ex-vents, and you can picture him hanging his helm in a defeated manner, unsure of what he could possibly say to make you feel better. 

"I should have just told you." You say quietly, looking back out the window. "It really has been a long day, but I'm okay now, Ratch. I swear, I would never lie to you."

"I know that." It's insistent, but he cannot get the image of you near tears out of his processor. "I would still like to review your vitals back on base, just to make sure you truly are fine."

A soft smile crawls onto your rosy cheeks, nodding twice. "Sure, if it'll give you better piece of mind."

"You're going to be the death of me yet, y/n." Your window rolls down halfway, enjoying the breeze that hits your face. "Would you rest better at the base, or shall I take you back home after the evaluation?" 

"Are you going to take a nap with me?" You blink, silently begging him to say yes. 

"That wasn't an option." He comes to a stop at a red light. "You have two. Pick one."

"You asked where I would sleep better?" Ratchet knows he shouldn't entertain this, but he dares to answer. 

"Yes. Pick one, or I'll pick for you." He makes the left turn as the light switches green. 

"In your arms," A pout overcomes your face as he barks a laugh, obviously unamused. 

"Forget I asked. I'm taking you back home straight after." The pout melds into a scowl, but you relent, leaning back into his seat as the two of you roll down desert roads. You knew you could do better damage at the base, eyelids drooping as a yawn builds in your mouth. Maybe you would be able to better convince him in person, but for now, you take it with stride as the cool afternoon air swipes across your face. 

[itsohh]

Despite Part 2

A/N: Female reader, posted on mobile so rip formatting.

Summary: Trust is a two way bond. It only makes sense that after you look after him he looks after you.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2218

AO3 Part 1 Part 3

A light touch shook you awake and your eyes crept open. It took you a few moments to realise who had woken you. “Not very professional to be sleeping at your desk, Doctor.” Your head rose from your arms and you turned to look at your Captain. Your brow cocked and his words slowly sunk it. The gears moved in your brain and you figured out he was teasing you. Wesker of all people…

“Well, it's not very professional to show up at your employee's house uninvited.”

“Redfield insisted.”

“I didn't realise you took orders from Chris now.”

“You were unresponsive while on call, it was a wellness check.” Those sunglasses bore into you and you rolled your eyes to the side. There was a small side smile on your face, the motion hadn’t been a disrespectful one but rather a playful one. 

“Alright. Sir.”

“Are you planning on sleeping here all night?” He asked. 

“No, I was just resting my eyes. What time is it?” You looked towards the computer that was in screensaver mode and moved the mouse. It woke and you saw that it was only an hour til midnight. You cursed under your breath, so much for just resting your eyes. “I'm surprised you're still here.”

“I had work to do.”

“Everyone's doing their reports tomorrow.”

“I had other work as well as the reports. I don't have the luxury of pushing it off until tomorrow as I won't be in.”

Your brows shot up. “Oh? Busy?”

“Sunday is my day off.”

“You have days off?” 

The question had him let out a laugh and your breath hitched at the sound. It was an unheard-of sound, a low chuckle that had blood rush to your face and heat it up. “Of course. Did you assume I worked every day?”

“Well, you’re the Captain. So yeah.”

“Overworking can lead to mistakes. I do not make mistakes. I thought you of all people would under this, Doctor.”

“Who keeps this place from falling apart without you?” 

“Marini can manage for one day of the week.” 

Your mind went to the Bravo team’s Captain. Despite him working in the same department, you often forget the man was a police Captain. Wesker was the one with the ‘fancy’ office, he was the one to usually call the shots and he was the one you looked to for direction when needed. Not Marini, but then again, you didn't interact with the man very much. 

“Have you finished your work?” Wesker asked and you glanced back at the computer. 

“Yeah, I just need to turn it off.” You moved the mouse to it shutdown. 

“Good, we can leave then.”

You froze for a moment before you glanced over your shoulder and looked at him. “We?” You asked. 

“Unless you have other plans I presume I was to give you a ride home.”

“Oh, Captain, you don't have to do that.”

“You rode with us to the station, your bike is at home. It's far too late for a taxi or the bus and you live on the other side of town. You're my employee, it's my job to take care of you.”

His words had you stunned momentarily. Even though he said the facts in such an obvious manner you couldn't help the way that they made you feel warm inside. It was nice knowing he was looking out for you. 

“I guess you're right. You really thought this through, thanks.”

“If this is your standard of thinking things through then I suggest against spending so much time with Redfield. The bar is too low.” He took a step back from your desk and gave you enough room to get out of the chair. 

You let out a snort and put on your jacket. Your vest and medical kit had long since been retired to their homes elsewhere in the building. “Did Chris tell you where I lived?” You asked as the pair of you walked together. 

“No, it's in your file.”

“You looked up my address in my file?”

“I memorise everyone's files. They aren't long.”

Your mind went back to when you were in his office with Chris and how he almost immediately knew whose number Chris had paged. “Wow, you have a great memory.”

“The small things make all the difference between life and death.”

The statement had you sombre up slightly and you looked towards the ground. You knew that painfully well. Recognising and remembering even the smallest of symptoms could mean the entire world of difference when it came to what treatment a person received. 

“Hey, Captain?” 

“Yes?” 

“Why did you take this job?”

At your question, he briefly glanced at you. “Why do you ask?”

“No offence but I would expect you to be something… more?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards you. “You believe this work is beneath me?”

“I mean uh-” You stumbled for a moment to recover yourself. “You're a smart man Wesker. Really smart. Hell, you're more precise and perfect than a machine. I mean I get paid my value but this work is hard sometimes. Long hours, the shittiest cases and a world of accountability and pressure. Someone with your skills could easily find employment somewhere easier with better pay.”

Wesker continued to stare at you. It was as if he was trying to figure out if your words were genuine or if you were just sucking up to him. You knew better than to try and correct yourself more, the last thing you wanted to do was overthink the situation and say something you would regret. Every second was agonizingly slow and eventually, he cocked his head slightly to the side, his deduction complete enough to answer. 

“You’re right. I could. And I probably will eventually but for now it's the exact fulfilment I need.”

The answer had you slowly nod and he returned his own question. “Why do you ask? Are you thinking about leaving?”

“No, just interested in what motivates my Captain.”

Despite the fact he stood still you could have sworn the lights got a little darker around him as he continued to look at you. “And why is that?”

“Finding out someone's core values is integral to any relationship. For example, Jill respects determination. If she's had anything near to close to what I experienced being a woman in this day and age I can safely bet she's been given a lot of hurdles in life and most likely given where she is today, overcome them.”

“You think a lot about this.” 

“Understanding my team helps me bond with them and bonding creates trust. In the field, I need my team to completely trust me without a doubt so I can do what I need to do without hesitation.” You explained. 

“I see. You analyse people. Why not analyse myself to find out the answers to your questions?”

“I have. I'm not sure if you have noticed but you're rather a closed-off person. Not only with your private life, which I respect, but also for who you are. Sometimes the best approach to a matter is the more straightforward one. If you answer me, I receive an answer, if you don't…”

“You continue to watch me?” His voice sounded almost amused. “Wait for any slip-up?”

“No. I'd respect you on the matter and let things go.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I'm a reasonable woman Captain, I’m not stubborn when I don't need to be. I can respect a boundary.” You smiled at the man and for a second you could have sworn his lips curled ever so slightly. 

Wesker turned and started to walk again and you followed his pace. “What motivates me is humanity.” He spoke a few moments later as the pair of you left the building. The nightsky shone above the pair of you, illuminated by the giant moon above. 

“Humanity?” 

“I wish to see humanity evolve. We have a lot of potential as a species and I would see that potential fulfilled.”

The wording of his statement was a little strange to you and your pressed your lips together while you tried to figure out his exact meaning. 

“Is that why studied biotechnology. It's in your file.” 

“You looked up my qualifications in my file?” He asked, his words parroting your own. 

“I may not memorize everything in people's medical files but I do and try to memorize the important things. Yours is rather interesting.”

“How so Doctor?”

“No allergies, no disabilities, no long term injuries. Nothing. No offense but your kind of a freak of nature especially how quickly you heal.” 

Wesker let out a loud chuckle and the pair of you reached his BMW. “Freak of nature?” 

“In a good way, I promise.” His lips curled upwards at your reassurance but you only got to bask in it for a moment as he unlocked the car with the turn of his key. You pulled open the front passenger car door and stepped into the car. “Spacious.” You praised the car and looked around it. It was immaculate. Clean and neat just like everything else about Wesker. 

You did your belt up and heard the click of Wesker do the same before he turned the key in the ignition. The car immediately hummed to life without hesitation and the lights soon flicked on. 

Your eyes couldn't help but focus on the way that his hands handled the steering wheel. The veins on them were rather predominant and you pressed your lips together. They would be so easy to take blood from. You shouldn't have been surprised at the size of them, he was a big man, yet you were slightly. Never had you really focused on them before. 

“More questions Doctor?” He asked without turning to face you, his gaze still on the road as he pulled out from the car park. No doubt he could feel your heavy gaze. 

“Not at the moment. I do appreciate you not making a fuss about…” You swallowed and looked away from the man. “What I do in my spare time.”

“What or who you spend time with is non of my concern so long as it doesn't affect your performance at work. From the way you worked today I can confidently assess that it doesn't.” Wesker paused for a few seconds. “Should we allocate two more seats for the Christmas party?” 

At his question you choked and your head snapped towards the man. His lips were curled in the corners and he glanced towards you. Tease. 

“No, no, gods no. It's not like that. We aren't in a relationship or anything. Casual thing. I didn't know we were going to have an office Christmas party. Didn't think you would be for them.”

“I'm not.” He sighed. “But Redfield and Frost have been adamant that it's necessary.” 

A groan escaped your lips which made him chuckle. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

“It's not compulsory is it?” You asked. 

“It will be held during work hours. Any proper work will take priority.”

“Never thought I'd say this but please assign me to any emergency that pops up.”

“Not a fan?”

“I don't drink in my spare time, let alone with co-workers. They didn't mention anything about a secret Santa did they?”

“They did and have been persistent about the matter. I have been against the matter.”

“Captain please be the biggest killjoy you can possibly be.”

He let out a loud laugh, one that had all words die on your tongue. It had that warmth return to you but instead of flooding your face it grew in your chest and you practically basked in it. 

“You don't like exchanging gifts?”

“Our team is very good at what we do, we work together well as a team and I respect everyone. Doesn't mean I want to extend that relationship to anything more. For most of the people at our work I would very much enjoy keeping the relationship the way it is.”

“Most?” He caught your wording. 

“Despite my efforts Chris has managed to wormed his way into my personal life and sometimes I don't dislike it. Other than that? I think you're the exception I admit. You're an interesting man.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

The car pulled up outside your apartment complex and you were a little surprised. The streets had been empty but you didn't notice how quickly the pair of you had arrived. Did Wesker speed? You couldn't feel the speed very much in the car, the ride had been soft and comfortable the entire time. 

“Would you like me to walk you to your door?”

“There's no need, I've taken up enough of your time.” You opened the car door and got out. The sound of Wesker's window opened. When you got around to his side of the car and on the footpath on the other side of the road you turned to face the man. The road wasn't very wide, it was more of a thin driveway than a proper road. 

“Thanks again for the ride.”

“No need. Our conversation has been enlightening. I'd enjoy furthering it sometime even with a different subject.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Oh and Wesker?”

“Yes?”

“Enjoy your day off.”

[queenmayor23]

Happy anniversary Mr. Diaz

"Hey, Y/N. What's up?"

"Eddie. I need your help."

"Is everything okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"Yeah, no. Just come over, please."

After waiting, there's a knock on the door. Y/N answers it in his robe and invites Eddie inside. "I was about to take a shower, and that's when I saw it."

"Saw what?"

Y/N's eyes avoid Eddie, making him more suspicious. "You won't believe me. You need to go in there and see for yourself. It's in my bathroom."

Eddie slowly walks into the apartment and into Y/N's room, opening the door to his bed covered in rose petals and lit candles all around the room.

"Y/N, I don't see anything."

Eddie turns around to Y/N in a sexy police officer costume.

"Dispatch, be advised we have a 10-70 in progress. Stand by with additional RA Units. Fire is already on scene."

Y/N slowly walked toward Eddie, who looked him up and down like a piece of raw meat dangled for a hungry lion. 

"¡Ay, caramba!"

"You like?" Y/N reaches out his hand, and Eddie takes it in his own, spinning Y/N around and pulling him in with his other hand on his waist. Their lips connect. Eddie bites Y/N's bottom lip, refusing to let go until he gets his hands on the costume handcuffs on Y/N's utility belt. Eddie's hands found themselves resting on Y/N's waist, and Y/N's were around Eddie's neck where they had been many nights before.

"Happy anniversary Mr. Diaz."

"Happy anniversary to you too, Mr. Diaz. Did you set all of this up?"

"This, yes. But I had help in other departments."

"So Hen and Karen deciding to have a slumber party and inviting Christopher for the weekend-"

"My idea, Karen enforced."

"This outfit?"

"One of Buck's Halloween party ideas. He had the firefighter, I had the cop, and we bought you a biker."

"Of course Buck had something to do with it. Why isn't he here too?"

"We decided that since he gets you all day at work, I get you tonight, and after our shifts, Bobby is going to cook us a wonderful dinner at your place where we will have a full night of alone time just the three of us."

Y/N kisses Eddie again, their hands tightening.

"My husband and boyfriend plotting against me? I like it."

"Now, all we have to do is get a couch for Buck's place."

"And tell Christopher we're married."

"If we do that, I'm gonna have to move in."

"I think I can handle that."

"Oh yeah? That means no more nights of debauchery that last until sunrise."

"But I get to sleep in the same bed as the man I love, he can sit on my lap whenever he wants rubbing my bulge on his ass, and I can kiss you over and over until I get sick. Then you can take care of me, and we can start again."

Eddie takes the handcuffs and confines Y/N's hands behind his back. Eddie guides Y/N to the bed, lifting him to have his face in the pillows and the skin-tight black shorts pointing to the roof. Ripping off his shirt and jumping out of his jeans, Eddie notices the number of candles lit around the room.

"You're lucky I am a firefighter because we are one wind gust away from a five-alarm fire."

"Maybe we could put them to good use while they're still hot."

Eddie smiles. "I love the way you think, Mr. Diaz."

[hashimasims]

On the last day of Summer Elucea sets up a get together with Oliana, Paka'a, and Tera. With her new number and email she's been keeping in touch with them regularly but has been so busy with her little farm that she hasn't actually seen them. Tera has suggested that none of them be invited over to the house in case they were followed if she really didn't want Kana or Absalom to find her. But with the location she chose she doesn't know if that was strictly true anymore.

Oliana: Wow El you are PREGNANT pregnant! I feel like it's been forever since we last saw you. Are you sure you're only in your second trimester? You look like you should already be in the Labor stage.

Elucea: *laughs* I'm at the end of it and should switch to the third trimester any day now so maybe I already have a third trimester belly. I am having twins after all so it could just be that

Paka'a: Are you sure this cafe in Evergreen Harbor was the best option if you're still hiding from Tae and Kana? Oh El! You should see him though! Taehyung I mean. He's all tatted up now! Like I knew you found him attractive but DAMN!* If you don't get back with him I might take a shot at it. I see the two of them working out at Movers and Shakers together all the time and I'm there like three times a week!

Tera: What better place to meet then right under their noses? They'd never look here.

Elucea: - to Paka'a - Together? And since when do you go to the gym?

Oliana: They comes with me and Leila. They take the Yoga classes together while I workout. And yeah they're always together. After you sold your house in Sulani, which they were living in when you were kidnapped, the two of them moved back into Kan's apartment here.

Elucea: So they're getting along? Maybe friends?

Tera: I wouldn't say they've necessarily become friends but they've been friendly in public. At least until they get into the boxing ring and spar with each other. Then you'd think we were watching some sort of Gladiator match or UFC fight.

Elucea: The Watcher downloaded a Boxing Mod? And how would you know? You never leave the house! It was like pulling teeth to get you out today.

Tera: I have audio processors and your sisters like to talk. And of course it was because with me gone your siblings have to care for their offspring themselves. And they're none too happy for this upgrade you purchased, same as you their children are calling me Mom and not them.

Elucea's eyes flash to the Dragon as she looks at Tera before she can get it back under control, hoping no one saw. No one here cared that she was Occult, with Paka'a being Mer same as her, but would they end their friendship over the Dragon?

Elucea: Like I give a Woohock I've pissed them off. For all intents and purposes you ARE their mother.

Paka'a: Anyway . . . No Mod but maybe The Watcher thought about it or they planned on screenshots or something because there's definitely a "ring" built there but either way every time we go they're in there sparring so *shrugs*

Elucea finishes her coffee date with her friends not really paying too much attention to the conversation. She's thinking about her men. Are things better? Tera says no and she would know better than anyone because when they talk over the phone she tells Elucea how they keep coming around looking for her so she interacts with them more than anyone else. So why do Paka'a and Oliana's words seem to ring with more truth than Tera's?

Beginning|Previous|Next

*Watcher's notes: Upon writing this ↓ this was the only thing going on in my head 🤣🤣

[djbunnie]

Oooo!!! What if Sam helped Danny with the "dodging the bullet" moment!!!

Sam knew Danny in highschool Peripherally. He was one of the popular kids (the good kind). And Sam was a bookworm. The new girl Paulina, Sam and she became friends (along with Val, star, dora) a few months later, Paulina started dating Danny. At first she seemed cool and they would talk about everything. At one point, she starts talking about how she has been hooking up with her ex-boyfriend (Dash Baxter) behind Danny’s back. Just before the end of the school year. Paulina tells Sam she is pregnant and that she knows it belongs to her ex boyfriend. She is laughing and really proud of herself because Danny is going to do the right thing. Withdraw his college application and go work to support her and the baby. Her ex, the father of the baby, is kind of a loser, so she thinks it’s the best thing, even if she can continue banging dash while making Danny support her. 

Sam really didn’t know Danny that well, but she got his phone number from an acquaintance of hers who knew it (Tucker Foley aka Danny BFF). Sam anonymously Texted him about the Paulina ploy and said “get a paternity test. The baby isn't yours.”

He then thanked Sam. (through text)

Danny and Paulina broke up. He cussed her out and Danny went to college and made something of his life.

I thought maybe... Paulina told Danny that they had sex at a party when they were drunk, Danny believed her of course, it made sense at the time. but in reality they never had sex because Paulina was with Dash.

Sam did the right thing; she cut Paulina off and moved on with her life…

Meanwhile, before they graduate. Danny wanted to know who sent him the text? He wanted to thank them personally, and wanted to repay them by saving his life.  After a couple of days, Danny almost wanted to give up. He tried calling and texting them. But they didn't respond. Until, when Danny arrived at Nasty Burger and sat at the booth next to Val, star, dora. He overheard their conversation about their ex-friend and how they were lucky to have good friends like Sam in their lives. Praising her for warning Danny from paulina.

When Danny learned that it was Sam who warned him, he went to find her...but Sam was really busy. Because they were graduating soon, Sam was too busy apartment hunting, packing her stuff, and etc.

Unfortunately they never did meet up, after graduation Sam left right away. (I'm being lazy so I'm going to reuse some of the office love idea lol) Sam and Danny met again later in life, (they are 25-26 years old) Sam and Danny were at a bar or some cafe. It was Danny who approached her first. 

Danny: “Sam is that you?”

Sam: “huh? I'm sorry, do I know you?”

Danny: “It’s me Danny! Danny Fenton…we went to the same highschool…and you saved me from Paulina.”

Sam: “Oh! OMG!!! Danny!!!”

Danny: *Chuckle*

They got to talking about life, careers, etc. Sam told Danny about her great job as a game illustrator, originally she wanted to go into business, but she wasn't happy. Then she entered a game art contest, won first prize and got an internship. Sam dropped out of college and has been working for the company ever since. And she loves it. And to further her career she is taking night classes to gain the skills as a generalist animator and/or 3D modeler.

Danny was impressed by Sam, but not as impressed as Sam when she learned Danny is an Aerospace Engineer!!!

Sam: “WOW!!! That is so COOL!!!”

Danny: “it’s nothing.”

Sam: “don’t be so modest, Mr. Aerospace Engineer. I bet you're making Bank. your gf is a lucky lady to have you.“

Danny: “actually…no.”

Sam: “wha?”

Danny: “I-i don't have a gf.”

Sam: “....”

Danny: “....”

Sam: “....im sorry, i have a hard time believing that.”

Danny: “it’s because of the incident with Paulina, i'm having difficulty with trusting women in an intimate/ romantic setting. ”

Sam: “oh..right, yeah i don't blame you.”

Danny: “Sam…i've been wanting to thank you, for saving me from a miserable fate as a factory worker to support that wicked woman and raising someone else's child. It was thanks to you, I was able to pursue my dreams of working in NASA and freedom.”

Sam: “Oh please, anyone in my position would have done the same.”

I was thinking Danny kind of lied but not really, don't get it wrong. Danny was traumatized. He was never serious in a relationship but he has had a lot of one night stands. and Danny has been very careful. He took every precaution. Danny knows he's in a position where women would do anything to lock him down (baby trap him and etc) because he is very successful and financially good, so yeah.

also it will be interesting throughout the years when Danny is sleeping with other women he imagines he's with Sam!!! 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Danny: “What about you? How was your dating life?”

Sam: “It sucks, I've only been with two…well technically one serious relationship.”

The first guy was mostly a “friend with benefits” and the second one was her ex-fiance. (Gregor,) the liar and cheater. Since then Sam has been single since.

I think it would be really sweet if Danny only sees him and Sam having a future together. So Sam and Danny would have a second chance in love/ Friends to lovers type of love story story.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 9: Almost Had You

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … 

The countdown appeared on the screen, setting off a bright flash as Jungkook and I posed for the photos. The sequence of the first 3 captures was cute, just us acting out our respective characters or pretending to be disgusted by one another. That is until I'm inches away from Jungkook's face, both of us hiding behind his hat. I let out a small gasp, his gaze lowered on my lips. 

“Wha … what?” I try to speak before the camera flashes again. Looking up at my confused eyes, he lets out a chuckle, scooting closer as we observe the printed photos. 

“Jungkook, what the heck?” I say, hitting his forearm. “I can't show these to anyone now” I point to the last photo, which does not fit our friendly theme. 

“Why not? Nothing happened,” he grins, leaning his head back. 

“Nothing happened my ass, it's obviously suggestive,” I roll my eyes. 

“Let their imagination run wild then. I'm putting mine in my wallet, you can put yours on your bulletin board, I heard manifesting is popular these days,” he lets out a teasing chuckle, scrunching his nose. 

“HA HA HA, who says I want you anyways?” I reply cockily, twirling my hair.  

“You don't have to say it Peaches, your cheeks speak for themselves,” he grins, whispering into my ear. The concept of personal space is virtually nonexistent at this point. He is such a tease. But I’m not so innocent either, moving closer, I strategically place my hand on his chest, our lips inches apart. I can tell he is enjoying this from the way his breathing slows. Looking up at his closed eyes, I can’t help but smile, caressing the scar on his left cheek. He melts into my touch but I can’t let him win so easily. 

The burning sensation between us is disrupted as I suddenly move my face to the side, letting out an innocent ‘oops’. Jungkook grins and rests his forehead on mine, goosebumps covering my skin as I feel his breath on my neck. 

“Almost had you,” he says softly, eyes still closed, and before I can reply his lips touch my cheek. Eyes wide, I look up at his form which is now heading toward the door. 

“YAH” I yell, before making sure we didn’t leave anything behind. After saying goodbye to the staff, we zipped up and walked back to the car. My cheeks still flushed. 

--

Jiah: Hey lovely, I know you can’t go back home for Thanksgiving, so I’m arranging a trip for us. 

Mira: Oh babes, you don’t have to. That’s too much trouble. We can just have a sleepover or something … 

Jiah: Babe, a sleepover at our grown age? 

Mira: We had one last week … :(

Jiah: Whatever, I want this for us. My aunt will be out of town for next week and said we could use her cottage. Please pack according to the weather but also grab a few swimsuits ;)) 

Before I can reply, my phone rings, no caller ID. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Flip-flops, it’s me Tae,’” from his voice I can just tell he is giving me a boxy smile right now. 

“Tae, did you change your number?” I ask, putting him on speakerphone as I begin prepping for dinner. 

“Yeah, I dropped my phone into the toilet but everyone else thinks I broke it while biking, so you better keep your lips shut,” he chuckles. What a goof. “Anyways, I was gonna get food from the dining hall, do you want to join me?” 

“Oh …” I giggle looking down at the cut potatoes and carrots. “Yeah, sure,” I quickly reply, putting everything back into the fridge. 

“Sick, I’ll meet you downstairs in say 5 minutes?” 

“Sure, I’ll see you then,” 

--

As the elevator doors open, I can see Tae standing beside the entrance. Wearing his orange tracksuit he looks like Vector from Despicable Me, but I pass on the opportunity to tease him. Instead, we exchange waves and make our way inside. 

The dining hall is less busy than usual as most people have already left back home for the holiday. Unfortunately, only the ones that are separated from their family by an actual ocean are left on campus. I have already been feeling homesick since school started but seeing the empty libraries and lecture halls is setting off an array of emotions within me. It’s the first year I won’t be able to spend Thanksgiving with my family, and I know both parties are accepting it with a very heavy heart. The last time I talked with my mom she told me that she found my dad looking at my baby picture in his wallet for what seemed like hours. Poor guy only shows emotions when he thinks no one is watching. My mom on the other hand began crying as soon as I accepted her call. 

Grabbing an extra strawberry milk, Tae and I walk towards an empty table. By the looks of our stuffed platter, it’s obvious that this would be our first meal of the day. 

“So, where did you go after class yesterday? You left in a hurry, is everything alright?” he asks, offering me some kimchi which I forgot to grab. I kindly accept it, trying to think of a reasonable scenario that would not include Jungkook kissing my cheek. 

“Oh, I um, had to drop off Jungkook’s clothes,” I quickly reply with a soft smile, hoping that the conversation would end there. 

“So, what are you guys?” I choke from his straightforwardness. He doesn’t walk around the point but rather plunges head-first into it. 

“Pardon?” I exclaim, wiping the strawberry milk dripping down my chin. 

“Well, I mean, from all the years I’ve known Jungkook he has never been this interactive with a girl. Concerning really,” he exclaims, chuckling at the mess I made. 

“We’re just friends,” I reassure him. “But, what, you mean to tell me he has never had a girlfriend before? The Jungkook? Can’t be,” I grin, raising my eyebrow, cracking my back on the wooden chair. 

“He has, but it never lasted more than 3 months, and after his last relationship, it seemed like he gave up on it altogether,” Tae explains, finishing up the last scoops of his fried rice. “That is until you guys met,” he grins. 

“Oh stop it,” I chuckle, rolling my eyes. 

“What? You don’t find him attractive?”

“No,” I quickly reply, letting out a teasing grin. You can smell the lie from miles away and Tae is not a fool, but sarcasm has become one of my most valuable coping mechanisms. 

“I totally get it, I’m still not sure why we’re not together?” he looks me dead in the eyes, taking a bite of his apple. 

“You can suck my toe at a 45-degree angle, Kim Taehyung,” I snap back, blowing a sarcastic kiss, earning a big chuckle. 

“Kinky, just how I like,” he catches the kiss and places it near his heart. We both burst out laughing at how stupid we sound. I’m comfortable with Tae but neither of us actually wants to be anything more than friends. We suit the roles of besties just fine, and unlike Jungkook, Tae is a girl magnet. In virtually every setting you will be able to spot him with multiple girls surrounding him. 

--

It was the night before our departure, so my dorm had become an absolute rat nest. At this point, I don’t even remember the colour of my carpet under all the scattered clothes. The weather is getting chillier but does not require a coat just yet, so I stick to packing cardigans and hoodies. Sneaking in two pairs of swimsuits as per Jiah’s request, I doubt they’ll even see the light of day because I can’t swim. Actually, that’s a lie, just give me 10 minutes in the pool and I’ll be able to function but in literally any other scenario I will 100% drown. 

My thoughts are interrupted by an incoming Facetime call, it's Jungkook. Quickly taming my second-day hair I check my reflection on the TV, it's 11 pm so I’m not about to radiate ethereal energy but a little touch-up wouldn’t hurt.  

“Hi Peaches,” Jungkook smiles, resting his head on his arm. Cozied up in his white duvet, my eyes are still able to make out the tattoos on his exposed biceps. 

“Hey, why aren’t you sleeping?” I quickly reply, placing my phone against the fruit bowl, as I continue packing. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep so I decided to see if you were up,” he explains, leaning in closer to check what I was wearing. Because I had to wash all of my clothes for the trip, I was down to some spandex shorts and a tank top. Not spending much thought on it I continued to pack, completely oblivious to the amount of exposed skin I was showing. 

“Bring those shorts on the trip,” he suggests letting out a teasing grin. 

“Would you like that?” I play along, as he nods with his big doe eyes sparkling in the candlelight. 

“You should bring a pen to sign the restraining order I’m about to write,” I grin, sending a flying kiss to his dumbfounded state. He laughs at my quick comeback and we spend the rest of the night talking about the trip. 

“I’ll pick you and Tae up early in the morning so please make sure he actually wakes up,” he says as soft yawns escape his mouth. I nod and dive into my warm duvet. After mentally checking that everything had been packed, we both set our alarm clocks before falling asleep on call. 

Previous l Next

[channiebelly]

Classmate

tropes: body worship.

ship: vernon/chan

wordcount: .9k

Vernon has a crush on the chubby boy in his class, Chan. He asks Chan out and everything seems to be going well until things start to get heated. Vernon needs to show Chan just how sexy he is.

There's this guy in Vernon's class, Chan. He's cute, funny, talkative, has adorable chubby cheeks, a good butt, and, most importantly, an impressive, round belly. So, he's just Vernon's type.

Towards the end of the semester, Vernon finally gets up the courage to ask him out.

"Chan!" Chan has left the classroom already, and Vernon is racing to catch up with him (not that Chan walks particularly fast).

"Oh, Vernon?" Chan asks when Vernon finally catches up to him. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah! Everything's perfect!" Vernon cringes at himself. That was definitely too excited. "I just wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go out with me sometime. As a date."

"Oh." Chan blushes, to Vernon's delight. "I'd love that."

"Great," Vernon says. They exchange numbers, and then Vernon's off, walking in the other direction to his next class, a grin not leaving his face.

The date goes very well. They meet up for coffee and lunch, and arrange another date a few days later. That date goes well too. Amazing, actually. Vernon likes Chan more than he thought possible after such a short amount of time.

For their third date, Vernon invites Chan over to his place for a movie night. He tries to make his intentions very clear: he tells Chan that they'll have the apartment to themselves, he arranges it for the evening and even drops a "netflix and chill" comment in their text conversation.

Chan shows no hesitation to the concept.

Which is why Vernon is a little confused when Chan suddenly switches gears when Vernon tries to take his shirt off. They had been making out heavily on the couch just a minute before, Chan's hand had been on the bulge in Vernon's jeans, and they were both very into it.

"Sorry!" Chan yelps as soon as Vernon's hands grip the hem of his shirt. "Wait."

Vernon backs away immediately. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just worried you'll be disappointed," Chan says. "I'm not exactly ripped."

"...Yeah," Vernon says.

"I'm a bit chunky," Chan says. He's blushing again. Vernon ignores how cute he finds it, this is clearly important to Chan.

"Chan, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I know. Your size is not exactly a secret."

"Oh," Chan says. He sounds upset. Shit.

"I like your size. I knew what your body looked like before I asked you out, and I liked it. I wouldn't have asked you out if I wasn't attracted to you."

"Really?" Chan says. Vernon wishes he could tell Chan just how alluring he found his size, how he had to stop himself from staring at the prominent swell of Chan's belly from across the room, how the time Chan's shirt had risen up and shown his soft underbelly hadn't left his mind for weeks, how he had fanaticised about what Chan looked like under his hoodies all semester. Vernon had been wanting to get his hands on Chan for ages. He hated the idea that Chan thought that he wasn't attracted to him.

"Absolutely." Vernon kisses Chan again, deep and slow. "I think you are incredibly sexy. Can I please take your shirt off?"

Chan giggles. "Well since you asked nicely."

Vernon doesn't wait any longer. He pulls Chan's shirt over his head, and there Chan is, shirtless and right in front of Vernon. He's hotter than Vernon ever could've imagined. Somehow, his belly looks bigger without the fabric obscuring it. It's rounded and enormous, with a pair of chubby moobs sitting on top. The sides of his belly turn into rolls of fat that wrap around his back and he has large love handles that are struggling to stay contained in his waistband. He's gorgeous.

Vernon must be staring too hard, because Chan gets nervous and starts to move away. "I'm sorry. It's too much. I'll just go."

Vernon grabs his wrist. "Don't. Please. You're absolutely incredible." He runs his tongue over his lips. "Can I touch?"

Chan nods and Vernon reaches out to place his hands on the distended sides of Chan's belly. He does it slowly, taking in every sensation. He'd wanted to touch Chan for month, and now he's right where he wants him. He's going to make the most of this.

He runs his hands over the full expanse of Chan's stomach, testing the firmness at various points. He's mapping out Chan's stomach with his hands. The top of Chan's stomach is incredibly firm, almost solid, and Chan lets out a little hiccup when he presses into it. Around his bellybutton and above is also very firm and taut, but there's a bit more give when Vernon presses into it. Underneath his bellybutton is pure softness. The skin there is buttery soft and smooth and supple enough for Vernon hold it in his hands. He takes two handfuls of it and shakes, watching the rolls on Chan's sides shake with it.

This whole time, Chan's breathing has been getting heavier and heavier, as Vernon continued his exploration. But when Vernon trails a finger gently over Chan's underhang, his breathing gets rapidly heavier. He likes being touched there, Vernon learns.

"Fuck," Vernon says. "you're so hot." He starts kneading into the sides of Chan's belly, more insistently now. "Please let me fuck you."

Chan must believe that Vernon isn't lying about finding him attractive at this point, because he nods.

Vernon can't wait any longer. He stands up quickly and offers a hand out to Chan to help pull him off the couch. Vernon is going to spend the entire night convincing Chan of just how sexy he is.

[wokeup-inadaze]

Favorite Lyrics From Heartbreak Weather

Heartbreak Weather:

You, that's what I've been missing/was tangled up and twisted/now all the clouds been lifted.

Black and White:

I can't promise picket fences/or sunny afternoons.

Dear Patience:

So, this song, THIS SONG. Has too many.

1 - Dear patience/Can we share a drink and let go of the pressure?

2 - Just me and the stars can get lonely

3 - Hey can you show your face/Can you see that I'm anxious/Can you hear what I'm saying, saying/Hey, cause I fall to fast/and go down blazing

4 - If I pour my heart out can you keep a promise (hmm)/Cause the situation/is like a mountain weighing on my conscience

(yeah ok the whole song)

Bend The Rules:

And I pour myself a glass/it won't be the last/just all medicine for now

Small Talk:

Oh, you see the fool in my mind/Can't run and hide/With your stare on me

Nice To Meet Ya:

I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear/cause when the morning comes/I know you won't be there

Put A Little Love On Me:

yeah this one is trouble for me too

1 - Is it wrong I still don't know my heart?

2 - Another Friday night tryna put on a show/Do you hate the weekend 'cause no one is calling

3 - I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.

4 - We wrote and we wrote/ 'til there were no more words/we laughed and cried/until we saw our worst

5 - Last night I lay awake/stuck on the things we say/and when I close my eyes, the first things i hear you say is/put a little love on me , yeah

6 - When the lights come up, we're the only ones dancing/I look around and you're standing there asking/you say, you're the only one I need

ok, again, the whole song

Arms of a Stranger:

If we're not going to do this honestly/Baby, won't ya give me back what you took apart

Everywhere:

The ground beneath my feet's a bit colder/I see your face in people I don't know/Feels like the world is twisting in slow-mo/And I'm stuck in one place

Cross Your Mind:

You keep talkin, I'll just listen/Daydreaming 'bout where your lips' been/pull my heart right out my chest, drive a train through/still get up and forgive you

New Angel:

Each time I close my eyes/she's in there running wild/I'm hoping you get her out of my mind.

No Judgement:

Even though we both know we'll move on/I'll keep your secrets safe/until that time we find ourselves alone again

San Francisco:

Drunk dialing/Full dive in/Don't you tell that it's too late now/Cause I'm pacing/I keep breaking/Is there a way to make it up somehow?

Still:

hahahaha a few lyrics she said to herself once

1 - My mind is complicated/Find it hard to rearrange it/But I'll have to find a way somehow/Overreacting lately/Find it hard to say I'm sorry/But I'll make it up to you somehow

2 - And I just don't know why/The stars won't shine at night

3 - Tell me you want it/A thousand miles away from the day that we started/But I'm standing here with you just tryna be honest/If honesty means telling you the truth/Well, I'm still in love with you

4 - Did I miscalculate this/Let's just go back to basics/Forget about what's come and gone/'Cause I hate to see us like this/Breaking up on nights just like this/We should be shooting for them stars of gold

Yeah, all in all that is the whole song.

Dress:

I'm calling 'cause I'm nervous/I know that we don't talk/I know that it's on purpose

Nothing:

What turns the sky from black to gold?/What sends my tears up in flames?

[gummybugg]

Happy STS! My first time participating, so I'd like to spread some positivity. Would you care to share something about your writing that you're proud of, be it a snippet, strong suit, scene, theme, etc? - @new-royston-cursebreakers

Happy STS and thanks for the ask, @new-royston-cursebreakers!

I dug around and found the very First draft of Crater City, which was written almost a year ago on August 18, 2022! I will be celebrating its birthday soon, Yes. Starting this story is an Accomplishment in itself, and something I am very Proud of!

This draft used to be the very Beginning of the story, back when I wrote linearly. And also back when the story started out with Blair and Elijah having a pre-established relationship. But yeah, I can share a piece of it after the line break!

...

Section 1.1: At the Diner

(Note: it's in Blair's POV)

The night was stormy. It was 3:30 AM when my phone buzzed, alerting me of Elijah’s tragic accident. I was in my fifth dream and getting to the best part–but that's beside the point. I had no choice but to put on a shirt and some pants and drive my ass to the arcade.

I took the freeway and barreled at a speed of 90 in a 70, headlights struggling to keep up with the thick summer smog. I could hardly see where I was driving, so I rolled down the window to smell the way to the arcade. The aroma of pizza and crime filled the car, so I knew it wouldn't be too long until I'd reach the place. Suddenly, the car moved on its own. The steering wheel waved back. Going once…going twice…going thrice…sold!

After the triple donut had concluded, I arrived at the scene.

There were no police or anything because of the sheer number of crimes that occurred on this side of the river, so I was on the lookout for suspicious characters. In the alleyway behind the arcade, lay Elijah, unconscious. I checked his pulse. Cold. I tried to do some of those chest compressions I saw in a movie once, fear climbing up my throat as I realized that in approximately 2.5 seconds, I had to make mouth-to-mouth contact with my best, most platonic friend in the whole wide world. I–

“Oh my god, stop it!” Elijah, unable to hold back laughter, slammed his body against the booth. “‘My best, most platonic friend…’?”

“But you don’t understand, Elijah, I had to resist every urge to make it not look platonic. For the police records." Getting a police report was a privilege these days, so trying to bump up the likeability a notch would help appeal to the boys in blue. Paying for a police report was hard enough as it was.

Elijah scoffed from across the table, “You didn't mention the part where all I texted you was a keyboard smash before passing out.” He ran a hand through his side-shaved green hair. “Seriously, how did you know I was in trouble?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I took a sip from my coffee, now empty, "You don't ever use numbers in your key smashes unless you're drunk. And you're only drunk when I'm with you. And," I leaned over the table with a crooked smile, "We agreed to get drinks the next night. That's how I knew something was up."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "Call it a hunch, I guess..." traces of melancholy were in his smile. He averted his eyes to the window where the tiny people walked a few stories below.

The incident happened a month ago, yet his wounds still seemed fresh. We both understood the severity of that night, yet there wasn't much we could do. With those bastards on the loose, there was no telling if or when they'd strike again.

The only reason we were out in town was because Elijah hadn't been out of his apartment in weeks. It took a bit of bribing him that my plan was flawless before I tied him up and threw him in the passenger's seat, so I'd say things went pretty smoothly. Ultimately, we chose to go to some hole-in-the-wall cafe, none of which the likes of his aggressors could catch wind of. I was like his bodyguard now.

It made me feel sick to see him hurt. I took in his presence in front of me. It'd been five years since we'd known each other and we'd been through some rather unfortunate circumstances. It was insane how we were both still alive. But we promised to stick together no matter what.

Maybe it's the side effects of acute radiation poisoning, but every time my eyes catch a glimpse of his face, there's this golden halo that surrounds him…

"Blair?" Gah! Elijah must have caught me staring at him because his face began to flush. I snapped out of my daydream.

“You’re so cute.” My tongue slipped and it came out like a drunk confession. I leaned into him for a kiss, brushing his lips for a brief moment, then making a direct shot for his drink straw. Bingo. He scowled.

Elijah and I were getting cold glares from the other patrons in the coffee shop. I quickly checked myself: I'm pretty sure I zipped up my pants…I washed my hair yesterday…I even flossed this morning because I ate chicken and I hate it when the stringy bits gets in my teeth…

What was I forgetting? I tilted my head. Maybe it was the intriguing story about Elijah? Perhaps they were jealous. I wouldn’t blame them because I think it’d be an honor to become a news story right after the weather’s announced. That weather girl is fine…

“What? Something about that weather girl?” Elijah was reading my thoughts! Or maybe my thoughts materialized and radiated onto my surroundings. He looked up at the screen in the corner of the ceiling and smirked, “Yeah you’re right, she sure is pretty.”

I scratched my head, “I kinda wish I knew what she was talking about…you know, on the news?”

The news was always talking about things like global warming or nuclear threats or rads or how the world technically ended 5 years ago, yet scientists were surprised that we as a species have still made it. I never really cared too much about it, though. What was there left to do anymore? Besides, I wanted to get to the bottom of who beat the shit out of my boyfriend. The news mentioned neither a "Mister" nor a "Star" yet. What does it take to get some notoriety in this place?

...

crater city taglist: @writeouswriter @lyra-brie

[marshmallowprotection]

playing around with the logistics of saeyoung w an mc who has a kid, the only work-arounds I can think of,

-the kid didn't initially go with them. we have 5 days for the common route, we could say MC was running errands or something while the kid was with a relative/friend/other trusted babysitter for a bit when the prologue happened, and it wasn't until after MC more or less moved in that they brought their kid (MC's prior living situation IS like, never mentioned. so maybe moving to the apartment after establishing it seemed safe seemed like a good choice. more space, nice neighborhood (according to unknown anyway. tho if rich bitch V was paying for it, he could def afford a decent place). they don't like, KNOW yet)

-mc & kid def go to stay with jumin when saeyoung leaves for mint eye but maybe they can support from like, a distance? like stay on the phone with him as much as they can. so like the only difference with day 10 is their physical presence. they're still There in a sense, so saeyoung can keep his head on straight

i dunno. I'm trying to think about it but yeah he'd definitely be 1,000,000% more stubborn about everything if a kid is involved

It's definitely a tough situation because Saeyoung's priority would be to tell you that your child comes first. He's right, your kid does come first. You have someone to protect. In that sense, he can relate to you and he understands what it means to be in charge of someone who is completely innocent. He was the only one who could take care of his twin because their mother wasn't going to do that. He knows what it means to be responsible for someone's safety.

Which is why any MC with a child is on thin ice with Saeyoung in the sense of, "I hope to God you didn't walk into this apartment with your kid because he is going to trust your judgment a lot and it's not going to matter how much damage control you do now, there's just no way to go back after that. "

If MC does go to the apartment, your assumption might be the only one that's feasible. They would need to be alone. Unknown wouldn't pick someone with a child, that's a liability, but! If he did, this MC has to be like, in parent mode, wanting to help Unknown. "Oh, goodness. Okay, I'll lend you a hand in this! I'll leave a note by the door and give them your number!"

This MC might be more trusting of the apartment complex since it is in a good neighborhood. It's still never advisable to go to a secondary location. Never do that, kids! But, if they decided to chance it, I think the area might convince them it's not dangerous. It would, at least, in this sense, be enough to make sure that Saeyoung wouldn't think so much less of you for risking a child's safety.

I just genuinely don't know how you could play out Saeyoung's Route being a parent. He wouldn't let you go with him on the mission, and you'd be in the dark for a damn while because Saeyoung has to duck and dodge a lot of agents in the field to get by. You being there in his route makes a lot of difference in Mint Eye. So, not even counting the Secret Ending content, I'd have to wonder—

You're the one that shoves the floppy disc in the computer to jolt Unknown before he pounces on Saeyoung to attack. How does that play out this time? When you're not there as a liability, Unknown goes for the kill. I wonder how that plays out, since, unfortunately, you're not going to be there. You're locked in the penthouse with Jumin for safety measures.

Like, I can see him doing his best to get by in a life on the run while he tries to save his twin, but you being there is what gives him a real chance to delay Vanderwood, too. You're not going to be there, how is Saeyoung going to fight the agency? You're the one that drives all of you out of there. How does that play out?

Like, yes, supporting him over the phone and video games is a really important factor that would help out... but there are so many things in the Route that depend on YOU.

It's not impossible to make this work out perfectly, but Saeyoung is the toughest character to play with in this situation because of what we know about him. I think this concept could be interesting to see written out but there are just so many factors that make it seem like...

Saeyoung will be killed later on because he doesn't have what he's getting originally, or Saeyoung never gets close to you because you have a child and he's afraid of A) more innocent people hurt due to his recklessness and B) we don't have time to unpack his parental trauma.

[polillalegacyarchive]

Isidora didn't wait even one second to get to the mixing deck that had been set up for the night. Rory watched her walk towards her, waiting until they were only a couple of steps apart to open her mouth:

"Wow, slow down bombshell, I want to take this in fully!"

Isi burst into a laugh as she stopped. At the sound, Rory took one step forward.

"You're not so bad yourself, I like the colours in the makeup" chuckled Isi without missing a beat.

"I had a feeling you'd look amazing, I thought I'd try to match up."

A few seconds passed by, each of them detailing the other's body.

"Tell me when you're done, there are things we need to talk about." Isi simply said, her tone getting a bit more serious, remembering what she had learned that day.

"I'll never tire of looking at you, sugar."

"Rory, I'm not joking..."

Something passed between them, some understanding. Isi saw the eyes that were previously running up and down her body settle on her face and turn worried.

"I'm sorry. I'm all ears, tell me what's wrong."

Instinct made Isi reach a hand out and she didn't have to wait long to feel Rory's fingers brush hers.

"Thing is, we might need a little privacy..." she started to explain, before getting interrupted by a short excited scream.

"OH GODS, it's really her!"

"I can't believe you're here, I absolutely love your music!" the teenager was speaking so fast, Isi had to take a second to process all of it.

"Ade, calm down, there's no need to yell." Rory's tone had turned motherly.

"I just, I can't! She's THE Pied Moth! Rors, it's her!"

"It's me indeed" said Isi with a smile "and who are you?"

"My name's Adelyn, I'm a big fan, maybe your number *one* fan! Your music just speaks to my soul! And you're so beautiful!"

"I said it first" Rory intervened, a playful smile on her lips.

"I love your outfit!" Adelyn was continuing.

"Thank you, I think we were struck by the same bout of inspo when it comes to eyeshadow" Isi gave her an approving look. It was her first time meeting a teenage fan. Amani was right, her internet following must have grown a lot.

"Want me to show you how the mixing table works?" Isi offered, when it became clear that the teen wasn't moving. Adelyn nodded eagerly.

Rory briefly wrapped her arm around Isi's waist and whispered in her ear:

"Find me when you have a few minutes, we'll talk."

"Don't worry I won't touch anything" said Adelyn, stepping as close to the table as she could, hands behind her back.

"You can touch anything you want, I've not set up anything just yet!" Isi answered with a small chuckle. It was nice to see someone taking her craft seriously.

"I'm so excited for tonight, thank you so much for agreeing to play here!"

"Oh... You're welcome! I didn't realise it would be such a big thing."

"It really is, I'm part of a lot of groupchats, everyone is tuning in to the livestream, but I'll be seeing it LIVE!"

"I can't believe Rory tried to convince me to stay home!"

"She did?" Isidora couldn't help but frown.

"Yeah, you know, with everything happening in the woods these days, she said she already had enough people to watch."

And indeed, as Isi glanced Rory's way, she seemed to be scanning the crowd, monitoring everyone's movements.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 8th November

November already - this year feels like it's gone quickly! We've hit a peak density of the sort of "big name" artists that people even nowadays have heard of - nobody else has quite hit Elvis levels of fame, but they're still familiar names, especially this week's first artists.

My Prayer - The Platters (peaked at Number 4)

This is a storied song, written originally as an instrumental called Avant de mourir ("Before dying") in 1926, and recorded with lyrics by artists such as Glenn Miller and the Ink Spots. So it's got a past, but the Platters' version is apparently the best known.

As the French title suggests, it's quite a grand song, all about wanting to make the most of your time with your love, though the English lyrics make it less explicitly about dying and mortality than the French title would suggest. Still, it's not entirely gone from the song - just look at the opening lyrics, about how the singer's love comes to him When the twilight is gone / And no songbirds are singing. There's a desolate sort of finality to it. And throughout the song these references to the end of the day hang around, along with lyrics about how the singer hopes their love remain as long as we live. Which really makes it easy to read the "end of day" lyrics as a metaphor for death, and praying that your love will last until then. Heavy stuff.

Musically, it's got all the gravitas that themes like this require, starting with a strikingly slow, dramatic a cappella section, before a piano comes in with some beautiful, gradually shifting arpeggiated chords, almost making me think of Schubert's Ave Maria, or something similarly classical. The backing singers stick on a tightly-harmonised Aaaaaah throughout that compliment this wonderfully - it's all very well done, very classy.

There's a marvellous shift after this, as well, as the piano and backing singers give way to sax and brass, which gives the whole thing a slightly sultrier feel, right in time for lines about how Tonight / While our hearts are aglow / Oh, tell me the words / That I'm longing to know. It's subtly sexy, without really needing to be explicit about it. Classy, like I said.

And of course, this leads into the Big Old Finish, which for once feels well-earned. Normally I rag on big excessive finishes, a bit, but in a song like this, it would be weirder if there wasn't a ramping-up and intensification of the dynamic before the song ended. So yeah, I don't mind it at all here. Entirely appropriate levels of drama.

More - Jimmy Young (4)

Another cover, this time of a song more known as a Perry Como number. Which honestly tracks, I can see Perry selling this, with his slightly grandfatherly feel. And Jimmy doesn't do too badly on that count, either - you definitely get a sense of a well-meaning amiability here. It's a soft, pleasant sort of song, and Jimmy's performance absolutely fits with that.

Unfortunately, the song's pretty nothing-y, apart from that. It's not bad, but it's pretty cliché and meaningless as Jimmy sings about how You're more than life to me, / More than eternity, before moving onto equally cheesy lines about how I need you more each day, / Much more than words can say, and about how More than forevermore, / I'll be yours. It's boring and I'm not actually sure that last line even makes sense (?)

I think part of my issue with this, beyond it not making sense, though, is just how predictable all the rhymes are, and how straightforwardly route A the song is. It's got a lolloping waltz time rhythm, and a Disney-style chorus, and you can figure out at the start of just about every line exactly where it's going to end. It feels quite like "popular music by numbers", like you've added a whole lot of elements that are theoretically nice, but you haven't taken any risks with it, and what you're left with is quite boring and generic.

Unfortunately, Jimmy also goes for a Big Old Ending. And while it felt earned when it was the Platters, it really doesn't feel earned here, and I quickly finding myself wishing that Jimmy would just tone it down. He doesn't spend too long on it, thankfully, but I still don't love it.

Well, I think my favourite here is clear - I do so love it when the songs themselves make my job easier! One of these songs is so clearly more interesting and better-made than the other. Sorry, Jimmy - nothing personal!

Favourite song of the bunch: My Prayer