#one way cab partner

[morbidlcve]

Saw that your requests are open so how about a drunk reader confessing her heart out for natasha not knowing they're already dating and stuff (or something along those lines) 👀

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 0.9k

CW: alcohol consumption, vomit, use of painkillers.

an: this was SO fun to write, i hope you like it!!

"One more!" you squeal excitedly, reaching for another shot lined up at the bar. It was girls' night out with you and your friends; you insisted Natasha should come, and you told her that the rest of your friends were bringing their other friends and partners, so she was allowed. "1,2,3!" one of your friends said, and you all downed the shot, sighing heavily as it burned its way down your throat. You jump around with the music that's playing in the background, pulling Natasha by the hand to the dance floor.

Time didn't seem like a concept to you as you partied your little heart out with Natasha, clinging onto her, your arms around her neck swaying back and forth, and your mind adjacent to your body. Natasha stuck by your side the whole night, her warmth always in your proximity; you were safe.

Drinks continued being placed in your hands, and soon enough, your world tilted on its axis, your stomach flipping. "Natty!! You whined, pulling her with you to the bathroom. Ever the lady, Natasha held your hair and rubbed your back gently, muttering soft words of comfort to soothe you.

You leaned back against the stall, staring at the recessed lights, your eyes fluttering shut, attempting to calm yourself down. Natasha had brought wipes with her and began to wipe your mouth, pulling out a new one for the running mascara around your eyes, then your face, to cool you down.

Feeling the cool wetness against your face, your eyes coming into contact with the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her soft eyes bore into yours, and her lips are turned into a slight smirk. "You're so pretty", you mutter, cupping her face.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "And you're far beyond intoxicated. Let's get you home", she replied, slowly pulling you to your feet; she wrapped her arm around your side, putting your arm around her shoulder, propping you up against her.

You and Natasha stumbled out onto the bustling street, trying to call a cab while trying to keep you upright. She finally managed to put you into the taxi; she climbed in next to you, noticing you fumbling with your seatbelt. She gently took it from your hands, clipping it in.

As the cab made its way through the streets of New York, your eyes swipe across the woman's features, admitting her to memory. Your hand works its way into hers, pulling her arm into your lap; you continue to stare at her, the many lights on the outer world illuminating her face and the unnatural beauty she seems to possess.

"Do I have something on my face moya lyubov'?" she smiles, turning to face you. You shake your head, "Do you have a girlfriend?" you slur, "Because you're too pretty not to have one."

She laughs lightly, "I do, and if my girlfriend finds out that other girls are trying to hit me up, I would be rather scared for them." She smiles, looking down at your hands entwined.

"Who is your girlfriend?" You ask, your cheeks flaming slightly, "Is she pretty?" you say, looking up at her from your head resting on your shoulder. She meets your eyes. "She's the most beautiful girl in the whole world. I don't think I could ever be without her", she admits to you, her thumb stroking over your knuckles.

Your eyes begin to flutter, and you end up falling asleep against her.

The cab pulled up around the corner of the tower- Natasha softly woke you up, her thumb stroking your cheeks. "We're here, love, wake up"- not wanting to give the driver Natasha's identity, given that he didn't seem to recognize her, she paid him and then took your hand guiding you out of the vehicle.

Natasha hobbled the rest of the distance with you to the tower, where she scanned her card and walked in with you clung to her. She called the elevator and waited whilst it came to pick the two of you up. Her hand stroked your head as you stood there still groggy from your near thirty minute sleep.

Once you got back to her room, she led you to the bathroom so you could go to the toilet, and whilst you did, she quickly changed into her PJs and met you washing your hands. "Sit down, pretty girl", she told you, pulling out your face wash slightly wetting her hands before rubbing the cleanser on your face, removing your makeup.

You just sat there, letting her clean you, putting your toner, serum, and lotion on, your arms wrapped around the back of her legs. She soon moved to brushing your teeth, standing you back up so you could spit out the toothpaste and rinse your mouth. She gave you two painkillers and made you drink a glass of water because she knows you're going to be "dying" tomorrow.

"Go get into bed," she said softly, kissing your nose. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, then came to join you. You were slowly falling back to sleep when she slipped in next to you. "I'm your girlfriend, aren't I?' you whisper, shuffling into her, wrapping your legs into hers. "Yes, you are, my love. Now go to sleep; you're going to need lots of it, " she mutters back, kissing your forehead and slowly drifting off once she hears your soft snores and even breathing.

thank you for reading!! <3 please leave feedback!!

(reqs are open for now!!)

[bbokicidal]

"Are You Serious...?" - Angst! [Maknae Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - explicit warning for Han's scenario; Sexual talk, TMI, he shares information about your sex life with others. Warning for Felix's scenario; weight discussion, judgement. Warning for Jeongin's scenario; Physical contact (shoving, nudging, etc.), signs of disgust

Hyung Line | Part 2 Here

Han - Oversharing

"You should've seen it. It was so wet." Jisung had fully turned his body in his dining chair to face Seungmin beside him. The younger of the two was listening to Jisung go on about something that had happened the night before; Something that was sexual and involved you.

And judging by the way Seungmin's chewing slowed gradually and his eyes flickered around the table to see if anyone else was listening, he was growing uncomfortable with hearing so much information about his friend and his partner.

"Jisung," You reach to place a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder, catching the way Seungmin seemed to eye the others in a silent plea for help out of the conversation. "That's enough, baby. I don't think he cares to hear about our sex life." You laugh, trying to brush it off.

But he keeps talking. "She made a mess everywhere, Min. It was like those videos where the girls --"

"Jisung!" You snap this time, pulling on his shoulder until he turns to face you. His eyes widen and he stares, completely unaware he'd done anything wrong.

"What..?" He peeps, watching as you scoff in frustration and lean down to grab your purse from the ground. He turns further to face you, a few of the others quieting down as they watch you stand and nearly knock over your wine glass.

You tremble in both agitation and humiliation, pulling your bag over your shoulder before turning to walk away. "Get a fucking cab home, I'm leaving."

Felix - Ordering food for you / Controlling your diet

"Thank you," You beam at the delivery man, gently shutting and locking your apartment door to make your way back to Felix on the sofa. It's only moments before the coffee table is filled with food - two waters, a few packets of dressing, and two... salads.

Your look of confusion doesn't escape Felix but he doesn't speak up on it, popping the lid off his salad container and reaching to empty a dressing packet over top of the greens. He stirs it around as he watches you reach for the other, pulling it closer and opening it carefully so nothing spilled. "I thought we said yesterday we were going to order Tteokboki and.. -- Are you sure you ordered from the right place?"

"Mm." Felix nods, mouth full as he watches you. You spare him a glance before sitting up a bit as he swallows and speaks again. "I'm on a diet, sweetheart. There's things I can and cannot eat right now."

"Okay," You nod slowly. "I understand that, and I understand it's for your job but - I didn't... agree to this..?" You murmur, hoping it doesn't come off as disrespectful. He'd been the one to place the order and pay for it, and you appreciated that - you really did. But he hadn't said anything about what he'd ordered earlier; Hadn't bothered to mention he was dieting or deciding to order from a different place.

He blinks once, then twice, as if processing that you were unhappy. "Felix, I'm -- I respect your diet. I really do." You lift your hands as if surrendering, then gesture to yourself by placing both hands on your chest. "But you could've told me you were ordering this and I could've just told you what I wanted. I don't need to diet."

Felix's chewing slows as he listens. He's staring, gaze unwavering, very intently listening. He nods, then hums as if in thought, before his eyes slowly wander down over your form sitting beside him. When he looks back up and doesn't care to agree with you or offer a soft apology, you feel the humiliation sticking in your gut.

Your lips part and you stare, unsure of what to say after he'd just silently judged you moments ago. You stand from your spot and slip into a pair of shoes at the door, grabbing your keys off of a hook.

He stares, posture straightening. "Where are you going?"

You look back, opening the door. "Down to the cafe. I'm getting myself a treat - because I didn't deserve whatever the fuck that just was." The door swing shut behind you, leaving Felix sitting alone in silence with his sad little salad.

Seungmin - Being Evasive / Not Responding

"Seungmin."

Your boyfriend blinks down at his phone for the umteenth time since you've started watching him in disbelief.

"Seungmin!"

"What-?!" He barks back this time, dropping his hands in his lap and staring over at you. His lips are parted and he's tonguing at the inside of his cheek, annoyance written all over his face. "What? Why are you yelling?"

"I asked you twice what we were doing later. Are the boys still coming over or are we all going out?"

In the ten seconds it took you to get that question out, he'd lifted his phone back up and blocked out every word that escaped your mouth. Whatever he was doing was obviously more important. He sits quiet, doesn't give you any answer, and stares down at his screen without caring to spare you a glance.

"Kim Seungmin." You stare, fully turning in your seat to make sure he knows you're giving him your full attention. "Would you please answer me?"

He stays silent where he sits, tapping away at the screen. And you know from previous arguments like this he's likely texting Jeongin about his frustrations with you. He only looks up when he hears a soft sniffle, met with the sight of you wiping your reddened face with your sleeve. "Why are you crying now?"

You stifle a sob and turn away, tucking your hair back to keep your face clean. "Because you never fucking answer me. You make me feel like I don't matter to you and all you care about is who you're texting on your phone."

"Jesus Christ," His eyes roll as he stands from his seat, tucking his phone into his back pocket and walking down the hall. "I don't like talking to you because you act like a baby. Grow up." The bedroom door shuts firm behind him and it leaves you sitting alone at the table, sniffling as you text Chan in attempts to get an answer on the plans later.

Jeongin - Physically pushing you away

It's no secret Jeongin doesn't like skinship unless it's under certain circumstances; Usually only when someone is under distress and needs to be comforted. But being his girlfriend, you thought you could slowly ease him into being more comfortable with you and physical intimacy.

Yet even a full year into the relationship, you can't get Jeongin to give you a simple hug before he leaves for a week to Japan - or a kiss on the cheek when you bid him farewell in early morning hours to go to work. You're lucky if he touches you at all actually.

And it gets worse when he begins to actually show irritation. Your soft attempts at affection were usually met with him laughing it off or just standing there as you hugged him or kissed his cheek. But recently, he'd begun to grow upset with your ongoing attempts.

He'd given you a gentle nudge the last few days to show he didn't want you near. First it was when you'd sat too close on the couch and he'd bumped his elbow into your side to get you to scoot away; Then when you'd side hugged him before he left for work and he'd nudged you off of him as he grabbed his jacket.

Today, he'd pushed you. You understood if he was frustrated and you understood he didn't like the physical contact, but all you'd done was brushed against him to reach into the cupboard. You hadn't mean to come close and hug him or kiss him, you were trying to just make dinner. But he'd been standing there, and the ongoing attempts at affection had boiled over into anger, and he'd shoved you.

His hand laid on your side and he pushed you back hard enough to make you stumble, shoulder bumping the fridge as you turn to look at him in surprise. "Jeongin--?"

"Would you back off?" He bites, eyes narrowed into a glare as he stares you down, standing in front of the stove. "I told you a million times, I don't like being touched so just drop it and quit trying to rub up against me every fucking chance you get. You're being clingy and I can't stand it."

"I wasn't trying to," You breathe, stumbling over your words as you register that he'd actually pushed you away from him.

"You try to every waking moment of every fucking day!" He snaps again. You aren't sure what had pushed him to grow so angry but he'd never yelled at you like this and you were 100% certain you never wanted him to again. So you step back and pivot, beelining for the bedroom to get some space between the two of you. Tears form and your thoughts jumble in your head, pondering on if it would be best to excuse yourself from the relationship now - or give it some time.

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

part of the ‘if fwb’ spinoff // simon riley x f!reader

johnny’s been… doubting, you see, about the validity of simon’s dating life.

like, for example, if he really was dating anyone.

simon looks content in a way that he never was before—intense eyes turned down towards his phone, unapproachable aura less angry but more settled, like he’s warding off people not because of his dislike but more so because he’s not available anymore.

not like he ever made himself available before, but it’s fundamentally different this time around; self-imposed walls brought down to make room for unbridled fulfillment.

he looks like he’s won the damn cup.

and that’s what makes johnny twitch—someone out there was just as, if not more, valued as the championship cup to simon, but he’s never introduced anyone to them.

not a picture nor an update nor even a PSA that they need to commission another WAG jacket for his partner because simon is tight-lipped about whoever it was he’s seeing. it’s not like he’s even dancing around the fact, it’s just that whoever it was he’s dating was never free.

not for a game nor a night-out nor a party. in simon’s house.

this level of secrecy was just unheard of. even the other men in the league who have a tight leash on their private lives still have living proof of their partners unlike simon who leaves it at, “she’s busy,” like that covers anything.

which is why johnny would like to go on record and say: he is totally valid for choosing to crash at simon’s place without letting him know.

he remembers getting wasted with the others, then refusing to be driven home, only to take a cab to simon’s place. he must have been coherent enough to remember the code for simon’s house, and was shockingly coordinated enough to even punch it in, but his memories begin to splinter there.

next thing johnny knows, he’s waking up, feeling like he’s been hit by a freight train. his tongue is heavy inside his mouth, the pungent taste of last night’s alcohol rising from the back of his throat like bile. he groans, blinking blurry eyes as he tries to remember where he’s at or what he’s done, only for nausea to wash over him so intensely he flops back down onto the bed—

he pats at the cushioning.

—onto the sofa then.

by the devil, what did he do last night? got him drinking like he’s got a new liver to replace this one he fucked with.

christ. he needs water, or a whole bottle of mouthwash, honestly.

“mactavish?”

johnny jumps, twisting his head to the side at the call of his name. it’s simon, of course it is, but he looks dishevelled, unkempt in a way that looks criminal because—johnny roves his eyes over his friend—who the hell looks that good when they’ve just woken up?

simon looks like he can be the next cover of inside fitness; give tyler fucking seguin a run for his own money.

“wha’,” is all johnny gets to say because he starts sputtering, dizziness hitting him intensely again. he gags, and only has enough mind to cover his mouth with his fist.

“jesus– down the hall. go,” simon barks and johnny warbles his thanks before locking himself in the guest bathroom.

.

johnny comes back out to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and melted butter wafting through. simon did say he had a problem with his kitchen vents which made cooking a problem, but johnny sure isn’t complaining right now. although, he supposes that it is a whole different problem when it’s steak or some ribs that simon’s firing up.

oh well, johnny thinks, scratching his side as he ambles to the island, pointedly quiet because simon might kick him out before breakfast is even done.

simon eyes him with a muted approval and johnny grins because, hey, he just secured free breakfast.

he’s about to break the silence, to apologize once more he guesses, when the sounds of padded feet descending from the stairs leading up to simon’s lavishly decorated—sarcasm intended—second floor pierces through the silence.

johnny’s back straightens, his exhausted mind clicking awake.

he turns to his friend but simon’s already angled towards the kitchen door, facing away from johnny. he looks relaxed, previous half-bareness now covered up with a thin white shirt, and johnny doesn’t know why he missed it but simon looks like a perfect picture of a boyfriend fixing up breakfast post-coitus.

“jesus–” johnny begins to say, the pieces linking because yeah, simon’s never denied that he’s been doing some dating around and it’s just johnny’s drunken whim to assume that the most talented ice hockey player of this decade was lying about his relationship status and—good lord, that’s a fucking person diving in simon’s arms, alright.

johnny watches, with his mouth agape, as simon and the mystery woman talk to each other in hushed whispers, his friend having to bend forward to make up for the height difference.

johnny watches, like the third-wheel he is, as simon laughs, actual quiet chuckles and not that children-crying-in-terror-inducing cackle, before nuzzling his nose over your own, and breathing you in.

johnny watches the quiet kiss, just lips pecking each other, and it’s all so soft and tender and johnny feels really, really bad that he didn’t get to give simon and his girl the privacy you two surely deserve and—

your eyes open, flitting to him because johnny is sure that he’s standing out amidst what must be a normally empty kitchen. he doesn’t even get to count three seconds before you’re screaming, lurching out of simon’s hold and hiding behind his bulk in your terror.

simon, screw him, seems to not have cared that johnny was privy to such an intimate moment and just turns enough to catch your attention again before murmuring reassurances. he says things like, “mactavish? the punk ass who got his hair shaved for the new season only to realize no one’s actually gon’ see it because of the helmet? remember?”

“what,” johnny chokes out, embarrassed that that’s what simon told you about and not, like, his player number or something.

“oh,” you gasp out anyway, clearly having heard of the shaved-sides and using it as a marker for johnny. “oh!”

you dance away from behind simon to make your way to johnny, your previous embarrassment gone from your gait. he’s so sure, though, that he’s seen you from somewhere, but the thought’s dashed out of his mind when you chirp, “you’re my best friend’s favourite player!”

“yeah?” johnny replies, gaining his confidence back.

“yeah! she won’t stop showing me the highlights of your guys’ game against that big german fella an’ his team!”

johnny laughs, his own giddiness ramping up. he remembers that game, alright. he remembers the miracle play during the final period when price was able to score an empty-netter. he remembers how, in his adrenaline-induced ecstasy, johnny turned to the player to his side, konig, and laughed in his face.

johnny made headlines then, and he’s saved every single one. his fiancee even printed a copy of her favourite shot and stuck it in her wallet.

(“for good luck,” she said with a wink, like johnny doesn’t have his prick twitching in her fist.)

“well, y’got anything for me to sign for her?”

“uhh…”

“guess you can use that one group photo our marketing team gave to us,” simon finally pipes up, and johnny turns, surprise lining his face at seeing the rich spread of breakfast.

he didn’t even notice simon setting up the table, too engrossed in the high that came from reliving the memory of laughing at konig’s face which resulted to him being pushed into the glass protector by a protective horangi.

not even that had dampened johnny’s elation then and now.

“oh yeah. thanks!” you say to simon before you run out.

you’re barely out of their eyesights when johnny turns to simon with a grin.

“what.”

“oh, you fucken’ sap!” johnny sings because he’s still too hungover to come up to simon and playfully punch him. “and why were ye hidin’ lassie?”

simon grumbles something as he turns, pretending to busy himself with the now-empty coffee pot.

“wha’s’at?”

“i said,” simon begins, heaving out a sigh. “that we jus’ became official last week.”

“oh, shit,” johnny whispers sagely. he blinks. “so, uh, who’s the one you’ve been callin’ yer girl?”

“oh fuck off johnny,” simon hisses, sputtering, before throwing the tea towel at him.

“what now!?” johnny yelps, ducking away from the soaring towel. “what’d i do now–” he gasps, realization dawning on him. “you didn’t.”

simon looked like he was going to say something but by then you were running back with the photo and a marker pen, telling him your friend’s name—alessandra, “or sandy!”—for johnny to sign.

while johnny’s busy practicing his signature on a scrap of newspaper that simon gave to him, he pretends not to hear the giggly whispers between his friend and his friend’s new but longtime-pining-for girlfriend.

“and me? why aren’t you asking f’r my signature?”

“oh ‘cuz y’r mine.”

johnny dutifully ignores the lips smacking sounds as he finally signs the picture, making sure to add devil horns on simon’s head.

serves him right.

i just. love fluff and hockey au sm 😞

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 7: Moonlight

wc: 792 | Rated: M | cw: Smoking

Tags: Steve Harrington Angst, Post-Coital, Aftercare (Kinda, it's more about Steve wanting aftercare), The Beemer, Hooking Up, Undefined Relationship, Angst With a Happy Ending

'Like Clockwork'

Steve shimmies to a seated position but doesn’t bother hitching his jeans up. The Beemer’s windows are all clammy and misted now, despite the clear and warm summer’s night.

He swipes a sweaty palm over the window to reveal a brilliant moonlit night cast out over the abandoned cornfield he parked in. Steve looks up at the moon, resting his head against the cool glass, turning just enough so that his flushed cheek can get some relief.

He still feels hot all over, his body still tingling with after sensations. It’s a feeling Steve has relished each and every Thursday night this summer. Sitting here, all sated and a little sleepy, his own spend drying tacky on his tummy as his partner wriggles about beside him.

No – not his ‘partner’.

Not his boyfriend, either.

Friend? Fuck buddy?

Whatever Eddie is, he is indeed, squirming about like he always does afterwards. More accurately, he is ass up as he searches in the front cab for wherever his jacket and smokes got to.

Like clockwork, he’ll offer Steve one when he finds them. And, as always, Steve will decline with a burning sensation in his throat that runs the length of the fading scar on his neck.

They’ll get dressed with great efficiency, handing each other misplaced clothes, slipping on shoes and tossing anything else aside before they get back into the front of the car. Steve will drive back into Hawkins township as Eddie fiddles with the radio dial and offers commentary about every station.

Then, he will drop Eddie home and watch him skip inside, where the guy surely offers up some excuse to his uncle as to his whereabouts.

Steve will then head home and slip in through the back door to avoid his parents. He’ll fall asleep half-undressed and wake to the sounds of his alarm clock radio with thoughts of next Thursday night. Like clockwork – like he is Marty McFly, or something.

And that’s the problem, Steve thinks as he looks up at the moon.

“A-ha!” Eddie exclaims, plopping back into position next to him and shaking the whole back seat.

He sits close enough that their bare, sweat-sheened arms touch flush together. It makes Steve tingle in a way that is the complete opposite of what happened mere minutes ago. He tears his eyes away from the bright moonlight to find Eddie reaching out, like clockwork.

Steve frowns.

“No,” he says, unable to help the way it comes out, all strained and small.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The thing is, Steve liked it in the beginning. Maybe even loved it. And it’s not like he hadn’t done this kind of thing. He had parked out in this very field in his precious cars plenty of times. Sometimes because his parents were home. Others because every makeout spot in town was occupied.

At one point, it was part of King Steve’s famed repertoire.

And he still likes most of it. The sex. The feeling of Eddie all over him – in him. Filling him up and touching him and giving him everything until it all spills over.

Eddie tosses over his maroon polo (the move that always comes after the offer of a smoke) and Steve balls it up in his fist.

“I want to… Cuddle and... be warm.”

He hates that his voice breaks at the end of it and he hugs in on himself, twisting his shirt up with him.

And Eddie moves closer still and reaches to manoeuvre Steve’s jeans all the way up.

“We’ll go back to my house, Big Boy,” he says as a small, cheeky smile tugs at the corners of his lips when he gets to tucking Steve back into his underwear, “I’m gonna wrap you up all tight and cozy in my bed, even if I have to sneak you in through the window.”

Steve has no idea where Eddie’s pack of cigarettes got to after that. He simply tossed them aside, insisting that he drive them both back to the trailer.

They sneak inside, past Wayne who is asleep in his armchair as an episode of Dragnet plays on the television. Eddie supplies Steve with some makeshift pyjamas – loose sweatpants (black, of course) and a band T-shirt.

Steve doesn’t know the band, but he likes it anyway. Just like the way he feels as Eddie curls in close behind him, holding him tight as he positions the two of them on his cramped single bed.

He thinks he might love Eddie as the guy leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.

No, he does love Eddie, Steve knows as he shuts his eyes, their two intertwined bodies illuminated by the moonlight peaking in through the blinds.

[tarotwithdanise]

HOW YOU GONNA WIN THEIR HEART?

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

send your donations here

PILE ONE

you're gonna win this person's heart by bringing your authentic self. you need to stay true about yourself, you don't need to change and let yourself show what you can serve on this person's table. honor yourself, feel yourself. show to this person that you intend to win their heart by letting your body sync with your thoughts and your deeds. let this selfless nature attract this person perhaps there are things that we tend to don't like about our personalities but then we can improve our characteristics right? and it sounds miserable when you are trying to be someone else you're actually not. this is someone that may not prefer playing mind games so they prefer someone who has a genuine intention and interest to them.

extra messages: jacket, yellow car, headphones, blue, 333, spiderman, asian, hair clamp, angel with a shotgun by the cab, 14, 02 , L and S,

PILE TWO

this person likes someone who has great humor. they want someone who can make them laugh in a way that they may be able to forget on how to breathe or the thing that their stomach hurts because of too much laughing. It's not that they don't like serious people but they have this motto "to live a life, you need to have fun and laugh". they prefer a long-term relationship with someone who doesn't bore them and a lot of fun and crazy things to do. they may want people to be perceive with their partner as nuts couple.

extra messages: a laugh that is like an old engine, 3 piercings, pearls, crazy, stupid, love (movie), this heart emoji "❣️" , 28, black crossbody bag, rainy days, bus station, pisces, taurus, aries, M, O, Y, T, and J.

PILE THREE,

make them feel heard and important. this person is not honestly looking for any good looking faces but they just genuinely wanted to feel like they belong. shows empathy and give validation about what they feel, they just want someone who is there for their long rants and actively listen in life that it can give upon them. it maybe because this person grew up in a household where their opinions and feelings are not valid. they are also someone who wanted to be seen.

extra messages: a box, hotdog, black dress, a park, a dump/secret account, 91919, G, I, U, C and D.

PILE FOUR

what a very mysterious energy from this person, they don't usually don't care about if someone else is trying to ruin them in terms of relationships. they are not looking for that a long time ago perhaps they may have this cold heart. otherwise, this person may come off as famous or kinda popular as i guess and they may prefer someone who doesn't care at them at all. also i get here that they may want someone who respect them as individual and as a partner, they maybe a serious person.

extra messages: infinity necklace, spiders, birds, a star, an anchor, a beach, a cute laugh, asia, france, 777, M, I, K, R, E and W.

[redeyerhaenyra]

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: After having sex with Jake, you both fall asleep in your flat. Only, it's not Jake that wakes up, it's Steven.

Warnings: Hidden relationship, reader is mentioned having sex with Jake, jealousy on Steven's part, vaginal fingering, a sprinkling of dry humping, cunnilingus, Steven cums in his pants, fem reader, one use of (Y/N)

Notes: Debuting Steven onto my blog :) this fix was heavily inspired by @blue-beeeeeeery 's post

Wc: 1.9k

You’d been dating Jake for a while, having met him as your cab driver after a night out with your friends. In the time you’d been together, he’d opened up to you about his DID, and his alters; Marc and Steven. You hadn’t met them yet, and it seemed to be a little bit of a touchy subject for him, so you didn’t push it. Besides, you adored Jake, even if there were two other men living in his head, you were sure you could come to love them, too. 

Despite not pushing it, you had asked why it was Jake wouldn’t introduce you to his alters, and he had told you that they were both… skittish, in a way. That you would meet them, that he wanted you to, but he worried to spring it on too soon. And who could blame him? Hearing that your alter had a partner you didn’t know about would understandably be perplexing at the very least. Though, it made you smile- Jake may have acted like a big, scary, cigarette smoking tough guy, but he really cared, especially about Steven. You’d gathered he was the “innocent little brother” of the group, the one to be looked after. He seemed so sweet, even when Jake would complain about him. And you knew one day you’d see him for yourself. Jake was naturally protective, over you and over his alters. It warmed your heart to know he was waiting for them to be ready to hear that they technically had a girlfriend they didn’t know about.

Besides, the reason he hadn’t told them when you had first met, is because they didn’t know he existed apparently. You had called him shy, and he had grumbled that he wasn’t, he was just fulfilling his role in the system. The protector, doing the dirty work for Khonshu when Marc couldn’t, and then slipping back into the shadows when it was done. It sounded lonely, you told him. It was, he replied, until he met you. Jake could be so romantic when he wanted to.

And so here you were, laying cuddled up to who you thought was Jake, the darkness outside told you it was still the early hours of the morning. You were only half awake anyway- fucking Jake always took something out of you. It was exhausting, in the best way.

You decided to stay like this, for a while. Jake normally woke up hours before you, kissing you goodbye and sending you a text later that hoped you “Had a good sleep, hermosa,” and so you relished the little extra time you had with him. It felt a little demeaning, for him at least, having to sneak in and out like he was a teenager, but you pushed through it, for Jake and his alters. Your eyes blinked back closed, willing yourself to not sleep too deeply, so that you might give him a proper goodbye when he left your flat.

The air was quiet, still. Peaceful. The only sounds were yours and his breathing. The warmth of him behind you, his arm curled just under your breasts lulled you to sleep once again. And meanwhile, as you fell back into sleep, someone else was rising from it. Though, it wasn’t Jake.  

Steven blearily opened his eyes, and groaned. Despite having just woken up, his body felt tired… but in a good way. And he was spooning something soft..  and warm. His vision cleared- and he nearly jumped back in shock. There was a woman…. in his bed, but it wasn’t his bed, and this wasn’t his flat. He whimpered in shock as she moved against him, moaning as you stretched your arms above your head.

“You up already, papí?”

Papí… definitely Jake. Steven gulped. He knew his other alters were more experienced with women than he was, but this was just silly. His eyes raked over you, your form cuddled beneath the blankets, your hair sprawled about the pillow like a halo. Gosh.. you were pretty. He found himself thinking that Jake had good taste. He shook his head free of the thought- he needed to leave as fast as he could. As much as Jake cared about his alters, so did Steven. And thought he’d been wishing for a girlfriend for forever, but he wouldn’t go as far as to turn off one of Jake’s “scores” with his awkwardness. Steven had no idea how adorable he was. 

When he didn’t answer, you turned over, squinting at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes; “Jake?”

Steven froze. God, you were gorgeous. Ohhhh it wasn’t fair. Why did Jake have to be the best with women…. 

“Jake? Are you alright?” Your hands came to cup his face, as you examined him for any sign of sickness, or anything else that might make him freeze so suddenly. 

“ ‘M fine-!” Steven’s voice broke a little as he choked out a reply. Oh, good one Steven. You were wise to his sudden change in accent, sounding more like he was from London now. Your hands quickly retracted, and you gasped.

“…Not Jake?” “No-“ Steven gulped, you shifted away from him, Steven was sure it was to make him more comfortable, but he found himself internally begging you to shift closer.  “Steven..?” You breathed out; “…Y-yeah, uh.. who’re you? W-where am I?” 

You sighed, knowing that this conversation was going to happen one way or another. You put your hands up in a show of mercy; “My name is (Y/N)… this is my flat.. I’m uh… I’m Jake’s girlfriend.”

Steven’s eyes widened. “Oh.” “Yeah..” “….Well why didn’t I know he had a bloody girlfriend.”You giggled. At least he wasn't freaking out too much. "He didn't want to shock you, I.. I've known him since before he started to show himself to you and Marc." Steven nodded along. "Well I have to say, waking up in a strange woman's bed is pretty shocking..." You giggled again. "-Yes, sorry, he usually wakes up hours before me to go back to your place." "Oh right.." Steven sniffed.

"Um.. d-did you, uh... I mean, have you.." He motioned to your neck- Jake liked to leave hickeys. You caressed the marks, only just now realising they were there.

"Oh- um, do you mean..?" "Uh.. yeah- sorry it's just.. we share a body, y'know.." "No no I get it-! Um, yes, yes we did." He was, of course, not so subtly asking if you and Jake had had sex last night.

"Oh, right- I mean, it's fine! Obviously, you're like, together, and that's like, normal- sorry I'm making this so weird." The smile you gave him was sympathetic. "No, it's alright," you had told him, but your words had fallen into a buzz around him. Steven was deep in his thoughts- sure, it was Jake you'd had sex with, but they shared a body. What had he done with you? You'd had sex, but how? What did you like? As his mind spiralled, he felt his cock twitch a little beneath his boxers. Only a few hours ago, probably, his body had been inside you. His hands had probably made you cum a dozen times- Steven knew that's at least what he'd want to do with you...

"-Steven?" His thoughts cleared, "God, sorry love, head's all over the place today.." You hummed.

"You're really pretty." Steven's comment made the both of you blush, and you could've said the same of him. You hadn't noticed until now that you had subconsciously been shuffling closer to one another in the bed. Your noses were close to touching now, and you decided to take the plunge.

Steven whimpered as your lips met his, and while he was eager, it was strange that he be so inexperienced, considering, again, that he shared a body with Jake. His hands were greedy, but anxious. The trembling in his fingers gave presence to his mounting desire to touch you, and gently you guided his hands to your hips. That was all the encouragement he needed, his grip became suddenly a lot more confident, clutching your hips tightly before travelling down to squeeze your bum. He moaned with you, grinding your hips into the hot pressure of his cock against your tummy, his touch against you hungry, like an excitable dog.

You whined at the sudden loss of his mouth, biting your lip as he kissed his way down your neck.

"Bloody Jake, 's not fair, he always gets the girls, 's not fair, I'll show him-" Your thoughts were getting a little hazy, and the throbbing in your core became more and more apparent.

"Steven.." You breathed, if nothing else, he was eager to prove himself, fingers deftly ripping your panties down off of you.

"I can do it just as well as he can, you watch-" Steven didn't waste any time licking his way up to your clit, and sucking on it like a man starved. You cried out, hands falling to grip his soft curls. He was moaning and whimpering into you, just as you were above him. The seam of his boxers caught so deliciously on the head of his cock, and he all but cried into your cunt and he rocked his hips against the mattress.

Your hand came up to cover your moans, but Steven was having none of it, he halted his assault on your pussy, switching his tongue out for his fingers, deftly sliding inside of you, as you keened.

"No, no, none of that love, wanna hear ya, yeah?" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your toes curled as his fingers finally, finally found the spot. You writhed in pleasure, tugging harder on his hair. His mouth came back to suckle your clit, pistoning his fingers inside you with all the expertise that you would not have expected from him.

This hot mess contiuned for a while, until you were throwing your head back, pleasure soaring through your every nerve as you came all over Steven’s face, and he gladly drank your essence straight from the source. He didn't stop, though, he just kept going, the wet pad of his tongue doing wonders at overstimulating you- and from his canting hips and repeated whimpers, you could tell he was close too. It became too much however, and roughly you tugged his head up off of you, seemingly giving him the boost of masochistic pleasure he needed to tip himself over the edge, spilling himself into his boxers, moaning and drooling where he lay his head on your thigh.

You stayed like that for a moment, marvelling at Steven's beauty. He had his juices all over his face, messy boy. And had some of it gotten in his hair? He was a needy baby, too. He soon decided that he just wasn't close enough to you, and crawled up your body to snuggle himself between your breasts, sighing. His voice was muffled a little; "Was it good?" And you almost audibly "awed" at how cute he was being. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed his head;

"It was amazing Steven." He hummed, still a little jealous it seemed, "Bet Jake doesn't do that." You swatted his head lightly. "Don't be mean." "Just teasing love.."

It was still dark outside. Pussy-eating was a tiring activity, it seemed, as you felt Steven cuddle his way back to sleep in your arms. You kissed his head again, unconsciousness soon taking you as well. Steven was more resilient to new information than Jake thought, it seemed.

[sempersirens]

raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

[kooktrash]

where loyalty lies ➢ kim taehyung TEASER

summary: when it comes to the bond that ties people together, it can come in many different forms. maybe you were out of luck choosing who you wanted to be with and who you wanted to love but now you’re stuck choosing one of two brothers. between morals, loyalty, and lies, meeting kim taehyung had to be the biggest test you’ve ever taken.

➢ genre/au: boyfriend’s brother!taehyung x reader [she/her. afab] smut. angst.

➢ 1.1k words

warnings: TBD

“You’re too good for him,” Taehyung’s voice caught you by surprise in the pitch black. It was well past midnight at this point and with your tired haze, you didn’t care to turn the light on when you left Taewon’s bedroom looking for a glass of water.

You could barely make out the sound of his approaching steps and it wasn’t until he flickered on the stove light, that you could see more of him clearly. The small light was easier to adjust your eyes to but for some reason, the warmth of the light made the kitchen feel much smaller now that he was in front of you. You blinked speechlessly, watching as he moved around you to reach for the tea kettle that sat on the counter.

Do you respond?

“I think it’s the other way around,” you said awkwardly, stuck between knowing if this was real or not. How did he expect you to respond? He’s your boyfriend’s brother and still a stranger to you.

“Really?” Taehyung asked, filling the kettle with water as if this was just a regular thing, “How so?”

Your eyes met his and for a moment you couldn’t think straight. He was confusing you in ways you can’t understand at this ungodly hour. You were exhausted and now you were being told and asked things by Taehyung that have you in a whirlwind.

“Y/n!”

Taehyung watched as you wordlessly left him, carrying the glass of water right to Taewon’s room where he couldn’t make out a thing of what was being said. He was well aware of the irony of the situation considering this was his younger brother he was talking about. He should appreciate the fact that his reckless brother was so well taken care of by his partner but he couldn’t. He couldn’t help but let his loyalty fall to you instead.

And he just knew you could do better.

“Y/n,” the call of your name was much more gentle falling from Taehyung’s lips than your boyfriend’s and yet you still jumped, startled by the soft knock on the door.

The door was slightly parted and light seeped out into the hall where he stood giving him a chance to look in. Taewon was currently face down in an empty trash bin, completely out of it as you sat at his side, rubbing his back. You looked at him with a hardened expression, “What?”

You should’ve remained seated and ignored him but you found yourself getting up, leaving Taewon behind as you stepped into the hall, closing the door. Taehyung licked his lips nervously, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything earlier. Your relationship with him has nothing to do with me, but…”

“But?” You pushed him to respond, crossing your arms over your chest in a stance. Taehyung stayed silent, looking at you unsure what to say that would make things better but he couldn’t think. All he could think about is stalling your departure back to Taewon’s bedroom, “Are you spending the night?”

“No,” you said with a sigh, checking the time on your phone.

“At this hour? No, stay, or…” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’ll take you home.”

“It’s alright, I’ll just call a cab,” you told him, turning back to Taewon’s room. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he watched you leave, he couldn’t push too hard, it wasn’t right. He was telling himself he just offered for your sake but in reality he just wants a moment with you.

He’s well aware how wrong it is to harbor any sort of feeling toward you considering you were dating his brother but he can’t help it. It’s like, knowing he can’t have you just makes him want you more. In his defense, he really doesn’t think Taewon deserves someone like you. You’re better than any girl he’s ever been with and he doesn’t prioritize you how Taehyung knows he would. How is it fair that his reckless, immature brother gets someone like you while Taehyung has no one?

Taewon’s bedroom reeked of a mixture of alcohol and spit up that had you wanting to gag when you stepped in. You’re not sure what happened tonight that made him drink past his limit or why he hadn’t bothered telling you at all. You don’t care if he goes out with his friends, he can do whatever he wants but the least he could do is let you know. Instead you’re at home trying to sleep when he calls you up at midnight, drunk out of his mind, and begging you to pick him up. Honestly, it was kind of bullshit because you knew he wouldn’t leave his place in the middle of the night to go take care of you. He wouldn’t have bothered to answer your calls either.

You blamed it on the fact that he was clearly regretting whatever decisions he made, you were annoyed he had no considerations for you. All week you’ve been talking about the project you have to prepare for and yet he still decided to call you the night of and beg you to go get him. Now it’s nearly 2:00am, and not a single Uber was around your area on a Sunday night.

With a defeated sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair trying to push the thought of sleep out of mind while you thought of what to do. You could easily just sleep over but you didn’t have any of your things for tomorrow and you would have to stop home either way. That meant you would still have to wake up earlier, go to your apartment, get ready, and get to work.

Taewon didn’t seem to think about you at all and that you could so easily tell by the way he snored loudly, completely knocked out and sleeping off the alcohol. You didn’t want to sleep next to him right now even if that was your only choice, so you hesitantly got up from his bed, gathered what little you brought with you and left his room.

The apartment had gone back to black once Taehyung was out of the kitchen and even the crack under his door failed to give sign of any light and it had you stopping, debating if you should take him up on his offer. It was better than having to find a cab or worse, walk, but it was still awkward for you.

He wasn’t asleep, he had given up on that a while ago and he had been able to make out the sound of your light footsteps quite easily so when you knocked against his door, he was right there waiting. It was hard to see you in the darkness but your soft scent of lavender told him just how close you stood before him and he’s ashamed at the way his heart quickened.

“Is your offer to take me home still on the table?” You sounded nervous [uncomfortable maybe?] and yet he was sighing in relief. You couldn’t see the soft smile he gave you as he said, “Let me get shoes on.”

::.

soooooo yall won the poll and got the teaser 🙄now I fr gotta finish this soon lol. I swear it’s coming I haven’t written a Taehyung in so long but I’ve been in a Tae mood like crazyyyyy

this will be an infidelity fic !!!! and no oc slander bc I’ll fight u

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @saweetspoiled @babycandy111 @jeonninja @skzthinker @lilliankoo @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @whoa-jo @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @maryy1300 @annabtsangels @hyunjinswifeee @bangtans-momma @butterymin @kaiparkerwifes @junggukjeonfreakinwife @tridha345 @ily4jknity @ivygguk @ryuzakiswife-blog @futuristicenemychaos @honeybunnykoo @eunhee-jk @aindrila @cherrymoonlightt @parkinglot-nights @llallaaa @crooked-haven @butterflykpop @sakuragongju @ackward-maknae @investedreader @junggukjeonfreakinwife

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 5 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, ownership kink, pet names.

Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ Real sorry about Rafe. I’m sure the two of you had plans for the evening. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, pretty girl, but he’s not comin’ home anytime soon. ✨

Sexual content in pink if you want to avoid that 🩷

Reader’s POV:

You watch as Rafe gets taken away in cuffs, your body and mind completely numb. Your eyes stay on his until the very last moment; heart shattering when he leaves your sight. This isn’t the OBX… this is a new city, new charges, and higher stakes considering all that had happened tonight.

He said he didn’t murder anyone when you talked to him in prison, but he couldn’t say that anymore. How could he possibly get out of this? I can't breathe... I need to get out of here.

You look around the speakeasy, stares still drawn to you, waiting for what you’ll do next. You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes, letting your tears roll down your cheeks. I need to calm down... Deep breaths, deep breaths. I need to think this through. You open your eyes, retreating to the booth, sinking in again.

Your hand trembles as you grab the bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, pouring the rest into your glass. Rafe was surprised… He had no clue that the gun and drugs were in the Mercedes. Tony planted those. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t do more, possibly attaching some sort tracker to the car as well. I’ll leave the Mercedes at the valet until I hear back from Rafe. There’s no way I’m bringing that to our place. Better safe than sorry.

You toss back the rest of the wine, attempting to ease your nerves just enough to leave the bar alone. Snagging your purse, you flee the table; head on a swivel yet again, just like you were the night you came home from jail. Your heart races with your mind, Tony’s looming presence palpable. You step toward the front, walking to the bartender.

“What can I get you, dear?”

“I need to pay the bill… Could you call me a cab for me, please? M’going to The Château Eza on Presidential?” You push the words past your trembling lips.

“The bill was taken care of. The gentleman you came in with tossed a stack of cash. Did you want change, Miss?” He asks as you look down at the wad of green in his hand, well over the tab. “No… No. Umm… Give it to the waitress. Could you call the cab, please?” You plead, hearing yourself getting impatient.

“Are you alright, Miss?” He asks as he leans in a little closer.

“Call. The. Cab,” your voice come out hoarse and shrill; the bartender backing off in a instant.

BUZZ.

Your heart sinks as your phone vibrates in your purse—a call. Your cellphone continues to buzz and buzz. There’s only one person it could be. The pulses stop; your anxiety piqued as you wait for the notification to roll through.

Your hands continue to tremble uncontrollably as your aching heart pounds audibly in your chest. You pull your phone out of your purse, holding your breath as you see the name on your missed call log. Tony. Time lags and lags as you wait for the message and the cab. The safest place you could be in the moment is the bar. I don’t need to be waiting on the curb. It would be so easy for Tony to drive by and pull me inside. Hell, he’s probably waiting out front right now.

BEEP.

Just do it… Listen to it. It’s only his voice. He can’t hurt you over the phone. Do it. You mash your finger against the screen before you can think about it any further, pulling the phone to your ear you wait for the inescapable.

📞 “Princess… What are you doing? Why aren’t you answering the phone? I mean you’re not with your little boyfriend. Is there someone else keeping you away from me?”

“Real sorry about Rafe. I’m sure the two of you had big plans for the evening. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, pretty girl, but he’s not comin’ home anytime soon.”

“You're so lucky to have me, doll. Nobody else would put up with you and your bullshit. You two are messy, stupid, and reckless. How could you be so fucking dumb? Huh? You don’t think I bugged your phone, bitch? You don’t think I hid cameras in our bedroom to keep YOU safe? Don’t you think I’ve got cameras in MY business to protect MY investments?”

“I had the pleasure of listening to the two of you all week long, hearing you talk about what a piece of shit I am. How you wish you were with him. How beautiful your miserable fuckin’ existance would be if you never met me. Me? Are you fucking delusional? You ungrateful cunt. After everything I’ve done for you. This is how you repay me?”

“And, you have the nerve to call me a cheater? A liar? I had to listen to you play with your slut pussy for a man you barely know. One night with another woman. One night after working my ass off for us, making us more money than you could ever dream of, more money than your worthless ass could bring in in two lifetimes. And you couldn’t just let it go? You had to destroy my car? Fuck my business rival? Leave me? You’re never fucking leaving me. Ever.”

“It took everything in my power to not have Rex come over and shoot you both. Lucky for you I got a shred of love for you left.”

“You're gonna regret this decision until your final fucking breath; I will find you tonight. I will bring you home. I will lock you away. And I will kill that pathetic excuse for a man— I’ll do it nice and slow. And you will watch, sweetheart. That’s a promise. 📞

CLICK.

“Miss,” the bartender taps your shoulder, startling you, making you fall back into the bar; everything around you falls out of earshot as the world crashes down around you. You clutch the brass rail for support, knuckles whitening as you stare out onto the bar. “Miss?” He tries again in a gentler tone.

You turn toward him, chills running down your spine as you catch a glimpse of Tony.

No…

You slam your eyes shut, drawing a few deep breaths as you try to compose yourself. “Yes,” you whisper, lifting your puffy eyes to the bartender. My mind is playing tricks on me.

“Your cab is here, Miss.”

“Thank you.” You look over your shoulder, mind vacant, as you watch Tony disappear into the back of the restaurant, heading toward where you and Rafe had sat. No mind tricks just terror. You sprint in the other direction, steering toward the door, weaving around couples until you push out into the open air. You look around frantically for the cab, ripping off your YSL pumps, sprinting out into the road.

You grab the handle, jarring it open, practically falling into the rented car as Tony busts through the double doors behind you. He smiles wickedly; his predatory stare reaching yours. “Go. Please,” you plead. The cab driver presses the gas, swerving onto the road as Tony’s big fists bang against the glass. You turn, watching him watch you out of the rearview mirror as the two of you speed away into the night.

“H-Holy shit… Oh my god,” you huff, collapsing in your seat, gasping for air. You bury your head in your hands, fighting back the urge to shut down completely, your body slipping into a state of hysteria. Rafe was right. Men like him don’t take no for an answer. They take what they want. I’m sure security is high at our place. All I have to do is get through the door. You look ahead; eyes matching the cab driver’s who quickly looks away.

“Umm… Are - Are you alright, Miss,” he asks.

“I just need to get home.”

“Of course. Of course. We’re almost there... Uhh, was that your husband?” He asks as his voice cracks with fright, still shaken up too.

“An ex.”

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” you interject. “I’m with someone else.”

Rafe… You go to your safe haven in your mind, recollecting your blissful moments with him. His eyes, his lips, his words; the night you met.

BUZZ.

You pull your phone from your purse; eyes tight, physically afraid to look at the name on your screen. Please don’t be Tony. Please.

Nothing… Just a blackness.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Oh no…. No. No. No. Shit. The burner phone.

You look back at your old device in your hand in a panic—a tracking beacon straight to you. The cab rolls to a stop. You quickly thank him as you set your old phone on the car floor, kicking it under the driver’s seat, accepting the call from an unknown number on the burner.

“Hello?” You ask as you bound out of the car, running toward the front doors of The Château Eza.

“He’ll be out tomorrow,” a man on the other line confirms as the doormen draws open the entry.

“Who’s this?” You ask.

CLICK.

The dial tone blares in your ear as you jam your finger against the elevator button, watching the lit numbers overhead fall. Who was that? He’ll be out tomorrow? Rafe will be out tomorrow? Your hand shakes like a leaf as you clasp it over your lips to dampen your cries of relief. Warm tears roll over your hands as he does the unthinkable yet again.

The door glides open, leaving you one step closer to safety. Your stomach falls as the elevator pulls you up, lifting you to the top floor. You’re a mess of emotions, happy to be alive without falling into Tony’s grasp, completely devastated over Rafe; elated that in a few short hours you'll be together again. Hopefully, that is… Until you see the whites of Rafe’s eyes, nothing is promised. Tony has so many opportunities to take his revenge between now and then.

DING.

You take out your phone, thumbing to the notes app, looking for your unit number. 10B… Pressing and turning the key, you step into your new space. Bending around, you twist the lock shut, affixing the two additional bolts.

Fuck.

You press your hands against the closed door, forehead rested against it, breathing a sigh of solace. I made it. You take a few moments to collect yourself, drinking in the silence around you. You smile gently, brushing a few stray tears off your cheeks as you run your hand over the triple-lock security, double-checking each. My man… This has Rafe Cameron written all over it.

Damn, I wish he was here with me.

You let out a deep, shaky sigh as you imagine walking in, seeing this with him for the first time. His strong arm would be wrapped around your waist, stealing happy glances as your eyes twinkle with excitement, taking it all in. You look toward the kitchen, heart warming, as you see a large vase of flowers and a few wrapped gifts.

You lean in, smelling the sweet blossoms. My favorite. You open the first gift, blushing as you see a mess of lace, straps, and clips: a new lingerie set from La Perla with matching stockings. You open the second, a brand new pair of red bottom heels, inky black, completing the outfit. You hold the last box in the palm of your hand, far smaller than the rest: Robin’s egg blue with a crisp white bow. You undo the ribbon and pop open the lid to find a dainty “R” necklace. You take it out of the box, wrapping it around your throat before clipping it closed, looking at his initial resting on your chest, right above your heart. “Tomorrow… He comes home tomorrow. He’s gonna be fine.”

You walk around your new space, taking it all in. It's lavish, furnished, untouched, and unlived in. A large window stretches across the living room, giving you the perfect view of Charleston. This place must have cost Rafe a fortune. He probably didn't even get a chance to relax; his free time between jail and the club spent doing these sweet things for me: the car, the flowers, the gifts. It’s too much.

You walk down the hallway, looking for your room. A guestroom, a bathroom, an office; here we are—a dark, wooden, four-poster canopy bed with crisp white sheets greets you. Beautiful pieces of art and large baroque mirrors adorne both sides of the bed. You stroll to the closet, turning the knob, walking inside. The floor is littered with bags when you enter it, different designer brands that you mentioned loving in your phone calls with Rafe. You run your hand along a few items he had hung up for you: a few date night dresses, some lounge sets, and silk pajamas.

You smile softly, seeing something a little more comforting: a Dooney & Bourke luggage set with a leather-burned tag. Rafe Cameron. You lay it down on the floor, unzipping it, before drawing back the top. Perfect. You pull out an oversized crewneck sweatshirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, drawing them up to your nose, breathing deeply as you catch a hint of his cologne.

You grab the top, closing it again, stopping in your tracks as you see a small leather-bound book with a pen looped on the side—his journal. Your curiosity gets the better of you; snagging it out of the bag you add it to your little pile of his things. You hug them to your chest as you walk into the bedroom, changing, feeling more at peace.

Maybe he’ll call me tonight… I want to hear his voice. I want to thank him again. I want to tell him how much this all means to me. Grabbing the journal, you amble to the balcony door, pulling on the handle. The warm night breeze hits your face; the busy town still alive below. You pull up a chair, taking a seat, cracking open the book with a smile.

✒️ I can’t believe I’m writing this, but tonight I saw someone who has already turned my world upside down. I don’t want to get ahead of myself; I know I am, but she might be it. The situation is awful. I’m sitting in a cell. But honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. It happened unexpectedly. I was gettin shoved down the hallway by the cops, just goin through my own shit at the time, and there she was, standing there like an angel. We crossed paths, and everything changed for me. She’s beautiful, of course, but it’s more than that. She lit up the darkness with a smile.

Goddamn, that smile… I could look at it forever. I’m still tryin to make sense of it all, but I can’t stop thinkin about her, and I don’t want to. For now, I’ll ask around… these cops are as crooked as me, and at the end of the day, everyone has a price. I have a few questions I have to ask. First and foremost, her name. Second, and honestly, the least of my worries, what the hell is she doin here? ✒️

✒️ Tony… She just had to be Tony’s girl. Not for the fact that I'm worried about dealin with him. I'm worried about her. He has no problem putting his hands on her — beating the living shit out of a woman. That woman. My girl. She said she'd like that. She said she'd let me take care of her.

She tried to play tough for me, but her beautiful eyes didn't lie… She’s terrified. I didn't want to talk about it more than I had to, waste any precious time talking about him when I could be gettin to know her better, but I could see it in her movements and the way her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes like it did on the first night.

I’m scared that if I can't take care of this for her, if I'm unsuccessful in takin’ him out, he’ll hurt her tenfold. Failure is not an option. Tony’s done. He was done the moment her black and blue eyes stared into mine. Even if it doesn't work out for her and I. He’s dead. Thinkin about him doin that shit to her again makes my blood run cold. Never again. I wanna protect her, but I'm trapped. The good news for me and the bad news for Tony I have nothin but time to think. I can't wait to kill that fucker.

I can't lose her. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met… pretty, intelligent, warm. We’ve spent so much time talking, laughing, and getting to know each other better. I love the way she thinks and the way she sees the world. The way she sees me. She's not scared of me; curious, sure. But she's not frightened of me.

I can picture the man she wants and I want to be that for her. I want to be all she needs. I want to be everything she desires. It’s like she’s unlocked a part of me that I didn’t even know was there. I can honestly say I have never felt love or been loved by another person… this is the closest thing. ✒️

✒️ I know it’s early, and maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but somethin about this feels right. I’ve finally found someone who understands me and sees me for who I am. I can’t stop thinkin about the girl. I finally found someone I can trust. Someone besides Wheezie, I guess… Someone who listens when I speak and wants to know more.

Trust doesn’t come quickly to me after everything I’ve been through. I’ve always kept people at arm’s length. But with her, it’s different. I need her close. She has this presence that makes me feel safe. ME. She’s making me feel safe. That’s so insane to say. I’ve shared things with her that I’ve never told anyone else cause I’ve never felt the need to. She understands me in a way no one else has.

She’s not playin games with me. She’s honest and open. I’ve let my guard down, and she accepts the man I am, flaws and all. She’s not tryin' to fix me. That’s rare. I don’t take it for granted. This woman knows who I am, and she keeps coming back. I can breathe easier when I’m around her. I'm in love. ✒️

✒️ Whatever it takes to keep her safe I’m gonna do it. No matter what. I’m trying to stay strong for her but I’ve been worryin about her all day and all night. I know she’s scared. When she comes for visits she’s constantly looking over her shoulder, even when she’s surrounded by cops. When we’re on the phone she’s constantly pausing for the slightest sound just to check. Every part of my being is tellin me to protect her. I’ve been runnin through scenarios — I have one chance and I gotta do it right.

I’ve started lookin into safety measures—ensuring the place I find her is secure: cameras, locks, security. It’s probably overkill. But I don’t want any regrets when it comes to her… Fuck. I can’t even think about that shit.

She's got nothin to her name. That man controls everything. She’ll need a car, money, and an escape plan incase I fail. Nothing can happen to her. This is more than just protecting her physically. I want her to feel safe and know she can trust me, no matter what. She’s everything to me, and I will eliminate anything that tries to take her from me. Once Tony’s gone, it'll be smooth sailing.

I won’t let fear control us. Not now, not ever. That meeting will be his last. ✒️

✒️ I’m still trying to process everything that happened tonight. But Jesus Christ… We’ve been building up to this moment for a few days now. There’s always been this strong sexual chemistry between us. Tonight, everything came together beautifully. I knew what I was doin, and she willingly took the bait. What are you wearing? Just a simple question. She could have given me any answer, but she chose to tease me. Fuck, she could have been in sweats for all I know. But that's not the picture she painted for me—My dream girl.

The conversation flowed so well, my girl submitting to me completely, each breath, each moan sounding like a song. I wasn’t even touchin myself, but I never felt more satisfied hearing her cum on the other line. I didn’t realize just how much I craved that connection with her. I don’t think I’ve ever moved that fast in my life after that talk ended. I just wanted to get back to my cell, shut my eyes, and replay it in my mind over and over. I'm snickerin to myself like a schoolboy just writing this. Seriously… I'm at a loss. It was fucking amazing. It was perfect. She is perfect.

I know this changes things between us. It just keeps getting better and better. We both needed it. We both needed to relieve some pressure. Now I can’t stop dreamin about what it would be like to have her. If I got that much pleasure from that I’m in trouble. I bet she's thinkin about it too. I swear I knew just what she needed. She‘ll be putty in my hands when I care for her. She won't even have to think just feel.

I don’t wanna lose this feeling. This is that forever type of love. Today was the day I’ve been dreamin about for what feels like forever, and it's only been a few days since we met. This woman owns me. Every part of me. ✒️

✒️ Tonight’s the night. The last night before I’m free. The last night I’ll spend alone. I know she’s gonna be scared tomorrow. She’s tough, but she’s not meant for this shit. That’s why I love her. She give me balance.

Get in, get out, and move on.

Princess, I’ve said this before, you’re a curious woman. I’m sure you’ll go through my shit. I want you to. I guess I’ve been writing this for you all along.

There’s just a few things I need you to know, sweetheart. I have never been loved— I can say that with certainty. But I think you love me, even if you haven’t used those words. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you speak to me, in the risks you’ve taken for us. I know no one would be leavin anything like this behind for me to read. No one but you, baby.

When you find this I don’t know where we’ll be. Or, where I’ll be if shit doesn’t go my way. Hopefully we’ll be married or somethin. You’ll be digging through my shit, tryin to find some old Polaroids I took of you in that pretty lingerie you were describing to me on the phone. Either way, I hope when you read these words they mean as much to you as they mean to me.

I’m not great at vocalizing my feeling, because I’ve never had anyone concerned with hearin them. So I want there to be no mistake that you are the only thing that matters. I love you more than I have loved anything. I want so badly to be a part of your life. I value you more than myself, more than power, more than money, more than anything I’ve ever held.

You’ve changed me.

I hope you know that everything I’ve done was done with love. You’ll always be my girl.

Thank you for everything.

Love,

Rafe ✒️

You wipe away your emotion on Rafe’s sleeve, studying the rest, not wanting to miss a word. The next couple of pages are just little notes he must have taken on your calls: your favorite flowers, stores, color, foods you love, things you like, things you hate. But then it gets deeper; little notes about the sweeter things in life: your goals, fears, and hopes for the future.

You thumb the little book, fanning the pages. One last page… You follow his detailed plan, down to the minute about how today should have gone. The weight of the last line tugging at your heartstrings.

She'll be safe and happy.

Oh my god, Rafe. You shut the book, pinching the bridge of your nose as you draw breath. Grabbing the railing, you look down at the street below watching your tears free-fall, hitting the pavement.

No.

You try your best to talk yourself off the ledge you're on. The hair on the back of your neck pricking straight as you see the man again. Like a monster in a horror film this man just keeps coming back. Tony glances down at the bar napkin. Did the bartender tell him where I was going? He looks up fast, and you crouch down, falling out of sight, stealing glances at him through the slight space between the rails as you break out in a cold sweat.

He has a building name, he doesn’t know where I am. Your eyes double, hand clutching over your open mouth containing your gasp as a man steps behind Tony, pressing the barrel of a 9mm handgun to the back of his skull. Tony lifts his hands in the air, surrendering quick. The masked man mumbles something to Tony; the two turning into the street, headed toward a beaten-down mechanic’s van. You rise on your feet, tracking the two of them. This has to be one of Rafe’s guys.

RING.

Your burner phone trills, resounding on the balcony, echoing down to the street below as the van's back door pops open. Tony looks over his shoulder, scoping you out, making you freeze. He barks your name, fighting from the man, his booming words muted by the harsh whip of a pistol. Tony falls to the pavement, hands clutching the asphalt; a blow so brutal a small puddle of blood forms, dripping from the back of his head onto the street. Tony gets yanked to his feet, thrown into the back of the van before the doors slam shut. The punisher runs to the front, tires squealing as they speed away.

You catch your phone on the final ring, bringing it to your ear, greeting the caller on the other end with a gasping ‘hello’ as you fight for air.

“Princess?” You hear Rafe’s deep, raspy voice on the other end of the line.

“Baby. I— Uh… Umm,” you stammer as the words get caught on your lips. You clear the lump in your throat narrowly, stumbling back into the penthouse.

“Did you have company, y/n?” He asks, just the slightest bit of concern laced in his tone like maybe his boys didn’t pull it off. “I told Barry you needed your beauty sleep, and if anyone came by, he would have to send them home… Did he do a good job, baby?”

“Yes. Thank you,” you whisper shakily.

“Beautiful,” Rafe hums.

“M’sorry about tonight, y/n,” Rafe whispers. “This is not what I was hopin’ for.”

“Don’t apologize, Rafe. I - I wish you were here so I could thank you n’take care of you-” Your voice trembles as your adrenaline runs high.

“Tomorrow, baby,” Rafe adds. “Tomorrow night, and every night after that. Aight?”

“Yes… Thank you,” you sniffle, unsure of what you can and can't say on the phone, mind spinning from the deadly cat-and-mouse chase with Tony, emotional over Rafe’s words and Tony’s voice message. “I don't know how’ll ever thank you.”

“Baby, hey. Hey. I said, ‘I got you’…”

“You’re lovely, Rafe Cameron.” Your soft voice comes out in a pitiful cry.

Rafe laughs warmly, finding contentment in your view of him still, mere moments after the man executed a hit on your ex. He wants you to see everything: the light and the dark, choosing to stand by his side regardless. “Only for you, princess… Can you pick me up tomorrow at 9?”

“Of course I can,” you confirm, breathing a sigh of relief as you catch the time on your bedside clock—just a few more hours.

“I got a meeting with a client. It’ll be quick…”

“Just a conversation?” You ask.

“Just a conversation,” he confirms in a twisted tone. Tony’s done. “Then we can get outta here, princess; relax, spend a little time at the beach. Just the two of us?”

His Hideaway in Nassau…

“I’d love to.”

Part 6

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[evermoredeluxe]

How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #05

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

"Kook, you're drunk." you choke out, shivering when you feel him peppering kisses to your neck.

You have no idea how the hell this happened. One minute, he's calling a cab since everyone has called it a night, and then the next, his hands are all over you while shameless gasps and moans escape past your lips. It feels so fucking good. What started with innocent touches in a cab led to the two of you kissing in the elevator, until you got inside of Jungkook's apartment and now he's ready to devour you.

"I'm not drunk," he pulls away, frowning a little bit at your statement. "I'm slightly buzzed." he corrects, grinning at his amazing joke that makes you roll your eyes.

Okay, maybe he's not completely wasted and was totally fine with walking to his place, but still. His eyes are slightly hooded, a taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue and lips, and his words come out more lazily and slurred. You're definitely more sober than he is, but you can still feel the basic symptoms of having alcohol flowing in your system.

It's safe to say that it left you and Jungkook hot and craving for some touch from one another.

He dives in, lips catching yours once again as he starts kissing you with so much eagerness that makes you moan into his mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, half from alcohol and half from the fact you just freaking moaned into his mouth – again. Luckily, he doesn't point it out, too busy trying to devour your lips.

It feels so fucking good, enough to leave your panties to stick to your core and you kind of hate yourself for that. This is your best friend. You haven't been this aroused because of anyone. The fact that it's Jungkook himself, should make you feel uncomfortable but all you can focus on are your fingers tugging his longer hair. He groans, pulling you onto his lap and it makes you squeal, before he's catching your lips once again. His hands rummage over your back, slowly gripping your hips before he lightly touches your lower back. He's testing the waters again, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable and cross any boundaries. You still have a lot to talk about, setting a basic rules on how this whole thing is going to work.

But you could care less about rules right now, especially when Jungkook's lips are irresistible. The whole thing is out anyway, Kiko knows, and Jimin and Taehyung as well. Their reaction is still clear in your mind.

"Actually, we're dating."

For a solid minute, they just stare at the both of you, eyeing you both with even more shock written on their faces. Jimin's eyes fall onto Jungkook's arm around your shoulders while Taehyung keeps glancing between you two.

"You--what--the two of you--you guys are--you are dating?" Taehyung stutters, trying to break the awkward silence. 

Poor Taehyung looks like he's about to lose his mind, trying to put the pieces together as he slowly reaches for his drink, sipping on it. 

Well, you both were always super clear about your friendship and how it is important for you, too important to ruin it by trying to date. Plus, you were clear about not seeing each other as a partner and sharing the same love life. It makes this lie way more harder and you begin to panic.

"How did this happen? I mean... you guys were pretty persistent where both of you stand." Jimin frowns, still not believing you as he carefully eyes you and if it weren't for Jungkook next to you, you'd shrink in your seat. 

"We've decided to try it out. Y/N has always been there for me and I think she's what's best for me," 

You're not being subtle when you whip your head in his direction, staring at him with confused gaze, hiding your real shock behind it. You search his eyes, but he's making it hard for you to see through them when he just stares back at you, smiling down at you. You're not sure whether the smile is fake or real, but you go along with it and smile back.

Damn, he's a really good actor.

"Anyway, this is still new for us. Can you guys not make it weird for us?" he asks, looking at your  friends as they quickly nod, apologizing for their blunt reaction.

"Oh, fuck." you curse, head leaning backwards when Jungkook sucks at your neck. Jimin and Taehyung out of your thoughts as soon as you feel his lips on the new spot.

He licks the skin of your neck before he goes back to sucking, skilfully twirling his tongue making you gasp into the air. You've never felt something like this. Your ex boyfriend was never this touchy and straightforward, and Jungkook is showing you what you were missing out on. He's so damn good with his mouth, it makes you think what else does he know and why the fuck Kiko left such a man.

His hardness is poking you, it's hard to tell if he's fully hard but you can still feel it, even though it's hidden underneath his black jeans. The ache between your legs is strong, needy for any touch that makes you see stars and your body reacts naturally, shifting on his lap that makes him gasp in surprise. He feels you grinding on him, hands grabbing your ass for the first time and he even checks your reaction, only to find your eyes closed and teeth biting your lower lip.

Your lipstick is smeared, almost none of it left and your make up isn't fresh, but you don't care about your appearance. All you can focus on is Jungkook – and only him.

When he squeezes your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding onto his clothed length, your hand outstretched on his chest as you pull away just a little bit. "Stop." you tell him breathlessly, trying to calm down your beating heart.

You can feel his own heart beat against your palm, the rhythm identical to yours, while he stares at you with those doe eyes that are glistening from the alcohol.

"You wanna stop?"

The disappointment behind his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you don't dwell on it too much, wanting to get things out of your chest. Your friendship is still the most important thing here.

"We're both drunk, Kook. I don't want us to regret it when we wake up tomorrow." you tell him honestly, because the thought and different scenarios of tomorrow morning makes your stomach uncomfortable scrunch.

"We don't have to have sex," he tells you, leaning his head back as he slows down his breathing. "But if you wanna stop, I'm fine with whatever you want."

This causes you to smile, appreciating the honesty in his voice and even the look on his drunken face. But you don't want to stop. Maybe it's not the right thing to have sex with him, tonight or even, but you just want to keep kissing him and see where it brings you. You don't want to plan anything and the way your whole make out happened in the elevator, continuing in his small living room is exactly what you want. Rather than you wanting things to happen spontaneously, you want them to happen naturally.

And it's that one look at his neck, a faint vein poking out of his honey skin and disappearing underneath his black dress shirt that reveals some of his collarbones, drives you crazy. You've got only one month to experience anything you and Jungkook want. And now you want him.

Shaking your head, you cup his face as you shift on his lap to make yourself comfortable, smirking when he groans and glares at you. "I want to continue." you assure him, giving him a green light and before you can properly look at him from this close proximity, he's already chasing your lips again.

The kissing is heated, his hands all over your ass again but this time he makes sure he squeezes your ass cheeks and gives them a proper attention, while you grip the back of his head and starts to grind on his clothed jeans.

"I--fuck, I don't think I can cum like this," he tells you, the mention of anyone cumming tonight makes you all giddy inside. "Let me take my jeans off." he says, but still searches your face for permission.

He must be uncomfortable in those tight jeans and quick 'sure, take it off' leaves your mouth right away, shifting off his lap before he quickly takes them off. You're not surprised by his usual Calvin Klein boxers, this time in white color, but your mouth hangs open as you see the visible outline of his length.

It looks massive and you're not even sure if he's fully hard. He pats his lap, inviting you in again and you don't waste a second, already scurrying to sit down on his muscular thighs.

You go back straight to kissing, your dress hiking up and he carefully slides his hands underneath it, feeling your lacy panties with his fingertips. And you grind on him, moaning at the way he visibly starts to visibly hardening after a few strokes, your underwear rubbing against each other. Your clit is aching, greedy for his cock and you're close to pull off his boxers, just to see and feel what's hiding underneath it.

Jungkook's firm hands are helping you to set up a fast pace, pushing your ass against his hardened length that feels massive and you almost salivate just from the feeling of it. Your face is buried in his face, inhaling his musky scent while you keep gasping into his skin. It feels so fucking good, it's something you've never tried before. You're needy, almost pathetically humping him like a bitch in heat but your body reacts on its own. Your mind feels clear, not filled with overthinking or any thoughts.

"That's it, baby. Grind on me, make yourself cum." he suddenly speaks, voice breathless but raspy at the same time. Baby.

It makes you whimper, not ready for any dirty talk but it's just another step to get you closer.

You knew he's great with his mouth.

"Jungkook," you whimper, feeling yourself getting close and clenching around nothing. You wish you could feel him inside of you and it makes you so flustered, but you know you can't stop. This is what you wanted.

"You're doing great, that's it. Fuck, baby. Keep rubbing your pussy over my cock."

Fuck, is this the same man that drinks banana milk?

It all seems to fast. But the feeling of Jungkook's cock brushing against your clit and filthy words leaving his mouth, you're gasping and clutching onto him tightly, before you let go. You're cumming, his name leaving your mouth as a chant, while your whole body grows even more hot.

Before you know it, Jungkook groans and his whole body tenses, his head throwing back as he suddenly relaxes.

"Fuck," he rasps out, caressing your ass as your whole body is thrown over him. "I've never thought I could cum in my pants."

You pull away, shakily glancing at him before you look down. There's a stain wetting the white material, his cum drenching his boxers. You wait for him to grow embarrassed or shy, but he grins cockily and amusingly at the same time, staring at his softening clothed cock.

Your panties feel sticky, but you don't move away. It felt incredible, yet you still crave for more. You know you could experience much more intense orgasm with Jungkook.

And rather than thinking that you've just made each other orgasm into your underwear, you just think about one thing only.

You can't wait for more.

[pikatsum]

Lights, Camera, Chaos | 1 | Todoroki Shouto / Reader

Summary: You and Shouto are forced to make your first televised appearance as a couple. What starts as an embarrassing invasion of privacy completely upends itself once you realize just how cutthroat the world of reality TV can get.

Tags & Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Quirkless Reader, Pro-Hero Shouto.

Part of the Pretty Boy Summer collab! [cross-posted on ao3]

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Being the partner of a pro-hero was the kind of thing that should really come with an instruction manual. And emblazoned on uncoated paper stock beneath chapter one, the golden rule that nine of ten couples managed to break: keep it on the down-low.

Those who didn’t faced the consequences— particularly civilians.

Their faces were ultimately the ones that got splashed across the front page of every gossip-rag in Japan. They became public pariahs, their names repeated ad nauseam on the news, whispered with glee in hair salons and social clubs. In the story of their life, everything became forfeit to the public— their friends, their profession, their dating history, their homes. All of it.

Now, for nearly three months, you’d been one of them. At the end of the day, that was the noodles’ fault, really.

The summer after culinary school, you’d scored your first full-time role, working as the head chef in a small noodle shop just a few blocks from your college campus, at the edge of the city. The owner, Okuda-san, had been in business for years, but the dreams of grandeur that had brought him to central Mustafau as a young man had long since been struck by reality. Though the quality of his meals had never diminished, he’d vastly scaled back his operations over the last ten years— gone was the opulent restaurant in the center of downtown with its sleek metallic architecture and warm ambient lighting. Gone too was his wife, or so you suspected, based on the mutterings you could pick up from the front office, when business ran slow.

The day you met Shouto, the rain had been coming down in sheets, blurring the windows and filling the reception area with a soothing white-noise as you oversaw reservation bookings, dinner preparations and engaged in a small bit of gossip-gathering on the side. It was that same rain that had led you to warn him about the biodegradable styrofoam that his takeout was packed in, and offer the restaurant’s tiny enclave seating to avoid having his meal ruined by the deluge. You’d shared polite conversation— mostly offering tips for balancing buckwheat dough to make proper soba noodles.

Over time, the street in front of Okuda-san’s little shop had become a well-worn patrol path for Shouto’s agency. Conversations turned to texts, and invitations out with his friends. After an unhealthy amount of pining, you’d finally steeled your nerves enough to ask him on a date— an awkward but effective kickstart to almost two years of the best relationship you’d ever had.

There truly was no protocol for having such an intimate piece of yourself revealed to the public, to millions of your partner’s diehard fans. There weren’t words to describe the moment you first laid eyes on the incriminating photo that had started all of this: the two of you, sharing a kiss on the way up to your apartment. Your longing, exacerbated by Shouto’s tedious travel schedule had faced off against your building’s perpetually-slow elevator doors and came up short.

One grainy picture, posted to one account incited a slew of Internet detectives, stealing your anonymity in a matter of hours.

At the very least, you’d been blissfully unaware at first— overlooking the increasing stares from the diners at Okuda-san’s, and glossing over the fact that the cab driver knew your name on the way home. You’d remained blissfully ignorant up until arriving home to find Shouto on the doorstep, still in his costume. He’d quickly shepherded you up to your apartment and barricaded the door. In full pro-hero mode, he’d guided you through the essentials to pack in a duffel bag, and then quickly brought you back to his, to wait out the full extent of the madness.

The worst of it was concentrated in that first two weeks. You’d been unable to turn on the TV without hearing the diminutive nickname the media had chosen for you— “Noodle Legs”— coupled with the same clip of Shouto guiding you up the steps into his high-rise building, over and over. Unfortunately, your legs had been wobbling, as the full magnitude of what was happening had finally begun to set in. In those first days, you’d sequestered yourself in the guest room with the blinds drawn, the drone of the TV only semi-effective against the catastrophizing taking place in your mind.

The public had judged your relationship with Shouto and you clearly had not met expectations. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even a decade on from the war that had rewritten the operations of superhuman society, competent wasn’t a word that paired well with Quirkless.

As the media storm raged, you had never seen Shouto so upset. In the first few days, his schedule was particularly erratic, his whereabouts always announced by text and sticky notes left on your door, or the bathroom mirror in tight, neat script. Often, he was out amidst the public, speaking to media outlets on his own, trying to stem the influx of public opinion about you that had become the nation’s topic de jour. As you slowly began to emerge from your cocoon of solitude, you saw just how oppositely this ordeal was affecting him.

When he was home, Shouto paced, relentlessly. He completed a book of Sudoku puzzles as you absently cooked enough udon to feed a small army— or at least four of his pro-hero friends. Each night, he scarcely settle in on the couch next to you before noticing a stray sock or a flickering lightbulb, some small thing to put right. Nothing was enough, anymore, and even as you asked him to come to bed— his bed— he only ever seemed to sleep on the couch, if at all.

After nearly a week, his mania and your melancholy finally collided, spectacularly. You could still remember the whisper of the paper against the hardwood, as it slid under the bedroom door, late that night. Nearly two pages offered a handwritten letter apologizing for the upheaval of your entire life, and his absence in the aftermath. The third carefully recorded the plan he’d been building to mitigate the fallout, mentioning the friends he’d enlisted to help him and proposed ideas for a manufactured scandal, enough to take the limelight off you. That moment of shade, he argued, would allow you to distance yourself.

“I promise to help you establish a future that will make you happy.” the letter concluded, “And I understand, if that future no longer includes me.”

It was carefully-worded, largely self removed and so quintessentially Shouto that it nearly broke you all over again. Not much about your future was determined that night, apart from one, indelible truth: you didn’t want a future without Shouto in it. If that meant you’d have to face the public— the cameras and opinions and bigotry— so be it.

You’d casually perused enough gossip magazines to know the general strategies that hero & civilian relationships used, publicly. Some couples went on luxurious (sponsored) vacations, their devotion shamelessly showcased through glossy magazine spreads and corny ‘What’s in Our Suitcase?’ Q&As. Others used their moment in the limelight to launch one partner’s passion project — a private art studio, a taproom, a crossfit gym— often trendy, always overcrowded and never necessary public infrastructure.

The rest wrote memoirs. So. Many. Memoirs. You’d just finished “Catching the Copycat. — How I Fell in Love with Phantom Thief” earlier that month, and it wasn’t half bad. Amidst the unending slew of public attention and the realization that you were going to have to market yourself somehow, the idea of writing a novel was contenting. At the very least, your partner’s versatile Quirk meant there was no end to the pithy puns you could come up with for a title.

And then, Shouto’s PR team put out a press release announcing that the two of you would be starring in the next episode of Split Shift— the Hero Network’s one and only reality television program.

‘Think you’ve got what it takes to be a hero? Think again!” announced its pithy tagline, in the promotional packet,’ Each week, Split Shift lets its viewers experience a day in the life of the nation’s top defenders, exposing their personal sides, through the eyes of their inner circle!.’

The two of you had tried to fight it. Oh, how you had tried, your combined efforts quickly spawning endless hours of email chains. But Shouto’s public relations team was relentless— apparently, the clamor of the public for more details, photos, evidence of your leaked relationship was stronger than any villain in the known universe. And without it, they warned, Shouto’s rank in the heroics charts was severely at risk.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Omori Mika, Shouto’s head of PR, explained, fingers flying across her keyboard as a window of metrics popped up, “a significant portion of Shouto’s fanbase finds him anywhere from “considerably” to “highly” attractive. Early this year, he dethroned Best Jeanist to win Quirk’d Magazines’ “Hottest Hero Alive.”

“Oh, yes— well deserved.” you nodded, sparing a glance to your own well-loved copy, resting on the coffee table. The cover-shot had really captured his intensity, the haunting contrast of his heterochromatic gaze in low lighting.

From the other side of the couch, Shouto cleared his throat, and you found yourself impishly delighted by the fact that he refused to meet your eyes.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because that faction in particular wants to know — why her?” Mika made a brief gesture towards you as she expounded, “Why, out of every person in the nation— the world, even— why is she the one you chose?”

Shouto blinked, glancing between you and the laptop.

“Do they want a list? I’d have to ask Midoriya for—“

“—evidence is the name of the game, Shouto.” Mika broke in, “Photos, maybe, but what people really want is footage.”

“Footage that we have to get by being publicly humiliated, got it.” you sighed.

A notch appeared between Mika’s perfectly- plucked eyebrows.

“I know you’re both unhappy about the booking, but the Hero Network is the best platform to showcase Shouto’s capabilities. The nature of the show won’t just remind people why they trust him— it’ll show that he’s chosen a capable and resourceful partner, as well.”

You flushed and averted your gaze. Capable and resourceful were just about the last things that you were feeling, at the moment.

“And honestly, Split Shift is tame in comparison to some of the shows that have been asking for you.” Mika began to flip through her color-coded planner, “Let’s see… Quirktastrophe, Save my Love Life… oh, you’re lucky we didn’t put you on Zero to Hero, I hear that host is a real piece of work, off-camera…”

“Message received.” Shouto intoned, cutting off the diatribe. You moved your legs enough to allow him to scoot over, leaning forward to minimize the chat window and zoom in on a contractual document, written in a font size in the single-digits. He met your eyes

You took a deep breath and sealed your fates with a nod.

“Where do we sign?”

The devil worked hard, but apparently the scheduling team for Split Shift worked harder. Less than a week later, the two of you were arriving at the studio at the crack of dawn, for what promised to be a grueling day of filming. The process began two blocks before the filming lot, a two-man crew driving out to meet in an adjacent parking lot. You and Shouto were each asked to step out of the car in order to have a microphone pack strapped and secured beneath your clothing. They also hooked a small portable camera to the dashboard, to “capture your authentic reactions to arriving on-set.”

In a mutual act of defiance, you and Shouto remained dead-silent for the remaining two blocks. It was a welcome respite, especially given that it seemed those silences would be few and far between for the rest of the day.

Two steps out of the car and you were being accosted by a human gale-force. She arrived in a cloud of cherry-scented perfume, and wasted no time in handing over the two smoothies she was carrying. The badge pinned smartly to her dark blazer read “Noujuu Yōko”.

You’d just barely opened your mouth to offer a ‘thank you’, but the woman barely spared a glance before she turned and circled a finger in the air to follow.

“You’re seven minutes late.”

“Your crew was delayed and there were a number of road closures en route.” Shouto fell in line, his cooler hand lacing with your free one, “We weren’t—“

“—I sent a reminder email at 2:45 AM with these details. Your coordinator should have shared them.”

You watched as a notch appeared in your partner’s brow, a subtle display of his annoyance. Before he could retort, you broke in with a small laugh that felt as awkward and forced as it sounded.

“Sorry about that.” you said, “This is all… very new.”

You didn’t receive a response, nor at this point were you particularly expecting one. Avoiding the wires criss-crossing the asphalt while keeping up with her brisk pace was taking enough effort, anyways. Unfortunately, an experimental sip of the smoothie in your hand revealed that it tasted like chalk.

“Don’t feel the need to apologize.” Shouto murmured, as you slowed your pace. This close, notes of mint and jasmine stood out in his cologne as he leaned over to murmur to you, “She’s just high-strung. They can film and record as they like, now— I’ve already seen a camera following us, from the right. They’re looking for reactions.”

“So, no public meltdowns— got it.” you smiled weakly, a chill going up your spine at the prospect of indirectly being ‘on-air’.

Yōko led the way back to the first of the sound stages as she explained that Split Shift was filmed in a “psychologically-backed” sequence. The core of that process was candid footage, occasionally guided by interviews.

“You’ll be interviewing throughout the day, both separately and together.” she explained, at the door, “At midday, we’ll have a thirty-minute lunch, and a touch-up with hair and makeup. The afternoon will then be dedicated to wrapping up the heroics case.”

“The… what?” you asked, glancing at Shouto, “Is there something you’re supposed to look into?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Shouto said, “Although I assume, based on the increasing number of cameras that have tracked us here, that this is meant to be some kind of dramatic twist.”

It took you a moment to begin to spot them— angled around corners, hidden in the shrubbery and eaves of the soundstage. There was even a drone flying overhead, high up enough to muffle the whine of its motors. Apprehension bloomed in your chest, counting at least fifteen cameras, knowing there were likely more.

The tone Shouto adopted was pure apathy— but you knew it as a defense mechanism, to hide the anger he hated to show.

“Is there a particular direction you’d like us to face, to express our shock?” he said.

Yōko’s chartreuse eyes narrowed in a silent declaration of war.

“This way will be fine.”

In the next instant, a loud metallic screech made you jump. Whirling around, you realized that the garage door of the warehouse was opening, and although you couldn’t see much through the gloom, the sun’s rays did catch off another two camera lenses, at least.

“We’ve made a few changes on set.” Yōko had to raise her voice to speak over the shuffle of the film crew as they filled in the space, the descending screech of the drone, “Audiences used to prefer viewing the world of heroes at street-level, through the eyes of those they loved most. Now, they want to experience it, for themselves.”

You weren’t looking at her, though, or any of the multitudes of cameras. Instead, your gaze was focused on the mannequin angled in the center of the sound stage, and dressed in a disconcerting blend of lycra and tactical gear— specifically an all-too-familiar vest and utility belt.

Yōko’s voice rang out behind you, sending a chill up your spine as the full scope of what you had gotten yourself into began to click into place.

“So, [Last Name] [First Name]. Are you ready to become a hero?”

[murdrdocs]

inspo from hot to go!; post stanford tashi; fem!reader MDNI 18+ w/ TASHI DUNCAN

tashi is in a bar.

it's not just any bar, she knows this. she wouldn't even be seen in just any bar, but this bar is different. the demographic is different. the music is different. the drinks are more or less the same. this isn't just any bar and tashi likes that.

she came to this bar because she wanted to. because she wanted this. because she wanted to take some hot stranger back to her hotel room and get her brains fucked out. because she wanted to forget that she's just katarina's hitting partner, and not the one with the trophy.

she came dressed for the occasion. glitter along her lined hooded eyes. nude lipstick smeared over her lips. low rise jeans hugging her ass and a sparky top making her tits look phenomenal. she was going home with someone, she knew she was.

it took a while, lots of searching and a few drinks, but tashi finds her target.

you, dancing to every song as if you know it well. laughing and talking with people as if you know them well. she thinks you might be a regular, or at least this isn't your first time here. she doesn't think this is your first time doing anything like this in general. at first, the thought intimidates her. but tashi has never been one to back down from a challenge. she's never been one to become intimidated because someone knows more than her.

it takes a short while, tashi begins to think she missed the sweet spot, but she eventually approaches you.

and there's nothing to be worried about.

sure, she's a little worried that you might not be into her, but she was once told that she's everyone's type. so she stands tall in her heels, uncaring about her height for once, and she smiles at you.

and the two of you click. you're like fucking magnets, bodies pressed together, moving as one to whatever song playing throughout the bar. her head buried in the crook of your neck, your hands on her waist and hips, your perfumes rubbing together to create a unique mix that tashi never wants to forget.

at one point, you dip your hand to slide past the waistband of her jeans, resting right over her mound, and tashi fucking moans. you haven't even touched her yet, not really, but her celibacy streak has made her needy.

so needy that she's jumping at the first opportunity to be alone uncaring how desperate she may seem.

"are you hot, too? or is it just me?" you ask her, your voice right in her ear.

tashi nods immediately, quick to agree even if she's actually not that hot. nothing compared to summer training on a court. but she still nods because she knows what you want.

your hand slipped in hers, you leading the way out of the bar until you're both outside in the summer air, feeling the breeze against your skin when she has you pressed against a wall and her lips against yours.

she kisses you sloppily. it's probably the messiest kiss she's ever had, and it's all her doing.

she's the one slipping her tongue into your mouth, missing the cavern a couple of times.

she's the one knocking your teeth together.

she's the one moaning and groaning into your mouth while her hands, appreciative and curious, pull at your waist.

and then she's the one throwing the suggestion out there.

"i'll call a cab."

after a torturous twenty minutes where you and tashi try to be decent people who don't grope each other in the back of a cab, the two of you end up in tashi's hotel room and there's no more inhibitions.

she's stark naked on the bed with your bare body rubbing against hers from above. she lets you stick your fingers in her mouth and then in her cunt. she writhes and moans as you devour her in ways she's never experienced before.

her nails dig into the white sheets as she stares up at the ceiling, praying this would never end.

you're so earnest between her legs, telling her she tastes sweet and sounding like you mean it. like you actually are getting pleasure from having your head between her thighs and your tongue against her soaked cunt.

you keep calling her pretty, and tashi feels pretty.

when she's having another woman tweak her nipples and lift her legs in the air, she feels as pretty as she ever has.

she's so quick to return the favor, too. she wasn't just here to get fucked. she wanted to make you feel good.

her brown eyes big and kind as she watches you, one lithe hand slipping between your parted legs. when you take that first gasp, a sharp inhale at the feeling of tashi rubbing two tight circles into your clit, tashi echoes the sound. it's as if she's mirroring you, as if she's breathing with you.

and when the night's over, tashi gives you her number. well, it's like that night never ended, actually. when she’s on the road, you call often and let tashi listen to the way you fuck your cunt while pretending its her.

[joanquill]

How Touching

How Albert would react to a reader who doesn't like physical intimacy at first in the modern era.

Albert James Moriarty

A/N: Sorry for the long absence, a lot has happened and writer's block has made a home in my head rent-free at this point it's almost homophobic :) (as you can probably tell with this one so advanced apologies!) late happy pride month! 💕🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Tag/s: One-Shot with Headcanons, Modern!AU, Long (2.2k words)

Warning/s: Slightly Suggestive(???)

When you first joined the Moriartys with their plan to abolish the class system, the group welcomed you with open arms.

Quite literally with how Bonde tried to hug you as a greeting.

You evaded him smoothly, surprising the man and the others.

But you explained how you were uncomfortable with physical touch, and everyone respected your boundaries.

Despite the awkward start, everyone still welcomed you.

And as time passed, you slowly grew closer to everyone in the group.

But especially with the oldest Moriarty, seeing as your job usually involved assisting him.

Whether being his partner on missions or attending parties with the rich, you two are usually seen together.

It also doesn't help that you were mostly in charge of maintaining the manor in London when Louis and Master Jack were away.

Because of this, you also tend to stay with him in London while William and the others are back in Durham.

This leads to you and Albert sharing chores in London.

While Albert is a master when it comes to cleaning, you always make sure he's nowhere near the kitchen or at least have you there to supervise.

The first time you tried his cooking, you were out of commission for three days.

Because of how much time you spend together, you two started to get closer.

And this didn't go unnoticed by your housemates.

"(Y/N), have you seen my-?"

"-It's in your coat pocket," 

"And the-?"

"-It's already in your suitcase,"

"And did you already inform-?"

"-Yes, Director Holmes is aware of your return to London tonight," you answered as you showed him the email you sent to the director.

Albert chuckled as he loosened his collar, "What would I do without you?"

You smirked at his remark as you fixed his loosened collar and necktie.

"Well, aren't you just a perfect match," Sebastian commented from the couch, watching you two blankly.

You froze at his words as you turned away, making sure your expression remained neutral. 

"It's almost freaky, to be honest..." he shuddered, making you chuckle.

"Don't you have a chimney to sweep, colonel?" Albert reminded, earning a glare from Sebastian as the doors burst open, Bonde running inside the room.

"You're really leaving already? We planned to go to that new restaurant this afternoon," Bonde asked as he walked in, seeing you and Albert grabbing your coats.

"Yes... The director suddenly called saying it was an urgent matter, so our plans will have to be rescheduled," you explained, much to Bonde's disappointment.

You smiled softly at him as you gave him a gentle hug.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can go there some other time," you reassured as you pulled away, seeing a shocked expression from the three men.

"...What?"

"You hugged him..." Sebastian pointed out, making you raise a brow and smile.

"Yes, and what about it?" you teased, hugging Bonde again, surprising them for a second time.

"What the-?!"

"Awww, (N/N)!" Bonde smiled as he hugged you back tightly, cherishing the moment as you laughed.

"No way..." Sebastian breathed out a smile, "To think Bonde would be the first..." he smirked, looking over to Albert, who held a faux smile as he walked up to you and Bonde.

"(Y/N), I believe it is about time for us to leave?" he reminded, making you gasp.

"Right! I'll go call a cab," you hurriedly walked out of the manor, hoping you wouldn't miss the last train back to London.

Sebastian laughed wholeheartedly as the door behind you closed, hitting Albert's back while Bonde kept a hand over his mouth, hiding a proud smile from the oldest Moriarty.

"Didn't expect you to be the possessive type!" Sebastian snickered, making Albert lightly scoff and swatted Sebastian's hand.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Albert denied as he grabbed the bags.

"(Y/N) is a reliable comrade to all of us,"

"Then why don't you let them stay in Durham with us?"

"Because their skills are needed in London,"

"But what if William asks them to stay with us?"

"Then there's no helping it, I suppose,"

"Oh?" William's voice cut through, catching everyone's attention.

"Then you finally agree to have (Y/N) stay with us for this weekend?" he asked, but Albert stayed silent as he kept facing away from the group.

"You seemed quite adamant about having them join you back to London mere moments ago when we were discussing in my office," William added, making Albert sigh as Sebastian and Bonde grinned from ear to ear.

"My, my, Al. How unprofessional," Bonde teased as he tried to see Albert's face, now contorted in irritation as he kept his smile.

"It seems (Y/N)'s skills are needed here in Durham more than in London," Sebastian added, wrapping an arm around Albert's shoulders,

"Such a shame..."

William chuckled as he walked up to the group, giving Albert a piece of paper.

"Here are the details for your and (Y/N)'s next mission in London. It seems (Y/N) is more needed in London after all," William innocently smiled, making Albert sigh.

"...I will make sure to visit again next week with them,"

"Thank you, Nii-san. And do not worry about (Y/N)'s affections," William commented, perking Albert's ears.

"I'm certain they also consider you one of their closest companions. But you must be more proactive if you wish for them to see you as something more," he reassured the oldest Moriarty, catching everyone's attention.

"That is not-"

"-The cab's here!" you announced as you hurried back inside, seeing everyone gathering around Albert.

"...What? Do we have another meeting before leaving?" you questioned, making the others share a look as they left, saying their goodbyes as Albert walked up to you with your bags and coats.

"What were you discussing while I was gone?" you questioned as Albert gave you your coat and scarf.

"Just..." Albert replied, looking down at the paper William gave him,  "Have courage"  written on it, "... Just the details for our next mission," he smiled, pocketing the piece of paper as he helped you with your scarf, careful not to touch you.

"...I shall tell you later,"

During the trip back to London, you noticed Albert has grown quiet, deep in his thoughts.

As you tried to ignore the man's change of behavior, he suddenly called your name and asked what you thought of everyone in the group.

Confused by the sudden question, you shrugged it off and answered honestly, seeing everyone as a trusted companion, possibly even family.

"Really?"

"Yes. Don't you see me as one?" you jokingly asked, making Albert smile widely.

"...No, I cannot say the same," he answered, shocking you. You quickly turned to him and saw him looking at you with straightforward eyes.

"You may have started as one of my most trusted companions, but I never saw you as family," he explained, straightening himself up as he grabbed the end of your scarf.

"But as a lover," he clarified, gingerly kissing the end of your scarf as he kept his eyes on you.

After his declaration of love, the trip back to London felt excruciatingly long.

Nonetheless, you admitted you felt the same you both agreed to take it slow.

Albert was a true gentleman in the whole relationship, making sure you were comfortable with everything.

He makes sure to spend time with you, whether it's just at home or out on a date, giving you gifts, and words of reassurance.

He would never make you feel you were lacking or guilty about taking the relationship slow.

He also never tried to touch you or force himself on you.

He might feel jealous whenever you and others hug, such as Bonde, Fred, or your close friends, but he won't force you to do the same to him.

"You will be gone for three weeks?" you repeated in disbelief as Albert nodded dejectedly.

"Yes, which is why we discussed that you should stay in Durham with the others in the meantime,"

"I see... If that's the case, I need to see some things before I leave," you muttered, trying to plan your sudden leave as you looked around the manor.

Albert breathed out a laugh as he let out a dramatic sigh, catching your attention.

"How cold... And I thought you would miss me more," he teased, opening one eye at you with a playful smile.

You scoffed as you walked up to him, cradling his cheek.

"You will be coming back home to me after, are you not?" you questioned, making him smirk.

"Always," he reassured, taking your gloved hand and kissing your knuckles.

You smiled as you interlocked your fingers with his, clasping it.

"Then I have nothing to worry about,"

"(N/N)!" Bonde beamed as he ran up to you, giving you a hug as he squeezed you tightly.

You giggled as you hugged him back, returning the same affection.

"You should go on more overnight trips, Al," Bonde joked, making Albert roll his eyes with a smile as he put on his hat.

"Next time, I shall bring (Y/N) with me," Albert mused, kissing your gloved hand again.

"Take care, Albert-nii-san," Louis smiled as Albert waved goodbye to everyone.

"Goodbye,"

"Take your time~,"

"Be careful...!" you warned, sighing at the memory of Albert returning home in a bloody uniform.

"Aww... Miss him already?" Bonde teased with a toothy grin, making you scoff and lightly push him off.

"Come on... I remember Louis saying we're doing some spring cleaning in the manor?" you reminded, making Bonde and Sebastian freeze. 

"Oi! Keep your mouth shut...!" Sebastian shouted in a whisper as he grabbed your head, making you grin.

"That's right..." Louis started, a dark glimmer shining from his glasses, "I hope you two are done with your portions?"

It's been two weeks since Albert's trip, and he has been calling you every night and leaving short, sweet texts throughout the day.

But, you couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Sebastian called out, snapping you out of it.

"Y-Yes?"

"William's calling everyone for a meeting," he reminded, raising a brow at you.

"What's wrong with you?" he questioned, making you shake your head.

"It's nothing," you faked a smile as you walked ahead, unsure if it was a topic you could bring up to the man.

As you walked ahead, Sebastian couldn't help but let out a sigh as he followed you along.

"Lovebirds... What a pain,"

"Well! This is new," Bonde smiled as he swirled his martini while Sebastian downed his third whiskey for the night.

"I didn't think you would be the type to offer free drinks, (N/N),"

"I'm not," you sighed, nursing your cup of water, "But I would like to talk to you both in private..." you muttered, looking around your booth for any familiar faces or peeking heads.

"Since you two seem the most... acquainted with this subject..." you added, fiddling your fingers as you stared down at your drink.

Sebastian raised a brow while Bonde furrowed his brows, looking at each other as if trying to figure out what you were alluding to.

"So... What is it?" Bonde asked, taking a sip of his drink while Sebastian tried to catch the attention of a nearby server.

You felt your face burn as you took a deep breath, gathering up all of the courage you had.

"How do you know when's the right time to be physical with your partner?" you asked in one quick breath with your eyes shut.

Sebastian froze while Bonde choked on his drink, making him cough.

"A-Are you all right, sir?" the server Sebastian called asked Bonde, who dismissed him.

"Y-Yes... I'm fine," Bonde coughed as you tried to give him your drink while Sebastian asked the server to just bring more whiskey.

"Thanks..." Bonde sighed, clearing his throat as he looked at you.

"(Y/N), by... physical, you mean...?" Sebastian asked in a hushed tone as he and Bonde leaned to you across the table.

You felt your face flush as you looked away, hiding behind your hands.

"L-Like kissing, and such..." you clarified, stunning the two men.

They both sighed as Sebastian leaned back in his seat with a hand over his eyes while Bonde had his face in his hands.

"That's what you meant..."

'It'll come naturally, huh...'  you thought, remembering your conversation with Bonde and Sebastian.

You sighed as you focused on your chores and hoped for the best, just as they advised.

As you fixed the dinner table, you heard the front doors open, making you gasp and look back.

"I'm back," Albert announced, wearily putting away his coat.

You instinctively ran out of the dining room and to the entrance.

As Albert caught sight of you, he immediately smiled as you kept running up to him.

"(Y/N), I found-" you wrapped your arms around him tightly, sighing as your body eased up at his warmth.

Albert, on the other hand, was stunned as you kept hugging him.

"(Y/N)...?" he called out as he hovered an arm around you.

You breathed out a smile as you looked up at him, squeezing him lightly,

"Welcome back," you greeted as you cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips.

Albert blinked in surprise before wrapping his arms around you, deepening the kiss.

When you pulled back, you felt Albert leaning to you before opening his eyes, and smiling at you.

"I missed you too,"

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi Hal! First of all, congratulations for reaching 5k followers! Your fanfics are what pushed me further into COD and Cult of Vagabonds turned me into a full on Gaz girlie 💗

With that, I would love to request some sort of boyfriend drabble for Gaz! I remember in some of your asks, you guys would talk about Kyle being a gentleman and just him being a sweet and loving partner in general. So, I was thinking of scenarios with him taking care of reader, maybe he helps her with her skin care routine when she's too tired, or he picks her up and takes her home when she gets drunk (and he goes along with her drunk shenanigans but at the same being the protective, worrywart bf) or (as someone who loves shopping and dressing up) they go on dates and they spoil each other since they know each other's preferences so well, stuff like that hehe.

Again, congratulations on the milestone Hal! Here's to many more celebrations and achievements 💖

—Drunken Sappiness

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

You giggle, slurring your words as you get placed into the back seat of a cab. 

“I love you s’much, Kyle, y’know that?” The man himself is smiling fondly, heart eyes stuck into his head as he holds the door for a moment before grabbing your legs, pushing them inside. He shakes his head in good-nature.

“I’m flattered, Sweetheart. I love you too, yeah…? Let’s get you home—think you’ve had a bit too much fun tonight.”

Your arm is over your eyes before it’s grabbed, Kyle grunting, “Up you get,” before the world slips and you’re sitting up, belt clicked around your frame by long fingers. 

The driver waits patiently as your boyfriend closes the door and jogs to his side, opening and closing it before giving the directions to your shared flat as you lean over into him heavily. 

“I like your smile,” you push out, gripping his waist tightly, nuzzling his shoulder. 

Kyle watches, face bright and teasing as his arm loops your body to pull you into him. This was turning out to be a good end to the night—he always knew you were a clingy drunk, but this was just sweet. 

“Yeah?” He asks, pushing farther on with a smirk as the vehicle turns and continues on. “What else do you like about me, Love?”

“What isn’t there to like?” You hum, eyes blown and half-lidded. You’d crash soon, but Kyle wanted to get you ready for bed before that; at least into some pajamas and get your makeup off. He’d hate for you to wake up uncomfortable.

“Well,” the man teases, “can’t argue there.”

You laugh into him, uttering, “My head’s spinnin’.”

Kyle’s face becomes a bit more understanding, worrying even when he knows it’s normal. “We’ll be back soon, yeah? Get you off to bed—you can tell me about how dashing I am in the morning, okay?”

“Deal,” you whisper, vision blurring as a hard kiss is placed on your head.

The man does as he promised himself he would, and soon after you’re, difficulty, dressed into pj’s, he’s kneeling down as you sit in your vanity seat, spreading micellar water on a cotton pad. 

“C’mon, Love, keep those eyes open for me.” The item is moved along your cheeks as your lashes flutter. You’d take a shower in the morning, Kyle just wanted you to get some rest. “There we are, then….Beautiful.”

Humming under your breath, you blink at him as he takes off your mascara, using another pad to not spread the particles around when he starts on the other eye. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, still under the alcohol’s effects but not lying for a mere moment. “S’good to me.”

The Brit feels his cheeks go hot, clearing his throat at the praise and your sleepy expression. 

Lord…you looked adorable. 

“I’m a lucky bloke,” he utters to you, standing back up and kissing your forehead. “Couldn’t ask for a better woman to be around.” Kyle huffs a chuckle. “Even when she’s drunk, she’s complimenting me. You’re an ego boost, Love. A dangerous one.”

Even if you only registered half of those words, you still know the way he picks you up and carries you to bed, settling you down before flicking off the lights.

“Water’s on the nightstand—meds, too,” he mutters into your scalp as he slips beside you, pulling the covers up around both of your bodies. “I’ll remind you when you wake up.”

His hand rubs up and down your skin, thumb massaging the flesh in tiny circles that leave your mind purring at the slight pressure. Kyle’s lips are at your hairline, not leaving there as he holds you lightly to him, humming in the back of his throat. 

“Love you,” you slur for the millionth time that night. 

Kyle has no problem answering for a billionth. 

“Love you too, Sweetheart. You go on and sleep now.”

So, with little resistance, you do.

He really was the definition of the perfect boyfriend.

[phenomenalgirl9]

Only For You: Choi Seungcheol x Reader

Summary: Just another office romance, where you think Seungcheol is just too caring, yes that's the reason why he's so sweet to you. (Seungkwan is dumb to think he likes you or something)

A/n: there was some slight office romance going on in my workplace, it's hopeless. But I got some content in mind from it.

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"Did you have your lunch?" Vernon asked and you shook your head without moving your head from the ppt in hand. "I need to complete this, I'll eat later" you said, clicking and typing. "Y/n? Let's go" Seungcheol said as he walked up to your table. "Where?" You asked in shock. "To eat lunch, let's go. C'mon" He said, lightly tapping the hand that was grabbing the mouse. "But the ppt-" you were interrupted, "can wait" Seungcheol said and motioned you to get up, he wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Can you sit calm and eat" he told you and you stopped bouncing your leg. "I still have a lot to do" you whined, "don't worry I'll help you" he said and you looked at him in shock. "You have your own shit" you said, shaking your head, "and yours has a higher priority, it's not your fault your partner dipped at a crucial moment leaving it solely on you" he assured you. After lunch, he actually joined you at your table, you briefed him on the work which he already knew, "I'll get the designs from my team and get started on the 2nd half of the ppt, we can then merge it" he said and got into it. You noticed your coworker Seungkwan smiled a knowing smirk.

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"You're not going home yet?" Kim Mingyu from designing and programming asked and you shook your head. "I'll complete this then I'll go. What about you?" You asked him. "I have a few designs that need to be shown to the client tomorrow so I'll be staying. Give me a call before leaving, I might join you" Mingyu said. "Y/n's staying late?" Seungcheol suddenly appeared beside Mingyu. "Looks like you are as well" you said and he nodded. "Yeah I am programming the software that he's designing so I have to" he said and they went off on their way.

"How much longer for you?" You asked Mingyu, you and him stayed in the same area so you often commuted together, specially when you were working late. "I'll need an hour and then I'll be done" he said and you said "good, I'll be done by then, meet me in the lobby then" you told him and he nodded. "How are you two gonna return?" Seungcheol asked and you replied "we'll take a cab". "I could just drop you two" Seungcheol said, yes, it's a known fact that he has a car but it's also known that him and you two live in two different areas and dropping you two would mean he'd have to go in a completely different direction.

It was probably two hours later when your eyes were starting to feel heavy. You removed your glasses and rubbed your eyes. "Tired?" A voice asked and you noticed Seungcheol. "No, just a bit sleepy" you confessed, "I think I can help with that" he said, and that was when you noticed 2 cups in his hand. More specifically, one of them was your cup. "Thought this would help" he placed one on the empty space in your table. "Did you eat?" he asked, removing a stray hair from your face. You voice was stuck in your throat as you felt cautious under his gaze, you didn't trust your voice so you only shook your head. "Join us for dinner?" He said, his face had the most sincere expression and you couldn't even say no or anything. You just nodded a yes and with one last pat on your head Choi Seungcheol was gone. Is he being sweet to you? Nah. He's just very caring, you thought and brushed the thought.

"What? No" you declined his offer, but knowing Seungcheol he was determined and you ultimately let him have his way.

So you met those two in an hour at the parking lot, "you seriously don't have to drive all the way to (your area)" you tried to reason with him but he's too cute to say no.

You remember when you had eaten without him one day and he looked like a kicked puppy the rest of the day. Yes, you and him have eaten together since then.

"Shotgun" you and Mingyu said together when Seungcheol said from inside the car that "Mingyu will be more comfortable in the back, the leg room is more" he said, he almost looked expectantly at Mingyu, who shrugged and sat on the backseat as you joined him on the passenger's seat.

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"What happened then?" Seungkwan asked. "He literally stood there, on the road, because the car couldn't go up to Y/n's apartment gate. He stood there and waited until Y/n texted him that she had entered her apartment and then he started the car. You know he dropped me just in front of my neighborhood and drove off" Mingyu grumbled.

"That's just cause I'm a girl" you said trying to dodge their speculations. "What about the times when he makes coffee for you?" Seungkwan pointed and you shook your head "he's just caring" you said. "Yet he's never made me coffee when I sit in the same room as him" he said and you went silent. "Also the head pats. The head pats" Seungkwana said and demonstrated the same on Mingyu as Mingyu made a weird fake shy face. "Go back to work" you said and took your seat.

"She has nothing to say, did you see?! Did you see?" Seungkwan and Mingyu said. "The leg room in the backseat is grand~" Mingyu teased and walked away.

You got busy with work but one thought kept poking into your head. Was there a chance that the feeling you had for Seungcheol could be- No, you mustn't give yourself hope based on what those two said.

Lunch time rolled in and you found Seungcheol by your table with a container and dimples. Your heart almost melted onto the ground at the look of him just like that. You stood up but your insides were a puddle. "How has your day been going?" He asked as you both started to eat. "It's been uneventful" you said "oh you know the JC client had called-" and you started telling him what happened, the conversation rolled onto as now somehow you are discussing your pets. "We should have a playdate" he suggested "well like after a normal date, I mean if you want to like" Seungcheol started rambling. "Are you asking me out?" You questioned, still stunned. "Depends, will you say yes?" He asked, looking at you with his big puppy eyes and you nodded and he stood up and walked to the wall, stood there for 5 whole seconds and came back and sat down. "Let's go for dinner after work today," he said.

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3 weeks later

"That's Seungcheol's shirt and yesterday's lower. Where were you yesterday night Y/n?" Seungkwan said and you cursed his observant ass. "Say it. Say it" Mingyu urged you.

"Fine! We were together, we made it official" you told them. "Yes! I knew it" Seungkwan said "my 1000 won?" Seungkwan told Mingyu who was slowly bringing his wallet out. "You bet on my relationship?!" You asked disappointed but not surprised. "I thought Cheol hyung would wait a month," Mingyu said with a pout. "And I knew he wouldn't last a whole month without poping the question" Seungkwan said.

"That's true I couldn't wait to make her mine" Seungcheol suddenly appeared behind the two.

"Please stop" Seungkwan whined.

"We didn't even do anything," you said. "No Cheol hyung gives you that look like you put up the stars in the night sky. It makes me wanna puke" he said, making a disgusting face, only for Seungcheol to smile and come stand behind you, his hands on your shoulder as you couldn't help but blush.

Your mind went to that day of your first date when Seungcheol had poured out his heart. "I hope you know that I don't take care of you cause you're a girl or I care or whatever. I like taking care of you, cause the thought of you being in discomfort of any form doesn't suit my head. All these things I do are only for you, it's exclusive. Just so you know" He had told you, while scratching his neck. And you realized the meanings of all those gestured that you had previously deemed as meaningless the head pats, him going out if his way for you, the coffees he made or gets for you, all those time he's helped you when he could have just left you to suffer with your then, dumb associates. Now you realize how touch and acts of service are literally his love language.

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