#kel 💚 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kumkaniudaku · 1 month ago

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Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

Noise complaints ran $25 a pop in Asia's building. Twenty-five dollars from her bank account and an awkward conversation with Alister when they crossed paths on Asia's way to the parking garage early the following Thursday morning.

"Please, don't take this wrong, but you and your friend are…loud. You gave our book club quite the show last weekend."

Asia could still feel the rise of bile in her throat while she listened to her usually quiet next-door neighbor explain every single sound and shout from her and Kelvin's escapades in extremely graphic detail. The taste seared into her tastebuds, following Asia into the afternoon's internal review. At the same time, Savannah, the brand lead, ran through slides outlining the wonderful world of influencer marketing to sell mid-tier poison their client called alcohol.

Desperate for a break from endless droning and word soup, Asia carefully took a screenshot of her noise complaint charge and copied it into a message for Kelvin to reawaken a thread that regularly kept them up into the wee hours of the morning.

Her mental vacation ended before it could start, forcing her back into the action. She placed her phone face down on the large conference table and tried to refocus while waiting for any sign that he'd received her attachment. She didn't have to wait for long. Asia's lips curled into a goofy grin when Kelvin broke eye contact from the presentation to glance at the message notification on his laptop screen. He maintained an impenetrable poker face to take pretended notes, exaggerating every deliberate tap against backlit black keys.

Kel You lowkey were kinda loud when we got back. It was cute. I'll pay. Zelle or ApplePay?

Asia bit back a smile at blurred flashbacks of the wall clock above her television ticking down the seconds til midnight with Kelvin's face back between her legs, pushing her past her limits for his pleasure and hers. Her fingers danced across the phone's digital keyboard.

Pretty Girl 💖💚 Don't worry about it. I had to be loud to cover for you.

Kelvin's grey bubble appeared and disappeared twice before vanishing altogether. Asia tried not to stare at the side of his head, hoping the telepathy she swore existed as a child still worked. She looked at Savannah and noted the color on her perfectly shaped nails. Then, she counted the grey hairs in the strategy director's beard, stopping at 35 before growing tired of the neverending task. Her attention shifted to the typo on the recap slide as she made a mental note to flag it in her post-meeting notes. A cough in the room made her ears perk for a second to determine if the offender was sick or dealing with a dry throat. Definitely sick. What she could make for dinner floated around with other fragmented thoughts. Potatoes, maybe? Pasta?

Unfortunately for her, nothing could hold her attention quite like the man coolly clicking-clacking on his sticker-covered laptop, seemingly unconcerned with her last text.

Kel I like the way you taste. Sue me. ApplePay: $28 Extra for the transfer

Static enveloped Asia's entire body, sending shock waves straight to the apex of her thighs until she was forced to cross her legs to stifle what she was sure would sound like a kitten's purr if she didn't put a muzzle on it quickly.

A smug smile graced Kelvin's otherwise expressionless face to add further insult to injury. In his periphery, Asia sat perfectly flustered with no outlet for all the squirming she tried to hide. Squirming that instantly reminded him of how he couldn't let her leave him on Saturday night without kissing both sets of lips one more time.

"Asia, can you update us on the timeline?"

Time lost to reliving every atom-splitting, toe-curling moment from the weekend left Asia scrambling to rearrange windows on her laptop to fulfill Savannah's perfectly reasonable yet ill-timed request. "Uh, yeah! One…one second."

She silently thanked the creator for protecting her screen from prying eyes while she tried to cosplay as a serious businesswoman. Sweat beading at her temples attempted to crack Asia's facade. Still, she recovered with a dancer's grace with nanoseconds to spare before a quick pause turned into awkward silence.

"Alright, cool. Sorry about that. Thursday is basically Friday for my brain," she apologized, earning mumbling agreement from her peers. "So, yeah, we're tracking toward Friday's round one client review. Andy, you'll take over copy duties for Kelvin since he's moving on to greener pastures at the end of the week."

Varying degrees of disappointment bubbled from the small group, forcing Kelvin to clarify Asia's intentionally vague announcement. "Greener pastures as in new business, y'all." Kelvin used a charming smile to douse burgeoning speculation sure to follow news of his departure. He shot Asia a warning look meant for her understanding alone. She shrugged to play innocent, and he chuckled at her act. "But, I'll take one of those goin' away happy hours like Ty's if y'all wanna give me one."

"Speaking of Ty's thing, are we cool with La Chila down the block? My wife says I gotta get more steps in for our family weight loss challenge. A walk to an early dinner counts, right?"

"Walking off ten calories to eat 700 in one sitting is insane, Chris."

Savannah's patented matter-of-fact quip generated enough uncontrollable laughter to distract the team from Asia's half-baked project timeline and Kelvin's air kiss in response to her middle finger emoji sent via Teams.

For all the time spent discussing boundaries and ways of working through their unconventional arrangement, remaining purely professional during their three days in the office was by far the easiest line in the sand to stay behind. They kept a careful distance, never spent time without another party present, kept electronic chats on work devices to a minimum, and never ever discussed their weekends as two parts of a whole when the topic inevitably reared its head during group lunches.

But, try as they might, rumors swirled in private pockets of office gossip until all interested parties were gathered over creamy, spicy queso and post-work margaritas.

Kelvin sat next to Asia as innocently as he knew how, ignoring the urge to rest his hand on her thigh while they whispered over which entrees they'd choose for the evening. Asia leaned into his body to share one menu despite having her own inches from her fingertips. She listened to Kelvin's recommendations with a soft smile and starry eyes, making sour cream and pinto beans seem like the most interesting inventions since the portable CD player. They were like magnets pulled together by an unseen force, unable to resist the other.

Already two shots and a celebratory sombrero dance number in, Ty used his privilege as the guest of honor to point in the duo's direction. "You two are super cute together. Aren't they super cute together, Sav?"

Always his partner in crime and cocktails, Savannah excitedly agreed as she waived an uneaten tortilla chip around in the air. "Oh my God, yes! I always thought that but, like, didn't want to be the blonde white girl shipping the two black people on the team."

"Well, I am black, and I think so too." Asia and Kelvin shot individual glares in Sidney's direction. She shrugged and smirked. "What! I can spot two hot people who need to be hot together from a mile away. I'm the one who hooked Ty up with Eric in analytics."

"And, while we despise each other now for reasons I won't share, it was fun while it lasted!"

Kelvin played it cool for both of them, calmly shifting his torso away from Asia to pluck a chip from the communal basket. "I hate to break up the love fest, but nothing is going on between us. We're work friends."

"At best," Asia added.

Ouch. Kelvin internally bristled at her unprompted callout with his cold beer bottle's amber tip pressed against his bottom lip. "At best."

If they'd tried harder, maybe they could've convinced Chris, Savannah, Sidney, Maddie, or a very tipsy Ty that what they had was a surface-level, totally uninvolved friendship. And, though they had no proof outside of speculation in a side chat, they all vowed to keep an eye on Thing 1 and Thing 2.

"Yeah. Alright," Sidney scoffed. "Friends at best. That's what we'll go with today. Everybody starts off as friends until that regular hug turns into a mouth hug. Ask my fiancé."

Chris groaned and ran both palms down his beet-red face. "Ya know, every time we have one of these, I leave knowing way too much about you, Sid. Fuckin' gross!"

_______________

Though margaritas had long been finished and Ty's desk was now just an empty surface waiting for a new tenant by Friday morning, Asia couldn't roll into her girl's night at Sabrina's without Sidney's accusation searing a hole into her memory.

Were they just friends? She'd long reckoned with the reality that physical intimacy wasn't enough to swing the pendulum in the dating direction. This was an arrangement for experience's sake, not one designed to turn weekend touching into date nights and meeting the parents.

But, she couldn't shake how Kelvin tensed at the mention of their working relationship or how acknowledging there was no room for more wilted the sprout of hope she'd been watering since the art show. He didn't correct her, and she couldn't bring it up because, well, they were playing by her rules. And you can't switch the rules in the middle of the game. That's cheating.

"Wings or pizza? Or and? Wings and pizza?"

Sabrina contemplating their options for "cheat day" yanked Asia back from a rapidly progressing mental spiral. She sipped from her glass of white wine before responding. "Depends. You getting it from the spot around the corner?"

"Duh," Sabrina scoffed while scrolling through the restaurant's online menu. "If I'm gonna cheat, I wanna enjoy it! Give me something to look forward to for next time."

"Um, are we still talking about food?"

The pair eyed each other from opposite ends of the couch, sporting grins threatening to explode into a fit of giggles. "I am if you are," Sabrina answered before slurping from her glass. Her eyes shifted to the ceiling to avoid facing Asia's judgment. "But, I'm not if you're not."

"Let's not even go there! You turned over a new leaf this week." Asia was more than privy to her friend's past transgressions. Old Sabrina was ruthless in her pursuit of happiness. New and Improved Sabrina was more settled in her relationship. Or, if nothing else, a better liar.

Before Asia could remind her host about the edibles she promised to furnish for their all-night Living Single binge, her phone buzzed beneath her thigh to steal a second of her attention.

Kel ??? My place this weekend? Pls Wanna make you a better steak than the one at the restaurant

Each short buzz in her palms made Asia giddy as she suppressed a squeal and mulled over how to reply. Her thumbs typed, deleted, typed, deleted, hovered, then typed again to craft a worthwhile response.

To: Kel Might need to actually hear you say pls. idk. sounds fake.

Sabrina watched her friend's grin outshine the LED lights bathing her in a faint blue glow from her crossed-leg position on the floor. She tried not to snoop but felt left out. She used a drawn-out sigh to pry Asia's attention away from her phone screen.

"Is that the boy? Art Hoe?"

Asia kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. "I said that as a joke! His name is Kelvin, and yes, that was him. Just confirming some plans for tomorrow."

"So, is he like…your boyfriend? Y'all dating? Catch me up!" In their decade as sorority sisters and close friends, Sabrina knew of only one romantic interest in Asia's life: Joshua. Tall, dark, and effortlessly flirtatious, what started as innocent flirting while completing their work-study program crashed and burned into weeks of snotty crying. Mary J. Blige cranked to ungodly volumes inside their shared off-campus apartment. Six weeks of heavy-petting caused a lifetime of hurt Sabrina was sure ruined Asia for good.

Until three weeks ago, when text messages began interrupting their evenings of alone time. Sabrina would consider all the pesky interruptions water under the bridge if Asia was willing to come off of her secret lover and fill out the details of their peculiar relationship.

Asia wrestled with sharing until the buzz of Sauvignon Blanc convinced her that someone should know about the man keeping her holed up inside her place once a week—for safety purposes, of course.

Sabrina scooted closer to the edge of her floor pillow once Asia opened her mouth to speak but eeked out a girlish squeak instead. Asia calmed herself with a deep breath and then dished in one breath. "I don't know what the fuck we're doing, but damn it's good."

"Oooooh, Asia's got a boyfrieeeeend!" Sabrina teased.

"Not a boyfriend! We're just hanging out. He's…helping me with something?"

The murkiness in Asia's 'something' made Sabrina press for more. "Something like what? He hanging TVs or laying pipe?" The end of her question awakened a twinkle in Asia's eye like a code word, effectively dropping Sabrina's jaw to the floor. "Oh my God! Are you…are you having sex?"

Asia shrank back, finding herself no match for the immediate shyness sending heat to her face. "Kinda? He offered to help when we were out one night, and I said yes. We have a lesson every weekend, and he –"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Sabrina interjected as she waved her hands in front of her face. "Hold up. That man is teaching you how to fuck every weekend? That's where you been for damn near a month?" When Asia sheepishly nodded in the affirmative, Sabrina stood to dramatically throw her body on the couch. "Bitch. Spill right now, or I will kick you out of my house!"

There was no sense in hiding the truth. Sabrina would press until she was satisfied with Asia's answer, completely unraveling any suspected lie thrown her way. Asia needed to be thorough. No stone left unturned. No racey detail left untold. No story too insignificant to go unshared.

In the middle of Asia, recollecting how Kelvin had her gasping for air the previous weekend, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. 'Kel' lit up the screen. 1 Audio Message sat underneath his contact name like gold at the end of an unexpected rainbow.

Asia chewed her lip, tossing the idea of opening his gift with an additional set of ears in the immediate vicinity. "He just sent a voice note."

"You gon' play it?" Enthusiasm sent Sabrina inching closer for a better view of Asia's phone screen. "Play it!"

If not for curiosity gnawing at her mind and her friend's insistence, Asia would've left the message unplayed until she returned to the privacy of her own home. She had to know why a one-word request took three minutes and a few extra seconds. What was so important that he needed an entire song's length to get it all out?

Her finger quickly tapped the play button to pop the cork on Kelvin's response.

Rustling greeted Asia and Sabrina first. Then, a steady, deep breath filled an otherwise silent recording.

"Fuck." The audible squelch of skin on lubricated skin mingled with strangled moaning until he could speak again. "You just want me to beg? That's okay. I'll beg for you."

Sabrina's hand floated up to cover her open mouth. "Girl, is he…?"

"Shh!"

Asia couldn't pry herself away from the primal nature of each grunt and groan, no matter how much she attempted to will her body into action. Long, drawn-out moans quickly grew into choppy gasps. Curses devolved into fragmented pleas. Her name became a breathy chant until he'd worked himself into a tizzy. "Please, Asia?"

Registering coherent thoughts turned into a chore, leaving Sabrina to undertake stopping the recording before she knew more about Kelvin than she planned for one sitting.

They sat in stunned silence together, waiting for the other to break the ice. Asia slowly turned toward Sabrina to do the honors. "I need you to teach me how to suck dick. I'm talking 2014 Sabrina levels."

"Okay, first of all, that was a special time that can't be recreated," Sabrina answered before taking a long sip of wine. She'd long retired from legendary status on their college campus. Her jersey was in the proverbial rafters, making her a first-ballot Hall of Famer, able to bask in her long list of accomplishments and leave the game behind. But duty called. Asia watched her friend's lips slide into a smile before Sabrina sat back against the couch. "Second of all, Asia," she cooed as she lunged forward to wrap her friend in a hug. "You like him! Oh my goodness, this is so cute!"

Asia released a pitiful sound into her hands that eclipsed Sabrina's excited squeals. "I do. Fuuuuuck, I do!"

Realization felt like a prime Muhammad Ali punch to the face. She did like Kelvin. Try as she might, through all the so-called boundaries and walls she'd built for protection, the growing vines of feelings continued to grip her into its warm embrace. She liked him.

"Let's go. I got you!"

The couch shifting and lightening under Sabrina's retreating weight made Asia's eyes open in surprise. "That's it?" Confusion knitted her brown as she sat up straight to catch Sabrina sliding a light jacket over her arms and sliding her phone into her pocket. "Wait, where are you going?"

"We are going to the sex store. You gotta drive, though. Eric has my car." She answered while sliding her feet into slippers. When Asia didn't immediately make moves to venture into the chilly night air, Sabrina looked her up and down. "Or you could practice on the dick I got back there, but I have to boil it first. Me and Denzel had a time last night!"

Asia didn't mean to gag at the thought of putting her friend's used dildo in her mouth as she gathered her keys and phone from the coffee table, but she couldn't control the reflex. "You're nasty," she mumbled en route to the front door.

"Oh, baby, you haven't seen nasty yet. Just wait." Asia passing in front of Sabrina to exit provided the perfect opportunity for the taller woman to land a hard smack on her friend's ass and laugh, earning a sharp gasp in reaction as the sound reverberated against the hallway walls.

"Ugh, I'm about to make a mini-me! I'm so excited!"

_______________

All three minutes and a few seconds of Kelvin's begging weren't in vain.

With the sun setting beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking bustling downtown streets, Asia couldn't help but pat herself on the back. If she was going to choose any acquaintance to casually fuck and try not to fall for on her way to self-discovery, she was glad it was one with impeccable design taste and a view.

Canvas art and eccentric sculptures in every corner turned an ordinary space into something of an art gallery. Incense burning near the souped-up entertainment stand filled the room with something rugged and masculine Asia couldn't place but loved all the same. Family photos hung in the entryway gave her a glimpse of his life outside of the buddle they'd created. They looked like a jolly bunch, each with identically toothy grins and peanut butter skin tones. A look at his waffle boucle couch had her wondering what it'd be like to spend a rainy Sunday morning cuddled up with Kelvin's chest pressed to her back and his lips leaving soft kisses on her neck.

She hadn't seen much beyond his open-concept floorplan and the large kitchen with enough appliances to make Martha Stewart light up with joy. Before she arrived with dessert, she doubted Kelvin's ability to whip up anything outside of boy dinner or the occasional pancake. Never did she imagine the fragrant aroma of handcrafted cowboy butter spread across expensive cuts of steak. Creamy mashed potatoes sat steaming beside perfectly cooked broccolini, waiting for the entree to finish and for Kelvin to remove his hand from Asia's bra.

He kept her pressed against his island, one hand holding him steady against cold quartz and the other palming one breast while their tongues and lips danced a coordinated waltz to share the citrusy bite of orange-flavored sparkling water.

Asia broke their kiss first for a deep breath to treat her weak knees. "You're gonna burn the food," she warned as Kelvin drug his lips down the side of her neck.

"I'm paying attention. Got about a minute. Come here."

Their plans for a "more intense" session were doomed by Aunt Flo and her scheduled appearance. Asia insisted on calling the evening a wash and rescheduling for a better time, but Kelvin refused. More than anything, he liked spending time wrapped in her presence. Her prancing around his apartment in her helper's apron and a matching lounge set felt just domestic enough to imbue his mind with thoughts of her being around more permanently. Maybe a few more visits. Perhaps a spare key and a drawer or two for her things.

Asia returned to Kelvin's lips eagerly to sigh and keen for more against him until time slipped into an abstract concept for two minutes that felt like twenty. Rapid beeping from his microwave timer shocked them into pulling away, eliciting silly smiles and embarrassed chuckles.

Kelvin left Asia with one more peck before taking quick steps toward the stove to lower the blue flame. Asia watched his back tense and ripple beneath a crisp white T-shirt while he transferred a piping hot steak to a cutting board to rest.

"Babe, come over here and taste test for me?"

The word had already tumbled from his private thoughts into the open air too quickly for Kelvin to take back. He clamped his eyes shut to briefly pray God spared him from explaining his slip to the woman he wasn't supposed to fall for.

Asia calmly closed the distance between them, an easygoing smile showing no indication that she'd heard Kelvin's blunder. He let the moment pass without drawing attention to himself to carefully feed his dinner guest a juicy piece of medium-cooked steak.

He held a hand under Asia's chin to catch any spillage, and his eyes sparkled with intrigue as she took a small chunk into her mouth to judge his skills.

She dramatically hummed in approval and nodded. "Mmm. Okay, you were right," Asia complimented after slow chews to savor the taste. "That is the best steak I've ever had. I underestimated you. Forgive me."

"I'll forgive you after you rate the potatoes. Lowkey, I put my foot in those. Ankle deep."

"Gross, Kel."

Asia's rating for the potatoes? 10/10. For the chef? There wasn't a scale to convey how far he'd shot off the charts.

Easy conversation, full of budding inside jokes and the right amount of flirting, kept their time together lively. Quiet intimacy worked well for them. When chatter dwindled and cleaning took center stage, they fell into a wordless routine of washing and drying dishes side by side until the job was done and tired legs intertwined to rest from a long week.

Shadows dancing across Kelvin's face as he focused on some documentary he'd begged Asia to watch stole all her attention each time she looked at the other end of the couch. She tried to subdue Sabrina's voice in the back of her mind, trying to convince her to break the seal on all the knowledge she'd crammed in one night. Rushing into a skill she hadn't quite mastered sounded like a great idea when she had a front-row seat to his goosebump-inducing self-pleasure session. Seeing him innocently learn about the feeding patterns of nocturnal jungle ecosystems and considering a plan to renege on their decision to exist in non-sexual harmony felt wrong.

"But he started it." Asia thought to herself. The fondling. The kissing. The innuendos during dinner. The voice note is an invitation. He wasn't looking for sex, but he wouldn't mind it…right?

She had to make her move while she still felt confident. Otherwise, she'd allow Samira Wiley's voice to lull her to an embarrassingly deep sleep.

"Hey," she whispered to get Kelvin's attention. He didn't budge, finding too much interest in the luminescent carnivorous plant luring insects into its trap. Asia called to him again using a different method. "The potatoes weren't that good. I lied."

Kelvin scoffed. "Yeah, right. You cleaned your plate. Twice."

"My mama taught me manners, babe." She sassed, accentuating the pet name on purpose.

Kelvin kept calm with his signature charming smile while his pulse spiked internally. So she did hear me. He wasn't sure how to respond. Stopping to have a pow-wow about what exactly they were doing now that the rules of engagement felt wildly different would needlessly slow a good thing to a screeching halt.

So, he swallowed every question to redirect his nervous energy into gently tugging Asia's ankle to bring her a centimeter closer. "You should come down here with me."

Jackpot.

Asia didn't expect her plan to unfold so quickly. Swapping sides to lie face to face opened the door to more touching, kissing, shared breaths, and head highs under the twinkle of skyscraper lights.

Tensions rising brought flashes of Sabrina and her boot camp back for Asia with renewed ferocity. Now or never. Grab that dick by the horns or something along those lines.

"Can…can we try something tonight?"

Kelvin tightened his grip on her ass cheek and pulled away from her neck. "Try what?"

"I wanted to try, um, you know…fellating…you?" Asia mentally scolded herself for sounding timid as Kelvin snickered against her collarbone.

"Fellating? What is this, sex ed?" He chuckled, earning an agitated smack from Asia to the back of his head. He nuzzled closer to kiss a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Seriously, you don't have to do that. I'm okay with what we're doing. No pressure."

He was right. No pressure. She knew that already. But pressure wasn't guiding her off the couch and onto her knees between his thighs. That was curiosity. And the pressure wasn't what drove Kelvin crazy as she helped him out of his sweats and briefs to carelessly toss them to the side. That? That was untamed desire flooding every bone in his body. Pressure had no dominion in his living room. Only the spirit of exploration and freedom.

And nervousness. Definitely nervousness.

Give him eye contact. Cover your teeth. Use your tongue. Relax your jaw. Suck, don't just glide. All of the sage advice from the previous night blurred into one incomprehensible ball of incessant chatter across the grooves of Asia's brain.

She chose to kiss her way into confidence, dropping slow pecks across Kelvin's thighs like he'd done to her in their last session. Delicate touches and soft lips made his muscles tense while he watched her watch him.

He draped one arm across the back of his couch and rested a hand on her cheeks to run his thumb along the spot. "That's perfect. Go as slow as you want. Stop when you want. It's your choice."

Reassurance and an encouraging smile convinced Asia to test her high school-level knowledge of anatomy. No amount of videos linked in her Girl's Talk Reddit thread or hands-on, dildo-led speed runs with Sabrina could prepare her for an up close and personal view. At least they both seemed happy to see her.

His dick stood at half-mast, waiting for Asia to make a move. More kisses took her from muscular inner thighs up the length of his shaft and to a tip already glistening as if to welcome her into an event where the host was awaiting her arrival. A spark of wonder made her swipe her tongue over the spot to taste, but the quiet curse from Kelvin kept her there for more.

Spit on it. Sabrina's voice reminded Asia as she debated what to do next. Not a gross factory worker chewing tobacco spit. Slow. Make him watch. Asia used the saliva coating her mouth in a Pavlovian response to connect with Kelvin once she pulled away to get a better look at her subject.

A slightly above-average size. It wasn't close to her practice dummy, but 11 inches was ridiculous, even by Sabrina's standards. Well-groomed. Prettier than any she'd ever seen on the other side of a screen. Heavy in her hands, but not enough to make her think twice about eventually working it down her throat. A work of art waiting for her oral appraisal.

Kelvin's head lulled back against the wall as his jaw dropped to make space for a shuttering breath. "Fuck, that's sexy." He used all the strength in his neck to look back down at Asia. "Where'd that come from?"

"I wanted to surprise you," she answered, round-doe eyes peering back at him. "So, I took a little lesson." She leaned forward to wrap her lips around his tip and suckle for a few seconds to see if Sabrina was right about the expected reaction. Kelvin's hand sliding from her jaw to her chin to hold her steady was all the confirmation she needed.

At some point, Kelvin would come off Cloud 9 to inquire about Asia's mystery teacher. Not out of jealousy or to accuse, but to find out who should receive the flowers and card he'd already mentally purchased for their service.

He'd be lying if he said Asia had reached pro status. Every tentative lick and split second of disjointed rhythm reminded him that she was a novice in the game. It didn't stop him from singing her praises while she worked double-time to get the hang of things.

She listened to instructions and turned them into action, taking every "Just like that" and "Slow up" in stride as she learned the ropes. Asia allowed Kelvin to guide her head up and down until she no longer needed his help to maintain a toe-curling one-woman show.

He swallowed the lump in his throat to provide positive reinforcement. "There you go. Wow, you look so pretty right now."

Asia felt like she had the entire world in her hands. What power. She could command his every movement with her mouth and illicit unfathomable sounds with a flick of her tongue. Older women made the act sound so degrading as if engaging with a man in this way made her more property than a fully realized woman. And maybe the men they dealt with hadn't been partners willing to treat them like equals. But Kelvin showered her with so much affection and care that it made her want to go the extra mile.

The twisting motion of her palms against slick skin made Kelvin curse to the ceiling, undoubtedly disturbing the unfortunate soul above him. The sight of him beginning to unravel sparked an idea. "Is this what you like?"

He blinked his eyes back into focus and nodded. "Hell yeah. You think you can try both?"

She'd give it a valiant attempt.

For a moment, Asia mulled over how to maintain harmony between parallel work streams. She observed her hands for the right moment to bring her mouth into action as if waiting for her cue to jump into the center of double dutch ropes.

Up and down. Twist. Suck. Go now! Shit. Kelvin observed while the wheels turned in her head, trying to split his attention between how cute she looked with her brow furrowed in thought and how that tell-tale pit in his stomach was starting to tense his abdomen.

Her leap of faith caught him by surprise, dragging out a long, throaty moan as she quickly settled into what looked like an effortless working relationship between body parts.

Arousal awakened goosebumps across his skin. His nipples ached for touch, and he satisfied them by slipping a hand under his shirt. His brain began to cloud, robbing him of words he knew he should've offered as encouragement. His head felt like a boulder on his neck as he rested against the back of his couch.

Bursts of light played behind his eyes as the inevitable greeted him with open arms. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, desperate to get Asia's attention. He couldn't surprise her with the release approaching hard and fast. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum. I don't wanna –"

Asia didn't need the explanation. Thankfully, Sabrina had already prepared her for the endless possibilities once an eruption seemed imminent. She slowly removed her mouth and added a second hand to twist in the opposite direction. The grand finale. The moment they'd both been waiting for.

Kelvin thrust into her palms to coax out warm spurts of semen over Asia's fingers and down her knuckles. She caught herself moaning with him, unable to contain the sound as she watched the reward of her work slide between each digit until her lover was spent and heaving for more oxygen to soothe his burning lungs.

"Stop, stop." His pleading reminded Asia that she was still pumping, still milking him for all he had left. Her inner voice told her to prolong the moment and see how far she could push him until he was a babbling mess that only she could control. Kelvin saw the monster in her grin and rushed to kiss her, hoping she'd consider a different option.

Their tongues and lips returned to each other in a panting, sloppy kiss while Kelvin used the distraction to push Asia's hands away before she started something they both knew she wasn't ready to finish. He had plenty of towels and wasn't opposed to breaking a rule or two.

Sticky fingers growing increasingly uncomfortable made Asia pull away. "This is starting to feel weird in my hands," she laughed.

"Oh shit, my bad." Kelvin forced himself to forgo one more kiss as he rested his forehead against hers. "Washcloths are in the bathroom closet. Bring one for me?"

"Of course."

Asia sported a goofy, proud smile while staring into his bathroom mirror, warming a bathing towel to take back to Kelvin. She wondered if texting Sabrina immediately would be in poor taste. Should she drop an emoji in the broader group chat full of their line sisters and go ghost waiting for them to decipher her cryptic message? Or would it make more sense to try and gather as many of the images flashing through her mind as possible, like reels passing through a view master, and store them for her alone time?

She pushed all the options elsewhere in favor of returning to Kelvin with a wet rag to gingerly clean all traces of their unplanned romp from his still blazing-hot skin.

He watched her with infatuation, coloring his gaze and a grin on his lips. His girl. At least for the few hours they got to spend willinging sharing their bodies with one another each weekend. He could pretend they were two people dating in pursuit of the elusive love he'd seen up close once before but couldn't hold on to. She'd be so beautiful sitting across from him on a night out, her fingers interlaced with his while they traded sweet everything over candlelight. He'd learn her favorite colors and her deepest fears. She'd listen to him go on and on about nature docs and make him go to bed when the wee hours of the morning crept up on him and his latest project.

Asia's gaze flashed up to catch him transfixed in a daydream she needed to know about. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Wanting to tell her the truth and wanting to maintain their mutually beneficial relationship pulled him in opposite directions. He took a deep breath to roll the dice, hoping that once he uncorked the words, they wouldn't create a stain big and messy enough to make what they'd created unsalvagable.

"If you're up for it," he started, cautiously choosing as he spoke. "I think we should try the real thing next time."

--------

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#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr. smut

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ohforficsake · 11 months ago

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Talk Refined

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Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice. A Blacksmith and a Warrior. A Lawyer and the Lady He Meets at a Bar. Two souls fated to find each other across lifetimes. Here are just a few of those stories.

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader. Reader is able-bodied and takes many forms. Described as having hair that can be pinned back in one instance, generally open description in others.

This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! My character was Ezra, and my prompt was "Talk" off of Wasteland, Baby!. This was such a fun challenge, thank you so much for organizing it, Gin!

Word Count: ~5.8K (I blew past drabble, I'm so sorry)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / brief fingering / brief handjob / unprotected piv / language / main character death / Minors DNI

A/N: This was so incredibly fun to write and I actually had a huge smile on my face when I finished it that I'm pretty sure is still there. I'm incredibly happy with how this turned out. I've never written for Ezra before, so this was a really interesting exercise in finding the voice of a character that I found quite challenging to get to the heart of. Ezra folks, I really hope I did your boy justice.

Notes on literary references and the source of Orpheus' speech (not written by me) included at the end.

I'm also kind of just launching this super hot off the press, so please forgive any typos you may find and definitely message me about them once you're done reading.

Massive thank you to @beskarandblasters for the beautiful cover art for this story! 💚 Go hit Kel up if you're looking for a lovely header for your work!

Dividers by @cafekitsune!

Part I: The Darkness of the Night

He’s called Orpheus in this lifetime. Blessed with his mother’s tongue.

No way of knowing he forever will be.

A twist of phrase. A glint in the eye.

A white patch at his hairline is the only mark of his father. As if licked there by the rays of Apollo’s creation.

And he is his mother’s boy, plucking at lyre strings and humming low, branches bending to his ambit as he harmonizes with the rush of Zephyrus’ wings through tall grasses.

But you are a rich distraction indeed.

A distraction perhaps of the West Wind’s own making, for the god has always been a soft touch.

The breeze toys with your chiton as you drift in and out of dreams.

Molding gossamer to your form.

A promise of something just for him.

Orpheus reaches to run his knuckles down your arm, awaiting your stirring before he takes fingers over your shoulder, up to cup your cheek.

You turn to press against the warmth of his hand. The pad of his thumb softly skimming your bottom lip.

It sends sparks racing across your skin.

He hums a laugh and fits closer to you, warmer now than the midday sun. You slant your eyes up at him, greeted with a smile before he bends to press a long kiss to your mouth.

His lyre is discarded in the grass now, wildflowers poking up through its strings.

The hand on your cheek moves to pull at his red linen handkerchief around your neck. Tied there in the morn to guard the late-hour transgressions of his lips from judgmental stares.

Again revealed to him now.

He tucks the cloth into his zoster before his fingers dip under the gauze of your robes, cupping one breast before his lips replace fabric.

“The dryads, my darling,” you whisper a warning into the heated hollow of his mouth.

“Fret not, my love,” he chides with a whisper.

And you whimper a wanton, insincere protest as his hand adjusts to move lower still, nimble fingers inching your hemline up until your thighs are bared to him.

“Surely such creatures would sympathize. Look favorably on newlywed dalliance.”

“For they understand pleasures such as these,” he murmurs as his fingers slip over your core.

"The nymphs haven’t our flesh," you gasp against his curls as he bends to nip at the lush of your breast.

"They have our desires."

"The nymphs know fertile things in ways we never shall, my darling Eurydice," ghosts hot against your skin.

"And surely they know what comes of something flush with want."

The press of his length against you causes your hips to tilt into his hand as your languid knees fall open.

"To deny that nature is to deny the nymphs themselves, little dove."

He tips his face to brush petal-soft lips against your frantic pulse as he shifts over you.

"For you see, they don’t care."

And the breach of him causes your back to arch, nails digging into the corded muscle of his arms.

You bend enough for your eyes to land on the grove of oak trees.

Unsure if begging forgiveness.

Or reveling in their jealousy.

But there are other eyes on you this day. Watching the deft way your husband wrings pleasure from your form.

The way he rolls you over on a bed of meadowsweet to press deeper still.

Holding your body to his as he pulls music from your throat.

Other eyes, indiscreet in their desire and relentless in their pursuit.

Other eyes that lead to your journey across the Styx.

Lead to Orpheus’ torment.

They say there are ways to speak with the dead.

But words will not pacify the poet when the possibility exists to feel you beneath him again.

A body that writhes under his own. Skin soft against the way his burns.

The way you welcome the thick weight of him.

All of him.

Into the warm clutch of your wet cunt.

And Orpheus, driven by his desire and blessed with his mother’s gift, marches boldly into the depths of grief.

“You powers divine of the subterranean kingdom, where all of mortal creation must one day sink to our doom, if you will give me permission to tell you the truth unvarnished by shifty pretenses…”

“I’d hoped to be able to bear my loss and confess that I tried.”

And the dance of his fingers over gut string pricks the ears of the damned as he gives verse to his flesh’s torment.

“In the name of these confines of fear, in the name of this vast abyss and your realm of infinite silence, I, Orpheus, implore you, unravel the web of my dear Eurydice’s early passing.”

A prayer for relief.

“This is the place that we all are bound for, our final dwelling, and yours is the longest reign that the human race must endure.”

Through vulpine teeth.

“Eurydice too, when her due of years has been ripely completed, shall own your sway. Till then, I beg you to let me enjoy her.”

And it moves the hound to cease its lashing.

Moves the one eternally punished to rest upon his stone.

Moves the dead of Winter to cave to the tender brush of Spring’s hand.

And you are called forth by a voice between what should be your ears.

And Orpheus begins to move.

Daring to hope for your sweet clutch again as your footsteps grow louder against stone.

As you take the form he knows, more corporeal with every footfall.

The tenderness in your ankle made manifest with flesh.

And his cock throbs with the thought of you.

His wife.

His muse.

But there’s a pause in the lilting cadence of your step.

Where you’ve stopped to grab for the fallen handkerchief that slipped from his belt.

And the panic flooding his breast moves him against all hope.

And he turns.

And you reach for him.

Before disappearing for the final time.

With forgiveness swimming in your eyes.

Part II: Pilgrim, Stranger, Wanderer

He’s called Doran in this lifetime.

A name you learn upon ducking into the blacksmith’s workshop with another man’s name on your lips.

“Callum!” You call, greeted instead by a shock of white hair where blonde should be.

Round brown eyes where you expected green.

“Apologies,” you offer, “I am looking for the smith.”

“Callum was called away to his family in the north country.”

His answering voice like honey just starting to crystalize.

“I’m called Doran,” he bends his head in customary greeting.

And you note the broad spread of his hand against his chest.

“I apprenticed under Callum, in what feels like a lifetime ago now, I admit.” He offers a small smirk. “He asked that I mind the forge in his absence.”

And you give him your name but not your full belief in this story.

“May I help you with something, dove?”

You straighten against the rake of his eyes. “My horse requires particular shoes. She is of a larger breed and nothing standard will suit.”

And you turn your back to him leading the way outside.

Doran whistles low at the sight of your mare, a sturdy Friesian glossed blue in the morning sun.

“She is a stunning creature,” he purrs, gently taking his fingers over her strong neck.

Pausing to thumb the iris stamped into the leather of her bridle.

“She’s no delicate thing,” you watch as he circles the horse. “Her grandsire was a draft who pulled the High King’s carriage.”

He fits one massive hoof between his knees, gently brushing away the feathers at her ankle before she starts fighting his touch.

He adjusts her gently, inspecting her irons before she protests in earnest.

“It’s apparent,” he says, quickly dropping the horse’s foot and jumping aside before she stamps and shakes her head, “that her blood runs hot.”

“She does not favor the touch of men,” you answer, soothing a hand over her hindquarters. “I should have forewarned you.”

“A fair lady is entitled to her opinions when she is that beautiful,” Doran gives her a wide berth.

And takes his eyes over you instead.

“You are the nobleman’s daughter.” He squints against the sun. “The warrior?”

“I am.”

“Now,” he pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs at his hands, “I know well the dangers of feminine beauty but a warrioress is altogether new to me. You are not riding into battle soon, I pray?”

“One in my position exists in a constant state of preparation. But there is no rumble of battle on the horizon.”

His smirk dimples one cheek now.

“I shall have the shoes for your láir within the week. And I shall pray you need not fly away before then, little dove.”

“May I make half the payment now for your services? This was the custom with the old smith.”

“The only payment for my services I can insist upon is merely the chance to sit in your presence a moment longer. Would a fair lady allow a humble blacksmith that much?”

And you see straight through him. Through to the tools on the wall.

But the broad set of his shoulders under ash-smudged linen. The way he moves, lithe and light on his feet as he dances between his stock of iron bars and his cache of hammers. The bright wideness of his eyes that betray sincerity or something of its kin.

A humble one no. But this one, perhaps.

You drop a pouch of coins onto his anvil. “Where?”

“Meet me here. In the morrow?”

And you tell him “maybe” in the moment as you climb into your saddle.

But you arrive on foot the next morning.

_____

You meet him three mornings in the week it takes him to forge your mare’s irons.

On the first day he tells you of his travels through Spain and France. Of scrambling up the masts of the ship that brought him to your shore.

On the third, he recites The Bard’s work with such nuance that you’re not entirely sure he isn’t the man himself.

On the fifth day he leads you out to the ruins of an old monastery, up a winding staircase until you’re forced to stand so close on the crumbling parapet that you can feel the heat of him at your back.

Your head spins from something other than the height.

On the seventh day he places four horseshoes, lovingly wrapped in burlap and bound with hemp cord, into the hand he has cradled in his own.

Warm and worn.

“Can I see you again?” He murmurs, barely a foot between you.

“Is that wise?”

“I have been mistaken for many things, little dove.” He brushes two knuckles over your cheekbone. “Nary a man has included wise among them.”

And you scoff but press into his touch all the same.

“Forgive me my boldness,” he takes his fingers under your chin, “but I must pose the question.”

“Your mare does not favor the touch of men.”

“But,” he purrs, “do you?”

And your lips form the word “goodnight” but you don’t dare move.

Your eyes flash with a want that does not go neglected.

“Must you take your leave?” He thumbs your bottom lip.

“I must.”

“But what of my payment,” he hums.

“As I recall you beseeched me pay with my time,” you tilt your head, reveling in the brush of warm breath against your skin, “I dare say I’ve tendered more than my share.”

“And yet I am in debt every time you take your presence from me,” he smirks. “There is something of you, little dove, that I fear has a hold on—”

You steal the words from his lips with your own.

And the unabashed delight dancing over his features when you part makes you kiss him again.

You fling your arm to rest the irons on the first surface you can find, desperate to wind your hands in his hair as his fit to your waist.

He urges your mouth open with the soft slip of his tongue. Humming when you let him inside.

“Little bird,” he pants when he tears his lips from you, forehead thumping hard against yours. “I confess if you stay past this moment I shall not be able to exercise any measure of restraint.”

“Is restraint what you desire?” You angle heavy-lidded eyes up at him.

“Not in the slightest,” he swallows hard, fist still gripping at your hair. “But you are a gentle lady with a good name, and I—”

“I want you, Doran,” you murmur. “This.”

And his head falls back on his shoulders with a tight, pained hiss.

“I confess I have given in to the fantasy of hearing that fall from this lush mouth many nights since first we met.”

And he expects heat to rise to your cheeks at his admission. But the hand that cradles your neck finds no such warmth.

“Do you know how it works?” He hums low, running his palm down your sleeve to lace thick fingers with yours. “Pleasure?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, eyes glinting in hearthlight.

And there is sincerity evident in his gaze.

For you are a gentle lady with a good name.

“Mmm, have you felt this?” He takes your hand, gliding it over the rough wool of his trousers.

To the hard line of his length underneath them.

Your breath skips.

You are no stranger to amusement of the flesh. But never before have you felt so—much.

“Feel me, birdie,” he hums, rolling his forehead against yours, “what you do to me. I fear there isn’t any blood left for the rest of me.” He kisses you again. “Only for you. This. Just for you.”

“Your bed, Doran,” you murmur against his mouth.

The hand over yours encircles your wrist and he leads you through to his chambers.

He pulls you tight to his body again, mouths locked as his hands roam your form, unable to settle upon what features his fingers must traverse first.

You push the braces from his shoulders and he helps you with the buttons of his shirt, your hands skating up the smooth expanse of tanned skin before tugging at your own shirttails.

Your lips find his neck as he unbuttons his trousers. You’ve already stepped out of yours.

“So eager, birdie,” he wraps you in his arms, and your skin burns with his touch. “Surely you’ve seen it with beasts, yes?” He salts your neck with kisses. “It’s quick with them, you see. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to—”

A moan cuts off his babbling from where you’ve taken him in hand.

“Although I may yet need to beg your forgiveness,” his hips buck into your hand, “my stamina may yet waiver, upon this first time.”

His tongue slips into your mouth again and finally he finds himself enough to back you up until your thighs meet his bed.

“It’s been so long. So long, birdie, since I have held a woman.” He leans you back with his body as your hands fly to his hair. “Longer still since I have held one as soft. Supple and pliant as you.” His lips map your collarbone, nose skimming the valley of your breasts as he takes one in hand.

“Never before is a long time indeed.”

He sucks at tender, pebbled skin, drawing an arch in your spine as he shifts to settle between your legs.

“I give you my word that I will indeed take my time with you but I offer a preemptive apology in the instance that I fail upon this first time.” His fingers slip down to toy with your folds, groaning against your ribs at the wetness that he finds there. “Perhaps we are no different than animals indeed.”

You hear only half of his babbling.

The static of anticipation under your skin crackles in your ears as your hips tip into his hand. His thumb slides over your clit and you cry out.

“You see, sometimes a man just needs to bury himself deep.”

He slings your legs over his hips and sits up on his knees, stroking his length with your borrowed wetness as your hands find his thighs.

There’s a dark edge to his voice now. Heavy-lidded eyes locked on the core of you.

“This need. It’s far stronger than I ever will be.”

“Now, Doran, I need—”

He doesn’t make you wait.

And he keeps his word in the moments it matters. Slowly rocking his hips to stretch you open on his cock before your body begs him deeper.

Large palms settle around your waist as he builds in pace, alternating slow with fast. Tenderness with force that drives the bedframe to knock against the wall. When his thumb winds circles against your clit you cry into the night as pleasure rips through you. Greedy lips crash against yours as his weight blankets your reeling form. Fevered moans in his chest thrum through you as he savors the way your walls pulse around him.

He buries his face against your neck and you feel the bite of his teeth as he snarls, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

He cants his hips just so at the last minute, pulling himself from your heat a moment before his seed streams hot over your thigh.

You soothe a hand over the nape of his neck as his hips spasm with the last of it, wide hand cradling your jaw and tipping your face to his.

Kisses softer now.

Grateful.

“You are a rare bird indeed,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting over your neck.

He finds himself enough to rise from bed and kneel on the floor, searching for his handkerchief amongst the tangle of his clothes.

Yours peeks from the pocket of your trousers, red against brown wool, and you lazily twirl a corner of it around your finger and draw it out.

Doran catches it from your hand, gently cleaning your thigh of his spend before pressing a kiss there.

“I shall return this to you clean,” he holds it up briefly before craning to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t trouble a hair on your head with moving, birdie,” he bids you before disappearing to the kitchen.

You trouble the hair on your head all the same as you pull the jostled pins from it, tousling it out of the style your nurse had so meticulously placed it in this morning.

Doran returns with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them as you prop yourself up on your side and he settles on the floor. One arm slung up on the mattress.

Adoration in his eyes as he tips his glass against yours.

“You didn’t tell me this was not your first time. Although I do find it rather a pleasant surprise,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your waist with lust-hazed eyes.

“I could scarcely utter a word amidst your chatter,” you tease with a grin as you take another sip of your whiskey.

His smile dimples his cheek.

“Are you—”

For once he hesitates to speak.

“Are you promised to anyone?”

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before he thumbs your cheekbone.

“None but myself. And my duty.”

He hums in acknowledgment.

You finger the white patch at his hairline, twirling a clinging curl.

“Angered a horse as a child and she made it known with her hooves,” he offers. “Frightened the color from that spot, I’m afraid.”

“There’s character in it. I’m quite fond.”

He turns in and rests his chin on the bed, hand back to trailing over your curves.

“Dove?”

And you frown at the nickname.

“I am nothing so delicate, Doran.”

“A shrike then, perhaps,” he smirks, knuckles ghosting over your stomach.

And something about it makes your heart preen.

“Has a man ever,” his fingers dip lower over your abdomen, “put his mouth on you?”

It sends a fresh jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. You turn onto your back without thought, basking in his touch as fingers trail over your mound.

“Right here?” The pads of his middle and ring fingers wind softly against your clit.

“No,” you gasp.

“Then may I have the pleasure of being the first?”

And he is the first in a way that has you wishing for him to be the last.

The only.

_____

Your handmaid was sympathetic to your cause, having been driven from her own house for true love. They share a small cottage on your father’s land now.

Your mother, though she did not know the intricacies of your continued dalliances with the blacksmith, knew the shift in your demeanor was a man’s doing. And she always was a soft touch for love.

Your father.

Was your mother’s concern.

And so your nurse covers your footsteps with a tickle in her throat that needs clearing.

Ushers you back into your chambers before morning light with a knowing smile.

“I always thought you would make a pass for the stable hand,” she confesses one day as she pours heated water over your hair. “The blacksmith is a surprise.”

“An unpleasant one?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s handsome.”

You can tell there is more to the sentiment.

“Yes, and?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Rakish.”

“Perhaps rakish is what I need,” as you rub water from your eyes.

“No lady with sense needs rakish, my darling girl,” she chides as she rubs soap at your scalp. “But a lady with sense should indulge in it from time to time.”

This draws a smile across your lips.

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me to pleasure the likes of which I have never known. If I offer this kingdom the breath in my breast every time I leave its gates, the least I may be permitted is the choice of a lover.”

And so she fixes you bitter tea every morning that you return from your rakish man.

_____

The pair of you take to late night meetings at the old groundskeeper’s shack on your parents’ land.

Where the splashing of the brook over rocks and the churn of the water wheel stifle the way he makes you cry out in pleasure.

And for one so verbose, he does excel at discretion. Raking ashes from the forge through the patch of white in his hair. Bending shadows around himself as he slips from town and into the forest at the edge of the estate.

The pair of you carry on for months. Until summer sun yields to the darkening blanket of fall.

A welcome change that lengthens your stolen hours.

“I’d wager that we were lovers in lives past,” he muses one night, lips pressing kisses against a scar on your shoulder. “You know me, little bird. The very depths of me.”

“Perhaps,” you roll over in a luxuriant stretch, “you are easy to know.”

“The Townsfolk would perhaps beg to differ, my darling.” He rests his hand on your cheek as you curl into him.

“Must you go in the morrow?” He asks softly.

“I’m afraid I must. For it is my duty. To ensure the safety—”

“—of the kingdom,” you both finish.

“In that case, I have made you a gift.” He reaches over your form down to the pocket of his cloak, and produces a small canvas pouch.

He sits up with you, pulling your back to his chest, arms around your middle as he watches you.

A small silver disk threaded on a chain falls into your palm. An iris stamped into the pendant.

“Doran, it’s beautiful. You made this?”

“It is perhaps more crude than a silversmith’s work,” he helps you fasten it around your neck, “but I wanted you to have something to remember my touch in the absence of it.”

You turn towards him such that he can see you in the firelight. Ash on your jaw from where you held him to your neck, perched atop his hips while he ground deep.

Silver pendant hanging just above the valley of your breasts.

“Beautiful,” he smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips, thumbing at the smudge on your chin. “I have always thought there to be something undeniably sensual in the furl of iris petals,” he rumbles, “how fitting for them to be your favorite.”

“Your imagination is swift, Doran.”

“You have not beheld what I have, dearheart,” he pulls you down against the bed linens once more.

Holding you against his heart.

And he is quiet for a long while, fingers running softly over your stomach, nose buried in your hair.

“What of my safety?” He asks.

A plea to keep you here.

“What shall I do?”

“I have no doubt you will find another iris that unfurls for you in the meanwhile,” you hum. Eyes slipping closed.

“There is only one, my love. I shall wait for your return.”

_____

A grand crowd lines the streets as you and the men of your battalion ride towards the village gates the next morning. Full of cheers and blessings.

And you offer the customary wave and nod.

But your heart hammers against chainmail.

Eyes darting through the crowd.

Willing a shock of white to appear.

And as you near the gates he greets you.

Warm brown eyes and a grin of pride. He rushes to push through the crowd as you approach on your mare, eyes never leaving each other.

You slip one foot from your stirrup and he jams one of his into it and stands, briefly.

Long enough to cup the base of your skull and lay a parting kiss against your lips.

You hurriedly pull your red handkerchief from behind your breastplate, pressing it into his palm as he drops away.

Crushing the cloth to his heart as you slip through the gates.

And it will yield the ire of your father and the warm, joyous tears of your mother.

But they matter not.

For you do not return home under your own power.

You return home under a shroud.

Your nurse slips into the night, treading your path with your necklace in hand.

“She was found with her hand over her heart. And this underneath it.”

And the blacksmith.

Wrought with grief.

Is never seen again.

Part III: The Helper. The Protector.

He’s called Ezra in this lifetime.

Brought to this bar by a group of associates keen on celebrating his win in federal court this afternoon.

And he knows it’s an excuse to drink on the firm’s dime.

He was an associate once too.

But they helped draft the brief that saved their client $44 million. A few drinks is a small thanks.

Ezra sticks to the corners, entertaining chatter only when approached. Kindly redirecting the advances of a first year who’s too young to realize flirting with a partner is career suicide.

He’s content tonight to sip his bourbon and observe.

“Okay, but I told you that Bismark case was horseshit and the judge was going to see that!” One associate who is two drinks too deep roars.

“That was so fucking risky, I still can’t believe you put so much weight on that,” another chides.

“Fucking WORKED though!” And the first man spreads his arms wide.

Knocking you into the sip of red wine you were about to take from your seat at the bar.

“Jesus, fuckin’—” you start before taking a deep breath and glancing down at the patch of deep burgundy beginning to spread on your white blouse.

Fuck.

“Boys, boys, this lovely lady didn’t consent to hearing your opinions on bullshit 4th Circuit rulings, okay?” Ezra appears, stretching an arm between you and the men. “Let’s be a little more careful, take it to a booth, yeah?”

“Miss, I apologize on their behalf,” he starts and you take another centering breath because you really are not here for some hotshot lawyer’s apologies. This is your spot, and they’re fucking with your Thursday night nightcap.

But the brown eyes you’re met with are wide and sincere.

And something at the very core of you thrums momentarily with something you can’t name.

“Please, allow me to replace your wine and cover your tab for the night.” He’s already calling the barman over before you can assure him that’s really not necessary because they’ve fucked up your night already and you just want to go home.

“Could you please arrange a fresh glass of wine for this lovely lady, place her tab on the card I gave you, and may I have a shot glass of white wine. I need the white wine as quickly as you can, please. Thanks very much.”

And you’re still staring at those brown eyes.

Bristling and dumbstruck at the same time.

“Ezra,” he holds out a hand in belated introduction, and you offer a firm shake and your name in exchange.

“Sorry, a shot glass of white wine?” You quip as the bartender places it in front of Ezra.

He slips a red pocket square from his jacket and dips a corner into the shot glass.

“Apologies, may I?”

And inexplicably you turn in towards him on your bar stool as he dabs at the stain on your shirt.

Just over your heart.

“White wine will keep the stain from setting,” he proffers.

You crane your neck to the side, trying to settle your focus on cut glass bottles and not the stranger tending to the fine layer of cotton just above your left breast.

He’s gentle though. Respectful in a way you perhaps didn’t anticipate.

He smells of hinoki wood and worn leather.

“Right as rain,” he announces and takes half a step back before offering you the handkerchief. “If you want to hold that there to blot some of the excess.”

“Um, yeah, thank you. Thanks,” you hold the cloth over your heart as the bartender returns with your fresh glass of wine.

Ezra settles on the barstool next to you.

“How…did you know that?”

“About the wine?” He swallows a sip of bourbon. “Must’ve read it at some point and it just stuck.”

“Seems you’re a good man to have around in a crisis then,” you smile and tip your glass in his direction. He gently touches the side of his against it, before tapping the heavy base against the bar and taking another sip.

Everything he does is briefly fascinating.

“I apologize again for these kids,” he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card which he slides over to you face-down. “You should be all good with that,” he gestures at the handkerchief, “but I insist on you sending me the dry cleaning bill. If I’ve recalled incorrectly and it does stain, I will procure a replacement for you, you have my word.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you start and yet find yourself unable to stop, “and I’m not even sure it’s possible this is vintage—”

“Alexander McQueen, I know.”

You turn all the way towards him on your barstool now.

And his eyes glitter with your fascination as he runs his hand through the patch of white at his hairline.

“What are you reading,” he tips his head to the side as if to glimpse the cover of your book but he doesn’t break your gaze. Cheek dimpled with a half smile.

“Ovid. Metamorphoses.”

“For fun?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice but it’s far from belittling.

“It’s…” you start before a smile splits your face, “yeah. For fun.”

And he echoes your grin.

“I re-read it for fun last year. I think the passage about Orpheus’ death is my favorite.”

“Fascinating,” you swallow a sip of your tempranillo. “Why that one?”

“Well, I believe it’s a commentary on both the unbridled rage of passion and a testament to the obstinate nature of true love.”

“Obstinate?” You incline your head incredulously. “That’s quite a choice.”

“And yet it holds true, does it not? Orpheus, arguably one of the most talented figures in Greek mythology,” and he’s gesturing broadly now, “able to enchant the very souls of feral beasts and move trees to bend their limbs just to be nearer his music.”

He jabs his finger into the bartop between you, “he moved Hades, both the realm and the deity himself, let’s not forget, correct?”

And you nod, amusement playing across your features.

“The earth and the underworld fell at his feet. And he shunned it all out of love for Eurydice.”

“And so what moral value do you place on obstinacy?” You ask.

“Obstinacy in love is the only way to experience it. To feel it so completely that you forsake everything else. Defy the world. For love. Fidelity to the wife that you betrayed by turning back.” Brown eyes are wide with his conviction.

He adds, “even Shakespeare said let it be virtuous to be obstinate.”

“Okay, in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT context!” Your turn to erupt now, with arms thrown in the air where you’re met by his wide smile. “You cannot cherry pick that out of Coriolanus choosing to abandon his family out of sheer stubbornness, and frankly, contempt for his own people, to extol the virtues of love! Let it be virtuous to FORSAKE that love, is the whole point of that line.”

And this is the moment.

That Ezra falls in love.

And you’re not far behind.

Time slips from this point on. Patrons file in and out. More wine and whiskey is poured. Associates drunkenly clap him on the back as they make their way home, but none of it registers.

The world spins around the pair of you.

Until finally the bartender insists that he close his tab.

And you both step out onto a city street wet with the aftermath of a brief summer downpour.

“Thank you,” Ezra starts, “for the absolute pleasure of your company.”

He holds a tentative hand out, which you shake with a heartfelt “likewise.”

“Oh, your handkerchief,” you pull it from your pocket and hold it out to him.

“Keep it.” He smiles.

And you both spin on your heels. Proceeding in opposite directions.

But the warp and weft of the red cotton square that you keep rubbing between your fingers forces you to stop in your tracks.

You turn around.

And look back.

Meeting Ezra’s gaze from where he hasn’t moved a step.

He thumbs the corner of his lips, brown eyes locked on yours.

And you both move.

Urgent steps pulled by Fates’ string.

Colliding as you throw your arms around his neck and he locks you against him with biceps around your ribs.

Lips crashing together with the relief of a thousand lifetimes.

Lifetimes that you’ve known each other.

Lifetimes that you’ve lost each other.

And this lifetime. Having found each other again.

Taglist of folks who may be interested, as always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged, or if you'd like to be added!

@morallyinept @iamskyereads @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot

@oliveksmoked @nerdieforpedro @julesonrecord

Subpart headings are the meaning of Ezra's name in that section.

Orpheus' monologue included herein in italics is quoted from David Raeburn's 2004 translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Penguin Classics. The text of this translation just felt so Ezra that I had to include it in that form. If you'd like to hear it read by Hozier himself, head on over to his instagram circa summer 2020's Poetry Fridays for this and some other wonderful work.

This story references the version of Eurydice's death as precipitated by Aristaeus.

Láir means mare in Irish Gaelic.

"Let it be virtuous to be obstinate" is quoted from Coriolanus by William Shakespeare.

#prospect ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #hozier drabble challenge #ohforficsake #talk refined

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ranikyani · 5 hours ago

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Decisions… Decisions…

The sun is shining today but the sharp bite of the wind makes it unbearably cold. You rush into the lobby of your apartment breathless.

It’s been a very long day at work and while you’re BEYOND tired of these mf playing in your face everyday, you got bills and you need your job.

As you’re fumbling your cold and numb fingers in the front pocket of your work bag to grab your key fob you hear one elevator ding, then almost instantly the second one follows. Both sets of doors slide open nearly at the same time..

You look up to both men looking back at you..

The doors will close soon..

You have seconds to decide…

Who you riding upstairs with??? Big Daddy 💚 or Lil Daddy ❤️ cause Kel done pulled out the gold hoops.. he not fucking around no more na yuhearme

This ain’t no preview I was bored at work fantasizing about getting home to bed and lil daddy elevator pic made its way to the chat so my mind started working… the slut I would be if these fine ass men lived in my building 🥵

#aaronpierre #kelvin harrison jr.#BOAF #terry richmond #raniwrites💌#aaron pierre

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br0-k3n-sch00lb01 · 4 months ago

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UPDATED ALTERS LIST!! 2/22/25

below the cut!

Rowan 🐾

…the other rowan?? 🏁

Basil (canon rw) 🌸

HS basil 💐

Bitch basil 🌿

British basil 🍵

Aubrey (rw)💒

Aubrey hs🍆

Kel rw🛹

Kel hs🏀

Mari rw💌

Mari spirit🕯️

Mari HS 🍼

pursuit! Sunny 💜

Stranger (british) ➰

STRANGER 🗝️

Marcille 🪞

Wally Darling🏠

Omoboy ♠️

Hero hs ✨

Hero rw ❄️

SOMETHING 👁️

Sunny 🎻

Omori 🔪

Sage 🌕

Opal🍰

Sol ☀️

Zip 🥀

Tessa ⚠️

Tris 💻

Tryst 🌻

Cosmo 🐚

Oliver 🕊️

Mello/Mellohi 🍈

Milo 🎠

Matcha 🔴

Mocha 🟣

Chai 🟢

KII 🎵

Broken 🩷

HOST 📻

Ruai 🕷️

Luna 🔥

Charlie 🌈

COMBOY/B-143 📺

Len 🍌

Sweetheart 🎀

Spaceboy 🪐

B.U.G 💚

Quinn ♣️

Flynn 🎉

Aled Last 🌀

Elizabeth 🍦

Angel 🪽

Puppi 🌹

Kokichi 🎲

Nagito 💣

Mikan 💉

ENTROPY 🧨

HIKA 🎬

JINX 🦷

Sunny (OC)🍄

EMORI!Basil 🚬

C.C 💧

Nil 👁️‍🗨️

Nox 🖌️

Mono 📞

Chrome 🪢

Alexander ��

Nehmo 🪁

Tsukasa/ Kasa ⭐

Madotsuki (Suki) 🌑

Basil (broken’s timeline) 🏵️

Sebastian Solace 🦋

Ranboo 👑

Nico 🦴

GHOST!Basil 🍂

Dollhouse!Basil 🧸

SAGE!Basil 🕸️

HIKA!Basil 🍥

OMARI!Basil 🪦

Camellia 🪓

Sayori 🩹

Luka 🎤

Till 🎸

Daniella 🧊

Mae 🔍

Texan Luka (please do not ask) 🍖

SMILE ♦️

Noli 🩸

Star 💫

Bunny 🌹

Barnaby 🖍️

Oli 🌼

Oriko ❗

Andrew 🥝

Ashley 🍬

Felix/Argos 🦚

Chat Noir 🐈‍⬛

Chat Blanc 🤍

Pursuit! Basil 🩵

Rain 🌧️

Venti 🧪

Collei 💚

Rui Kamishiro 🧼

Zomboy 🧷/📼

Marinette Dupain-Cheng 🪷

ミク初音🥬

グミ 🥕

OTWF Basil ☄️

OTWF Sunny 🌪️

Micheal/ Eggs Benedict/ Purple Guy (?)/ The Night Guard 🔦

Pomni 🆘

Ragatha 💙

Sans 🌌

Darkstalker 🌋

Charlie Spring

Pursuit!Sunny

Sol (Hellfire)

Catboy Sunny

Tsukasa Tenma

Kanade Yoisaki

Mafuyu Asahina

Willow

Dusky

Basilheart

Bossman Hero

Suzune Amano

Matsuri Hinata

Arisa Narumi

Chisato Shion

Aqua Hoshino

Ruby Hoshino

Ai Hoshino

Mem-cho

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rozmy-basilcore · 1 year ago

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OMORI x The Owl House AU / crossover

🧡 Kel as Luz Noceda

💚 Basil as Amity Blight

#omori #the owl house #basil #omori basil #kel #omori kel #omori cactiflower #fanart #omori fanart #basil fanart #kel fanart #lumity #omori crossover #omori au fanart

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edupunkn00b · 4 months ago

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On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 1: A Book Before Bed

Graphical representation of the Lorenz Attractor.

A Book Before Bed - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

"As the system changes, the motion of the point represents the continuously changing variables. It traced a strange, distinctive shape of a butterfly's wings." - Chaos: The Making of a New Science by James Gleick

Changes in an environment can make a outsized impact on a life: Arriving three minutes late to a student club fair. Never walking home alone after that party at Jack's house. Trying a new goal planner that year.

Deciding to stay just a little longer to try to make the marriage work.

Universes collide in this story, as Logan Croft finds himself stumbling down paths he might have followed throughout his life but for a few small changes.

And what he discovers will change everything.

- Across the universes, Logan starts a book he's been looking forward to reading for a long, long time.

💚💙 Happily Ever After Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“Whatcha readin’, hot stuff?”

Eyebrows raised in a wordless question, Remus waited for Logan’s little nod before he slid between his husband’s back and the padded headboard. Wiggling into place, he wrapped both arms around his belly, hugging him close and helping support the thick book he was reading. Logan leaned in to the soft kisses along his neck and hummed, the finger tucked between the book’s pages the only reminder he had, in fact, been reading.

Remus smirked. “Am I distracting you from your book?”

Logan blushed and settled against his chest, nodding when Remus carded long, strong fingers through his hair. “Perhaps,” he admitted, laughing low in his chest. “But I would never mind, Meus.”

After a few moments, Remus nuzzled against his temple and asked, “So what are ya’ reading?”

He held up the book so Remus could read the cover.

“Mmmm,” he hummed. “Chaos: Making a New Science?” He shimmied his shoulders, eyebrows dancing over sleepy eyes. “Sounds like my kinda book.”

💚💙💛 Overruled Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“Indeed, Muse,” Janus murmured, joining them under the covers. A satin scarf wrapped around his still-damp hair, he smelled of bergamot and cedar wood, plus a hint of spearmint. Smiling, Logan made mental note to check the order for his cinnamon toothpaste after they dropped off Patton at school.

“I believe we can convince our dear Lo to read us a bit of it,” he added, leaning in to kiss first Remus, then Logan. “If we’re very, very good.”

Logan chuckled. “You’re always very, very good.”

“Except when we’re not,” Remus laughed, nipping at his shoulder.

Shaking his head with his own laugh, Logan settled in between his loves and read aloud from where he’d left off. “‘Where chaos begins, classical science stops…’”

❤️💙 The Uses of Adversity Universe - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

“‘The irregular side of nature, the discontinuous and the erratic side will emerge, always staying within certain bounds but never—‘”

Logan paused as Roman’s breathing slowed, head heavy on his chest. “My Prince,” he whispered, smiling at the tickle of soft hair against his lips. “Have you fallen asleep?”

“Mm-hm… no, Lo, I’m wide awake,” he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Logan’s bare chest. “Keep reading to me… please?”

Logan pressed a kiss into his auburn curls and smiled. “As you wish. ‘At any instant in time, the three variables fix the location of a point in three-dimensional space…’”

💔 In Sickness and In - Wednesday, May 7, 2025

As the system changes, the motion of the point represents the continuously changing variables. It traced a strange, distinctive shape—

Logan inhaled sharply when the text on the page disappeared as the bedroom light clicked off, blanketing him in darkness.

“That’s not another one of those damn ‘Fifteen Ways Your Marriage Will Fail’ books, is it?”

Logan cleared his throat and tucked the bookmark firmly into place before sliding the book and his eyeglasses into his nightstand drawer. “No. No, Kels, of course not. It’s, um…” He closed the drawer quietly, then fumbled for his water glass in the dark, and drained it as Kelly took off her slippers and climbed in to her side of the bed. “It’s a physics book, actually. On chaos theory…” Logan rushed to fill the stony silence between them. “It—it’s fascinating, really. The current chapter demonstrates mathematically how small changes in the initial variables can set off—”

She grunted and arranged her body pillow between them, then rolled to face the other side of the room. “Sounds like something you’d read.”

Back still turned to him, she inserted her ear plugs and dropped her sleep mask over her eyes before eventually stilling. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t jostle her, Logan slid down under the blanket and pulled it up to his chin. In the dim light, he could make out a glint of blonde curls peeking past her pillow.

“Goodnight, Kels,” he whispered into the silence. He listened to her breathe, counting as each grew slower, steadier. Softer. Finally, when he was certain she was no longer awake, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #ts logan #ts remus #remus sanders #intrulogical #ts janus #intruloceit #ts roman #logince #Kelly Croft - OC #logan/kelly #ew‚ I know #Happily Ever After butterfly universes #Happily Ever After #Overruled #The Uses of Adversity #In Sickness and In #sanders sides fanfiction

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caged-heartz · 11 months ago

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COLOR WHEEL ART COLLAB!!!!!! HEHSHEH

Red - TT: @fizzyfazzythesillyclown or @number1.floyd.leech.fan

Character: Opera from Welcome To Demon School, Iruma-Kun

❤️——————————————————————❤️

Orange - TT: @boiledleafwater

Character: Kel from Omori

🧡—————————————————————��🧡

Yellow - NO TAG!!!

Character: Mami from Madoka Magica

💛——————————————————————💛

Green - @vanrouge13

Character: Trey Clover from Twisted Wonderland

💚——————————————————————💚

Teal - @callmestrawberries

Character: Hatsune Miku

🩵——————————————————————🩵

Blue - @pawmimo

Character: Usagi from JJBA JOJOLands

💙——————————————————————💙

Purple - @peppermintbanne

Character: Doppio from JJBA Golden Wind

💜——————————————————————💜

Pink - ME!1!1!1!!1!!!!

Character: Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony

🩷——————————————————————🩷

#art collab #art #digital art #welcome to demon school iruma kun #omori #puella magi madoka magica #twisted wonderland #vocaloid #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojolands #golden wind #my little pony #meow

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thatheathenbastard · 3 months ago

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Number 7 😘

Love this one thanks Kels 💚

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taysdorothea13 · 7 days ago

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forever winter

summary — in twenty-twenty-one phoebe bridgers and lainey performed an acoustic version of funeral at a show for the reunion tour. lainey attended eras to support phoebe where she crossed paths with taylor swift.

authors note — only a fourth of the original plot description, but i didn't have a summary written and i wasn't going to stress myself out with one. this one is shorter, only a couple thousand words, but if you like emma and taylor you'll like this little glimpse at lainey and taylor. another vault fic!

The Eras Tour @tswifterastour ∙ 5/5/23

🚨 | Lainey Lovves has been spotted in the VIP tent at today's show #NashvilleTSTheErasTour

ashley 🫶🏼 @doveslovveswifts ∙ 5/5/23

LAINEY AT THE ERAS TOUR?! OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING

debutation 💚🖤 @lilieswift ∙ 5/5/23

is it just me or is her outfit very debut coded?

jenna @jennalovestaylor ∙ 5/5/23

replying to @lilieswift

the COWBOY BOOTS? lainey knows SOMETHING

kels 🪩 @cowboylikekels ∙ 5/5/23

since when do taylor and lainey know each other?!

morgan 💗 @midnightsmemories ∙ 5/5/23

replying to @cowbodylikekels

i think lainey's there to support phoebe! they're reported to be close friends and they preformed together at the reunion tour in 2021

Pop Base @PopBase ∙ 5/6/23

Dove Lovves supports friend, Phoebe Bridgers, at The Eras Tour

Read here: popbase.beehiv.come/eras-dove-lovv...

NISSAN STADIUM MAY 5, 2023

Lainey slipped into the tent with a nervous smile on her lips. Around her neck was a VIP pass, the laminated card-stock glimmering beneath overhead lights that drowned the stadium in a fluorescent glow. Nashville was beautiful this time of year, Lainey had learned that as a teenager, but she took a moment to appreciate the states underwhelming warmth as she settle beside lively bodies. Some were dressed casually; Lainey noted that a group of people to her immediate right were dressed in jeans and comfortable t-shirts, but other's were more fitted for the bustling atmosphere that wrapped around them like a sequined vice. She didn't stand out amongst them, but she hadn't been trying to. She'd played the dress code safe, a white sundress and a couple of necklaces adorning her slim figure, but her wrists met the silently pushed expectations of the night. Lainey knew how to make friendship bracelets, she'd grown up in the sticks, of course she knew how to carefully thread and weave such pieces, but the pearls of plastic held a weight that coarse string didn't. Most of the colors she'd chosen were muted, lots of tans and a generous amount of greens, but there was variation the further down the eye travelled. Lainey had no expectations of trading, she wasn't really here for the social connection, but it felt appropriate to lean into the world of another artist even for just a night.

The tent was void of place cards, suggesting that guests were free to mingle and settle wherever they naturally landed, and somehow for Lainey, that ended up being at the very front of the black tent. The metal barrier was cold beneath her fingertips as she trailed her touch along the rusted surface, taking a moment to ground herself as she waited for the concert to begin. The VIP pass around her neck rustled with the breeze, and just as she'd looked down to adjust the laminated card-stock that was anything but professional, an amused laugh caught her attention.

"You make that yourself?" The voice was gruff but not unwelcoming, falling upon Lainey who'd been unsuspecting at the time. She flinched just slightly, the tension within her muscles merely an instinctive response. It had been a while since she'd needed to be on. Naively she'd anticipated existing in the shadows for the night, but four minutes in and her solitude was already being breached.

She'd always been told her eyes were soft, but that had never made any sense to her. Still, she was aware of her lack of edge as she gave the stranger beside her a chance at genuine conversation. "No, uh, it's kind of a running joke between me and a friend." She fiddled with the clasp of her necklace absentmindedly, clammy fingers adjusting the pendant resting flat against her collarbone; a nervous tick she'd never been able to break. "It's not the prettiest thing, huh?"

Lainey was aware that the card-stock around her neck was somewhat hideous. The lanyard around her neck was generic, one of many that floated around the stadium, but the laminated card-stock was unlike anything else in the room. It was black and it sported the messiest chicken-stratch writing she'd ever seen in stark white ink. She could appreciate the incorporation of chunky glitter, but even the sleek sliver hue looked out of place on the rounded edges. Even with its imperfect appearance, Lainey appreciated the time that had gone into crafting it.

"Definitely not." The man scratched at his beard, the coarse hair adorning his chin a collection of colors but primarily white as if mimicking fresh powder. His hand extended seconds later, "Scott Swift."

Recognition flashed across Lainey's face, if only because the last name was hard to miss in a room filled with merchandise and buzzing individuals. Lainey's hand outstretched without missing a beat, her palm meeting Scott's in a gentle exchange. "Lainey Lovves."

It was Scott's turn to bristle with recognition, and the man did so with poise. "Last name like that's hard to forget. If I'm not mistaken, you're on the backstage access list." There was nothing beneath the observation. It was just a casual comment of realization, but somehow it felt like an accusation in the loud room. Lainey found herself laughing softly, shoulders coming up to her ears.

"Yeah, I'm here for my friend Phoebe." She nodded softly, wrapping her fingers around the black lanyard absentmindedly. She didn't dislike these baseless conversations, but so many months out of the game had their repercussions. The spotlight was something Lainey would never truly settle into seamlessly. "I'm excited for Taylor though. I've heard nothing but amazing things."

Scott's demeanor softened at the mention of his daughter, and Lainey couldn't help but smile in return. She and Phoebe hardly talked about their industry connections. They were friends because they clicked on a personal level, their aligning careers only provided unspoken understanding in times of crisis or burnout. Taylor had never come up, and by default, neither had either of her parents. All Lainey knew was that Scott loved his daughter, that much was obvious simply by sparing a glance in his direction. "She'll love to hear that. She's poured her entire heart into this tour. It never fails to amaze me."

Their conversation was interrupted by screaming, a group of girls toward the back of the floor all turned toward Lainey. Some of them had their phones indiscreetly angled in her direction, others were merely pointing and waving animatedly. Only when Scott became quiet beside her did she realize her voice was echoing through the stadium, and the large majority of people around them were all picking up on her unexpected presence. Lainey laughed sheepishly, offering the group of girls a comforting wave, only further sending them into a fit of chaotic screaming. Security at the front of the tent prevented them from stepping any closer than they already were, but Lainey's eyes tracked a specific security guard who had been beckoned over and was now stalking up to her with purpose beneath each step.

"Ms." He greeted, his voice sounding tired, like he was already over the lively energy that surrounded them. Lainey fought every urge to crinkle her nose at his attitude. Even she was smart enough to recognize the privilege of being in a space with someone so effortlessly talented. "The group to your left has requested I give these to you."

In his outstretched hand was four beaded bracelets, all with a specific theme in mind. The specifically chosen colors clashed in the palm of his hand, but Lainey accepted them regardless of coordination. With grace, she wiggled a few bracelets off of her wrist, handing them back to the guard in a professional exchange. "If you wouldn't mind, can you pass these back?"

All she received in response was a curt nod, the mans rough fingertips brushing against her palm as he accepted the carefully strung bracelets with little care. Lainey rolled her eyes at his silhouette as he stepped away, turning her attention back to Scott who had been keeping watch over the tense exchange. "It's kind of sad how little guys like the care." It was a one off comment, nothing truly spectacular, but Scott made a sound of understanding that confirmed he was equally as unimpressed with the gruff attitude.

Neither had the time to say anything else. The stadium was bathed in electric energy as Gracie Abrams came on stage, marking the official start of the night's stellar line-up. While Gracie and Lainey had only ever crossed paths professionally, they had kindled something of a friendship over the months of continuous meetings. As if Gracie was aware of Lainey's presence in the crowd, warm brown eyes searched intently for her face. Lainey offered a radiant smile and a wave when Gracie's eyes found hers, and she giggled softly to herself when Gracie did a dramatic spin in the center of the stage, a silent acknowledgement of the support Lainey whole-heartedly provided from the audience. She wasn't a major name. There were still days where she could slip between the cracks and live unbothered by media swarms, but everyone who knew her had nothing but glowing reflections. Gracie was one of those people.

Lainey didn't care if she was making a fool of herself as she swayed with her entire body, simply feeling the music that filled the stadium with reverberating connection. At one point, she'd closed her eyes, content to stand beneath Gracie's vocals and the setting sun. Too quickly was it over, and Gracie disappeared into the wings, drowning the stadium in abrupt silence before the playlist resumed and fans around the room buzzed. Even if Lainey hadn't seen the show Taylor put on before, she'd heard from Phoebe that each night the playlist was the same, and by the uproar in the crowd as the minutes passed by, she figured that Phoebe's set was approaching.

She was correct. The last song hadn't even finished entirely before the screen was flashing to life, Phoebe's hair a stark image around the stadium as she settled into the center of the stage. The catwalk hadn't been breached by Gracie, and it seemed Phoebe was abiding by that same direction, only ever crossing half of it before she migrated back to where a microphone stand was set up beside other guitarists and a drum set. Lainey waved excitedly in Phoebe's direction when her fried paused for a moment of earned reflection. Phoebe held a commanding stare, and as she took in the sight of fans scattered around the room, still trickling in from the parking lot and merchandise queue's she held a powerful expression. Lainey knew how much moments like these meant to her fellow artists, even if she'd never played a show to this magnitude.

Just as easily as Gracie's set ended, Phoebe's did as well. Lainey had half a mind to find her friend backstage, but something kept her firmly rooted in place beside Scott at the tent's barrier. The man hadn't tried to strike up further conversation, but every couple of minutes Lainey recognized the heat of his eyes on her frame as she waved to fans and bounced to familiar songs. She couldn't explain what was passing between them every time they narrowly avoided eye-contact, but it was something akin to respect. Perhaps Scott had never witnessed someone so tuned into music in the VIP tent. One glance around the cramped rows of seating told Lainey that those that had found themselves invited to the nights show were using the experience as a conversational event more than a music related one.

Lainey cheered loudly when Taylor rose from the center of the stage in a blue and pink bodysuit. Her curly hair had been straightened to perfection, not a single crease or crimp in sight as she whipped her head around the stadium, commanding the attention of those that gathered in fold-up seats and makeshift rows. Lainey was a proud enjoyer of Taylor's discography. She's certain at least a handful of clips exist on the internet where she's doing nothing but gushing about the emotional appeal that's rooted in so many of the blonde's tracks, but she wouldn't call herself a Swiftie. She was a casual listener; someone that recognized talent without feeling the need to harp on the personal nitty-gritty. But for the night, Lainey was unabashedly allowing herself to react to the music however it influenced her. Her hands flailed in the air with amusing incoordination, her voice carried far as she sung along to the familiar lyrics, and never had she been so grateful for choosing shoes without a heel as she bounced and jumped along to the captivating melodies.

As the eras progressed, Lainey was only aware of passing time because of how the sky darkened with nightfall. The wristband on her left wrist flashed red, perfectly in sync with the others around her. She'd always been fascinated by small details like this, and there was no denying how the pulse of color around the stadium affected the energy of the crowd as Taylor put on the performance of a lifetime. Lainey wasn't even sure she could call this a concert, it was like a beautifully crafted show as Taylor incorporated physical set pieces with screen backdrops and effects. She screamed when Phoebe appeared beside Taylor on the stage, the start of a song she knew like the back of her hand playing through the stadium as two guitars harmonized beautifully. Lainey made a mental note to yell at Phoebe later as she screamed the lyrics to Nothing New. She'd asked her friend if there was any chance of it being preformed, and with annoyingly believable deception, Phoebe had told her there was no time to add it to the set.

Too quickly did the concert end, but before Lainey could brew in her disappointment, Scott was tapping her arm and motioning for her to follow him out into the back hallway where two security guards stood with folded arms. She had every right to be backstage. Her name was on the list, she had the password that Phoebe had demanded she memorize, and the laminated card-stock around her neck had a bold blue star on the corner that apparently coordinated with the nights security protocol, but still she felt unnerved as she stood beneath the firm stares.

"She's with me." Even though her name had been on the list, Scott hadn't referenced it at all. The guards were very obviously personal members of Taylor's team, and without deliberation they nodded in acceptance, stepping out of Scott's way and allowing both of them access to the dressing rooms. The door they passed through had a metal detector fused into the automatic wiring system, and despite already being cleared for entry, Lainey breathed a sigh of relief when no lights flashed red as she passed through. "How long are you in Nashville for?"

"Only the next couple of days. I've got a couple interviews scheduled." Lainey hadn't ever focused too much on press, but her label had suggested she keep conversation sharp as rumors of a tour circulated social media. It was nothing too extensive, she had no interest in selling herself to the vultures for a couple of additional streams and luckily her label respected that, but they would still require a certain professionalism she had to prepare herself to appeal to.

"Well, I'll be sure to give your name to the crew. It's been a while since I've seen someone so in tune with music in the tent. If you have the time to stop by, there'll be a space for you." Lainey wasn't sure of what to make from the invitation, but she found herself nodding along regardless of the underlying message. She loved music, she loved concerts. It would be an honor to be invited back to a show of this level, and so Lainey found herself agreeing with the proposal.

She'd been about to respond when a whirlwind of purple tinsel caught her attention. Upon closer inspection, it was an assortment of rainbow hues, but from a distance, all that could be made out were the notes of deep violet. "Hey, Dad." Taylor panted for breath, her face flush from the strenuous routine she'd spent the last three and a half hours going through with radiant passion. Blue eyes flickered down to Lainey, their height difference only noticeable now that Taylor had fallen into step with her and Scott. "Lainey, right?"

"Yeah." Lainey smiled brightly, "That was one hell of a show. I'd try to play it cool but your Dad watched me freak out for the last four hours." A gentle blush rose on the apples of her cheeks, amused laughter spilling from both Scott and Taylor as they descended farther into the back hallways. At this point, Lainey wasn't even sure where they were headed, but she figured Scott was taking it upon himself to show her the way to Phoebe's dressing room.

"It was refreshing. The tent hasn't felt so lively in years." Scott smoothed over the comment, peaking Taylor's interest as she hummed her curiosity. "Lainey's in town for the next couple of days. I've already told her she's welcome at the next string of shows."

Taylor hummed, her eyes sharp as she turned her attention on Lainey. "Don't let him talk you into anything you don't have time for. He can be... annoyingly persuasive." Taylor rolled her eyes, shimming out of the tinsel adorned jacket with a relieved sigh. Goosebumps prickled her forearms at the assault of comfortable air hitting hot skin, and Lainey could only imagine how good it felt to finally breathe without the heat of stage lights and costumes. "If you do decide to turn up, I'll have to keep my eyes peeled. It's not easy to impress him."

"I don't know if impress is the right word." Lainey laughed sheepishly, "I was quite the unflattering mess out there. I'll be here though. Another night like tonight is better than room service and cheap wine."

"Wear something blue? I'll know what to look for." Taylor sounded hopeful, even if it was merely a polished formality. Lainey immediately racked her brain for everything that she'd shoved into her suitcase. Besides the one outfit she'd packed for tomorrow's interview specifically, there wasn't anything blue that stuck out in her memory. Her album was rather neutral themed, a lot of greys and deep greens, and unintentionally she'd packed an assortment of outfits that fit that melancholy theme. The only colors that stood out in her mind were pink and yellow. The pink dress was an immediate no for something of this nature, but the yellow t-shirt she'd packed would do well enough if she paired it with her favorite Levi jeans.

"Will yellow work for you, Ms. Swift?" She teased lightheartedly, finding Taylor easy enough to talk to even if the conversation was relatively simple. Neither of them seemed willing to delve into anything more than casual small-talk, and Lainey couldn't blame Taylor for the surface level comments. The woman was most definitely exhausted, and this far surpassed her expectation of the night regardless. She'd heard a rumor or two that Taylor didn't mingle after shows, both because she didn't have the mental capacity of handling conversation with anyone who wasn't a close friend, and because she really did strive to protect the health of her vocal chords. Lainey felt like it was privilege enough to even be getting this small conversation.

"Yellow works." Taylor laughed softly, shaking her head as she looked between Lainey and her father, her steps slowing down as they approached a door with a white sheet of paper taped to the center. Lainey assumed it was Taylor's dressing room, and for a second she'd worried that she'd blindly followed them without invitation, but one glance to her left said that Phoebe's dressing room was perfectly in sight. "I'll see you back here early tomorrow, Dad. Yellow. Tomorrow. If you don't wear yellow, you're banned from all future shows." Taylor's tone was light and friendly, and Lainey found herself smiling in conformation that tomorrow night, she'd be dressed in the color yellow and nothing even slightly different.

"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Swift." Lainey turned her attention back to Scott when Taylor disappeared into her dressing room, her shoulders dropping in exhaustion just before she'd closed the door behind her body. Lainey had preformed at a handful of festivals and had headlined a few very small tours for albums in the past, but she had no idea what it was like to be on a world-tour for months on end, day-in and day-out devoting all of her time to nothing but preforming and recharging. She figured it was exhausting, but confirmation of that speculation would find its way to her in the coming year when she embarked on her first arena tour early the next year.

"Please, just Scott will do." The man laughed amusedly at the formal exchange, shaking Lainey's hand one last time before he left her to connect with Phoebe, mentioning something about returning to the hotel as he stalked down the hallway.

Phoebe was absolutely buzzing on the couch when Lainey entered the room with a soft knock on the doorframe. They hadn't seen each other in months, not with Lainey constantly moving about, doing the odd promotional run for her album and Phoebe sharpening her craft in preparation for this moment. It was a busy time for the both of them, and oddly enough, they found themselves in a position where Lainey was charting higher than her friend. They'd connected when Lainey was only twenty-two years old and doing a small tour for her first album that had only charted because of a collaboration with Julia Michaels. There had been no expectations in their quick friendship. Lainey was oftentimes opposed to the idea of even being seen with Phoebe, wanting her success to come naturally if it came at all, more content with getting to know each other on intimate levels rather than carefully constructed professional ones. Phoebe was an easy enough person to make that work with. She wasn't very outwardly expressive, and her mellow attitude often led them to nights in with a glass of wine rather than fancy dinners and staged pap walks. Tonight had shifted something however, like they were both finally facing the truth. Lainey wasn't just a small underground artist anymore, and Phoebe was on a tour that amounted far more than any of hers could've dreamed of. This was the turning point, and it was blissfully electric beneath them.

"You asshole." Lainey grumbled as she sank into the chair across from Phoebe, the wristband on her arm still flashing blue like it had been doing throughout the entirety of the Midnights set. "What happened to, 'There's not enough time for Nothing New'." She mocked the earlier conversation they'd had, her lips downturned into an unforgiving pout as she glared as fiercely as she could manage in Phoebe's direction.

"I'm literally under an NDA, Lai!" Phoebe laughed amusedly, her eyes sparkling as she settled into Lainey's comfortable company, the two of them falling into place like no time had separated them in the slightest. It felt good to be surrounded by friends again, even if it would all go back to how it was when the weekend expired too quickly.

sarah 🫶🏼 @softswiftie ∙ 5/5/23

did anyone else notice how annoyed lainey looked at that security guard?

JESS ✨ @sheeranstruggles ∙ 5/5/23

replying to @softswiftie

he looked so bothered the entire night!

Trinity @trinb13 ∙ 5/5/23

replying to @sheeranstruggles

lainey's one of us!

1989 lover 🪩 @cleanxwonderland ∙ 5/5/23

a thread of dove lovves looking less than impressed with asshole security guards 🧵

#1 swiftie @mirrorballsrep ∙ 5/5/23

replying to @cleanxwonderland

the only time i've ever seen lainey look annoyed is when somebody's an asshole at a concert 😭 i love her so much i can't even explain akjdhjkashs

The Eras Tour @tswifterastour ∙ 5/6/23

🚨 | Lainey Lovves has been spotted at Nashville N2 #NashvilleTSTheErasTour

camila @ marveloustimeruiningme ∙ 5/6/23

SHES WEARING YELLOW WHAT DOES IT MEAN FEARLESS TV IS ARLEADY OUT

caroline 🪩 @mirrorballtay ∙ 5/6/23

replying to @ marveloustimeruiningme

... maybe she just wanted to wear the color yellow? not everything has to mean something. besides, dove and taylor aren't even friends. she's literally there to support phoebe?

Emma !! @ thisisemtrying ∙ 5/6/23

DOVE LOOKS SO GOOD KASDHKJAHD IVE MISSED HER SO MUCH

dove 🕊️ @stickseazon1 ∙ 5/6/23

this woman always looks like she's just happy to be here

fearless tv @mastermindlibra ∙ 5/6/23

did anyone else see the clip of dove absolutely losing it to fifteen. she's so me coded like girlie was wiping away literal tears ajdajkdhaj

jas 🥐 @dovesgirlfriend ∙ 5/6/23

replying to @mastermindlibra

yes! it reminded me of the time she went to see p!nk and cried hysterically when willow came out to sing cover me in sunshine

tess (Glendale N1) @doveswift13

replying to @dovesgirlfriend

the way she feels music needs to be studied IM SERIOUS

NISSAN STADIUM

MAY 6, 2023

Lainey was exhausted. Her day had been anything but easy to manage. It had taken a turn for the worst when she'd slept through all but one of her alarms, and had needed to scramble to dress herself before her hair and makeup team arrived to get her interview ready at just after seven in the morning. It had only gotten worse from there, which Lainey hadn't thought was possible until it happened. Her first interview had gone off without a hitch, but the second had been severely delayed after an unexplainable power outage in the building had prohibited filming until hours later. By some miracle, Lainey made it to the stadium in time for Phoebe's set, but she'd entirely missed the first opening act and the guilt, though not her fault, was heavily felt. She knew what it was like to be an artist that hadn't yet had that break through moment, and she'd promised herself that she would never stop advocating and supporting the little guy. Gayle wasn't entirely underground, Lainey knew that a handful of her songs had made it big after various TikTok trends went viral, but it was still an odd feeling to tackle now that she was racking in millions of streams by the day. Regardless of her guilt, the electric energy of the crowd had captivated her within seconds, and the exhaustion wasn't so heavily felt.

She was dressed in her favorite pair of jeans and the promised yellow t-shirt she'd mentioned the night before. The jeans hugged her waistline snugly, and with desperately needed tailoring, the hem of them came just below the heel of her shoes. Lainey had never been so grateful for platform sneakers. They gave her just enough added height that she didn't have to worry about stepping on the ends of them anytime she shifted even slightly. Her hair was falling down her back in loose waves, a result of the curls she'd sported at one point, but the weather and hours of wear had caused them to fall significantly since early morning. Half of her hair was tied up and secured by a yellow bow, the delicate ribbon something familiar and easy to accentuate if an outfit called for subtle accessory. The added touch was the glimmer of gold on the back of her hand, the meticulously sketched '13' feeling like the perfect addition that even designer jewelry couldn't match. Like the night before, Phoebe searched for her in the crowd, offering a carefully concealed expression when their eyes locked for a brief moment. Like the night before, Phoebe's set ended far too quickly.

Unlike the night before, Scott wasn't in the tent beside her. She stood between random faces, suddenly understanding why the man had been so captivated by her wild energy now that she was acutely aware of the tension around her. The tent felt stifled by stillness, the bodies beside her attentive, but lacking any genuine connection, even as Taylor appeared from that same spot in the center of the stage and kicked off the night with a radiant energy. Lainey didn't allow the suffocating muted reactions to dampen her enjoyment however. She'd been a music enthusiast since she'd been old enough to articulate what songs she liked and which she didn't. That was what fueled her career and her desire to keep putting out new pieces, even when they'd gained little traction with the media. She loved the rawness of putting personal experiences to an ensemble of sounds and melodies, and even if it felt repetitive in the current social climate with every publication site across the world praising Taylor, Lainey had to praise Taylor herself for how she'd managed to navigate that path of vulnerability so vastly over the span of her career.

As the night continued on and Lainey saw the concert for a second time, she picked up on minor detailing that she'd been blind to the night before. There wasn't a single moment of boredom that passed through her as the hours carried on, despite what most would expect after watching the same thing not even a full twenty-four hours ago. There was no way to be bored when Taylor incorporated so much attention to detail into every minor aspect of her performance. From her dancers wardrobe to the graphics plastered across the stage, there was something to look for and notice at every turn. Lainey was sure she hadn't even picked up on a fraction of what there was to unpack and marvel at, but she was more than content with what she did see. She also wasn't ashamed to admit that she'd wept like a baby during the acoustic set. When Taylor had sat down at the piano and the opening chords of Fifteen had filled the stadium with a sense of nostalgia, Lainey had absolutely lost it. She'd never learned to be ashamed of her connection to music, and it was undeniable that Taylor had played a role in her childhood and adolescence.

The Midnights era had come too quickly, but in Lainey's world concerts would be a never-ending event. She'd been fully immersed in the experience of watching Vigilante Shit for the second night in a row when a member of Taylor's personal security team breached the front of the tent. It was one of the guys from the night before, his sharp eyes unforgettable even now as they searched the crowd for her face before finding her pinned between two muscular guys, both of whom were deep into their third or fourth beer. Lainey hadn't really been paying attention to their drinking endeavors, but she'd felt the jab of their elbows in her ribs every time they turned to reach for another drink brought to them by girlfriends clinging off of their arms like decorative furniture pieces.

A note was slipped her way without any spoken word, and the guard didn't linger to see her reaction as she unfolded the piece of paper that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a notebook without precision. Her eyes scanned the handwriting, unfamiliar with the swoopy lettering but soon realizing that it had come from Taylor herself. When the woman had found the time to send her a message was unknown, but the mention of her yellow bow on the lined paper only indicated that it had been sometime between the Lover era and Midnights.

'Meet me in my dressing room? Cute bow btw. -T'

Lainey laughed at the intentional vagueness, but was still touched by the sentiment of the short note between her fingers. She slipped it into her pocket moments later, focusing back on the performance that was nearing its end as Karma rippled through the stadium at a deafening volume. She stayed within the crowd until the last piece of confetti had fallen before she weaved her way through the cramped rows of chairs and high-top seating in the tent, trailing out into a back hallway the same way that Scott had shown her the night before. She was only slightly surprised when the guards at the door let her in without any questioning, stepping out of her way before she'd even been close enough to tell them her name without having to yell over the bustle of the crowd leaving the stadium overhead.

She navigated the hallways with a better sense of direction than she had the night before, but still all of the hallways looks the same as she made right turn after right turn, eventually making a left when she thought she recognized one of the cleaning carts on the corner of a long hallway. A breath of relief fell off of her lips when she eventually found Taylor's dressing room, the sign on the door marked with black sharpie that very ominously said 'Ragdoll' in thick lettering. There was definitely a story behind the name, but Lainey had no time to ponder its meaning as Taylor came up behind her with soft, inaudible footsteps.

"Jesus!" Lainey startled easily, the hand adorned with gold glitter and eyelash glue falling over her rapidly beating heart as she snapped her gaze to the left, meeting Taylor's sparkling blue eyes beneath the bright lighting that washed them both out horrendously. "You scared the crap out of me." The singer panted for breath, the apples of her freckle dusted cheeks rosy as they filled with blood. If she was embarrassed by her jumpy reaction, it wasn't visible on her features.

"Sorry." Taylor laughed softly, her voice dull but still carrying a note of friendly warmth as she stepped past Lainey to open the door and welcome the both of them into the chaotically torn apart room. It wasn't anything that Lainey hadn't seen before, but still Taylor offered an apology for the sight of her clothes strewn over the couch and remnants of random makeup items lingering against the vanity. "You were something else out there." Taylor didn't beat around the bush with her acknowledgement of Lainey's energy in the crowd. She didn't feel like she had to. Something about Lainey was just easy to mesh with, and she found herself acting as if they'd been friends for more than just a handful of seconds. They weren't even friends, not really, but neither woman made an effort to act like they were strangers. Music had a profound way of establishing connection, and Lainey's all or nothing energy in the crowd had already worn down most of Taylor's guard. "It was nice to see someone so in tune with the music. The fans go hard every night, but it's always a gamble on if the tent's going to have that same energy."

"The tent was boring." Lainey rolled her eyes, amusing Taylor who was already rifling through a mini-fridge in the corner of the room, her muscles sore if the way she winced as she stood up was any indication of the pain she felt. "It's like nobody actually cares about music anymore." She hummed insightfully, taking a seat on the couch when Taylor motioned for her to make herself comfortable. She graciously accepted a bottle of water from the blonde when it was passed over, the condensation around the plastic cap already beginning to sweat as it was held between warm hands.

"A little dramatic, are you?" Taylor giggled, sipping on the water with leisure, her eyes fluttering closed as the ache in her throat was eased by the cold liquid.

"No." Lainey grumbled, her soft eyes trailing to meet Taylor's as she shifted on the couch, just barely grazing the blonde's knee with her own before she twisted her legs beneath her weight and settled into the well-worn leather. "I mean, maybe, but no! They were so boring, you have to admit that!"

"I have to, huh?" Taylor teased, blue eyes sparkling as she maintained eye contact over the rim of the bottle. She felt disgusting. She was sweaty and sticky, and the longer she sat beneath the air conditioning had her feeling like the sheen of perspiration on her skin was only growing thicker. She didn't let the discomfort reflect in her expression, not sure if Lainey was the type to settle into new connections easily or stand skittishly on the outskirts, and she didn't feel like testing those waters by asking if the brunette would be comfortable keeping herself company while Taylor showered off the nights activities. "Yeah, they were kind of boring." She broke beneath Lainey's unimpressed glare, a fond smile pulling at her lips as she pulled her hair to one side of her neck, sighing in relief when a wave of cold air fell against her clammy skin.

"Do you usually shower after you get off stage? I can see myself out if you do, or I can wait for you? You look like a cherry tomato." From the crowd, the flush of heat on Taylor's cheeks and the tips of her ears was barely noticeable, but up close, it was evident how much the night had taken out of the blonde. Even if she'd been invited backstage, Lainey didn't want to overstay her welcome if Taylor needed a minute to breathe and come down from the high of being on stage for the last three-and-a-half hours.

"If you don't mind waiting I can have a pizza delivered. Or, I can shower and you can come back to the hotel with me. Back exit down the last hallway, no paps or fans. Phoebe mentioned that you're a fan of the shadows." Taylor's eyes glimmered with amusement as the last thought slipped off of her lips. Lainey's face flushed with heat, her striking blue eyes rolling into the back of her head as she chuckled dryly.

"Phoebe's dramatic. But, I'm more than okay with pizza and heading back to your hotel. No early morning tomorrow?" Lainey tried not to stare as Taylor rose from the couch and began to collect the articles of clothing that were strewn across the couch and the floor, looking like she'd frantically tried to get herself ready before heading on stage. Lainey had no room to judge, not that she would've anyway, but the sight of her hotel room was starkly similar.

"Still an early morning, but I'm still riding the high. I can't promise I'll be so functional after a shower, but I've been thinking about pizza all day." Taylor craned her head to look back at Lainey, meeting her eyes with a teasing wink as she gathered everything that wasn't already in the dressing rooms en-suite bathroom. It was far nicer than any dressing room Lainey had ever seen the inside of, that was for sure.

"You know what's funny, so have I. Probably because there's a pizzeria down the street from my hotel and I've been thinking about eating since I slept through my alarms this morning." Lainey laughed softly, shaking her head as she settled farther into the couch, effectively curling in on herself like some kind of kitten. Taylor couldn't help but think she looked adorably soft as she cuddled into the couch cushions.

"Oh my god, I thought I missed the alarms I have set for when I need to start getting ready. I could've sworn they just never went off but I convinced myself that that was unlikely." Taylor laughed, shaking her head as she combed her fingers through her tangled strands of hair, her knuckles snagging on a particularly nasty knot. "That's literally why this room is destroyed. I realized five minutes before my makeup team was set to get in and then frantically scrambled to get into these tights and the Lover bodysuit."

"I thought I slept through my alarms! Maybe I didn't, maybe you've just broken Nashville." Lainey teased, covering her mouth as she yawned, somehow further curling up on the couch as she watched Taylor reach for a brush on the vanity, pulling it through the knots at the end of her hair.

"I've broken Nashville?! How the hell would I break Nashville." Taylor laughed, spinning around to face Lainey as she set the brush down, deciding her hair was as good as she was going to get it without conditioner and a nice shower to move the process of detangling along. Her blonde locks were already beginning to shrink back into their naturally curly state, but the warm water she dreamed of hitting her skin would fully reverse the effects of her hairstylists meticulous passes with the straightener still sitting on the vanity.

"I'm pretty sure I spotted like twenty different people live-streaming the show. It's definitely your fault that our phones are broken." Lainey teased, poking her tongue out at the blonde before it quickly retracted back into her mouth, her expression soft as she and Taylor found a comfortable balance to settle into. It wasn't awkward like so many first impressions tended to be when there was a balance between professionalism and personal connection that needed to be maintained, instead it felt easy, like they'd known each other for years but had never braved a genuine conversation. They still hadn't, but this was by far a large step toward friendship.

#౨ৎ the vault ‧⁺!!#taylor swift #;༊ — forever winter

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