#EASILY one of the top ten Taylor Moments of all time

[lakesbian]

this part of the echidna fight never gets less fucking funny. there is genuinely so much wrong with taylor. scapegoat is like “THIS CITY FUCKING SUCKS YOU’RE ALL INSANE” and taylor is just standing there proving his point thinking “hmm well some human sacrifice might be okay”

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ ALL FOR LOVE ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ skz ot8 x any reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, specific aus for every member 𓏧 alternatively where they ask you out on valentine's ㅤ warnings pet names ㅤ﹢ㅤ1k per member ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ og request ] ⋆ friend of a friend/crush skz seeing you read fluff on your phone 🤭💖 - anon. i did change it for valentine's day and made the request a part of the story but not the main one.

◗ ៹ BANG CHAN ›

idol AU! best friends to lovers now playing: sparks fly by taylor swift

Valentine’s Day is stupid! This is the first thought that registers in your mind as you enter the JYP building and see a whole bunch of staff congratulate a couple who you figure got together today. Your pace quickens courtesy of another urging text from Chan lighting up your phone and you groan at his impatience.

Knocking on their practice room door, you patiently await the frisking process before entering it. Your eyebrows scrunch back in confusion when you don’t hear or see anything happen. You knock the second time and nothing! Weird!

Your eyes travel to your phone where the texts from your best friend have stopped coming too, you text him a quick and short sentence about the door not opening. You wait for some more moments before knocking for the third time, and your patience gets better as you twist the room handle.

To your surprise, it opens easily and your frown visibly. Your eyes stray around the dark room as you place your foot in and turn on your phone's flashlight. But before you can do that, the practice room lights up and you look up abruptly and gasp loudly at the banner hanging from the ceiling- “L/n y/n, will you be my valentine?”

“What the-" your voice trails off taking in the low lighting bouncing off the red walls of the room and traces over the rose petals on the floor.

“Will you be my valentine?” You scream in surprise at the voice behind you and turn to see Chan standing there with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of roses on the other hand.

“You like me?” you speak up, words stuttering a lot more than you would like them to and his dimples appear as he smiles saying, “Yes, idiot I do.”

You like Chan, in fact, you like him a lot, to the point where pining over him is painfully obvious to everyone else. But Chan could not know that because he is oblivious enough when it comes to you. Your confusion must have been visible on your face because Chan promptly answers, “I know because I caught you reading a fluff fanfiction the other day during our practice.” A short pose follows and he continues, “About me. And after that, it wasn’t tough to interpret.”

Your face falls, he laughs at your endearing expression, and you whisper, “How?” You are very careful while reading fan fiction and never slip up. Not that you are regretting it right now.

“Mirrors reflect your screen, love,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling into half-moons and you pout in realisation. You look up and suddenly get shy and overwhelmed. The flowers, chocolate, decorations and the day itself come rushing back to you and you realise your best friend has asked you out and you have kept him hanging for the last ten minutes.

“I,” your breath falters before you muster a weak and small, “Yes, I will be,” before happy tears roll down your cheeks. Great, now you are crying like the emotional shit you are.

“Oh baby, don’t cry,” Chan hugs you grinning lightly and placing a kiss on top of your head and you croak, “These are happy tears, Channie.” His laugh vibrates along his body making you happier in his warm embrace, you look up and smile through the glossy eyes and he whispers, “I am sorry it took me so much time to understand, I am so stupid.”

“That you are,” a laugh leaves your throat and he fakes an offended face making you laugh louder and he whispers, “Shut up.” “Make me,” you tease and he chuckles before encasing your lips into a sweet kiss.

◗ ៹ LEE MINHO ›

college AU! enemies to lovers now playing: let me move you by sabrina carpenter

He is beauty, he is grace. He is Lee Minho the menace. Why did you have to pair up with this reincarnation of the devil for a dance project? Your heavy pants echo in the room after you run the practice and look at the clock. Half an hour late!

You know very well he does this to rile you up on purpose because the said boy is the definition of punctuality. He just finds special interest in setting all your nerves on fire. You sigh in annoyance as you plop down on the floor. Scrolling through Instagram you double tap on the posts with every one of your friends posting something with their significant others.

Frankly, you were surprised when Minho asked you to practice with him today. It is Valentine’s Day and according to him his mood will be “sappy” and “tired from fourteenth wheeling his friends” so practising is much better. You have nothing better to do either so you decided to agree.

Which was clearly a mistake.

You scroll absentmindedly before opening up the fanfiction you had left the other day. Resting your head on the wall you put on your ear-pods and start reading. The scene is really cute and you can feel yourself gushing and squealing lightly at the cute behaviour of the leads.

Minho has been watching you quietly gush over it for the past ten minutes loving your giggles. He reads a few lines over your shoulder smiling to himself at the thought of you and him doing it. You seem to like nose kisses and light pecks a lot, he registers as he continues reading from your screen.

You have not seen he has come in and he is thankful as he slides beside you on the floor. You jump up as he rips off one of the ear-pods and slips it inside his ear. All this happens too fast and you squeak trying to hide your phone.

“Lee What the fuck?” you scream but he shrugs you try to snatch back your earpods but he holds your hand saying, “I love this song, finally something you listen to that doesn’t suck,” he grins in a sinister manner and your protest goes to deaf ears as the beats of ‘Let Me Move You’ enters your ears.

Sabrina’s voice fills your ear and Minho glides you to the dance floor in a modern pop couple dance. He twirls you around and you laugh at the cliché steps as he holds you from the back after spinning you. The mischievous smile works its way up on his month and you giggle at the little out-of-routine fun you two are having.

You feel your heart racing as his hands slide down your waist and spin you around he grins matching your smile as you circle your arms around his neck and dance matching the fast beats. The prelude comes and you sway gently and then tap your feet as Minho sings the lyrics lightly making his voice sing-song at the “one, two, three dance with me tonight” line.

Your style matches so well that it makes you feel feral. He really was a great dancer.

The song ends and Minho holds you as you two pant looking at the mirror. The air becomes tense and your heart beats loudly and you blabber out before you can stop yourself, “You have a sweet smile when you are not scowling,” and add, “Not that I see it often.”

Stop talking, your mind screams but you continue, “I don’t like it that much”, liar. Have you noticed him smiling? Yes, the whole ‘enemies’ issue was a huge cliché in your head, and a part of you did hope and pray you would end up like the book couples.

“Yeah I know, you stare at it quite often,” he shrugs nonchalantly and your expression falters in a millisecond yet he never takes his eyes off yours on the mirror and continues, “It is very cliché to like your so-called enemy.”

Your pupils dilate and he chuckles, his soft hair bristling from the cooler of the room and before you can react he spins you and looks at you. Your cheeks grow warm at his intense gaze before he says, “I like you back.”

Your attitude returns with new-found confidence and you reply, “Now who is cliché? Asking me out on Valentine’s Day.” His shoulders shake from the laugh and you grin liking the new dynamic of you two. He dips his head pressing a light kiss on your nose and says, “I am but I can make what you read come true so shh.”

You shyly giggle registering he had earlier caught you reading fluff and pecking his lip you tease him saying, “Don’t make me wait, Lee.”

◗ ៹ SEO CHANGBIN ›

neighbours AU! friends to lovers now playing: dancing in the kitchen by LANY

You stifle a yawn as you struggle to stay awake after a tedious day at work. You curse inwardly at the universe for making you so single. Valentine’s Day and no one to come home to and curl up in their embrace was absolutely cruel however much you try to convince yourself it isn’t.

So when you hear your doorbell ring you are pretty much confused as to who it can be. The pizza you ordered five minutes ago cannot arrive that fast. Walking in your fluffy stickers you open the door and your eyes turn into saucers at the person in front of you.

Your neighbour Seo Changbin is standing there with a pair of CDs in his hand and some clothes in the other. Looking carefully you noticed he also had a single rose under his CDs.

“I know I am fine, but my hands are cramping, so let me in and then gawk all you want,” Changbin deadpans and you quietly let him in the confusion not clearing at all as to why he is here. Shouldn’t he be on a date with someone? Anyone?

“Why are you here?” you ask and he gives you a face before saying, “It is Wednesday, don’t tell me you forgot our ritual.” Your confusion only grows but you still take the rose as he hands it to you saying, “It is Valentine’s Day, I thought it would be rude to not at least bring a flower.”

“Thanks,” you take it, warmth filling your whole face and you look away. Even though he is being really casual about it, everything is just making butterflies flutter in your stomach. Your eyes fall on the CDs and you furrow your eyebrows and it finally hits you.

Oh. Oh.

Changbin, who apparently doesn’t have a date is here to spend his evening with you watching famous movies you haven’t watched before. You two started this ritual because you had randomly blurted it to him and his dramatic ass couldn’t handle you not seeing Mean Girls.

Since then every Wednesday you two watch one famous movie to “catch up” with the generation. You had initially rolled your eyes at his proposal but movie nights with Changbin became better as months went by.

“Don’t think too much and go put these on,” Changbin’s voice cuts in your thoughts and you look down to see pyjamas being handed to you. You don’t question him too much as you go inside and put it on. One thing you have learned is never to question Changbin.

Unless you want to hear a lecture.

You come out and your eyes widen as you realise why he told you to wear those. They were matching pyjamas. Oh. Your body warms up again as you realise you are now wearing matching pyjamas. Like a couple. Watching a movie. On Valentine’s Day. Like a couple.

You throw all thoughts about Changbin liking you behind your mind, he is a friend who helps you out and he is doing the same today. It is nothing much but your beating heart and crush on Changbin fails to live up to your convincement.

You walk towards the couch and watch his muscles flex as he brings the remote and turns on a movie called ‘10 Things I Hate About You’.

Like every other day he turns on the movie but unlike every other day, you find it very hard to focus when there is a whole zoo in your stomach. Just the mere thought of Changbin, who can get any date, spending Valentine’s Day with you is making you go feral. His head whips towards you as soon as you turn towards the screen.

It was a kiss scene. Oh.

You turn your head back to him and find him staring at you with a fiery intensity that you have never seen before. This is new, you think but you don’t miss the way his gaze obviously lingers on your lips before it moves up to your eyes. The air thickens and you hold your breath in mere anticipation.

So it is not only you. The roses and the pyjamas make so much more sense now.

“Changbin, if you want to do it, do it, do it, before we both start to regret it,” you whisper and the last part almost dies in your mouth as he presses his lips to yours. You fist his shirt as his hand caresses your cheek in the soft kiss and you can feel all the unspoken emotion and tension from the past few months.

Heck if you two weren’t so oblivious.

“I have always wanted to do this,” Changbin says, breathless as his lips hover over yours and your eyes hold his gaze and you whisper, “Me too.” He breaks into a grin and you smile lightly running your hands through his hair before he pushes you to the couch kissing you feverishly and the movie long forgotten.

Best Valentine’s ever!

◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›

high-school AU! childhood friend to lovers now playing: 2002 by anne-marie

Your lips protrude in despair of your single life as you lean back on your chair and flip through the pages in your phone reading how much one of the leads works throughout Valentine’s Week to get the other lead.

“If you keep reading and sighing you will never get one in real life,” you jump up at Hyunjin’s voice and take a deep breath before deadpanning him. “Shut up,” you tell him and he raises an eyebrow settling down beside you as soon as the bell for first period rings.

The next day your eyes bulge in surprise as a single rose rests inside your locker. You pick it up and see the note attached to it- starting off slow a bit ;).

You narrow your eyes a little at the note and the rose and rack your head for anyone who likes you. The confusion rises when you don’t remember anyone and you suddenly wish it isn’t a prank. You keep the rose inside your bag and the note neatly in your back pocket. Sitting down, you see Hyunjin skip his steps and sit beside you casually whistling and you look at him.

“I got a rose today,” you trail off and he nods saying, “Good to know.”

“No Hyunjin, you don’t get it, what if this is a prank?” you whisper looking around to see if anyone is looking at you two and laughing at your stance. A chuckle escapes his throat as he looks at you saying, “It isn’t a prank.”

You scan his face and tilt your head and Hyunjin quickly amends, “I think.” You shake your head as the teacher enters, still feeling a little down about letting your intrusive thoughts win making you think it is Hyunjin.

The next day you deflate a little seeing nothing inside even though you are vaguely aware it is Propose Day and sigh lightly knowing I might well have just been a prank. Hyunjin seems surprisingly calm about the whole situation, any other time he would have made a whole deal about this and even though it irks you, you brush it off hating the dread in your stomach.

You are proved wrong when you find a box of chocolates the next day, with a note saying- Sorry can’t propose just yet. I hate your sad face, never make it again :(

You open the box hurriedly finding a mix of all kinds of your favourite chocolates and you look in the box, a custom-made one for gifts. Your heart warms at how thoughtful your secret admirer is and how whoever they are, is aware of your preferences. You open the wrap of one and pop it in your mouth, melting at the taste.

The next day you open your locker in anticipation and find a medium-sized teddy inside. Whispers of envy and awe pass through the hall as you lean on the door and read the note- My broke ass could only afford that, sorry. Forgive me?

You scrunch your nose at the cute tone of the letter and you whisper to yourself, “Of course I forgive you.” You skip your steps happily entering your class and see Hyunjin already there doing something with his camera. You stare at him unintentionally, eyes tracing over his flawless features and then feel guilty.

Obviously, someone else is trying to court you now, and you are still hanging over him, your childhood friend. You shake your head again as your mind fills with the possibility of the secret admirer being Hyunjin. No, he cannot be, he hardly seems interested whenever you talk to him about the gifts.

The next three days pass in a blur as your secret admirer makes up for the kiss and hug as a promise for later and you can’t help but feel giddy when Valentine’s Day comes. You try your best to not run to your locker but you end up speed-walking and open it quickly. Your eyes light up at another note from your admirer and you pick it up and read it.

Your brows furrow in confusion at the location mentioned as it was a park you used to go to when you were a kid. With Hyunjin, your mind registers and you push the voice to the back of your mind. Nevertheless, your secret admirer has told you to visit the spot so you will be right at the time mentioned.

The day feels extremely slow and boring and you run out of school when the bell rings. Hyunjin comes out too from his art class with the tube hanging from his shoulders and you hurry him up.

“Geez, what is with the enthusiasm?” he chuckles and you roll your eyes saying, “You would know if you ever listened to me.”

“Listen to you ranting about a person who is head over heels in love with you? I will do it soon,” he smiles and is met with another eye-roll from you as you two start walking. The walk is silent as your mind wanders over a few options on who can ask you out. There was Jongho from music class, Jungmo from Chemistry, Soobin from History, and Han the class president. No, he is after that girl named Alexa.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your trance but you reply without missing a beat, “A million won and I might tell you something.”

He lets out a light laugh and says, “We are at the place your secret admirer asked you to meet. You get surprised looking around and then the real question comes to your mind- how did Hyunjin know where you were asked to meet?

He can’t know because you didn’t tell him, unless…he is the secret admirer. Your head whips towards his direction and gasp loudly when you see the same paper in his hands. The paper in which the notes were sent.

“Hyunjin oh,” your voice dies down in your throat as you hold it up and a small whimper of emotion leaves your mouth. You open the paper and read the note- We used to play here and I have loved you since the time I knew what love was. Happy Valentine’s y/n

“You- you are, oh my,” your words stumble over and Hyunjin bites his lips smiling at you and you feel the warmth all over your beating heart. It spreads down your body and you find yourself dizzying from the rush of emotions.

“I like you, y/n,” Hyunjin speaks softly and his nose scrunches, his eyes turning into half-moons and he holds you as you look at him with adoration. “I like you too,” you stutter out and he giggles hugging you tighter.

“Now, how about the days we missed?” he speaks softly and you kick him lightly and his giggles tune-up to a full-blown laugh. Just like old times.

◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›

royal AU! forbidden lovers now playing: fool’s gold by one direction

The evening sun lights up the sky in hues of golden and red and you sit on the grass in the royal garden opening your book. Being a general for the royal army wasn’t easy, especially for the commander-in-chief. So the breaks you get are the most cherished and thus you prefer to spend them in the garden instead of your quarters.

The peace and quiet, the smell of the flowers, the light buzzing of the bees and the warmth of the sun feel absolutely wonderful as you turn the pages of the book. You giggle lightly at the cute scenes of the romantic novel you are reading and smile when you read about how the leads are absolutely smitten with each other.

“Do not let our enemies see the general giggling like that over a romantic novel,” you turn your head at the familiar voice and raise your eyebrows saying, “Your Highness.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Sungie?” he pouts and you bite your lips restraining your hands from poking his cheeks. He adjusts his hanbok as he sits down and you keep the book beside you to read for later. Right now you have a big baby to attend you. You turn to him and see a pout already adorning his face from the lack of attention.

“What are you doing here, Your Highness?” you ask and he grins, his eyes lighting up as he holds out a flower to you and your eyes widen. “Han, don’t-" You cannot complete your sentence as he puts a finger on your lips and shushes you. You stare at him with parted lips and sigh again.

You cannot be doing this.

He is of royal blood and you are a mere commoner. It doesn’t matter if you are a high-ranking official or not at the end of the day you are not from any kind of royal blood. Heck, the only royal blood you have ever gotten is from killing or hurting royals.

“Since you aren’t saying anything, I will take that as my cue,” you hear him say and before you can protest he gently tucks the flower in your hair.

Your eyes betray every emotion you are feeling when you look at him but Han’s bright smile doesn’t fade as he starts to animatedly tell you how his day went. Apparently, his new History teacher is so boring he fell asleep three times during the class. All while he is talking, you silently listen, your eyes shining with adoration at his enthusiasm.

“Do you know today is what day?” he asks suddenly and you nod. You are aware of different cultures and you read books which doesn’t qualify you as illiterate but Han still asks to be sure.

“You should not be spending it with me Sungie,” you voice out softly and Han lets out a dry chuckle looking away. He doesn’t care, heck he will spend every single Valentine’s Day with you. The rule is to marry a royal blood, there is no rule that it is compulsory to marry.

He will happily stay single his whole life if it means he can spend every day and every night with you.

“I know what you are thinking, but someday you have to see your suitors,” you smile without emotion and just the mere thought of it brings tears to your eyes. How many days have you spent thinking about what will happen when Han finally finds his suitor?

They will marry, that is what will happen.

Han holds your hand and you look at him and he says, “We should run away.” A laugh of disbelief rings through your throat and his mischievous smile returns as soon as he sees you double over in pure and unfiltered laugh at his ridiculous idea.

“That’s how I like you, smiling, for me,” he tilts his head watching you in adoration and you giggle, leaning over to his body and he engulfs you in his arms. Your breath hitches in your throat as you look up and Han does something you have always dreaded and wished at the same time.

“Will you be my Valentine?” he asks and you nod. You know this is wrong, you know you shouldn’t fall for him but when the grin breaks out in his face and you hear his laugh for your affirmation you realise you have never loved anyone more.

And when his sweet lips encase yours you forget every obstacle that will be arising from this blossoming relationship. After all, you can just always run away.

◗ ៹ LEE FELIX ›

brother’s best friend AU! grumpy x sunshine now playing: shower by becky g

Lee Felix Yongbok. The name that is the reason of your doom.

You look at him, your mouth agape as he plays the game in front of him for the thousandth time and still loses. You don’t even know why he is here, your brother left more than half an hour ago with his date. You have been stuck watching him gaming because it is so amusing.

Felix has always been bad at games and it is no secret. It is not like your brother or his other friends were great but watching Felix play a game was more fun than watching a comedy series. Speaking of him, he throws the controller down, a string of colourful curses leaving his mouth.

You had enough.

Sure he looks hot while cursing, and sure his arms flexing as he presses the controls makes you want to do unnameable things to him, or let him do to you, whichever works, and sure his blonde hair makes you want to run your hand over them while you press light kisses over his face, but you finally had enough.

You sign in annoyance when he picks up the controller again and you snatch it out of his hand, yanking open the cable from the plug point and look at him. He smiles brightly when he sees your grimacing face and jokes, “Come on grumpy don’t glare at me like that.”

“First, Jisung left over an hour ago, so what the hell are you doing here?” you hold up your hand when he opens his mouth to speak and then continue, “Second, it is Valentine’s Day, don’t you have anything better to do than play LoL? And thirdly, Felix give up god you are bad at gaming.”

He pouts and you roll your eyes at him. Everyone in your brother’s friend circle how straightforward you are. Jisung has tried to set you up with Felix because according to him you are in desperate need of some “sunshine” in your life.

Fuck him and his sunshine.

He is the reason anyway you think about Felix so much and develop a crush on him. It is purely because of him you think about Felix and whenever he is around you smile, feel like a thousand fireworks going off when he smiles, and do pathetic things like singing love songs in the shower and dancing in front of the mirror.

All the more reason to hate Han Jisung.

“I am spending the day with you, aren’t I?” Felix winks and you gasp at his answer. He casually gets up and you look behind as he pours himself a glass of water and you close your eyes calming yourself. You cannot be more delusional about his casual flirting than you already are.

He walks off to Jisung’s room and you exhale, hating for even being born. The way his words have set your whole face on fire should be researched. Hell Felix can graze his hands casually and you will be firing up for no reason. You open your phone in frustration and scroll until you find a fluff fanfiction you feel like reading.

The reader kisses the person’s freckles.

Cringe.

You will definitely read it.

And do it to Felix, your mind screams and you want nothing more than to punch your mind. You keep reading trying to focus on the story and not think how it is so fitting with Felix.

“For someone always scowling you like reading stuff that makes normal people giggle,” a deep voice interrupts your reading and you jump as Felix slides beside you, still grinning. You hate yourself for how your eyes instantly dropped to his freckles. They looked like stars littered along his cheekbones and you would want nothing more than pressing kisses all over them.

Stop it.

You force yourself to look into his eyes and it doesn’t help a lot since they look like a whole galaxy of stars. How can someone’s eyes hold so much adoration and spark?

“Why are you looking at my freckles?” he chuckles but you can sense the tinge of insecurity behind it and the answer rolls off your lips before you can stop yourself, “If I was yours I would just spend the day kissing them.”

Your eyes widen and you want the ground to swallow you whole while Felix's loud laugh fills the room. You look at him and the way his nose scrunches and soft hair falls on his lashes as he continues laughing and asks, “Is that a line from the thing you were reading?”

“No, stop it,” you whine and your ears, heck, your whole body feels on fire as you look at Felix who is smiling and looking at you. “You say that but you look at me like this,” you pout and it takes all of his strength to not press his lips to yours right then and there.

“Like what?” he asks and you glare half-heartedly but he continues, “If you mean like I am head over heels for you, then yes, I do look at you like that.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you don’t trust your voice too much but you blabber out, “Don’t ask me out on Valentine’s, that’s cliché as hell.”

“I can do all kinds of cliché things for you though,” Felix’s smiles brighten and you feel your heart beating at an unhealthy rate. Is this a heart attack? Will you die now? But his next sentence almost make you pass out if he was not holding you.

His breath mingles with yours as he asks with his lips inches away from yours, “Kissing on Valentine’s is a bit cliché too right?”

◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›

roommate AU! friends to lovers now playing: i like me better by lauv

You put on your earphones and sit down on the couch reading the latest update on fanfiction from your favourite author. You place the cup of hot coffee on the table beside and get comfortable on the couch. You check the time on your phone and realise it is still some hours till Seungmin comes home from his practice.

With your lack of a date for Valentine’s, you have decided reading is the best way to solve all your wanted desires and cute scenarios while Seungmin, who claims he also had a lack of date (he didn’t, you literally saw him rejecting people) will be at vocal practice with his friend Jeongin.

You giggle when you read the fluffy scenes, kicking your feet and giggling to your heart’s content. You do not notice Seungmin returning at all and he understands that when you don’t reply when he calls your name. Seungmin runs a hand through his hair as he enters and his confused gaze falls over you sprawling on the couch.

He chuckles at how cute you are behaving and how cute you look in the oversized hoodie. He places his practice bag down, walks behind you and looks at your screen loving how oblivious of his presence. His mischievous side acts up and he starts reading loudly from the line he can see, “He places a soft kiss on the forehead, then traces them down the yes, and the nose, to the lips of-“

Your eyes open wide in shock and you jerk up and three incidents happen at the same time- you scream at Seungmin, one of your earpods falls off and the coffee in your hand spills over your clothes and hand.

You hiss at the burning sensations on your palm and thumb and Seungmin’s eyes widen as he pulls you by your hand. “Min what?” you ask confusedly as he sprints with you to the kitchen sink and throws your hand under the cold water. You look at him in shock, unable to process how quickly the situation escalated.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” he murmurs and his fingers run over your burnt area under the water. Well almost-burnt. The coffee wasn’t that hot and it would not even escalate to a first-degree burn.

“Min, hello to you too,” you joke and he grimaces upset at himself for causing such a situation. You open your mouth to say you are fine but he shushes you and makes you sit on the kitchen counter. He brings down the first-aid box and slightly blows on the region. The action releases a whole cage of butterflies in your stomach and his concerned face over a little harm makes your heart tighten.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean-“ his sentences is interrupted as you put your finger over his lips and say what you have been trying to say for the last fifteen minutes, “Minnie, I am fine.”

“Are you sure? I think we need to give some more ice,” he murmurs but before he can drift away, again, you pull him by his arms against your body. Seungmin stumbles over his feet and you giggle at his confused puppy behaviour before repeating your sentence, “Minnie, I swear I am fine.”

“Okay,” he complies and you laugh before saying, “You are too cute trying to take care of me, you know?” His nose scrunches and he puts his arms around your waist and murmurs, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

His tugs lightly on your waist and you tip forward getting close to him and your breath hitches at the proximity. His caramel eyes look so beautiful up close that you never want to look away. You can get lost in his eyes. Literally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, the tension thickening as his body presses to yours and warmth spreads over your cheek but you whisper back, “Like what?”

“Like you want to never let me go,” he says and his breath fans your face as you make out the little details of his face. His hold tightens around your waist and you find yourself replying, “Maybe I don’t.”

His eyes roam over your features and land on your lips and that gives you the courage to lean in. Seungmin takes the cue and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. You hum kissing him back as you feel him smiling through the kiss. Your lips move together perfectly just like they fit like two missing puzzle pieces.

Seungmin’s hands caress your waist and you fist his shirt lightly and when you finally pull back a big grin breaks along his face making you laugh along. You sway lightly in his arms and a teasing smile reaches your lips as you ask the cringiest question existing to mankind.

“How about you kiss my wound better too?”

◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›

office AU! co-workers to lovers now playing: silver tongues by louis tomlinson

What is better than working after-hours on Valentine’s Day? Absolutely fucking nothing. You sigh at your unfortunate state and continue typing on the computer finishing up the last slide for your colleague’s presentation who has clocked off as it was Valentine’s.

It was just two slides but you being the perfectionist you were couldn’t just leave it like that and thus completed it fully. After you are finished you huff and lean back on the chair. The creaking noise echoes in the empty office and you look around. Your desk was comparatively closer to the glass window of the building.

That is now giving you the perfect view of the streets decorated with pink and red fairy lights and the couples walking below. The street is buzzing with love and it is making you feel lonely. Another year, another day, you think. It will pass.

Swiping open your phone you quietly check through your notifications, most of them your work emails or bank account reports and sighing you clear them out. You swipe up a few notifications from your friends and some garbage notifications like the weather.

What the hell are you going to do with knowing the weather at eight in the night!

Your eyes fall over a particular notification- the update of a book chapter you have been waiting for. You eye the office once again. Alone. Swivelling in your chair you open your work computer and login through your account in Incognito. Nothing better than reading on a big screen.

You lean back satisfied and read it feeling giddy at the scenes the author has written. The kisses and the hugs are so satisfactorily written you feel literal butterflies reading them.

“Reading stories on a work computer, should I be reporting this?” you jerk up at the familiar voice and are instantly met with a pair of foxlike eyes. His mouth presses together trying to suppress a smile as you tried to hurriedly close the tab in the computer.

When you are done you take a long breath and look towards him and ask, “What are you doing here?” An amused smile reaches his lips but he answers nevertheless, “Came to take some files.” You nod your head but can’t look away from his face. The low light of the office casts a warm glow on his defined cheekbones and a light shade on his dyed caramel hair.

It is not like you and Jeongin were friends, but you weren’t acquaintances either. You two were somewhere in between and given his bright smile and even brighter personality nobody can hate him.

“Don’t you have a date?” Jeongin asks casually still holding onto your gaze and you chuckle shaking your head. Your love life is basically DOA. He sighs in relief unknowingly and before he can stop himself he continues, “Do you want to catch up with dinner?”

You whip your head towards him so fast that he stutters and blabbers, “I mean not today if you are busy, someday later or we can forget I said it.”

Did Yang Jeongin, the man who works in an office with his prim and proper attire, wears glasses, but dyes his hair for style and is the eye candy of more than half the office, ask you out on a date?

“Today’s fine,” you blurt out and you see the red blush spread from his nose to his cheeks. You are sure you are blushing too and you look away trying to arrange the already-made files. Jeongin stutters out an okay and keeps quiet, the awkward silence hanging as you quickly tidy up.

Ten minutes and an awkward elevator ride later you and Jeongin are walking down the decorated streets and attempting small talk which gradually are beginning to loosen you two up. You talk about your favourites and he talks about his own funny incidents, mostly with his older brother Minho.

You two enter a bar and order a drink each simply sitting down. By the time your drinks arrive the loud tempo has reduced to a slow song and you gasp in shock. This is your favourite song. You look at Jeongin who sips on his drink slightly, his glasses resting a little low on his nose and messy hair sprawling over his forehead.

One drink cannot make you tipsy but you blame it on the drink anyway when you ask, “Do you want to dance to this?” If Jeongin is surprised by the request, he doesn’t show it and nods, a small smile creasing up his cheeks.

He takes your hand and you twirl around the dance floor. Feeling a little bolder you circle your arms around his neck and sway to the beats of the song. All the time Jeongin never takes his eyes off yours and you feel yourself flustering under his intense gaze. His eyes trace your features and linger lightly on your lips before returning to your eyes.

The moment is so intense it makes you light-headed and his musky deodorant infiltrating your senses didn’t help at all. As the song finishes, Jeongin is unable to look away but he lets go reluctantly.

You miss his warm flush against your skin already but it returns as soon as he says, “If you don’t mind, do you want to catch a proper dinner tomorrow?”

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's note ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤthis is kind of a personal favourite and even though I have no one to spend Valentine’s with I love being delusional lol. I enjoyed writing these too much and so I would really appreciate feedback and reblogs. my personal favourite is Felix even though he isn’t my bias but it was my first time trying grumpy x sunshine and I loved it so much. Happy Valentine’s everyone ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr ﹢ beta readingㅤ@kyrjnie @haneagerr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi ㅤ add to taglist

© arafilez on tumblr. please do not copy and repost my work as your own.

[imeanitplsmorenamifics]

This is for my Nami lovers! WE HAVE BEEN STARVED FOR TOO LONG! I CAN'T LET IT GO ON ANYMORE! THE FAMINE IS OVER! I hope you all enjoy this 💞! 100%, I was giggling, kicking my feet, and grinning the whole time I wrote this 😂. You can request here, my masterlist is here, my Flower Asks are here, Hozier asks are here, and my Taylor Swift asks are here. You can find my rules for requesting here. Electric Touch: Just by touching you could she set you on fire. Characters: Nami, GN!Reader Pairing: Nami x GN!Reader TW: Nothing I can think of.

Electric Touch

.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

There was one thing that you would always remember. It was engrained too deep in your mind to ever get lost in the sea of memories. The first time you ever won something couldn’t beat this one memory. Even eating your first-ever dessert couldn’t top this one memory. It was a memory that always stuck around in your mind, no matter how deeply you tried to push it down.

It was supposed to be a regular day for you. You were part of a pirate crew that decided to dock at a restaurant called the Baratie. You weren’t a higher-up in the crew, just someone who cleaned up after the other crew members. You were no one important. That was all you were. Just you.

Being pushed around was something you were used to. You were bottom of the food chain, so the other crew members could tell you to do something and you had no choice but to do it. This led you to walk out to the outside bar while it was dark outside to get alcohol for your crew that was eating inside. The kitchen apparently ran out of alcohol, and they would have to get some from the bar. Your captain told them to save their time and just let you do it. You had no choice but to comply.

A sigh escaped you as you walked through the crowd of people dancing at the outside bar. If you could leave the crew, you would. You only joined because you were under the impression your position would be much more important than what you are now. The captain said he saw potential in you, essentially leading you on in order to get you to join. When you found out that none of what he said was true, you brought up leaving. Let’s say that was the last time you ever mentioned it out loud.

And then it happened.

You bumped into someone. You were approaching the bar just as someone was going to leave it. Both of you collided with each other. Thankfully, no one was injured. You were able to walk it off fairly easily, and the other person was able to do the same. At first, in your annoyance, you wanted to tell the other person off.

The other person spoke up before you could say anything, “I’m sorry about that.” It was the voice of a woman. You looked up just as she touched your shoulder to help stabilize you.

In front of you was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. She had orange hair that stopped a little above her shoulders. Mesmerizing blue eyes stared back into your (E/C) ones. It was as if time stopped in that moment. You felt butterflies in your stomach. The hand she placed on your shoulder was warming your skin, and you almost felt it buzzing. You never believed in the concept of love at first sight, but you were sure you were just now feeling that.

That feeling never went away, either. As you stood side by side with her on the Going Merry, you were talking about nothing. It was a casual conversation. Everyone had those. Things changed when, for a fraction of a second, you felt her hand graze your own. Just like the first time you met, you felt the warm, buzzing feeling. Butterflies went crazy in your stomach, and a smile graced your features.

“What is it?” She inquired with a curious glance.

You shook your head, “Nothing.” But it was everything. To you, moments like these were everything. You wanted to be like this with her for the rest of your life. You didn’t know if she felt the same way but you wanted things to work out between both of you. This woman could easily wreck your whole life or make it ten times better. Either way, you would invite her to do whatever she wanted with your life. As long as she was with you, it didn’t matter.

[nothingunrealistic]

thinking abt Society If (Akd As) Taylor Gets To Sing and know you've mentioned thus before but what are a top pick or several for what song could be applied thus. can be attuned to knowing the KoppLevs genre & canon scene tendencies & or not particularly hold to that as a more flexible transformative scenario idea or whatall. plus like especial lyrics that would be the highlight presuming it's not a full song or that some lyrical or musical moments would be extra fun

i think this is best answered in terms of the two scenarios i’ve contemplated wherein Taylor Gets To Sing — not necessarily scenes that would happen Within the show proper, but situations that could still be considered basically canon compliant — as follows:

scenario #1

taylor & philip leave prince cap at the end of a long workday, getting in the same elevator and riding down together, and oops! the power’s gone out and the elevator’s stuck! they can’t easily contact anyone because elevators have terrible cell reception & wifi connectivity! and either there isn’t a backup generator or it isn’t powering the elevator, because the plot demands it! so they’re stuck in the elevator for an unknown amount of time with only one another for company and distraction. they do their best to make conversation, which at one point leads to an impromptu game of truth or dare, which leads to philip daring taylor to sing something, anything, for just ten seconds. after some consideration, taylor sings the first few lines of the chorus of super bass by nicki minaj. (i have to imagine that the one time they referenced nicki minaj says something about their music taste.) naturally, taylor then dares philip to sing something, anything, for twice that long. he goes with all right now by free, which is the unofficial fight song of stanford university. (both the original version and the leland stanford junior university marching band’s version are on my rotation of Songs To Think About Philip To.)

scenario #2

prince cap karaoke! specifically, the younger employees at prince cap (for this purpose, “younger” = under 35 or so) are going to a bar for karaoke under taylor & philip’s leadership, as a bonding exercise, and the understanding is that everyone Must get up and perform at least once. taylor doesn’t really think this should apply to them, though, and they spend a good part of the evening quietly debating this with philip and restating their refusal to sing in front of people while the following performances happen:

winston and peach duet on don’t go breaking my heart by elton john and kiki dee. it’s very fun.

ben kim sings my life would suck without you by kelly clarkson. half the reason behind this choice is that daniel k. isaac said in an interview that he’d once sung a kelly clarkson song at karaoke. the other half is that it probably resonates with how he feels about his coworkers / prince cap in general. sad but true.

sacker sings tears dry on their own by amy winehouse. she kills it, because she canonically was in an a cappella group in college and also canonically is good at literally everything she tries. is she thinking about one or both connerty brothers? maybe!

tuk is reluctant to get on stage; winston convinces him to do a duet of i don’t dance from high school musical 2. it’s a little clunky, but they both have fun. obviously tuk sings chad’s part and winston sings ryan’s part. here’s how winstuk can still win!

philip, who is still trying to convince taylor to sing something, gets up and sings wichita lineman by glen campbell. it’s out of place with what their group (and everyone else at the bar) has been singing, and it takes people by surprise, ultimately in a good way.

rian sings go your own way by fleetwood mac. it feels very pointed, but no one’s completely sure who it’s pointed at. (taylor has the best chance of guessing correctly, though.)

and finally, taylor gets on stage — and brings winston along. when the music starts, it seems that taylor is going to sing common people by pulp. however, it quickly becomes clear that taylor is actually doing william shatner’s version of common people, in which most of the lyrics are spoken rather than sung, and winston is covering the sung lines in that version. most people at the bar think this is kind of a weird move. philip thinks it’s hilarious and is begrudgingly impressed by taylor exploiting the loophole in “everyone must get up and perform at least once.”

since that’s been accomplished, all the prince cappers gradually leave to head home. philip and taylor leave around the same time, and while they’re waiting for rides, he can’t help pointing out that they still haven’t actually sung, which is the point of karaoke. and, with no one around to hear them except philip, taylor sings head over feet by alanis morrisette. not the whole song — they won’t have time for that anyway with their uber arriving soon — but just enough to leave philip wondering.

[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left. 

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter. 

Stuck in a... by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh  

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

[sunjaesol]

clandestine meetings and longing stares

juke secret dating au | title: illicit affairs // taylor swift | a middle of the night scribble

When twelve year old Julie Molina got a stern talk from her father that she wasn't allowed to date until college, the tween had no qualms with it. The only boy she's ever liked had been Sokka from Avatar and that was it. Real boys didn't interest her. 

Until she turned sixteen and caught sight of Luke Patterson. 

In the years between, she had small crushes here and there. Lance, Nick, Noah. None, however, competed with storm that erupted in her stomach each time Luke smiled at her - her heart in a constant frenzy. 

It was the beginning of junior year when he randomly sat next to her in music class and brought out all the bravado. It shouldn't have been cute. Julie should've rolled her eyes, dismissed his cute smirk, but she simply couldn't. The shimmering green of his eyes and the nice laugh was too alluring, too attractive. Soon enough, Julie was crushing on him hard. Which was fortunate, since he very much liked her as well, something he never hid from her. 

("Watch out, Julie," he joked during one of their first conversations. "The charm is gonna make you get a crush on me!") 

Luke kissed her two weeks after, chastely and secretly under the bleachers. Her infatuated mind forgot in that moment how she wasn't even allowed to look at a guy and eagerly kissed him back. It had been her first kiss and wow - what a perfect one at that. 

A beat later, she realised her mistake and told him about her dad's stupid rule. His face had crashed for all of ten seconds when a mischievous grin crawled on his lips (an expression that would get her into serious trouble one day) and said: "Why tell him?" 

Had it been any other boy, she would've shaken her head and regret kissing him. But this was Luke. She really liked Luke. The idea of not being with him, of not seeing where this could go, was a greater fear than her father's disappointment. In response, she snatched him back into a kiss he all too hungrily went along with. 

Rule #1: Don't date! Broken, busted, thrown out the window with a smile. 

It started off easy. At school, no one had to worry. She sat with him at lunch and let herself be coaxed under the bleachers and snuggled into his embrace at the end of the day. On the parking lot, she could pretend she was simply saying goodbye to her boyfriend and not going home to lie in her dad's face about why she was so overly chipper all of a sudden. 

(Luke made her so ridiculously happy it was unfair. Each time he surprised her with a hug, her feet lifted from the ground; each time they kissed, his thumbs grazed her cheeks like she was a precious gem; each time she came up with a clever lyric, he gave her the toothiest grin and called her all the cute nicknames he could think of. Boss, baby, babe, Lyric Queen.) 

God, she was complete mush for this boy. Sometimes she wondered if she was doing enough, not quite matching his overt display of affection, but she knew she must be doing something right if he never stopped smiling when she talked. That his eyes held a certain softness, timidness, reserved for her only. 

They outgrew school quickly. Both wanted to go on dates without raising suspicion, Luke wanted to come over and just be with her without causing havoc. 

"Why does the rule exist anyway?", he asked at the end of a cool December day. 

Julie toyed with the lapels of his red shacket. "It's dumb. I mean, I get it, but it's dumb." Sighing, she explained his reasoning. "He wants me to fully focus on school so that I can get into a good college. Once I secured that, then I'm allowed to have fun."

Luke frowned. "I- I guess I kind of get it."

Her eyes rolled teasingly. "You don't even want to go to college." 

"Correction: I wanna go to frat parties and have the college experience-" 

"Without the classes part," she deadpanned. His face fell flat, a giggle of her own following. 

His frown returned, a look she hated seeing. "You don't think he'll… I don't know, let go of that rule when he sees we're good?" His calloused hands slipped from her waist to softly cradle her face. Julie sighed, leaning into the touch. Resisting Luke and everything he did was hard. A smile twitched on his lips. "Would be pretty dope to come through the front door and kiss my girlfriend."

Her heart clenched at his confession. It would be amazing, but it sounded so unbelievable that it could easily be taken as a joke. Dad would go absolutely insane if she pulled something like that. Hey dad! Don't mind me as I jump into the arms of my boyfriend and he kisses me like a heartthrob from the movies! 

She should've known Luke would try something. His impulsivity was an admirable trait, she found, though the pebbles hitting her window past midnight have her such a fright that she cursed for a beat how one track minded he could be. Until she caught sight of him. Eyes twinkling in the moonlight, a wide smile, his casual stance. He pointed at her and she nodded, grabbing her phone to text him there was a ladder by the garage. 

Quiet like a ghost and quick like a fox, Luke snuck into her room, feet falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

Butterflies raged in her stomach. Her secret boyfriend was here, in her room, right now, with her father sleeping just down the hall. 

"What're you doing here?", she whispered, already breathless from having him near. 

His nose scrunched up. "Trying to be romantic. Should I have called you first?" 

She shook her head. "It's fine. Maybe next time. It's-" Her arms slung around his shoulders, heart hammering a mile a minute. Her pyjamas were nothing special, an oversized pullover and sweatshorts, but it felt oddly intimate to be so cozy together. His own faded t-shirt was from a zoo in Oregon and his sweatpants softer than any of the ones she owned. Julie almost asked to borrow them, if it wasn't for his lips to swallow the words with a warm kiss. 

Her fingers slipped into his hair. Yeah. This was better than talking. 

It soon became routine. Every other week, Luke would text her a moon emoji and then climb into her room around midnight. They'd kiss and cuddle, Luke often leaving by five am and then making a whole show at school as if he hadn't seen her. Julie thought it was cute. If she could, she'd return the favour and go to his place, but Luke assured her she did not want that and, consequently, her father would just know. Unfortunately, she didn't have Luke's agility like some parkour champ. 

"Trust me, Jules, I don't mind," he told her at lunch while stealing a cherry tomato. "I like sneaking in."

Alex shot him a look. "You like feeling like the main character of a movie, that's what."

"You brainwashed me with romcoms, so it's your fault, dude,' Luke retorted, grinning when the blonde flipped him off. 

They got cocky though. Julie knew her dad would be gone during the day for a photography gig in Santa Monica, all the way on the other side of Los Angeles. It was the perfect excuse to get Luke over. Excited, Julie opened the front door for him with a flourish and did a silly courtesy. 

"Your first time using my door," she teased. "Must feel special."

His cocky nod made her roll her eyes. "Super special," he replied gravely, playing along. "She's been begging for me."

Her expression turned sour. "I haven't been begging for you." 

His smirk widened, tugging on a curl as he slipped past her. "Was I talking about you?" 

He didn't, but he did start making out with her the second they were in the safety of her bedroom, so she knew there wasn't much competition. 

That afternoon, they successfully avoided her dad's wrath and felt arrogantly confident about it. It made them daring. Pushing the limits, how far could they go, how blatant could they be before he knew? It was almost a game, the thrill part of the insane attraction she felt each time he snuck in. 

His strong arms were wrapped around her as she straddled his waist, kissing him. Every touch was languid and intentional, a searing passion that rippled her skin and left her mind empty. Kissing Luke always put her in a dreamy, blissful haze. Her fingers clawed at his shirt and he shrugged it off in one fluid motion, pulling her back in. His skin was warm, hers to explore. Julie grinned into the kiss. His fingers toyed with the hem of her top.  

"Julie?" 

They froze. Her dad. Other side of the door. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. As quietly as possible, the girl hoisted herself from his lap and motioned at her closet. 

"Julie?" The door handle began to shake. 

Her voice squeaked. "Just a second!" Luke tiptoes into her closet, Julie kicking his shirt under her bed as she ran to the door. Her flushed cheeks would be a dead giveaway had her father ever doubt her trust. Fortunately, Julie Molina was in the eyes of her family a perfect good girl. 

(The guy hiding in her closet would whisper something else in her ear.)

"Why is your door locked?" Dad frowned. "You never lock your door."

Julie shrugged, innocence leaking from her tone. "I can't have some privacy?" 

"Of course, Julie," he said, though his lips were pressed into a thin smile. This clearly wasn't the last time they'd talk about it. "I'm going to the store. Do you need something?" 

"No, thanks," she rushed. "Anything else?" 

"Uh, no. Don't lock yourself in, hm?" It was said as a joke, his brows lifted, but both she and her father knew he meant it. No more locking doors. Shit. 

When the front door fell shut and the car rumbled into the street, Luke reappeared with a careful smile. 

Julie sighed. "That… was close. Maybe we should stop hanging out right after school. I didn't even hear him coming up the stairs."

"Damn, Jules!” Peppering two kisses on her forehead, it did little to relief her stress. “Now that's an ego booster."

"I'm serious!" She huffed. "I hate this. I hate the rule and I hate that I'm making you put up with it."

"Hey, hey," he soothed. "It's shitty, yeah, but you're not making me do anything." Nodding at her lips, he added: "Your smile is already…" 

The smile bloomed on its own accord when he trailed off, edging closer. "What?" 

That little shake of his head almost made her kiss him, but she wanted to know what he was going to say, why his lips were parted in that wonderstruck expression. When nothing came, a curious hum rumbled in her throat as she placed her chin on his chest. 

He relented, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Your smile is already making me do dumb stuff.”

Oh, God. If he was going to continue saying things like that, she might actually fall in love with him. Back when Julie and Flynn were still obsessed with those relationship quizzes in magazines, she always claimed she’d like guys that weren’t so smooth with their words. She thought it meant they were players. But Luke never half-assed anything. 

Her head tilted, amused. “Do you always have words ready?”

“Zero words, Jules,” he quipped. “Ever.”

Yeah, she might actually love him. 

Public dates became a thing after that conversation. She simply couldn’t let him get away because of some rule, even if he claimed he wouldn’t. Eats & Beats was a cute, little café in the heart of Los Feliz with live music and amazing lattes; it was also their regular spot. They’d settle themselves into a booth, share a baked good (“If we’re trying the carrot cake now, we’re doing the pastel de nata next week.” “Deal.”) and talk for hours. Sometimes, when either was tinkering on a song, they’d work on it together.

One leg overlapped his, his fingers drawing pictures on her knee. The booth with the suede red couches and the scratching of a star in the wood was their safe haven.  

“Mh, no,” she swallowed the piece of muffin. “That’s such an ugly word, don’t use that.”

He grinned, shoulders nudging as a tease. “Drencher not doing it for you?”

A laugh bubbled up, kissing his cheek. “Just use ‘rain’, you dork!”

“Dork?”, he mocked, getting in her face. 

“Yeah.” Her nose brushed his. “Dork.” 

“You are a dork.”

“That’s the best you’ve got, Patterson?”

Luke smirked, eyes flicking across her frame. “Want me to show you my best, Molina?”

She pushed his face away, a blush creeping up her cheekbones. They haven’t done it yet, but whenever he got like this, she felt her entire skin heat up at the mere idea. A part of her wanted to take that step, but she felt bad doing it if her dad or tía didn’t know. Knowing that they wouldn’t support her for as long as the rule existed, made her settle with that heat for a little longer. Her leg slipped from his and turned back to his songbook. 

“So-”

“Julie?”

The couple looked up, once more paralysed as her dad’s familiar voice called her name. Why was he literally everywhere?! His tall figure stood in front of their booth, his hat shrouding the grimace on his face as his scrutinising eyes flitted between them. Oh, God. Did he know? Did he see? How much did he see? Did he see Luke checking her out? Mortification didn’t even come close to what she felt. 

“Dad!” Her pressed smile hopefully looked relaxed to him. Her dad had moments of obliviousness; she might be able to save this. “What- hi, I didn’t know you had a booking here.”

His suspicion didn’t waver. “Yeah, honey, for the Rodriguez’ - I told you last night. Was just getting, ah, coffee.” He nodded at Luke. “Who’s this?”

My boyfriend. The one I’m falling for. The boy I’ve been hiding for months. “This is Luke, he’s one of my classmates.” The way his arm tensed at the label made her ache, but she had to truck on. “We’re working on a song.”

If he didn’t believe her, she just hurt her boyfriend for no reason. It did the trick though. Her father’s face mellowed, noticing the scribbles in the tattered book. “You’re working on a song?”

“Yeah. It’s really getting along.” Her finger tapped against his thigh. “Right, Luke?”

He perked up, a cough following as he straightened his attitude. This really was not the way she wanted them to meet. “Uh, yeah.” His hand stuck out. “Hi, mister Molina.”

Dad shook it with a smile, fully relaxed now. “Ray. Nice to meet you.” The barista called out his name. “See you at home, Julie. Don’t stay out long, yeah?”

Her smile twitched and crashed the second he turned around, grabbed his coffee and closed the glass door. She groaned, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta be honest,” he whispered. “That hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke sighed. “I was okay being a secret before, but…”

She coaxed his jaw, needing him to look at her. “It’ll hurt more if I tell him and forces me to break up with you.”

For a moment, silence sunk onto the table, wedging itself like thick smoke between her and Luke. He seemed pensive, the green of his eyes peering. Suddenly, they lit up. “But wait, aren’t you getting your results? Early admission?”

She sagged in her seat, pouting. “If UCLA wants me.”

“They will,” he smiled. His arms wrapped around her. “Of course, they will. And if you get in, he can’t be mad that you’re dating me, right?”

Hope tinged her chest. She hasn’t considered that. She’s been so focused on Luke and trying to keep it hidden, that everything college-related went over her head. The letters and essays and interviews happened before she and Luke got serious, so with her being on that pink cloud ever since, school stress has been locked away. Why bother mulling over UCLA when she could be having fun with Luke? 

If she locked in UCLA… then Luke might be right. And if not UCLA, then she’d hear of USC and NYU next year. (If they were even still together by the time those letters got in the mail.) 

“You might’ve found the loophole,” she teased, hoping to lift the tension. And then she uttered out her biggest fear: “But if you haven’t… will you stay?”

His kiss answered her, soft and sweet and with a hint of blueberry muffin. A grin bloomed on her lips, burrowing her face in his shoulder. She felt it. That overflowing, unbridled adoration overwhelming her all at once. Julie loved him. It was April fourteenth and it only took her six months but Julie loved Luke. They stayed in the booth until they had to go home.

Her phone was mocking her. Luke and her were in her car, stagnant, as both stared at the white screen. Every few minutes, she refreshed it, yet no email came. Gah! Couldn’t colleges just send the email when they said they would? What was taking so long? Did that mean she didn’t get in? Was this a bad sign? It helped having Luke there, easing the rising stress that clenched her ribcage, but she wouldn’t be fully okay until that freaking email come through. 

As if sensing her thoughts, he drummed against the dashboard. “It’s gonna be cool. You look great in blue and gold, you gotta get in.”

She giggled, nerves lacing her tone. “Imagine if that’s how you got in. You’d get into USC then.”

“Are you saying I look hot in red?”, he teased. 

“You know you- oh my God!” She lurched for her phone as a new email pinged in, heartbeat stuttering in her ears. Frozen, her thumb hovered over the fated email. This would change everything - for better or for worse. She knew she should focus on the fact that it would determine where she’d go to college, but all she could think about was Luke, Luke, Luke. Was it selfish to care more about junior prom then UCLA? At this very moment, she thought it was completely justified. 

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it. You open it.”

His brows raised. “You sure?”

“Yeah-” She stuffed the phone in his hand and put her trembling ones on her lap. “-do it for me.”

Luke took a deep breath. Julie shut her eyes. Please. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please accept her. Please let her be with Luke.

Ten seconds passed. His voice gave nothing away. “Julie?”

“Just rip the band-aid off,” she choked out.   

A familiar, calloused hand softly grabbed hers. Her eyes cracked open. Luke had the biggest smile on his face and it made her heart pop out of her chest. She bit down on her lip, fighting off a grin. “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” he sang, reaching across the console to show her phone. You got accepted! blinked in bold, black letters. “You’re UCLA bound, baby!”

Euphoria burst out. Julie squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. She got in! She fucking got into college! A great one at that! Another Molina was going for gold! 

And it might even get her to date Luke without secrecy. God, she hoped this was enough. She wanted to do everything with him. All the time, the entire time. Flynn has called them clingy, but Julie just wanted to get rid of the anxiety of her dad finding out. To finally relax and be fully with him.

Her head tilted, bashful. “Is it crazy to say that I might be in love with you?”

He dropped her phone in the cupholder and peppered another kiss on her mouth. “No. That’s good.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, eyes glittering with adoration. “Cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too.”

She pecked his thumb, giddy. “Fuck it. Let’s tell my dad right now. About UCLA and you.”

He smiled. “You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Storming inside the house, the couple made a beeline to her dad’s office, his hand in hers. 

“Dad!”, she called out, door slamming open. Her startled father perked up in his seat, his wide eyes going from Julie to Luke right behind her. “I got into UCLA!”

Ray sprung up, cheering. “Mija-!”

“And I’m dating Luke!”, she yelled after. “And that’s okay, cause I got in, so you don’t have to worry about the rule anymore! So... ” She put her foot down, awkwardness creeping in her tone. “Yeah!”

Flabbergasted, dad faltered and let the cheers die in his throat. Luke came to stand next to her, squeezing her hand. Slowly, he nodded. “Ah… so that time in Eats & Beats-”

“A date,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry I went behind your back, papa, but I… really care about Luke. And we figured that if I got in, you’d stop enforcing the dating rule.”

His grap became even tighter. “I, uh, really care about her too,” Luke mustered. “Sorry that we kept it a secret.”

Ray sighed, propping his head in his hands and scrubbing the confusion away with his palms. The pair shot each other a look. He wasn’t mad, she deduced, so that was a good sign at least. Finally, dad moved again and gave her a tight hug. Her confidence grew, hugging him back and withholding a cry of victory. 

He pulled back, crossing his arms with a hint of amusement. “Well… the rule clearly didn’t work, but you seem happy and you- you did actually get in, right?”

She laughed, nodding, and showed the confirmation email. His smile grew. “Then I guess,” he trailed, “you’re allowed. To date. But no funny business!”

Julie quickly nodded, grabbing back onto Luke’s arm and jostling him in excitement. Luke bounced on his heels, trying to temper it but failing miserably. She thanked her dad, promised him they’d celebrate her acceptance later tonight and rushed back out with Luke. Dad yelled something about establishing new rules, but both gleefully ignored it. Once in her bedroom, he snatched her into a tight embrace, kissing her full on the lips. Julie whooped against his mouth and danced between his arms. This might be the best day of her life! Luke was her real real real boyfriend!

“You heard your dad, Jules,” he teased. “No funny business.”

She pouted, faux-peeved. “You won’t get to climb through my window again.”

“Won’t have to hide in cars anymore.”

“Won’t have to say you’re just my classmate.”

Luke dragged them onto her bed, laying side by side. “I can take you to junior prom.”

She kissed him with a giggle. “You’re taking me to prom?”

“Hell yeah, I am!”, he bellowed, drumming his fingers against her hips. “Let your dad take pictures of us and everything.”

She scrunched her nose. “Let’s maybe not push him just yet.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, humming in agreement. “You’re probably right.”

Luke did that her to junior prom, to homecoming, to senior prom, called her hot in blue and gold and vetoed no when she begged him for a bright, blue velour couch for their first apartment. When someone asked her father what it was like, seeing his daughter find the one at sixteen, he had to admit with embarrassment red on his cheeks that it all flew under his radar.

That it all started with sneaky bleacher kisses and a hopeful heart. 

@blush-and-books @ourstarscollided @sophiphi @bluefirewrites​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 15 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So we’re back in Calgary folks. I’m just cranking away at this story lately and all of your thoughts are so appreciated. If anyone has any predictions for things, I’d love to hear them. 

Warnings: smut (oral/other foreplay/risky/semipublic), cursing

Word Count: 3,192

~~~~

Just like that, it was all over. You’d spent ten days in Iceland with Cale. Ten days that you were never going to forget. After spending your last morning visiting some lighthouses, another black sand beach, and a bridge spanning a rift valley, you were climbing back on a plane to fly to Calgary. Your little oasis with Cale was about to be broken by the harsh realities of the real world. 

Your bed being cold without Cale sleeping beside you. 

Your work email overflowing to the point you didn’t even know where to start.

Having five days to plan a Canada Day party which you’d forgotten you’d agreed to host.

Oh...and your parents coming to stay with you in two days. 

_______

The fact that you were able to stand in your backyard surrounded by friends and family July 1st was something that would never have happened without help. 

You hadn’t heard from Cale all day Saturday, but when your phone buzzed with a text on Sunday morning you couldn’t help the warm feelings that rose inside you.

Please tell me I’m not the only one sleeping like shit…

He certainly wasn’t. But at least he could nap after training...you weren’t nearly that lucky and you told him so. That led to a conversation about the million things you suddenly had to do in the next few days and how you weren’t sure you could get it all done. 

And because he was legitimately the best boyfriend, item by item, Cale volunteered to help you check things off your list. He went to the grocery store with a list of all the food needed. He went to the liquor store for beer, wine, and other spirits. He and Taylor came over to do yard work so that you didn’t have to worry about it. He even picked your parents up from the airport when you had a last minute showing pop up. 

Needless to say, you weren’t overstating it when you said Cale literally held your sanity in his hands. 

For the first time since the plane home, you were able to steal a kiss as your parents made their way into the house after Cale dropped them off. 

“Add this to the tally of things I owe you for.” You’d declared. 

“I accept payment in kisses.” Cale teased. A quick glance around revealed you were alone for at least the moment, and you pressed up onto your toes letting your lips seek out his. 

“That’s all I can do right now…” You murmured, looking over your shoulder again. “But I’ll make the rest up to you later I swear.” 

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” Cale grinned. “I’ll see you in a couple days. Enjoy time with your parents.” 

You’d given your parents the grand tour of the house, setting them up in the guest room. Your mom hadn’t even sat down before she was asking what she could do to help prepare for the party. 

Yeah...you had some good helpers. As your yard started to fill up around lunchtime, you grabbed a wine cooler, starting to mingle. Your parents were there, Cale’s parents and brother were coming as were his grandparents, some of your parents’ friends were planning on stopping by, and quite a few of Cale and Taylor’s friends had also been invited. It was definitely the kind of party you had envisioned when you first stepped foot out here. 

“Happy Canada Day!” Cale greeted, appearing suddenly behind you and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. 

“You guys are here!” You exclaimed, twisting to wrap him in a quick hug, careful not to let it linger too long. 

“Yep. The whole crew is here.” Cale agreed, motioning to where his mom was eagerly engaged in a hug with yours having not seen each other in quite a while. “And I see you’re trying to make me pop a boner in front of everyone.” He whispered, his eyes raking up your body quickly. 

“It’s just a dress Cale.” You whispered back, eyes teasing. “Nothing special.” 

“Except your legs look a mile long.” He grumbled, causing a laugh to spill from your throat. 

“Oh suck it up buttercup.” You said, shaking your head. 

“Suck what up?” Gary inquired, moving over to hug you, your dad right behind him. 

“I told Cale he was in charge of setting up the lawn games and he’s whining about it.” You declared, excuse spilling from your lips on the fly. The look on Cale’s face was priceless and you struggled to keep your expression level as he looked at you. Gary quickly shook his head, chastising his oldest son and you mouthed the word ‘sorry’ at Cale as he shook his head and moved to grab Taylor to help him. 

Playing hostess kept you quite busy and with so many people around you really couldn’t sneak much time with Cale. It had already been a couple hours and you hadn’t even spoken to him beyond the brief conversation when they arrived. Watching as he played spike ball with his brother and some friends across the yard caused that familiar ache to spread through your body telling you that you were going to combust if you couldn’t at least properly kiss him. 

After a few more minutes, Cale disappeared inside and you excused yourself from conversation declaring that you needed to bring up some more drinks from the basement. 

Closing the back door, you waited at the top of the basement stairs for Cale to return and when you spotted him you gently tugged him toward you. 

“Come ‘ere.” You murmured quietly in case anyone else was in ear shot inside. Pulling him all the way down into the basement, you guided him around the corner before stretching to kiss him deeply. “Hi.” You greeted your forehead resting against his when you finally pulled away. 

“Hey sweet girl.” Cale replied, his hands easily settling along your hips. 

“Needed to kiss you.” You mused. “I miss you.” 

“Miss you too...but you look like you’re enjoying yourself. This is one of the things you wanted.” Cale acknowledged. 

“It is and I am.” You agreed, your fingers running down his stomach feeling his muscles constrict under your touch. “You look like you’re having fun too. You look pretty sexy out there.” 

“Don’t start something we can’t finish.” Cale groaned, quickly responding to your tone of voice. 

“Who said I can’t finish it?” You questioned. “We just have to be quick.” As you spoke you were already sinking to your knees, your fingers dipping down to Cale’s shorts. 

“Y/N...you don’t….shit.” Cale breathed, his hips bucking as you took him into your mouth after sliding his shorts and boxer briefs down just enough. Taking everything you had learned from the last time, you bobbed your head up and down Cale’s length, your fist stroking what you couldn’t take. It was a quick and dirty blow job, Cale’s cheeks flushing a deep crimson as you ran your tongue along the veins of his cock each time you pulled off to breathe. 

Sucking the tip of his cock you peeked up at him, watching as his head fell back against the wall behind him. 

“Gonna cum…” Cale whispered. 

“That’s what I want handsome. Cum down my throat.” You mumbled, sinking back down on his length. As you pushed the limits of your gag reflex, you felt Cale’s cock twitch before ropes of semen spilled into your mouth and throat. Swallowing as quickly as you could, you tried not to gag or choke before finally pulling off him, a mix of saliva and semen linking your lips to his dick. 

Wiping your lips, you gently worked Cale back into his clothes as he stood panting above you. 

“You’re insane.” Cale mumbled as he finally leaned down to kiss you. “Our parents are just outside...my grandparents are outside.” 

“Like the risk of getting caught didn’t just make you cum harder than usual down my throat.” You sassed, fixing your dress to make sure it didn’t look too rumpled. Cale couldn’t fight you because he knew you were right and as you moved across the basement to grab another six pack of beer you felt his eyes linger. 

“Now make yourself useful and grab that case of drinks. I bumped into you on your way back outside and made you come help me. Cover story.” You winked, biting your lip as you made your way back upstairs. 

You had barely got the new beers stuck into the cooler when your mom grabbed you. 

“You haven’t showed us those vacation pictures yet. Laura and I are dying to see them. Grab your computer and we’ll meet you in the living room.” 

Not being given a choice, you nodded and watched as your mom crossed the yard, grabbing Laura and Cale’s grandma. Looking back toward the mixed drink station you saw Cale standing with one of his buddies pouring shots. 

A few quick strides had you at his side.

“Pour me one of those?” You insisted. 

“Everything okay Y/N?” Cale asked, tone neutral though his eyes showed a hint of concern. 

“Just pour me a drink Cale. I’m about to go sit through the vacation slideshow with our moms…” Cale’s friend moved a few steps away but you lowered your voice further before continuing. “...And I’m not doing that with the taste of your cum in my mouth.” 

Cale nearly sputtered, but quickly recovered, pouring you a shot before clinking his glass against yours as you downed them. 

“Wish me luck.” You murmured, shaking your head just slightly as you moved from his side and into the house. In your bedroom, you made doubly sure you had pulled up the correct photo album before you carried your laptop into the living room, hooking it up to the tv. 

For the next half hour you explained the photos when necessary and listened as all of the women in your lives raved on how beautiful they were and what a wonderful trip it must have been. While these photos stirred up so many memories, this wasn’t the album that you’d found yourself looking at repeatedly. No...it was the other album that you loved most of all. The one full of pictures of you and Cale looking so completely head over heels for each other. For now though, that album was something just for you, even if you were looking forward to the day you could print some of the pictures and hang them in your bedroom. 

As you finished, your dad and Gary came barreling into the house wanting to know where everything was to start grilling up dinner. Taking your laptop back to your room, you got the guys everything they needed before leaving them to it. Meanwhile, you finished off the few remaining things that needed done to the sides, pulling those and condiments out of the fridge. 

“What do you mean after everything that happened between Cale and Y/N.” You mom’s voice slowly grew louder and your stomach dropped as you brain raced to catch up with the pieces of conversation you’d missed. 

“Y/N didn’t tell you about Cale’s pregnancy scare with his ex? It caused major strain on their relationship.” 

“No…” You mom insisted as she stepped into the kitchen. You hadn’t mentioned it assuming Laura would and apparently Laura had expected you to and hadn’t herself. 

“Can we not bring up old wounds?” You said, not realizing the snap behind your words. “She was an idiot who really hurt him and we should just be glad that it all worked out the way it did. Things are finally getting back to normal so can we please not drag this out any longer than we already have?” You were done and over with having to think about Cale’s ex… you knew it still hurt him a little even if he pretended it didn’t and you couldn’t help but be defensive and protective. 

Your mom and Laura shared a look, but neither said anything in response, instead asking if there was anything they could do to help. 

“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You assured them. You remained in the kitchen, your chest heaving until dinner was completely ready and all of your guests had been told to dig in. Then you slipped into your room, closing the door behind you as you tried to calm your raging emotions. 

After a few minutes, a knock sounded and you expected it to be your mom on the other side. Instead Cale popped his head in before stepping inside and closing the door. His hands rubbed at the back of his neck and his body language drew a sigh from your lips. 

“How much of that did you hear?” 

“Enough.” Cale responded, sitting down next to you on your bed, his arm draping around you. “You okay?” He questioned. 

“I should be asking you that.” You replied flatly. “I’m sorry.” 

“I have no idea what you’re even apologizing for..so don’t.” You couldn’t help but lean into Cale’s body as his fingers traced up and down your arm. “If I kiss you will that help you calm down enough to get some dinner?” He teased, lifting your chin up so that he could ease his mouth over yours gently. Slowly your body relaxed under his kiss and when you broke apart you certainly felt a little bit better. 

“That’s my girl.” Cale grinned, seeing the soft smile reappear on your face. “C’mon.” He prompted, offering a hand out to pull you up off the bed. 

“Hey Cale.” You stopped him, pulling him back toward you. “I don’t think you were wearing this lip color before...probably should fix that.” You smiled, reaching out to rub the makeup off his mouth from your reapplication shortly before. “I’ll be out in a minute.” You assured him as you leaned against your bathroom door wanting to make sure that you didn’t look too out of place. 

No one spoke a word of what had happened during dinner and as the sun started to set the majority of your guests left, leaving just your family and Cale’s as the guys started a small fire in the firepit. You’d stepped inside to use the bathroom and when you returned the only seat left around the fire was on the loveseat beside Cale. 

Settling in beside him you smiled as he widened the spread of his legs so that his thigh was pressing against yours. It was a subtle move but the skin to skin contact was beyond welcome and you were grateful, knowing he worked the seating so the two of you could share. Having grabbed another drink, you felt the pleasant hum of alcohol starting to build after awhile. Around the same time you started to shiver as the outside temperature dropped. 

“Anyone else need a refill?” Cale inquired when he moved to stand up, his own drink empty. A chorus of yeses and nos followed him and when he returned he not only had his arms full of drinks but also the blanket from the back of your couch. Draping the blanket over your lap, Cale handed you a fresh drink making you smile. 

“Your son is trying to get me tipsy Laura.” You joked. 

“You’re already tipsy sunshine.” Cale declared as he dropped back down beside you. “And you’re allowed to be. You worked really hard to pull this together and today’s been pretty awesome.” Cale’s praised was echoed by everyone else and you took it as best you could considering compliments weren’t your thing. 

“I had some help...let’s be fair.” You shrugged. 

“Oh my god. You and my brother are the two most humble people I have ever met.” Taylor groaned. “No wonder you’re best friends.” 

Grinning over at Cale, you let your eyes fall shut after a moment, just enjoying the sounds of your families spending time together. Feeling Cale’s hand slide under the blanket to your inner thigh made your eye pop open and you eyed him carefully. 

‘Just relax.’ He mouthed before jumping back into the conversation. As he spoke, his hands slid under your dress until his fingers were brushing against the fabric of your panties. Laura asked you a question about something, honestly you were too focused on Cale’s hand to remember your answer, but once you had finished Cale’s fingers slid under your underwear. Nimble fingers stroked over your clit and your eyes fluttered shut again. 

Hopefully it just looked like you were sleepy, because you weren’t sure you could pay full attention to what was going on around you when Cale’s hand was doing things like that. 

“Oh.” You gasped, drawing everyone’s attention to you. Cale’s hand stilled as your mom asked if you were okay. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You insisted. “My ankle is still tender and I shifted it wrong.” Your excuse turned the attention to Cale’s heroics at the cave in Iceland and as your families talked about it and how they would have reacted so far from medical attention, Cale’s fingers shifted to curl inside of you. 

Though he couldn’t move much, this was the first time he was touching you since he made love to you that last night of vacation. Considering you were wound tighter than a spring, Cale’s fingers curling inside you as his thumb rubbed against your clit were quickly pushing you toward an orgasm of your own. 

Thankfully the darkness masked the subtle nuances of your face as Cale’s fingers made you fall apart. As you came down from your high, Cale wiping his fingers on either your dress or the blanket you weren’t quite sure, you took another long sip of your drink. Cale had just finger fucked you feet from both of your families who could both see and hear you! And to think he’d said you were insane for going down on him with your families outside! 

Your brain was spinning trying to process what the fuck had just happened and how much you had enjoyed it. The two of you were seriously taking the whole ‘sneaking around like teenagers’ thing to the next level. It was a miracle you hadn’t gotten caught. Lost in thought you missed the fire starting to die out and Gary mentioning that they should probably get going. It wasn’t until Cale pulled you to your feet so his family could hug you that you caught up with reality. 

“I’m gonna help this tipsy one inside real quick and then I’ll meet you at the car.” Cale insisted once hugs had been exchanged. His arm swung under your legs, picking you up bridal style and after weaving through doorways, he gently laid you down on your bed. 

“We’re gonna talk about that later.” You mumbled, yawning softly. 

“Whatever you say sweetheart. Get some sleep.” Cale replied, kissing your forehead as he tucked you in. 

Your bedroom door creaked shut with Cale’s departure as the words fell unconsciously from your lips. 

“Love you.” 

Dress: 

[strawberrysoup]

Yes, Sheriff || Chapter 3

Sheriff Carol Danvers takes her job of protecting the citizens of her small town very seriously — there are just some that she cares about more than others. A lot more, in fact, and she will take care of her sweet baby girl whether she likes it or not.

relationship: Carol Danvers/Reader rating: Explicit chapters: 3/? length: 3k warnings: Dark Carol Danvers, coercion, manipulation, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat additional warnings: open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter. note: another long wait, but here it is! hope y’all enjoy it. remember to reblog and comment! please.

The barstool was incredibly hard and you found yourself wishing for the 8th time in an hour that you were back at home. Carol had managed to coerce you back to her place for the second night in a row, citing collecting your belongings as the bare minimum necessitating your return. You'd grabbed your belongings immediately, having darted inside and into the bedroom before Carol even turned on the lights. Before you could make an escape back to the car though, she'd been quick to pull you into the kitchen and sit you at her breakfast bar. She was puttering around with something on the counter, 'just real quick' she'd said.

She at least hadn’t touched you since picking you up from the library at the end of your shift—a small blessing after she’d nearly made you cry while taking you to the Town Hall and then did make you cry upon returning you to the library. You prayed she couldn’t read your thoughts from your face, hoping you didn’t blush and betray yourself. She’d forced your legs apart while she drove and used some sort of little vibrator on your clit until you gushed, soaking the passenger seat of her cruiser. It had been humiliating but the pleasure was overwhelming and you’d just started to wail when she pulled into the library’s parking lot. 

Carol had been very quick to remind you how lucky you were that she’d forgotten to call Tony about your car, otherwise he would’ve been waiting in the parking lot when the cruiser pulled in. The look on her face had been sincere and soft; you couldn’t even begin to reconcile the ever morphing faces she could exchange at the drop of a hat. She’d run circles around you in the few minutes after that, easily managing to talk you into going to her house later in the evening and she’d gotten that dopey little half smile on her face when you agreed and it gave your stomach butterflies. 

"Get yourself a drink from the fridge baby girl, there's wine and some beers," Carol didn't even look over her shoulder at you, too focused on whatever she was stirring on the stove, "probably a soda."

A shiver ran down your spine, nervous at the tone she'd used; it was an order, not a request. You’d gotten so many of those today, most of which had ended in either pain or humiliation. You quickly stood up and crossed to the fridge, grabbing the half empty 2-liter of coke. It was the only nonalcoholic thing in there and you didn't want to end up in the same situation as the previous night. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back towards Carol.

“Which cabinet are the cups in?”

The smile that slithered over the blonde’s lips was both parts coy and apologetic, “the cabinet next to the sink, over my cutting board. You’ll have to grab it, my hands are dirty.”

She took two measured steps back from where she’d been pressed against the counter top, gesturing to the cabinet that had been right in front of her. An icy cold sensation dripped down your spine, your brain immediately kicking into high gear. It had only been a day, but you’d already come to realize that keeping up with Carol meant staying potentially several steps ahead of where you both agreed to pretend you were. It wasn’t that Carol was smarter than you, or more clever, but she had some sort of underhanded cunningness to her. She was methodical and calculated and you had to figure out how far along in her planned progression of this evening she was and what she was steering you towards, so you could avoid it.

“Baby girl,” the exasperated sigh made you blink, surprise widening your eyes, “could you please come grab your cup? I need to finish this up so it can cook while I take you home.”

Heat rose in your cheeks—you were acting like a freak and the Sheriff was obviously getting tired of it, especially since all you were doing at this point was interrupting her evening and delaying your ride home. Maybe you’d made your disinterest clear enough now and she was just ready for you to be out of her hair. You skirted forward quickly, carefully pressing against the countertop to leave as much space between her body and yours. The smallest glasses were on the lowest shelf and you quickly grabbed one from the front. An embarrassing sound escaped you when her hand brushed your ass, on ‘accident’, of course.

On accident.

Your rational brain struggled. You kept accusing Carol of these things in your mind, of trying to manipulate situations or assault or trap you. Sheriff Carol. You kept accusing Sheriff Danvers of such heinous things and it was baffling.

Carol Danvers was the first outsider to move to Burgess to be entirely accepted by the reputable population (which was most people, with the notable exception of some wife-beaters and a couple of folks who’d gotten busted for cooking meth). She went out of her way on a regular basis, literally daily, to go above and beyond her duty to help the town. You knew for a fact that just today she’d taken Ms. Bea to the grocery store—the older woman’s son was out of town for a few days for a wedding and had asked around to see if anyone could help his mother during his absence. Carol had immediately taken the responsibility, according to Paul. You knew this because you’d gone to school with Paul and he’d called you after hearing about your breakfast date.

Unbeknownst to you, Carol was watching your internal struggle with a wary eye. The same argument had played out before her multiple times today, where you tried to reign yourself in or change an instinctive behavior. It was interesting—you had an incredibly strong gut instinct and it was trying its best to direct your attention to every suspicious thing she’d done. But you had trained yourself to be rational over the years and Occam’s Razor was a wasp stuck in your ear, whispering that it made more sense for you to be misinterpreting the situation rather than her actually having insidious intentions.

The coke was slightly flat when you poured it but you couldn’t have cared less. All you wanted to do was keep her happy for the next ten minutes while she finished whatever it was she had going on. 

“That’s a lot of sugar this late in the evening, don’t you think?” Her voice broke you out of your reverie and your shoulders scrunched up, embarrassment coursing through you. 

“Yeah, probably,” you murmured in response, shifting to dump about half of what you’d poured down the sink; whatever it took to make her happy for the next ten minutes, you could deal. 

“Good girl.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, “sit down and relax, I just need a few minutes.” 

Returning to the barstool hurt your ass and your soul. The waiting was agonizing. You finished your drink relatively quickly and found yourself absently watching the glass reflect light while she continued to putter around. Your attention peaked when she put a lid on the pot and started washing her hands. 

“You should go grab your bag, I’ll be ready in a minute,” she called over her shoulder and you immediately darted out into the living room, shifting the strap over your shoulder and standing next to the front door. 

Carol was only a few seconds behind you, grabbing her keys off the table by the door and opening it for you. Thor was outside again, likely having worked a similar shift to Carol, and was mowing his lawn. The blond’s exchanged waves but you barely noticed, swiftly stepping up to the passenger side door before stopping patiently. It took a second before you realized she’d stopped moving too and was instead just standing there, smiling at you. 

“Uhh—” 

“Sorry baby girl, I spaced out a little,” she shuffled into your space, one hand curling around to the small of your back while she opened the door with the other, “watch your head.” 

This would hopefully be the last time you ended up in Carol’s cruiser. She’d called Tony after returning to you the library and he had arrived sometime in the afternoon to tow away your car. He’d couldn’t make any promises but assumed he should be able to fix whatever was wrong tomorrow. Luckily Monday was your day off and you didn’t need to be anywhere you couldn’t walk to. 

“You have my personal number right, in case you need a ride anywhere?” The blonde asked, once again featuring a brutally sincere smile, “I wouldn’t mind hearing from you, even if you don’t need anything.” 

“I-I’ll keep it in mind,” your eyes flashed from her face to the road ahead apprehensively; thank God she’d waited until the ride was more than half over, there was no way you could hold a convincing conversation while your heart raced so fast it almost made you dizzy. 

“I’ll walk you up to your door,” Carol had gotten out and was on her way around the front of the car before you could respond beyond a nod, opening your door and holding out her hand to help you up, “is that Mr. Taylor?” 

Your eyes followed hers as she pulled you to her feet, finding your neighbor puttering around in his yard with the last vestiges of light from the day. He’d owned one of the local bakeries and you had practically grown up on his pastries. 

“Yes,” you swallowed when Mr. Taylor seemed to notice you both, waving kindly from across the way with the blonde returning the gesture. 

“Alright, up you go,” she ordered with a smile, one hand settling onto the small of your back to nudge you up the steps to your porch, “I’m gonna wait until I hear the lock.” 

It was so thoughtful your brain swirled. Was it thoughtful or was she pretending? What kind of idiot were you to think she was pretending? 

“Have a good night, Carol,” you offered the parting words quietly after stepping over the threshold, “thanks for your help.” 

Help was kind of a stretch, if you were being honest with yourself. It had been one of the most stressful days you’d had in ages and you were so tired, all you could think to do was grab a bottle of red from the kitchen and take it to your room. You weren’t hungry but the wine would help you make it through your shower because no matter how exhausted you were, there was no way you could go to sleep feeling as dirty as you did. 

Luckily you managed to get through the whole thing on your feet, occasionally reaching out through the curtain to grab the neck of the wine bottle and take a swig. The combination of the alcohol and steam enhanced your drowsiness and you yawned, quickly rinsing off before getting out of the shower. You barely managed to squeeze some of the water out of your hair before collapsing into bed and almost immediately passing out. 

Carol had arrived home by the time you fell asleep, moving quickly to empty the 2 liter of coke down the drain. She’d put a carefully measured amount of rohypnol in the bottle, knowing she’d be able to monitor the amount you imbibed. It had seemed to be just barely starting to kick in when she’d walked you up to your door, your eyes not quite as focused as usual. It wouldn’t take long before you were firmly knocked out for the next 10 to 12 hours. 

She’d been on edge the entire time you’d spent in the kitchen, having no idea if you would follow the steps she’d set out in her head. You were very intelligent but had been conditioned by small town living, as most people had, to operate on the belief that everyone was inherently good unless proven otherwise. Carol learned it was hard to manipulate someone who outmatched her in intelligence, even with the social handicap offered by societal expectations. 

The empty coke bottle was filled with bleach and water before she threw it in the trash, the cup you used receiving the same treatment before going into  the dishwasher. It was unlikely that Carol would ever come up as a viable suspect but she wouldn’t take the risk of not destroying evidence. She passed the next few hours cleaning, turning all of the lights out around 11 pm. Thor’s went off not half an hour later and she took that as her cue; he’d seen her arrive home after dropping you at your place, it wasn’t an alibi but it did lend credit to her story. 

The nice thing about the way the houses were arranged in Burgess was the trees that surrounded most properties; it was so windy that the trees were necessary to protect the houses from damage. They provided excellent camouflage as Carol silently walked to your house from hers, winding between branches and making a mental note that she needed to be encouraging people to clean up the debris that had fallen. No need to potentially feed another fire.

The lights in most of the houses were out and Carol avoided the ones that weren’t. It extended her walk a few minutes, especially when she had to go wide around Mr. Taylor’s house. It was easy to break the lock on the backdoor though, even as new and well maintained as her baby’s house was. The blonde dropped her head back on her shoulders as soon as it closed behind her, sighing in relief. It was incredibly unlikely anyone would see her but it was still an adrenaline rush—she hadn’t been involved in such delinquent activities since she was a teenager.

The house was cute, just like her girl. There were little rose accents in the classic little farm house kitchen, lace pillows and curtains in the living room, fairy lights trailing up the banister to the second floor. It was also very obviously rarely used; there was no wear on the floors, no clutter, the refrigerator was practically empty and the pantry looked similar. The only evidence she saw of her girl was the cork from a wine bottle on the kitchen floor, just shy of the trashcan and a purse hanging next to the front door.

Carol hummed quietly to herself as she roamed, grabbing a knife from the block in the kitchen and wandering into the living room. The first thing she did was cut up the sofa and arm chair, ripping out the stuffing and repeating the action with the throw pillows. She scooped every row of books off each shelf on the many bookshelves in the living room, leaving the books in piles at her feet. The pictures and knickknacks went with them, some shattering against the hard wood floor.

Her baby wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, no matter how much noise and Carol took advantage of that by knocking a flower vase off a side table. Water and glass went everywhere, the sound jarring in the silent house. She grabbed the purse off the hook and tipped the contents out, stealing the wallet from inside and dumping the rest on the floor. The main floor was mostly for show and she continued up the stairs, where she could already hear soft breaths coming from the bedroom.

She was passed out face down on her bed, a towel somewhat wrapped around her body. Carol smiled, it was too easy and she was thrilled by her baby’s current state but focused on destruction first. She grabbed the jewelry off the dresser, pulled out and emptied all of the drawers. Her attention got caught on the top drawer, filled with panties and bras and socks. That one was left in the dresser, but Carol made sure that her rummaging was noticeable and stole at least three pairs of panties. She took a few more ‘valuables’, anything that looked like it might fetch some cash at a pawn shop that was also easy to carry, before turning her attention back to the lovely little drugged up baby girl in the bed.

The towel was dispatched quickly and Carol smiled at the sight of her still reddened little ass. It had been a lasting spanking and the blonde enjoyed seeing the results of her labor.

“Spread your legs baby,” she cooed into the silent evening, easily shifting y/n until her knees were tucked up under her torso, spread wide for the best angle, “let’s take some pretty pictures, huh?”

Carol must’ve taken a hundred pictures; some with her fingers seated deeply in her baby’s pussy, some with her fingers breaching that tight little asshole. The pièce de résistance being the fifteen minute long video the blonde recorded after turning y/n onto her back, leisurely riding the younger woman’s face until it was dripping with Carol’s arousal. She had to be careful when she started to cum, forcing herself not to smother her baby with her cunt—she couldn’t get carried away.

“That was good baby girl,” she murmured reaching between her legs and scooping her cum onto her hand, spreading it on her lips and tongue, “I’ll be the first thing you taste when you wake up. You’ll be the last thing I taste before I go to sleep, sound fair?”

Feasting on her baby’s pussy wasn’t nearly as fun when she wasn’t awake to thrash and cry at the overstimulation and mind-blowing orgasm. She made her cum twice anyway, forcing herself not to lick up the mess dripping from her pussy. Her baby girl would wake up in the morning with her own cum dripping out of her, naked and spread wide on the bed. All of Carol’s cum and arousal was beginning to dry on her pretty face, sticky and shiny in the light of the moon.

It would be hard to stay in bed until she received the phone call, that her baby’s house had been broken into and burglarized and she had potentially been assaulted. There would be no viable evidence, no fingerprints or unexplained hairs. The cum smeared on her baby’s face would be washed away in panic the moment she noticed something amiss, washing the evidence down the drain. Even if something did make it back to the station, it would obviously pass her desk. Maybe she’d set someone in town up to take the fall, like that shitty mechanic Hammer who’d scammed her when she first moved into town.

All she needed was the rose colored glasses to remain for a little longer, to mislead her baby for a few more weeks.

That was all it would take, after all.

content warnings: non-consensual (all of the following) somnophilia, vaginal and anal fingering, face riding, cum play, drugging, nudes, manipulation.

[withthebeatlesgirls]

Were any of the Beatles possessive?

kinda long post

John was probably the most possessive. Which he admits to

“I was a very jealous, possessive guy. Toward everything. A very insecure male. A guy who wants to put his woman in a little box, lock her up, and just bring her out when he feels like playing with her. She’s not allowed to communicate with the outside world – outside of me – because it makes me feel insecure.”- John Lennon

he was deeply possessive over Cynthia and could get easily jealous. That’s what caused the infamous and awful story where he slapped her, it was because she was just dancing with another guy and he got jealous and slapped her.

Here’s a story from Pete Best

“The German boys persisted and reached the pawing stage. Paul, who frequently doubled on piano during this second tour, couldn’t really see what was going on, but Lennon and I could. Right from the start in the Casbah, John was always very jealous whenever Cyn was around; if anyone tried to talk to her while he was playing, Lennon would try to wither them with a laser-like glare. Once off-stage they would be abruptly told to ‘fuck off.’ It was obvious that night in the Top Ten that the two girls were now a little scared. At the end of the number, the heavy mob of Lennon and Best sailed in to save them. In his usual blunt manner, John handed out a verbal lashing and for a few moments a nasty scene threatened to develop.

'Why are you butting in?’ one of the Germans asked arrogantly, sparring for trouble, which resulted in some pushing and jostling.

'That’s my girlfriend you’re messing about with,’ John snarled at him.”

He was even Jealous during the time of their divorce and wasn’t ok with the idea of her loving someone else.

He was absolutely frantic with rage at the thought of another man making love to his own wife…he sure as hell was not prepared to put up with her loving someone else.— Alistair Taylor

This possessive behavior certainly did not stop when he left Cyn and got with Yoko.

“When you actually are in love with somebody you tend to be jealous, and want to own them and possess them one hundred percent, which I do… I love Yoko, I want to possess her completely. I don’t want to stifle her, you know? That’s the danger, that you want to possess them to death.” - John 

Yoko says “John was a good husband because he didn’t pressure me but sometimes, out of love, he was a bit possessive.”

He didn’t even want her to go to the bathroom by herself, he wanted to be with her all the time. I like to think he got better with this over time.

There are a few songs that have to do with his possessiveness, most notably are Run For Your Life which is a Beatles song, and then Jealous Guy which is a solo song. Run For Your Life seems to be a song where you’re caught up in that possessiveness and jealousy and Jealous Guy is the regret later.

I don’t think Paul was ever overly possessive over Jane, but he did want her to quit or cut down on her career so she’d be there for him more and eventually become your typical housewife (Which is sexist but was the norm sadly) but Jane never gave into this.

Linda’s friend Peter Cox has said that Paul was very controlling over Linda, here are some things he has said.

“Every marriage has its ups and downs, of course. In her low moments, the idea of leaving him did cross her mind, but she immediately rejected it. Her family was the most important thing in her life and there was no way she’d give them up. At the low points, she did feel trapped.”

‘’Mr Cox claimed the star (Paul) had ‘a darker side and could be very controlling. Linda often had to dance attendance upon him. He bossed her around’.”

‘’Mr Cox said he came to the conclusion that Paul kept his wife on a ‘tight leash - like a caged animal’’.

"We were very close. We always had lots of hugs but it was a platonic relationship. I was happily married. I don't know if Paul was jealous but I was conscious that he might have been. There were no hugs when he was around."

It’s important to remember that we don’t know if Peter is that credible. I personally do believe Paul was controlling, but not to the extent that he is claiming he was.

I feel like the song Letting Go shows him getting over this controlling behavior though and letting her do her own thing.

There’s a few examples of George getting possessive over Pattie

These examples are from Tony Bramwell’s book the Magical Mystery Tours

“After the first flush of being seen with everyone, everywhere, as soon as they moved into the country with their women, the Beatles became quite reclusive. They didn’t hang out on the scene, and didn’t really know many musicians, not on a personal, friendship level. Their lives remained concentrated on the four of them and their small circle. Also, their domestic arrangements were very tight. George, normally the most private of people, became wildly jealous and possessive over Pattie. He holed up in Esher when they were married and would come into town only for recording sessions. He became very private and didn’t go boogalooing a lot, unlike Pattie who wanted to have fun - lots of it.”

“Sometimes, when we were in the studio, George didn’t seem to care who heard him anguishing, tearfully begging her to come home. It was embarrassing have to listen to this. And it was even more embarrassing for me to see George, my old Liverpool mate who’d always had all the girls looking at him with big calf eyes since he’d been about twelve, on the end of the telephone, acting like a lovesick calf himself, as he pleaded with Pattie on the bar phone at whatever club she happened to be in. Pattie was so beautiful. She was his first big love and he couldn’t stand the pain. In the end, being excessively worshipped and being the worshipper, were too much for both of them - she wasn’t for him.”

Now Bramwell’s credibility is also questionable.  I have a hard time believing that George was crying while begging Pattie to come home, I could see something like this happening where he is more annoyed or passive-aggressive with her if she did this, but I think if anything like this happened then Bramwell certainly exaggerated it to make it more dramatic than it actually was. 

Here’s a story from Pete Shotton that was at a party that was held for the private screening of Magical mystery tour.

“Another unpleasant scene developed toward the end of the party when a band took to the stage and most of the guests paired off to dance. Totally ignoring Cyn (who was decked out for the occasion as a fairy princess), John instead lavished all his attentions on Pattie Harrison - with whom he actually went as far as to “dance”, probably for the first time in five years. Though Pattie had undeniably made herself especially desirable as a scantily clad belly dancer, neither Cyn nor George were the least bit amused with John’s open flirtation with her.”

I think in this scenario it’s impossible not to be a little jealous, who wants their friend flirting with their wife?

He also like Paul with Jane wanted Pattie to cut down on her career/ stop it all together. I think part of this reason was because he didn’t like other men looking at his wife, but I think there are a few reasons why he disliked her modeling, that’s just one of them.

And of course, there’s the whole Pattie/Clapton affair, but I don’t know if he was ever possessive over Pattie during that. I think he was more just sad and hurt, there may have been some jealousy in there but I think that developed a little later when it became more serious. At first, I doubt he saw Eric as a threat, but as things continued I think he found it annoying that this dude was pursing his wife and eventually I think he was deeply upset when he knew Pattie reciprocated Eric’s feelings, but I think he tried to bury those feelings.

 I don’t think Ringo ever got overly possessive over Mo or Barbara, least I haven’t heard many stories of this. Mo for most of the marriage (Until near the end) was utterly devoted to Ringo and I think he knew that he was comfortable with her. And he and Barbara have gone through so much together that I’m sure they’re passed all that.

Although I do think he was hurt by the George/Maureen affair, I think it was more like “damn this is the final straw, our marriage was already on its last leg” which is pretty sad.

But that’s pretty much my knowledge on the Beatles being possessive over their women.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .3.

monday

part 1 part 2

Warnings: non/dub con sex (some naughty talk and naughty touching :o)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: A pool party, several awkward encounters, and our reader’s endless struggle.

Note: Okay, part 3! Let’s get wild. But we’re still at a steady pace here so don’t get too far! Steve’s closing in and our reader’s in a corner! 

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

You were far from relaxed. Your night had been spent sleepless and your morning was off to a rocky start. Kylie, as usual, was intent on sleeping til noon. You knocked on her door and tried to wake her but she sleepily batted you away and rolled over. So much for your vacation.

You returned to your room and texted your mom. Ten minutes, no answer. She was probably already at work. 

You thought about sneaking down for coffee but the memory of the previous morning deterred you. What would you do if you were caught alone with Steve? What would you say?

You thought about calling the visit short but how would you explain that to Kylie? Aside from her accusations of you being a party pooper, you might actually lose your only friend on campus. And if you did tell her why, you weren't so sure she'd believe you. It was her dad after all.

When Kylie awoke, you were relieved when she announced a shopping trip. Supplies for the party. It was a welcome distraction from your thoughts and much needed escape from the house.

You didn't need to worry about evading Steve or confronting him. You could just focus on the list and trust in Kylie's fake I.D. 

You ate a late lunch at a bistro and on your way back stopped to pick up two of Kylie's friends. Jenny and Danielle were kindred spirits to Kylie. You were starting to figure out the type of girl she was in high school. How did she end up with you?

You didn't mull it for to long. You and Kylie might have been complete opposites but she still enjoyed your company. You recalled the few nights you had torn yourself away from studying to join her at a house party or sneak in the back door of the club. She brought the worst out of you. That part you had repressed for honours and hopefully, a future.

Back at the house, Jenny and Danielle didn't waste time making themselves comfortable. They knew the house better than you and figured they had spent many after school hours there. You were an outsider again.

"We should set up the yard." Jenny announced. "Dani, you can get the drinks in the fridge."

"Dad says we can use the mini fridge," Kylie offered as she shifted the loaded paper bag across the counter. "He says once it's full, that's it. He doesn't want a rave."

"Cool. My mom won't even let us look at a drink," Jenny said, "You're dad's always so chill."

"He wasn't even suppose to be here," Kylie bemoaned. "I swear he stayed just to be a pain."

"Are my ears ringing or are you talking about me?" Steve stepped through the open glass door, his hair mussed and his body still damp from the pool. "Was just getting in a swim before my exile begins."

"Dad," Kylie actually looked close to smiling, "We were just saying how nice it is of you to let us have the party."

"We'll see how nice I feel in the morning," He shook his head, "The moment something's broke or there's vomit in my yard, you're done. Capacity is twelve….including the four of you." 

"Nice-ish," Kylie muttered. "Alright, let's get to work." She clapped her hands as she turned away from her dad. "Dani, drinks. Me and Jenny will start on the food and, um, oh, we need the table set up by the pool."

"I think I can handle that," You tried not to acknowledge Steve as he crossed the kitchen.

"Awesome," Kylie said as she began to unpack your wares, "Tables in the garage."

"Shed, actually," Steve paused in the doorway. "I moved it last week. I'll show you."

"I'm sure she can find it," Kylie shook her head.

"And how's she supposed to move it?" He challenged. "Let me get some shoes and I'll meet you out there."

Steve left and Kylie rolled her eyes. It was more playful than irritated. "Sometimes I can't tell if he's trying to be helpful or a pain in the ass."

You wondered the same and you tried to hide your dread. Was he trying to get you alone or was this just your usual misfortune?

"Uh, where's the shed?" You felt even dumber as Danielle was already carrying the drinks to the garage and Jenny was casually setting out a cutting board and knife.

"Round the side. Opposite side from the garage. Easiest is to go through the front." She explained as she unlocked her phone and searched for a playlist. "Let's get this party started." 

She hit play and forgot about you. You reluctantly left her as she began to sing along with Jenny. All you had to do was get the table set up. Easy. Quick.

You hopped down the cobble steps and crossed the grass to the side of the house. The shed was just beside a cottage style gate, hidden subtly in the shade of a weeping elm tree. It was almost like a quaint little cabin.

You heard footsteps and Steve appeared from around the front of the house. He had pulled on sneakers and a tee that clung to his broad torso. You stared at the vines that crawled up the side of the house and stepped back.

"Almost forgot the key," He held up a copper key and brushed by you. He unlocked the door easily and dropped the key in his shorts pocket. "It's buried in the back."

He ducked inside and jostled around a few bins of miscellany and squeezed past the riding mower. He grunted as he lifted the folding table and carefully guided it back.

"Used to have these big barbecues for Kylie's birthday," He stepped out and leaned the table against the shed. He closed the door without locking it. "Whole neighbourhood would come."

"Oh," You replied dully.

He lifted the table again. "You wanna get the gate?"

You scurried to the gate and stood on tiptoes as you felt around the other side for the latch. You popped it and pulled back the wooden door. He smiled at you as you waited for him to lead the way.

"So where do you want it?" He asked as he neared the pool.

"Just by the chairs I guess." You supposed it was the most practical place for it.

You followed and he set it down and unhooked the clasp to unfold it. He locked a pair of legs in place as you did the same. "Okay, on three." He counted and you flipped the table together.

"You're quiet today," He commented as you clapped your hands off. "Aren't you excited for the party?"

"Yeah, I guess," You shrugged.

"A lot of strangers, eh?" He asked.

"Lots of strangers at uni too," You countered.

"There would be," He was unfazed by your indifference. "You're welcome to hang out with me if it gets too much. I'll just be making myself invisible."

"Uh huh," You looked to the sliding glass door. "Thanks for the offer...I should go help them."

You brusquely walked away and felt his gaze follow you. You were more frustrated at his aloofness than the events of the night before. He didn't even seem to remember.

-

Taylor was the first to show up and Kylie was quickly distracted with her baser desires. Jenny and Danielle knew most of the other guests and quickly attached themselves to similar partners. Jenny with Jesse and Danielle with her old high school girlfriend Mia. 

There were two other guys who came with Taylor; Brent and Carlos. Plus two more of Kylie's friends from her old job; Anette and Danai. You were almost at capacity and you found yourself in a corner.

"Hey," Kylie had finally detached her mouth from Taylor's. "You wanna go grab the rest of the vodka. Punch is running low."

"Yes, my lady," You jibed.

"Well, I wouldn't ask if you were busy but you've barely said hi." She frowned.

"I did actually but no one heard me." You grumbled. "I'm good. I'll probably just take a dip."

"Or maybe try the punch once you top it up," She trilled, "Loosen up a bit."

"Alright," You shook your head and she wandered back to her date.

You were relieved to be free of the music and chatter that formed a wall around the pool. The voices were muffled as you slid close the kitchen door. You sighed and carried on down the hall to the garage.

It was cool inside and smelled of oil and must. Like any garage. You stomped down the three steps and headed for the fridge in the other corner. A wrench clicked and you noticed the shadow near the door. 

Steve looked over and smiled as he sat on the rolling stool and tinkered with the underbelly of a motorbike. You gulped and strode to the fridge. You opened it and squatted to search out the bottle of vodka.

You heard him stand, the wrench set aside on the stool. His footsteps neared the other side of the fridge door and you kept your eyes on the rows of cans and bottles.

"Hope you're not getting too wild," He leaned on the fridge as he spoke. You grabbed the neck of the bottle and stood.

"No," You replied meekly.

"Any cute boys?" He asked. You grimaced. "Nah, didn't think so…you seem the type to prefer someone a little more mature."

"Would you stop?" You turned on him and shut the fridge. He released it in surprise. "Why...Why did you do it?"

"It was just a kiss," He shrugged. You looked away. You recalled the warmth of his lips on yours. The silence filled with tension. "Wait...You're not...Are you a virgin? Oh, shit."

"Don't--" Your voice caught in your throat. It was all the confirmation he needed. "Is this what you do?"

"You think I'm an old pervert or something." He shook his head. "No, I never...before, I…"

"Why?"

"You're a pretty young woman. You're sweet and...I guess I'm lonely," He resigned, "Can you blame me? I mean, look at you."

"It's wrong," You asserted. "Kylie--"

"Is having her own fun. She's got her boy here. I'm not stupid," He said, "She's young, she's enjoying her life. Maybe you should try it, too."

"Maybe I should get back to the party," You backed away. He had gotten so close. "They're waiting."

"Alright," He was nonchalant. Confident, almost. "Have fun...don't get into too much trouble."

-

For once, Kylie was right. Drinking was the solution. After returning from the garage, you were so on edge that you could barely stand still. You changed into your two-piece and treated yourself to a healthy cup of punch. And another.

You ended up in the pool with Kylie and several other girls. Your giggles carried into the dark night as you indulged and tried to forget about the night before. The vodka helped. The company more. In a way, Steve's advice had worked. You should enjoy yourself. Get over your stupid shyness and live.

When at last you climbed out, you hiccuped and reached for your towel. The party was thinning out. Kylie bent to kiss Taylor as he lazed across a beach chair and you dried yourself off. Danielle and Jenny called there goodbyes from the sliding door and dragged their dates with them. A reminder that you were the only one leaving stag. Well, except Kylie.

"Hey," Her whisper was loud. It was more a hiss. "I'm gonna sneak out with Taylor."

"What?" Your heart dropped. "But...your dad--"

"He's probably already asleep," She laughed, "Just open and close my door so he thinks I'm in bed."

"Kylie," You sighed.

"Come on," She whined, "I'm leaving in less than two weeks. I won't see Taylor for the rest of the summer."

"You know, you asked me to come here," You slurred and steadied yourself on the table. "And you just leave me all the time."

"Oh, Jesus, I promise, tomorrow we'll hang out," Taylor pulled at her hand as he stood. "Just you and me. I'll even do all the cleaning up."

You huffed and looked around. Everyone else was gone.

"Can't he just stay and sneak out in the morning?" You asked.

"No way. My dad would kill me."

"And if you sneak out?" You snapped.

"It's fine. Stop worrying so much." She started to pull Taylor toward to the gate. "We'll even go around so we don't wake him up, okay?"

"You owe me," You relented. There was no winning this fight. "Now go before you get yourself in trouble. Call a cab."

"We're walking," She called as you watched her go and she leaned on Taylor. Would they even make it to his place? He was relatively sober. At least steadier on his feet than her.

You tramped across the stone to the sliding door. It took you a few tries to click the lock into place. The climb up the staircase was daunting. Your head began to spin as you latched onto the rail. The vodka sank in your stomach and dulled your nerves. You quickly forgot about your anger.

The hall seemed longer than usual. You hiccuped loudly and cursed under your breath. You held onto the wall as you clung to the towel hanging loosely around your still damp body. You leaned on your door heavily and turned the handle. It took a few tries and you fell through onto your side. 

You giggled across the floor, your legs still in the hallway. Okay, you were drunk. You sat up and grabbed onto the door frame. You pulled yourself up and before you could sink back down, you felt a hand on your elbow. You turned as Steve kept you from toppling again.

"Woah, be careful," He said. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Wh-where did you come from?" You asked. A voice in the back of your head told you to pull away but you feared another fall.

"I was just in my room and I heard you," He explained, "I thought you were Kylie."

"Sh-she's in bed," You said a bit too abruptly. Did he know you were lying? Surely those deep blue eyes saw right through you. "Which is where I'm headed."

"Oh, are you now? You think you'll make it?" He challenged.

"I can do it myself," You tore your arm from him and stumbled into your room. You caught the door before you could crash back into the floor. You leaned dangerously against it. "You...you…" 

The thought floated away as he neared and took your arm again. You shivered and his other hand felt the side of your bathing suit. "You're wet."

"I was swimming, duh," You spat. "I'm fine."

"Just let me help you," He said exasperated.

You harrumphed but let go of the door. He guided you to the bed and you collapsed onto it sloppily. He chuckled and you listened to his footsteps. You turned to watch him pick up the towel where it lay strewn across the threshold. He closed the door and hung it over a chair.

"What are you--I gotta sleep!" You wriggled across the bed and buried your head in the pillows as if to hide.

"Not in a wet bathing suit," He said. "You'll get sick."

"I told you, I'm fine." You lifted your head. "Now go."

You heard him moving around. His weight shifted the bed and you tried to shimmy away. His large hand settled on your hip and he turned you over. You swallowed a belch as he did. 

"Come on, sit up." He pulled you up and you hung limp from his grasp. "Let's get you changed." He leaned you against his shoulder and his fingers deftly rolled up the top of your swimsuit. "Arms up." 

Dazed, you did as he said and he slipped your top past your head. You fell back and your tits jiggled. You didn't miss his stare as you blinked. You crossed your arms to cover yourself. His fingers glided over your waist, you felt his warmth as he moved closer and bent over you.

He kissed you again. Deeper than the night before. His hand moved along your torso and up your arms. He pulled them away from your chest. You groaned and his lips trailed to your cheek and down your neck. You murmured at the tickle within your core.

"What are you doing?" You whispered. He dragged his mouth along your throat and his hand squeezed your tit. Your back arched without thinking. "Steve…"

"Shh," He looked up at your as he went lower. 

His blue eyes flared and he bent his head over your chest. His golden hair fell forward as he pushed your tits against his face and took a nipple in his mouth. You pushed on his head but he didn't even notice.

He lifted his body over yours. He pressed his knee between your legs and forced them apart as he did. His tongue swirled around your nipple and you moaned. You clasped your hand over your mouth in surprise. Shame.

"Please, you can't--"

"It's okay, sweetie," He fondled your tit as he looked up at you. "I just want you to have a little fun...show you what you're missing."

He grabbed your bottoms and his hands slid over your ass as he yanked them down. He sat up as he brought your legs up to free them from your swimsuit and you gasp. He dropped your legs around him as he stared at your body. His fingers traced the lines of your pelvis and he bent over you again.

He stifled your protest with his lips. He kissed you roughly as he felt around. His fingers tickled your stomach and thighs as they danced around your pussy. You squeezed your legs around him. He took it as permission and rubbed two fingers against your lips. He moaned into your mouth as he pressed between your folds.

You trembled and he started to caress you. Gently at first. You moaned again and he parted from your lips. His other hand cradled your face as he nuzzled your neck. You wiggled beneath him but it only intensified his touch. He played with your clit and you whimpered. 

It was too much. 

Your breath hitched and he started to kiss your neck, little nibbles along the flesh. You felt the orgasm building. Bigger than any you had experienced before. Hotter than that felt at your own touch. You bit your lip and his fingers sped up.

The noise that came from you was humiliating. You cried out and your thighs tensed. You tilted your pelvis against his hand as you climaxed. Your mewls pierced your rampant breaths and his fingers eased you through your peak.

Slowly, he sat up. He dragged his slick fingers down your thighs and left a trail of your juices along your skin. You could see his arousal through his pajamas. He reached for a familiar pair of leopard print shorts and backed up. He hooked them around your feet and tugged them up your legs.

He dressed you carefully in the pajamas he had set beside you. He took your swimsuit bottoms and rubbed the crotch between his thumb and index. He smirked and stood. You were out of breath and spinning. You watched his blurry figure as he moved around the room. 

He disappeared through the door of the bathroom before he returned. He still held your bathing suit. He neared the door with one last look over his shoulder. In your haze, you couldn't make out his face, only heard his voice. 

"Good night, sweetie." He flicked the light off and the door opened and closed. 

You laid in the dark, drunk on vodka and bliss, and the heat between your legs lulled you into a stupor. The world faded to black as the memories melted to dreams.

-

tags to be added in reblog

[dirtydobrik]

science experiments - d.d.

requested: yes! can you like do one where the reader is David's neighbor and she always get's annoyed with all of the science experiment's they do and they start talking idk something like that

word count: 1450

masterlist

You twisted your key into the front door when you heard screams coming from the house at the end of the street. You pushed your door open and ushered your dog inside before looking over and seeing a cloud of pink erupt and cover the entirety of his backyard. You let out a loud sigh and shook your head in annoyance. This was the fifth science experiment your neighbor had done since you moved into the neighborhood a month ago.

Your realtor had gone on and on about how quiet of a neighborhood this was and how relaxing it would be to come home to after a busy workday, however, as you had quickly learned, that was far from the case. Your neighbor was obnoxiously loud, and it was starting to get on your nerves. He constantly had people over and music playing at 3am as if no one else in the neighborhood had a job.

After you made dinner, you took your dog on another walk. This time, you noticed a cleaning crew leaving your neighbor’s house and decided to stop by and ask about all of the science experiments. You gripped your dog’s leash and pulled him past your house and towards the one at the end of the street. There were less cars parked outside than usual, but you still felt bad about interrupting him. The gate was wide open, and you didn’t hear voices outside, so you knocked on the front door.

“Hi, can I help you?” a blonde girl asked, swinging the door open. Her eyes lit up and she knelt down to pet your dog.

“Yeah, um, do you live here?” you asked, and she shook her head.

Before she could answer, you heard a voice coming from inside the house. “Taylor, you know you aren’t supposed to open the door for fans.”

“Fans?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow as a puzzled look crossed your face.

“Yeah, I work for David Dobrik.”

“Who?”

“He’s a popular YouTuber.”

“Taylor,” the voice repeated.

“She’s not a fan, Dave.”

“Just an annoyed neighbor,” you laughed, and a few moments later, you heard footsteps echo across the wood floor. A few seconds later, a tall guy with shaggy brown hair stood behind the blonde girl. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Taylor smiled before excusing herself. David stepped outside on to the front steps and shut the door behind him.

“So, you’re the new neighbor?” he chuckled, and you nodded before introducing yourself.

“I live down the street, and I don’t mean to come across as a bitch, but,” you started, before he cut you off.

“What? My friends and I are too loud? The street is too busy?”

“No, well, a little bit of both of those. But I’m mostly just annoyed at the science experiments you do all the time. I don’t know what you guys are doing and I don’t know if any of the chemicals are toxic to breathe, especially for dogs.”

“Most of what we do isn’t harmful. If something is considered slightly dangerous, my assistant sends out a text to a few other neighbors with the time that it’ll happen, and the chemicals involved so you can do research on it. I can give her your number if you want me to,” David suggested, giving you a smile.

“That sounds great, actually. Again, I feel so bad for bothering you about this. I just don’t feel safe if you’re constantly putting chemicals into the air that people on the street breathe.”

“It’s not a problem, I’ll give Natalie your number and she’ll give you a heads up about any future experiments” he reassured you. “And sorry about the noise. We try to keep parties to weekends or holidays, but that doesn’t always happen.”

“Just try to keep it down after midnight. Some of us have real jobs that we have to wake up early for,” you giggled. “Anyways, sorry for being a downer, but it was nice to meet you, David.”

“No worries,” David smiled. “It was nice to meet you, too. I’ll see you around.”

You started to walk down the driveway when you heard him shout your name.

“Feel free to stop by whenever. I’d love to have you come to a party or watch a science experiment sometime,” David yelled, and you told him you would.

 A few weeks later, David’s assistant had texted you that they were doing a science experiment today and she made it clear that David wanted you to come watch. You reluctantly agreed and finished doing your makeup before heading down the street to David’s. Cars lined the street, and you overheard the conversation of the two girls walking in front of you. They were talking about how David was planning to top an experiment he had already done.

You followed them into the house, and David’s assistant was handing out white suits and goggles.

“Is it really that dangerous?” you questioned, and she shrugged.

“Better safe than sorry.”

You stepped into your suit and headed into the backyard to find David. He was filming the scientist and some of his friends as they talked about what the experiment was. He looked up and smiled at you, motioning for you to sit down and wait for him. You sat on the white outdoor couch, looking around and watching as David explained what was going to happen and who would be filming from where. He said they would do a run through to get the angles for each shot before they actually did the experiment.

“Okay, everyone be in position in ten minutes,” he yelled, before coming over to talk to you.

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” he grinned, leaning in for a hug. You gave him a smile and a small hug.

“I wanted to see what all of the hype was about,” you shrugged, and he shot you a puzzled look. “Your assistant Taylor told me that you’re a popular YouTuber and I wanted to see for myself.” You didn’t want to admit that you had spent seven hours watching his videos one day when you were home sick from work or that you were so easily entertained by them.

After a few minutes of effortless conversation, David was calling for everyone to get in their positions for the run through. A few of his friends came over to the patio set you were sitting at to watch the experiment, since they didn’t have an assigned role in the filming process.

“Let’s go, this is the real one,” David shouted.

Two of his friends pulled the rope to tip the large bucket and seconds later, blue and green foam exploded into the air and around his backyard. David ran towards the patio set, the foam chasing after him. his back was to you as he filmed the foam, and you were looking at the foam falling over the fence and down the cliff. Neither of you were paying attention and David ran right into you. You stumbled backwards and landed on your ass.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, holding his hand out to help you up.  You grabbed it and he pulled you to your feet. You eyes met his and you could feel your cheeks turning rosy. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two and you had the sudden urge to kiss him. You couldn’t, though. Not in front of all of his friends and not after only knowing him for an afternoon. 

“No worries,” you reassured him with a smile, even though you were certain there was bruise that would make sitting painful for the next few days.

You and David continued talking and after about ten minutes, you looked around and noticed that most of his friends had gone back inside. You and David followed the path his friends made and joined them inside.

“I should go,” you said, feeling like you were intruding since none of his friends knew you. You headed towards the

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, helping you out of your suit and taking his own off.

He handed his camera off to one of his friends to review the footage and followed you outside.

“You don’t have to walk me back,” you insisted. “I live down the street.”

“I want to,” he grinned.

The two of you talked as you walked three houses down back to yours.

“I had fun today. Thanks for letting me crash your shoot.”

“Hopefully this means I won’t get anymore angry knocks,” David chuckled. “I had fun today, too. And I’d love to go out sometime.”

“Call me tonight and we’ll talk,” you smiled, before waving goodbye to him and closing the door. 

[gaarasgoddess]

Welcome to Suna - Part 6

Welcome to Suna. Where the lights never die and the fun never  stops. Sakura and Ino lie to their parents to spend a wild weekend in a  forbidden city. Will they regret it? Or will they both find something  worth coming for?Main pairing is GaaraxSakura and side  InoxKankuro.[Listening to 1989 album by Taylor Swift.]

Chapter summary: Sakura is too tempting for Gaara. And a picnic has surprise visitors. [this story will be unpredictably erotic from now on: warning]

[Please read previous parts first. part 1 and part 2 and part 3. And part 4. And part 5.]

.x.

Gaara woke quickly after Sakura got bored waiting for him. The cold air hit her and she was going to slide under the covers but she really need to use the bathroom. She really needed to pee. He saw her rush into the room and she felt self-conscious in the bathroom, trying not to make much noise. She’d picked up the bathrobe he had slipped off her before they’d ... done that, and finished up quickly before heading back into the bedroom.

He's still naked.

She blushed heavily, watching him cleaning himself of residue from their activities, her eyes unable to not rake over his body. When her eyes met his she froze and then looked away quickly, ashamed of how embarrassed she was.

“You can look,” he said huskily and Sakura nodded, slowly turning her head to look again.

He’s a smug bastard.

His smirk was almost as brash as his nakedness. He finished cleaning himself and walked to her slowly, so clearly turned on by how she now openly perused his body. She saw his dick twitch and felt a similar stirring in her nether region.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you again,” he cupped her face and kissed her lips softly. “I have a promise to keep.”

She was confused and it showed. “Promise?” She licked her lips wishing he would kiss her again.

Gaara obliged and Sakura wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. His skin felt hot as he attacked her mouth. The gentle nibbling turned into a fight for dominance as they wrestled each other’s tongue, moaning and grinding.

Sakura’s hand slipped down from his waist and ran over his butt brazenly. When he didn’t complain she boldly fingered his muscled six pack before slipping her hand to lightly grasp his dick. He gasped.

“You’re a vixen.” Gaara kissed her fiercely for a few seconds as she pumped him. Then he maneuvered her up against the wall next to his bed. “But two can play at that game.”

He didn’t bother grabbing another condom, slipping his cock between her folds but not inside her. He gripped her hips to stop her from sliding him in and kissed her confusion away, now thrusting but not entering her. Sakura groaned, moving her hips with his as he fucked her thigh gap instead of her pussy.

“God Gaara!”

“Yes!”

The friction was burning but she didn’t care. Sakura threw her head back, screaming his name as she came so hard. He chuckled and lavished her neck as he satiated his own desire, then pulled away before he could cum on her. She groaned, struggling to stand upright as Gaara stroked himself. She didn’t know or care why he hadn’t fucked her wholly. She was happy. A smile plastered to her face as he chuckled and grabbed a towel to clean her up.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

"Come on,” he kissed her forehead.

“What now?”

“Ready to continue that tour I promised you?” He asked, throwing on a pair of jeans and polo shirt. He looked really good whether he was wearing clothes or not.

Not sure what else to do, Sakura nodded.

“I should be able to find something better for you to wear,” he said, then waggled his eyebrows. “Not that I’m complaining about the view.”

She hugged the robe to her body more tightly. Gaara wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. He was so affectionate she still couldn’t believe it was real. This weekend was shaping up to be the best ever. The only problem would be leaving him behind.

Sakura pushed away those morose thoughts. She just wasn’t used to this and needed to keep her heart out of it. She liked boys way too easily when they didn’t give her the time of day, let alone actually wanted her. She was a sucker for a pretty face.

Gaara rummaged through his closet but didn’t find anything. "Hang on, I’ll be back.”

She waited for him by checking her phone, thinking maybe Ino would text or call. It was already ten o’clock and Sakura was surprised she’d slept for so long. She thought of sending Ino a text and decided not to. Then changed her mind thinking it would be best to be safe. But before she’d finished tapping the letters, Gaara returned. She tossed her phone back in her purse, now forgotten as Gaara strode back into the room.

He couldn’t resist feeling her up as she dressed, not a moment of peace as Gaara had decided there was no need for either of them to be shy around each other naked anymore. But he didn’t take it too far since he had other plans for the rest of their morning.

“Let’s go, love.”

Sakura fumbled with her purse and followed Gaara out of the room.

.x.

“Are your parents home?”

Gaara nodded and tugged on her hand when this admission made her pause. “They’re working so we won’t be bothered. And we have this entire wing to ourselves. Come on.”

His family estate was larger than she’d thought. They moved through the hallways and into a few of the rooms as Gaara gave her the tour. The gaming room was larger than her whole living room and bedroom back home. She had never played pool before and didn’t play gaming consoles so she just hummed and smiled along with him. He had a jukebox too and admitted he loved this kind of stuff. His television took up most of the wall and the entertainment room could host every teenager in her year back home, easily.

She wondered if he ever had parties here.

A few more rooms later, he was summoning a servant and Sakura flushed at their subtle surprise to her presence. Did this mean Gaara didn’t normally bring girls home like this? It made her feel special.

“We’re heading out to the gardens,” he told the servant. “We’ll need brunch and a picnic blanket. Be sure to pack some honey.”

He ushered the servant away and Sakura was awed and impressed.

“My lady,” he said offering his arm and smirking at her.

“Thank you.” Sakura accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her outside into the bright sun. She giggled.

“Find that funny, huh?”

She just smiled. He took them to a stone path that wound through the gardens in this section of his home. She loved the flowers and bushes and sounds of birds, looking this way and that. Gaara kept her from stopping too long, wanting to get to the designated spot sometime today.

The path opened up to a grassy area with a fountain and Sakura was struck yet again by how rich Gaara’s family was. She could never compete with this.

Stop those thoughts.

She inhaled deeply to calm herself and returned his kisses when Gaara started nipping at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. They stood there, just enjoying each other before a servant arrived with the things Gaara had requested. A picnic basket, a bottle of what looked like a fruity cocktail and two glasses, and a blanket. They set it all up then bowed and left them alone.

“Is that alcohol?”

“Yes but go easy, love.”

Sakura scoffed at him then sat on the blanket as he followed and joined her. “I’m not getting drunk in the middle of the day.”

“Whatever you say.” He leaned over and kissed her softly before turning to open the basket to unload it.

Onigiri rice balls, egg sandwiches, a Karaage Bento, Wanpaku Sandwich and a squeeze bottle of honey; Sakura dug in. But Gaara put the honey aside.

“That’s for later,” he promised.

“So tell me...”

Gaara pressed a finger to her lips and she took the hint, falling silent as they ate. She didn’t realise how hungry she was and didn’t pay attention to anything but the food prepared for them. Gaara poured their drinks and held hers out to her when she was part way finished. She devoured it, rolling her eyes at him when he chuckled.

“Hungry?”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh I think I do.”

He gave her a hungry look and took the sandwich from her hand without breaking eye contact. He kissed her, hard and painfully, his hand sneaking up to pinch her nipple. She moaned just as her phone vibrated loudly, startling them and causing them to break apart.

Sakura swallowed thickly and dug into her purse to quickly pull it out. It was a text from Ino. She groaned as Gaara pulled bodily away from her.

‘Where R U 4head?‘

She glanced at Gaara, who was now unscrewing the cap on the honey bottle, then typed back 'Busy. wtf you want?’.

‘Bitchy. R U with that redhead?’

‘Yeah.’

‘U okay?’

‘Fine. Will C U later.’

‘Later, tater.’

Sakura shoved the phone back in her bag. “Sorry.”

Gaara just shrugged and shifted to sit next to her. “Lie back.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment then sighed when he just raised an eyebrow at her and did as he instructed. Gaara ran a hand over her covered breasts, his finger circling where he could feel her nipple.

“May I?”

She nodded knowing what he was about to do.

Gaara undid the buttons on the shirt he’d given her, stopping half-way down her torso, and pushed the fabric aside to expose her breasts to the warm air. He paused for a moment, leant down to suckled at one nipple before slathering the honey along both of her tits, rubbing it into her skin like he was massaging. Sakura moaned, closing her eyes and sighing with contentment.

A moment later she felt his mouth encase her left nipple and she grasped his hair knowing he loved that. He licked his way along her skin, worshipping her as he went, suckling at the honey and moving to hover over her for better access.

After a few minutes, he started on undoing the rest of her buttons, sitting up to do so. Two voices interrupted them at the same time, making GaaSaku freeze.

“Gaara?”

“Sakura?”

When they realised what they were interrupted doing, Gaara and Sakura snapped up and she was too stunned to cover up. Gaara hastily moved her shirt to cover her breasts and she blushed, turning away to do up the buttons.

“Kankuro,” Gaara growled.

“Well, well.” Ino whistled. “Looks like we interrupted something.”

“Ino-pig,” Sakura snarled. “Ever heard of decorum?”

“Is it that new sex toy that--”

“Shut up.”

Kankuro laughed as the girls stared at each other. “Well if no-one else is going to say it, I have to: Sakura has a great pair of tits.”

Ino smacked him over the back of his head.

.x.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 13 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go to the temple of mammon, Studio 54.

“You look,” Gene said, throat drier than sandpaper, “really good.”

Good was an understatement. Paul looked hot. The light blue of the dress made a good contrast against his still-suntanned skin. The neckline made up for the dress length, providing more cleavage than Gene had seen out of Paul since he’d first met him on the front porch in the bathrobe. The heels accentuated his legs—even as a guy, Paul had always had nice legs—but for maybe the first time in three days, Gene was paying more attention to Paul’s face than his body.

It wasn’t like he’d done anything wild with makeup. Blush, red lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara. Except for the eyeliner maybe being a bit heavier, it was about the same look as the night prior. But Paul seemed happier. Relaxed. There wasn’t that tightness to his jaw anymore or that tension to his mouth. And that was a surprise, given the stilted way their dancing earlier had ended. Gene thought Paul might have been sore or tetchy, or at least awkward, but he’d just carried right on. Those sad brown eyes of his didn’t look sad at all, for once, and if Gene were sentimental, he would almost have said they were sparkling.

Maybe he’d just liked sharing a few dances with Gene. And maybe tonight really was the night that this would all be over. Every bit of it. Back to normal life for them both, touring and signing and interviewing. Back to life a hotel room away from each other. He’d be stupid to regret the change. Just stupid.

“You’re not half so bad yourself, Gene.” Paul crooked his head as if he hadn’t seen variations of his outfit at least a dozen times over just this year. As if he hadn’t been suggesting half of it while Gene had asked for the clothes to be sent over. Black leather everything, including the pants—something he already was regretting bitterly. Silver accessories. A belt with a spider encased in enamel as the buckle plate. The public demanded a monster movie out of Gene even when he got off the stage.

“That’s generous.” The limo was already idling in Paul’s driveway. “You ready?”

It took a few seconds for Paul to answer. He wasn’t looking at Gene, at least, not directly in the face; it almost seemed as though Paul was scoping him out, assessing him like there was something new to assess. Gene would have called him out on it, except during times like this, he never was sure if it was Paul’s hearing or Paul’s daydreaming to blame.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The limo ride was uneventful. Gene decided he didn’t care for Studio 54 long before they pulled up to the VIP entrance. He decided that through the line wrapping around the building for what seemed like miles, the garish outfits of the wannabes begging for admittance, and the weird air of desperation mixed with eagerness that seemed to permeate through the limo windowpane. It made him feel itchy. Beside him, Paul had spent a bit of time doodling peace signs and dicks in the misted-up windowglass like it was a school notebook. His good mood didn’t seem to dampen until the limousine stopped, and he saw the press, out there already, all cameras and notepads.

“Gene—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got my bandana.” He’d forgotten to ask for it over the phone, but it’d been in the box of clothes for him anyway. A couple of them, actually. “Do you want one?”

Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Switch spots with me, would you?”

Gene swapped obligingly. The limo wasn’t roomy enough to avoid Paul brushing up against him as they traded seats. He caught the woodsy scent of Aramis cologne in Paul’s hair, just another indication of what he’d spent three days pounding into his head now.

“Want me to hold the door for you, too?”

“God, no.”

Gene laughed, and got out first. The bandanas always made him feel like he was about to rob a bank. Every so often, they’d get goofy with it, find weird headgear—knight and astronaut and football helmets—but for the most part, bandanas and scarves were enough out in public, real public. Places where they wanted to be seen, under normal circumstances. The first half-dozen camera flashes were blinding as always. He helped Paul out of the limo, hovering over him as he stepped out. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring a jacket, but maybe that would’ve made it worse, provoked the paparazzi more, if he’d tried covering Paul up too much.

“You okay?” he asked, as the crowd shuddered and swarmed around them. A horde, just a horde, worse than the CBGB crowd ever considered being. Fans would want an autograph or a lay. The press only ever wanted blood.

“I’m fine, I’m—”

“Mr. Simmons!” A woman reporter called out, touching his free arm. “Can I have just a moment?”

“No,” he said, brushing past, his hold on Paul’s arm only getting tighter. Walking quickly, not making eye contact, until the line—there was a line, unbelievably, for VIPs—forced him to stop. Paul had his head half-buried against his shoulder for the whole duration of their wait, tensing with every camera flash and intrigued leer. Gene realized, offhand, that the attention wasn’t pissing Paul off the way it had at CBGB. Instead, it was scaring him.

It made sense, he supposed. CBGB wasn’t nearly important enough to have reporters and cameramen about. They didn’t have big names there, either, no one that Paul would’ve really worried about bumping into. Paul had said earlier that he didn’t think he could pull off talking to someone that knew him, and Gene suspected he was right. Gene suspected an interviewer was even further beyond him at this point.

He’d expected to just be let in once they arrived at the velvet-roped entrance, not really believing Paul’s claims about exclusivity, but instead, a broad-shouldered kid with a grin held them up at the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gene echoed, and shoved down his bandana. On wry automatic, he held up his free hand—full of rings, including the skull one that the teenyboppers seemed fascinated by—as if it was a secret signal. The doorman blinked, unconvinced. Gene could hear Paul snort beside him. “I’m Gene Simmons from KISS, and the—lovely Miss Eisen and I would—”

Still smiling, the doorman pointed at his own tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” But Gene stuck it out anyway. The kid’s expression didn’t change much as he opened the door to let them in. Gene pocketed his bandana, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Paul until they were on the VIP floor, and hopefully beyond the bulk of the press�� touch, and even then, he didn’t let go. Paul looked a little shaken up, anyway, though Gene couldn’t blame him. It was a different beast from last night, for all their objective hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry. They won’t have gotten any good shots,” Gene said.

“That may not matter. Depends on who else is here.” Paul sighed, worming his arm out from Gene’s, shifting to hold his hand instead. No hesitation. He was getting accustomed to it. So was Gene.

Gene stole a glance Paul’s way before really taking a look at the scene, trying to absorb New York’s hottest discotheque, decide if the interior impressed him any more than the exterior. He decided it didn’t. Maybe too promptly. But the flashing lights, the blaring music—all that was ostensibly no different from CBGB, or any other bar or club; it was just a matter of size and budget and spectacle. It didn’t matter if someone was worth ten bucks or ten million; they all looked the same passed out on the floor. Enough of them were already that Gene couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten to Studio 54 on time.

“What do you think, Gene?”

“You liked it here?”

The VIP floor was covered in lounge furniture, long couches and glass-topped tables. The carpets were dirty, and the smell of booze was heavier in the air than Gene had experienced in years. Probably not since that ill-fated Hotter than Hell shoot when they’d first started off, the one that had very nearly ended with—well. Gene wasn’t in the mood to consider that one, not given Paul’s current shape.

But almost every square inch of the place was smothered in people. Hollywood giants, of vintage and modern flavors. He saw Liz Taylor—wild, to see Cleopatra in the flesh, nearly fifteen years out from the role and easily fifty pounds heavier. He saw Michael Jackson, making moon-eyes as usual at Diana Ross. Poor, hopeless kid. He could’ve sworn he saw Truman Capote, hitting on a well-muscled, shirtless bartender. And all around the giants were the hangers-on and the hopefuls and the arm candies of the duration. Transvestites in g-string bikinis, lesbians in suits. It was viscerally strange, the sheer variety. No one was paying them much mind yet, aware, somehow, that they were too sober to be worth noticing. Paul cleared his throat, defensive.

“Well, yeah, I like it. It’s kind of wild, yeah, but—”

Three feet from them, a producer was puking straight onto the carpet, while a Playboy bunny rubbed the top of his head. On top of one of the tables, a guy was snorting a line of coke straight down a naked girl’s breasts, and as he kept sliding, Gene realized that the powder ran all the way down, bisecting her torso.

“Paul, this is a cesspool.”

 “C’mon, you’ve seen this shit before.”

“Not all at once.” Gene shook his head. “You’re not even into it. Why would you go here?” He understood it for Ace and Peter, as drugged-up as they’d get. He didn’t understand it for Paul. What was he trying to accomplish? What would it really matter, getting with the big names right in their stomping grounds, when those names were so trashed that they were useless? I want to belong somewhere, that was what he’d said. But this somewhere wasn’t it.

 “I just—”

“Mr. Simmons!” came a voice out of the din, eager and excitable. Not a VIP. The tone was too innocent, too close to admiring. Gene turned around.

“I’m not doing auto—”

“Mr. Simmons! I work for Mr. Rubell! I’m one of the doormen!” The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, blondish and broad-shouldered. “Sorry I didn’t get you at the door, we’ve got a couple new guys, they don’t know—but listen, we’re all looking for that Carol chick!”

“Good.”

“We’ll tell Mr. Stanley when we see him, too.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman nodded, making an awkward salute before heading back. Obliquely, Gene wondered if Bill and Sean had checked Studio 54 out yet. Rubell seemed to have a hiring preference in line with their tastes. He turned to Paul again.

“Looks like they got the memo. You wanna sit down?”

“I… maybe for a minute.” Paul’s eyes darted around, searching for an empty table. Gene looked, too, but he didn’t see one. No corners they could tuck themselves into—not that a corner would’ve been great for keeping a lookout for Carol. Gene felt Paul squeeze his hand. Shot nerves already. Gene could tell that much before Paul spoke again. “If I can keep from talking to anybody, that’d be great.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky,” Gene said dryly, spying a tall man getting up out of his chair and waving them over.

“If it isn’t Gene Simmons!” the man called out in a distinctively non-American accent. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the feathered brown hair and bright smile would’ve made it obvious. It was Barry Gibb, holding a glass of champagne. “I thought your band was back on the road!”

“Barry, hey,” Gene said, sticking out his hand on automatic. Barry shook it exuberantly. “You’re a few weeks early for that one. How are you?”

Paul looked a bit like he wanted to die on the spot. Barry didn’t seem to notice.

“Great, great. My little brother, Andy…” if possible, Barry’s beaming increased, “he’s just released a single. It’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Really? I think I’d heard he had his own group in Australia—”

“Zenta! You do keep up!” Barry clasped his shoulder. “No, that’s done with now. He’s doing some fantastic solo work…”

Despite the meaningful, sour glances Paul kept throwing his way, Gene’s interest was piqued enough at the thought of a hit, and the thought of a worthwhile contact—the time or two they’d met in passing prior, Barry had been just about this congenial, so Gene didn’t think he was drunk—that he accepted Barry’s invitation to sit down. The next twenty minutes were filled with shop talk, Barry sending off for a Coke for Gene and a whiskey highball for Paul (Gene suspected Paul took Barry up on the offer as payback rather than an actual desire to drink, since he barely touched it), and praise Gene had a hard time fully enjoying.

“My son loves KISS, you know,” Barry said at one point. “He’s never gotten half so excited over our albums.”

“Really? How old is he?” Gene took a sip of his Coke, leaning forward. “We’ll have Casablanca send him something. We have a whole catalog of new merchandise in the works.”

“He’ll be four in December.”

Paul, who had stayed mostly silent up until that point, looked mortified.

“Four?” he almost wailed. Barry seemed amused.

“Oh, love, it’s not an insult. I wish we had that kind of mass appeal behind us.”

“Gene, this—we’ve got to talk to Bill, Gene, we just can’t—I know we don’t get taken seriously, but for God’s sake—”

Under the table, Gene nudged Paul’s bare ankle with his boot. Paul flushed and cut himself off abruptly. Barry glanced over at Paul, then took a swallow of champagne.

“The youth market's the best one to be in, Polly. I've been in this industry long enough to promise you that."

“What, ten years?”

“Next year it’ll be twenty.” Barry got up, shaking both their hands. “I hate to leave you too abruptly, but I’m to meet up with Maurice in a bit. Great to meet you, Polly, great to see you again, Gene.”

“Yeah. And I do mean it, about the merch. We’ve got dolls—”

“Oh, Steve’d love them. Thank you.” Another bright smile, and Barry headed off. Paul let out a groan as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Twenty years,” he mumbled, slumping forward, propping his head up with his hand. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Bee Gees have been at it for twenty years?”

“I didn’t, either,” Gene admitted.

“Fuck, how old is Barry, anyway? Peter’s age?”

“I have no idea.”

“At least he’s not gonna see me again like this. God, he thought I was a jackass…” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t take it personally. Barry’s a good guy.”

“Twenty years stuck with his brothers. I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other.” Paul got up, stepping away from the table, and Gene followed suit. “Think we can get a better look around without getting interrupted? I couldn’t see anything from here.”

Just from a cursory glance, Gene doubted it. Most of the other tables were full or near-full, and no good for people-watching. They’d be better off on the floor.

“We’re going to have to stand to see.” Gene started to take Paul’s arm again, almost on automatic, but a glance at his shoulder stopped him. “Did you get another bra?”

“What?”

Gene pressed a finger against the purple strap hanging past Paul’s sleeve. Paul shook his head, looking abashed.

 “No, this is… this is just the nightie.”

Paul’s cheeks were going a little pink. That pink went straight to red when Gene tugged the strap back into place for him. He had to push Paul’s hair back and turn up his sleeve in order to fix the strap up again to his shoulder, under the dress. His skin was soft, dotted with a handful of moles Gene hadn’t ever really noticed before. There was the pitted smallpox vaccination scar, and the tattoo, of course, the green stem peeking a little past his sleeve. Gene’s fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his arm before he remembered himself enough to pull back.

“The nightie? Why are you wearing that here?”

The redness in Paul’s face wasn’t anywhere near abating.

“Because I didn’t buy a slip. This dress is thinner than I thought.”

“I bet it looks cute on.”

Paul fidgeted, starting to adjust the strap himself, fiddling with the slider.

“Thought you said you just liked what was underneath.”

“Well, that’s the main event, but you’ve got to say something for packaging—"

“Keep pushing it and you won’t find out.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Gene grinned. “Dance with me.”

 He said it on impulse, almost airily. The song blaring through the speakers—some new funk bit from Marvin Gaye was already midway through. Paul put one hand on Gene’s shoulder. Still worried about what people thought of him, even in a place like this. A place where no one would’ve even given much of a shit about them dancing if Paul was like he ought to be. And yet here Paul was, thinking anyone’d care about a girl leading a guy. Gene shook his head, taking Paul’s arm and moving it to his waist.

“No, you lead.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The driving, pulsating bassline and wailing saxophone were such a far cry from the CSNY album they’d danced to in Paul’s basement. There was a flippant, overly sexual air to disco that was kind of fascinating. More marketable than their own sordid stuff. Gene didn’t know if KISS would try and ride the wave—they’d talked about it, and Paul had tossed around a few song lyrics—but it hadn’t come to much yet. Might ruin their image. Might solidify it.

Step by step. Paul was stiffer on the dance floor than he’d been in the basement. Partially because of how he had to keep shifting them both around, to avoid dancing into other couples, or stepping on passed-out partiers. But there was more to it than that. His lips were pursed, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the song. Maybe, for once, he was listening to the lyrics.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A little sweat was clinging to Paul’s brow, and a little more to Paul’s palm, enclosed in his. He hadn’t tried anything close to fancy, not even any turns or spins. He’d seen Paul do better than this just a few hours ago. Nerves. Except the only time Paul didn’t nerve out was in front of an audience. And this audience was too wasted to care if the two of them were tearing up the dancefloor or stumbling through each step. Paul’s tongue was poking out between his teeth again, and he wasn’t looking Gene in the face, and he wasn’t looking around the room.

Something warm was spreading in Gene, the longer he looked at Paul, the longer they danced. Stepped in time, more like. That concentration made his features seem almost sweet. Paul’s hand on his waist was fidgeting, like he’d forgotten how to hold it. Gene squeezed his shoulder, and Paul raised his head, finally, as Gene cleared his throat to speak.

“Hey. What’d you say dancing was earlier?”

Paul blinked, caught off guard enough that he stopped moving.

“Getting a feel for your partner. Mirroring them.”

“That’s right.” Gene exhaled. His fingers inched up past Paul’s shoulder, touching his cheek for a brief second before returning to his shoulder again. “Could you mirror something for me, then? Right now.”

“Yeah.” Paul had turned his head towards Gene’s hand. Was looking right at him, all big dark eyes and red lips. Red lips that were twitching up, suddenly, in the faintest ghost of a smile. “What do you want to—"

Gene inclined his head and met Paul’s lips with his own.

Paul kissed back instantly. Greedily. Gene was almost taken aback. It wasn’t ferocious so much as desperate, as though all his pent-up energy was suddenly given just a single release. Paul’s tongue licked across Gene’s lips for entrance before Gene could even get there first, hot and overwhelming. Gene dropped his hold on Paul’s hand to cup his smooth, soft jaw, fingers careful not to brush too far past it. His fingertips caught onto Paul’s curls, stiff with hairspray, yet they still somehow felt good against his fingers. The scent of his cologne, emanating off his hair and neck, was almost overwhelming, cologne and sweat and something else; for an insane moment Gene felt like he could almost smell the want on him.

Paul tightened his grip on Gene’s waist, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush. Gene’s hard-on was getting unbearable, pressing up against Paul nearly worse than no relief, because of all the things wasn’t. Gene couldn’t think straight. Could barely let himself remember who was kissing him so ardently, who he was kissing back, whose lipstick was smearing against his mouth and jaw and neck—

Gene only pulled back to get a breath in. Paul’s hand had sunk below Gene’s waist, groping at his ass through the leather fabric. Paul kept shoving his hips against him, friction that didn’t really quite manage to hit its target. Too much of a height difference. They could fix that. Fuck, they could fix that right here in the disco, in one of those basement rooms—he could fuck Paul there, against the wall, or on the floor; he didn’t care, anywhere. He murmured against Paul’s neck, lapping and kissing, not quite daring to leave a mark against his skin. Gene barely felt Paul’s ankle latch around his boot, almost as if he was laying claim, but it warmed him, nearly as much as Paul’s little hitches for breath, the needy press of his lips against his skin. Gene grunted, fingers tightening on Paul’s hair, intending on tugging him back in for another kiss when Paul’s expression shifted, dilated, glassy eyes suddenly going wide, whole body tight as piano wire. His foot went back into place on the floor, stiff as a soldier, hands seeming frozen on Gene. The color was starting to drain from his face.

“Paul? What’s wrong?”

It must have hit him. His brain must have caught up with his libido faster than Gene’s had. Gene started to let go, feeling his brow furrow, a little, hopeless shame twitching in his gut, but then Paul grabbed onto him harder, shaking his head.

“It’s not you. It’s not you, I swear.” One hand withdrew, just to point. Gene couldn’t follow Paul’s finger at first, with the slew of people, but finally he caught sight of the blond doorman from earlier, ushering someone forward, towards them. Someone cute, but not beautiful. Not a VIP. Someone he knew wouldn’t belong on her own here, any more than Paul did.

A small young woman with light brown hair.

“She’s here.”

[herefortayloronly]

folklore first impressions

i just want to preface this post with WHAT THE FUCK TAYLOR? For the past couple of months i’ve been trying to get back into the grooves of things after self-isolation and finding a new routine. Just when i thought things were getting back to normal (as normal as it can get with people still getting sick and things are still close down of course), taylor decides to say SURPRISE! i’m not gonna lie, when this annoucement was made, i was still in bed and asleep. my best friend texted me a picture with one “omg”. When i saw the picture i was like “oh no, what happened to taylor”. but then i read the caption and i woke the fuck right up. I feel like we all know how I feel, just like the rest of swifties. so I’m just gonna jump straight into the songs because this is going to be long.

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the 1 - this song is really interesting when you think of it as an introduction to all the characters you’re about to meet in the album and also the feelings you’re about to endure listening to the songs. 

cardigan - this song is easily my favorite song on the album. so the first listen, it didn’t really hit me but immediately listening to it the second time and watching the music video, i literally broke down. something about it is so hauntingly beautiful, it’s mature but also very classic taylor. something about it is so effortless and freeing. the use of piano (something that is gonna come up more in later songs) is so interesting and different for taylor. this one is definitely going to be on my top ten.

the last great american dynasty - as the song went along, i figured she was talking about her house in rhode island especially when she literally said rhode island lol. But when the line “and then it was bought by me“ hits. i literally got chills. it was such beautiful storytelling and songwriting. 

exile - i know there are people who don’t love it when taylor collaborates and have feature artists but when she has a feature artist that just works with her voice and create beautiful lyrics, magic happens! although i like all of collabs to different degrees, i can only say with my whole chest that The Last Time with Gary Lightbody is the best collab she has ever done. exile with Bon Iver is a close second. the back and forth between the two singers reminds me so much of The Last Time. the way their voice just balance each other out. it’s great.

my tears ricochet - i want this song play at my funeral. it is so haunting and tragic. but also full of anger and resentment. the way the song keeps building and building throughout gives me chills. another top favorites of mine. i’ve seen so many interpretations of this song and i think that’s why this song is so wonderful. it really hits in all different ways.

mirrorball - i feel like this song is so perfect for when you’re high or drunk. it is so groovy and chill and mellow. and while it sounds like a fun song, it’s also kinda taylor admitting that she has a problem with how she perceives herself. and the fact that she compares herself to a mirrorball because she knows that her own fault is trying to please everyone, trying to fit in. it’s a little sad but also comforting to know that she recognize that.

seven - another song that uses the piano so beautifully. this song reminds me so much of me and the group of girl friends i had in elementary school. something about that childhood nostalgia and how young friendships shape your childhood. i have a lot of love for them but i don’t talk to them anymore and i wouldn’t consider them close friends. but that’s okay because the memories and friendships were great. 

august - i just want to take a drive down the beach with the windows down while blasting this song! although the sound gives off a free and bright vibe, there’s also something bittersweet about it. it sounds like this person is yearning and hoping for something, and reminiscing on the nice memories and realizing that they are no more. it’s almost tragic.

this is me trying - The lyrics of this song is so sharp and tight but for some reason I can’t get into it. but i do love the imagery in the song. there’s a sense of desperation and eagerness and it’s also a little self-deprecating.

illicit affairs - i love the imagery in this song about a relationship that just ruins you. it didn’t just break your heart but it affects that way you see other parts of your life. 

invisible string - this song is so precious and sweet and whimsical. really reinforces her love for this person and i love that even with all the other songs this song is just a nice glimpse into their relationship. and i love this idea that fate is the reason why they are together. but not just fate, it’s also their past and their relationships with other people. 

mad woman - this song is fire!! another great use of the piano. i love this song is about women being mad and that’s okay and there’s a reason why women get mad. women being mad isn’t an irrational thing and she’s not overreacting. and when women do get bad, there’s passion there.

epiphany - i love the perspective of this song is of someone fighting because they are trying to protect the great good. i think this song is also a great tribute to all the essential workers and healthcare workers fighting in the frontline during the covid pandemic. 

betty - i love that this song is from the perspective of a person who cheated. i think taylor has been cheated on many times in her life and to see her step into the shoes of the cheater is really fascinating. this is another songs that proves taylor doesn’t have to know or feel a certain type of emotions to fully capture that perspective. she’s able to create a world and a narrative from just knowing how she wants to portray a certain emotion.

peace - so i said this song is similar to Dancing With Our Hands Tied and The Archer. it reminds me of taylor’s talking about her fears and troubles in a relationship. but also about how she has learned that she is okay with those fears now because she realized they don’t have to dictate her life and she’s not alone. in a way this song makes me happy and sad. it makes me happy because she’s in a place where she knows she wants to be with someone for the rest of her life and she found that forever love. it also makes me sad because she will always worry and be haunted by these past scars. and lets talk about the style of this song. this is the soft rock john mayer vibes that i always wanted taylor to do, so i love that she’s experimenting with that and i hope she does a rock album one day! i also think this is the first love song where she’s not just talking about how she felt but also how the other person feels. the other person also feels a sense of insecurities.

hoax - in the same vein as peace, i think this song is also about how two people in a relationship can be extremely hurt but still find ways to make sure to hold each other up. my favorite line in the song is “you have beaten my heart”. there is a really interesting double meaning to that line that i think holds so much weight. the person has beaten her heart as in he has hurt her in some way but he also has won her heart and also made it beat again.

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if you are here to see where i rank all of taylor’s album, you will be disappointed. i try my best not to rank her albums because i love all of her albums one way or another. they are all unique and hold a special place in my heart in different ways. i do have vague placements for them but at the end of the day, i love all of them. the best thing about taylor and being a fan of taylor is that i never have to pick one album to listen to and i don’t have to favor one over the other. if i am in the mood for a certain sound or style, i can choose from her catalog. i’m also not going to be insulting or trashing past albums because people have decided that folklore is her magnum opus. i can acknowledge that folklore is one of her best albums without bringing down other albums. i love each and every single album. it is impossible to rank and pick and choose among eight albums.

i’ve have the pleasure of witnessing taylor’s career for 10 years, since speak now. to see her go through so many changes, growth and hardships is really a sight to see. people are going to say this album is sad and tragic but i disagree. it isn’t the same sadness like how Red is sad. it’s more freeing and accepting. the sadness isn’t holding her back like in Red, it is actually pushing her to do and say things she probably wouldn’t have said before.

also this album isn’t meant to redefine a genre. It’s not meant to be something new, i’m sure there are plenty of artists doing something similar. taylor is just doing what she does best, incorporating all the best parts of her, her storytelling, songwriting, beautiful melodies, catchy hooks and putting a twist to it with a completely new production. i think that’s something very special about taylor. she’s just let music and ideas flow and always so open to experimentation. the fact that she’s arrived in this moment with this album is very special. 

the fact that she is able to create these characters and stories. this is why she’s an amazing writer, not because she writes about her own experience but because she can write about anything. goes to show how her mind works and how she operates. she doesn’t have to draw from her experience, she gets inspired by everything.

as for rankings. something really fun i did this time is keeping track of my rankings to see where each song moves. so i did a list for after 2 full listens, after 20 hours (this is friday 7/24 night) and 44 hours (saturday 7/25 night).  and because i didn’t finish this post saturday night i added in sunday’s 7/26 ranking as well. it’s really fun to see which song i was drawn to that day. 

as you can see, cardigan is a constant number one for me. it is the song of the album. i think a really good example of a song that grew on me after a while is peace. i think this song is definitely secured its spot among the top 5 of the album once it’s all said and done. in my opinion, anything after #10 i love them but it speaks to how really good this album is because it’s really hard after ranking 10 songs. the most notable thing is the recurring songs on the bottom, epiphany, mirrorball, illicit affairs, and this is me trying. now i actually love epiphany and illicit affairs, again speaks to how much i love the other songs and how great this album is. this is me trying is a song that i enjoy listening to but i don’t seek it out. i don’t crave listening to it but i do like it alot and i love the meaning of it. same with mirrorball, i love it but i’d have to be in the mood for it. all that said, right now i can say for 100% sure that cardigan, peace and my tears ricochet are my top favorites of the album. while the others are gonna keep moving with more listen and time. 

this album is really meant for taylor. she really is born to write an album like this. even though there are songs that aren’t personal and directly about taylor, she’s able to leave bits and pieces of herself, how she feels and her emotions in those songs. and i think that’s why not only is she a good writer but she’s also a good messenger. her voice and her delivery is one of my favorite things about her and the reason i love listening to her and her music. and this album emphasize that and highlight that talent. no other pop artists will be able to pull off an album like this and that’s why this album is made for taylor.

[aaronmaurer]

Music I Liked in 2020

Every year I reflect on the pop culture I enjoyed and put it in some sort of order.

I can’t say I discovered a lot of new artists in 2020, but I did find a lot of solace in new records by familiar voices. During days of intense isolation and lonesomeness, music provided support, hope and the occasional semblance of peace. I’m especially grateful for the musicians who found new ways to perform live from their home studios, once the entire touring industry completely shut down. I’m sure we all found our own rabbit holes, but live-streamed sets from the likes of Ben Gibbard, Jimmy Eat World’s Jim Atkins, Better Than Ezra’s Kevin Griffin, Geographer’s Michael Deni and Ben Folds kept me sane during April, May and beyond. As did all of these albums, which I highly recommend.

15. Serpentine Prison – Matt Berninger

The National frontman’s first solo record is a slow-burn that may not reach the heights of his work with his main group (or sideproject El Vy), but still has signature moments of poetic beauty. The title track is a clear standout (and when it gets stuck in your head, you can have fun brainstorming your own alternate non-sequitur couplets; examples: “Tripping on Molly / Salvador Dalí”, “Praying to Jesus / Ramona and Beezus” / “Sell it on Etsy / Heavens to betsy” / “Patio tables / Anne of Green Gables” It’s fun! Try it out!)

14. Local Honey – Brian Fallon

Speaking of Matt Berninger (and solo projects from alt-rock frontmen), I hear a lot of his influence on the latest from Gasoline Anthem’s Brian Fallon. This largely stripped-down affair has quiet splendor to spare and provided a balm in the early days of the pandemic.

13. Gigaton – Pearl Jam

Pearl Jam’s latest record finds the band operating in a variety of different modes – head-on rockers, balladeers, experimentalists – yet doesn’t quite gel into a whole the way their very best work does. That said, it’s an energetic album with many songs I look forward to hearing live, someday…

12. George Clanton & Nick Hexum – George Clanton & Nick Hexum

A vaporwave collaboration between electronic artist George Clanton and 311’s Nick Hexum? Really? Somehow it works, and its chill vibes were a perfect backdrop for lonely summer malaise this year.

11. Petals For Armor – Hayley Williams

Paramore’s Williams branched out on her first solo record this year, allowing her to operate in a variety of styles without losing her powerful voice. Moments of slinkily seething electronica (“Simmer”) share space with pop smarts (“Dead Horse”), quietly pretty harmonies (“Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris”) and all points in between.

10. Mordechai and Texas Sun EP (with Leon Bridges) – Khruangbin

Houston psych-rock trio Khruangbin did double duty this year, first releasing a collaborative EP with Leon Bridges then following it up with a new full-length a couple months later. Both records hang in the air like hazy, languid summer heat, in the best possible way.

  9. RTJ4 – Run the Jewels

RTJ4 is just as rollicking and propulsive as Killer Mike and El-P’s previous collabs, but with a greater sense of socially conscious urgency and righteous anger, giving it an even rawer power. Tracks like “Walking In The Snow,” “JU$T” and “a few words for the firing squad (radiation)” are just the tip of the iceberg on this incendiary record.

8. American Head – The Flaming Lips

American Head returns the Flaming Lips to the melodic soundscapes of The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, which is my preferred mode for the band, and thus is my favorite thing they’ve done in at least a decade. The record is a bit more dreamily melancholic than those earlier releases though, creating atmospheres of contemplative beauty.

7. Punisher – Phoebe Bridgers

Coming after collaborations with boygenius and Better Oblivion Community Center, it’s hard to believe this is only Bridgers’ sophomore album. Punisher takes the winning palette of Stranger In The Alps and mixes in more colors and texture. This is an album that rewards repeat listens; tunes that I had initially dismissed have ended up becoming my favorites as they get their hooks into me. The most immediate tracks like “Kyoto” and “ICU” don’t lose any impact over time, but the likes of the quietly devastating “Chinese Satellite” sneak up on you and gradually reveal their layers.

6. Imploding the Mirage – The Killers

I was done with The Killers. My interest always ran hot and cold anyway, but after 2017’s Wonderful Wonderful, no thanks. So imagine my surprise when I gave Imploding the Mirage a shot and found I LOVE it! It may be my favorite of their records yet, at least the most consistent, where they most fully realize the confluence of their Springsteen-tinged Americana fetish and electro-rock sensibilities. Bombastic 80s arena percussion and over-the-top synth flourishes combine in the best possible way. There’s not a dud on the album for me, but I’m especially fond of “My God,” “Lightning Fields” and “Dying Breed.”

5. The Ascension – Sufjan Stevens

The Ascension hits with similar energy to 2010’s polarizing Age of Adz, but with more easily accessible songs. It’s a dark and introspective record about disillusionment with America and oneself, but also highly danceable – if a bit overlong. Standout tracks like “Goodbye to All That” and “Lamentations” provide transcendent moments of soaring beauty like calm in the storm. And the brilliant title track plays like a self-interrogating rejoinder to Adz’s pep talk “Vesuvius” in which, instead of cheering himself on, Stevens probes and calls into question his motivations and beliefs.

4. Song Machine, Season One: Strange Timez – Gorillaz

The latest record from Damon Albarn’s ever-evolving cartoon collective is its most engaging since Plastic Beach, with a spirit of musical exploration that reminds me much of 2001’s self-titled debut as well. The project was introduced as a series of one-off singles, so what really surprises is just how well they cohere into a full record, featuring a plethora of A-List guest artists and Albarn holding down the fort with some of his best songwriting yet.

3. 10 Songs – Travis

Travis are a band that I’ve casually enjoyed (2001’s The Invisible Band is great) but never followed all that closely. I certainly wasn’t expecting much from a latter-day record from them, but 10 Songs is one of the 2020 releases I have returned to most. The songs are the audial equivalent of a warm blanket, with a lovely wistfulness permeating through. Standouts include “The Only Thing,” “A Million Hearts” and “Kissing in the Wind,” but all ten songs are great.

2. Devastator – Phantom Planet

Phantom Planet’s first record in 12 years doesn’t miss a beat, finding a sonic middle ground between their early indie-pop leanings and their later punkier direction. The hooks are plentiful and the lyrics poignant (this is basically a breakup album about the end of frontman Alex Greenwald’s relationship with Brie Larson), with highlights including the up-tempo “Only One” and the elegiac “Time Moves On.” Return of the year.

1. folklore and evermore – Taylor Swift

Top 40 Pop Music is not really my thing and while I’ve certainly appreciated some of Taylor Swift’s work before (Red has jams!), I wouldn’t have called myself a fan. 2020’s pair of surprise release records are a different mode of songwriting for her and right in my wheelhouse, with indie-leaning production courtesy of fun./Bleachers’ Jack Antonoff and The National’s Aaron Dessner. While my impressions of Swift’s past work have been navel-gazy and self-mythologizing (not a problem, but not that interesting to me), folklore and evermore broaden her storytelling to paradoxically become more specific in its universality and/or more universal in its specificity. The moments that are autobiographical (“mad woman,” “invisible string”) have an authenticity and self-assuredness that make them all the more accessible. This is romantically nostalgic poetry with the power to reopen old wounds and maybe also start rehealing them at the same time. While I still give folklore the edge (I love “august,” “exile” and mirrorball,” to name just a few), evermore is steadily growing on me with each listen.

Here’s a playlist songs from each of these records for your sampling pleasure:

Bonus! 2 Unexpected Cover EPs:

Switchfoot – Covers EP and Death Cab For Cutie – Georgia EP

As society grappled with lockdowns and concerts were uniformly cancelled the world over, many artists kept occupied with livestreams from their home studios. Switchfoot’s Jon Foreman and Death Cab’s Ben Gibbard were among those who posted daily songs or shows during the early days and their bands would each end up releasing EPs of cover songs during the year. Switchfoot take on a range of songs from the likes of Vampire Weekend, Frank Ocean and The Verve and Death Cab honor Georgia artists like R.E.M. and Neutral Milk Hotel for a Bandcamp fundraiser for voting rights. Both efforts provide some unexpected reinterpretations that elevate them above the average covers album.