#talkin about the dance games

[ryomens-vixen]

Idk about y'all but my man shigaraki? He got some mean ass cock I'm talkin bout he got shotgun sized dick, bruise your cervix type of dick- y'all don't wanna hear me you just wanna dance. SHIGARAKI LAYS MEAN ASS PIPE AND Y'ALL JUST DON'T GET IT. LOOK AT HIM- I bet you won't tell him to get off his game and come put his COCK in your stomach. Y'all just wanna fuckin dance bruh, This man dick so fuckin heavy he has a hard time carrying it- he literally throws it onto your face so you can feel just how heavy it really is, but y'all not hearing me at all. Shigaraki's dick is so meaty, heavy, thick, and girthy that only half of it can fit inside you- bitch he gotta hold the rest of his cock to keep it from bending too much when he fucks you. 😭y'all aren't hearing me!!! Shigaraki will literally break your fuckin pussy and guess what? I'll still sit there and take it break it daddy

[writtenbyan-aries]

∶ Summary: Chris confirms your relationship with a TikTok

∶ Warnings: swearing, mostly fluff

∶ Word Count: 1006

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“Whatcha makin’?” Nick asks as he leans forward, “Cookies!? Oh hell yes.”

You smile with a nod, “I wanted cookies, but you guys didn’t have any, so I’m making my own.” You look around, “Are you guys done streaming?”

He nods, “Yeah, well. I am, Matt and Chris were doing another round, but they said they’re getting off after that game.”

As soon as Nick finishes his words, you hear music growing louder and the shuffle of Chris’ feet growing closer.

“Oh god, I should have never said anything.” Nick laughs, “He’s gonna put on a show. Watch.”

“Doesn’t he always?” You turn around, watching as Chris dances up to you, Breathe by Lil Skies playing from his phone.

You can’t help but laugh. You watch as he walks over to set his phone down on the table and moves back, continuing to dance.

“You’re fucking nuts.” Nick laughs, “What the fuck.”

“He loves to dance, Nick. Let him be.” You playfully slap his shoulder and he rolls his eyes, “At least he has good taste in music.” He laughs, looking back at Chris dancing, as what you call it, crazy. The music takes over him and he just goes with the beats.

You lay your hand over your mouth, shaking your head as you watch Chris sing along to Skies, “plug just hit my phone he said the pack is on the way, said I would stop smoking then-“ he brings his hand up, pretending to hit a blunt, “I take one to the face.”

He lays his hands on his chest, “I’m a lonely stoner-“ he points to you, still dancing around as he keeps his eyes on the camera, “but for her I made a change.”

You were off camera, so you weren’t exactly sure what he was doing, other than recording himself to music like he does, a lot.

But you thought it was always so cute.

“When the rain stops pouring, everything comes out.” He turns, eyes on you, “Girl you’re way too gorgeous to be stuck in the house.” He points to himself, singing to you, “I would give you everything-“ he flicks Nick off, laughing as he sings, “Fuck what he talkin’ about.”

Nick scoffs, “Excuse me.” Nick leans forward into the frame and gives the camera a face, looking back at Chris before flicking him off.

Chris smiles, looking back at you as he holds up his hand, waving a finger, “You know you not-“ He brings another one up, forming a peace sign, -“my number two.”

He reaches out, pulling you towards him, “girl, know you my boo, girl.” He kisses your cheek and starts dancing around you as the song continues.

“Ohhh, I can’t sleep, your love helps me breathe..”

He moves forward, turning off the music and he gasps, “Are you making cookies?”

You laugh, turning as he walks up to take some of the batter, “Yeah, is it good?” He raises his brows and looks at you, “That’s fucking good.”

“Are you guys done?” Nick asks, leaning against the counter and Chris nods, “for a little, Matt wants to stream later, too.”

“What time?” Nick asks and chris scoffs, “Do I look like fuckin’ Father Time to you?” He breaks into laughter and you lay your hand on your forehead, “Oh my god, be nice to each other.”

“Yeah, be nice.. Chris..” Nick scoffs, “I’ll just go ask Matt.” He slaps Chris upset the head before running off, and Chris rubs his head as he turns to you.

He pulls you in for a kiss, “You want to come watch me play?” You nod, “Once I get these cookies in, I can.”

“Okay.” He takes more of the batter and you laughs swatting his hand away, “You’re going to get sick.”

He shrugs, playing a song on his phone as he dances away, “Worth it.” He smirks, giving you a wink before he disappears back into his room.

You shake your head returning to the cookies. After a little bit, your phone lights up with a notification and you lean over, gasping when you see that Chris posted a TikTok.

You had a feeling you knew exactly what it was, but you wanted to double check before screaming his name.

You use your pinky, tapping the notification and you were right.

Chris is dancing, Skies playing in the background, and soon enough, you’re pulled into frame. Your eyes move down to the captions and your jaw drops as you read it, Girlfriend reveal, ig.

“Christopher Sturniolo!” You stand up, and you can’t help but smirk as you hear him laughing from back the hall.

You talked about confirming the rumors, but neither of you set a date or time to do so, but I guess the cat is really out of the bag now.

You let out a sigh, laughing as you watch Chris dance around, smiling when you see the way he looks at you on the screen.

You were in love with him, just like he was in love with you.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

This song has been on repeat the last few days and i just knew I had to write something with it - so I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading. I love you so much. Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | It was Toji's idea to play strip poker in the first place, so why is he so bad at it?? But hey, who's complaining? Certainly not you!

Content | mdni 18+, g/n!reader x toji x shiu, gambling, no sex, just drunk naked men~

Word Count | ~600

"Wanna make it interesting?" Toji said with a devilish smirk.

It wasn't the first time you'd found yourself playing post-kill poker with your handler and fellow assassin after a good day's work.

"Yeah? With what money, Fushiguro?" Shiu mocked.

The three of you sat, crosslegged on the floor, around the low tea table in Shiu's office. The one typically used for a different kind of transaction.

"I'm not talkin' about raising the bet." Toji snickered. "I'm just talkin' about changing the game a little."

"I just barely got the hang of five card stud!" You protested. You stared down at your hand, a good one at that.

"What are you proposing?" You vaguely heard Shiu ask. No way you wanted to change the game now. Not with three of a kind right in front of you.

"Strip."

Your brain was working hard to remember the ten hands of poker Shiu had taught you not long ago. Three of a kind was good, but there were still several higher ranking hands...

"Strip?!" Shiu nearly choked.

...not to mention Toji's propensity to cheat. At least you had finally managed your poker face, so you supposed you could try to get them to fold before you- wait...

"Strip." Toji repeated.

You had stopped paying attention, distracted by your strategy. Did he just say "strip"? As in "strip poker"?? Slowly, you looked up from your cards, eyes darting from one man to the other.

"You're not scared, are ya?" Toji teased.

•♤•♡•◇•♧•

What ensued was utter chaos.

Shiu was down to his white tee-shirt, socks, and boxers. Meanwhile, Toji had just his left sock and a tight fitting pair of black boxer briefs. Everyone's cheeks were flushed with drink from the now empty cans that scattered the floor and table. You sat fully clothed, a fat stack of cash piled up in front of you.

"I fold!" Toji exclaimed, ripping off his last sock a little too enthusiastically.

"YOU HAD A STRAIGHT FLUSH!" Shiu practically screamed, pulling at his own hair.

Toji shrugged.

"Fuckin' exhibitionist..." Shiu murmured. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You laid down another three of a kind. "Damnit, how do you keep doing that?!" Shiu threw down his two pair, reaching to peel off one of his socks.

•♤•♡•◇•♧•

The final round was no different.

Toji knelt, butt ass naked, save for Shiu's tie now tied snuggly around his head. "I fold!" He yelled in a drunken chuckle despite being out of the game.

"Oh, shut up!" Shiu sneered, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he sat in nothing more than just his underwear, a gleam of determination in his wild eyes. Slowly, confidently, he laid down four of a kind. "Show 'em." He said.

You bit your lip, both men leaning forward in hushed anticipation. Then, with a guilty smile, you threw your royal flush onto the table.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Shiu yelled, burying his face in his hands. Toji laughed, dancing nakedly in taunting fashion. Defeated, Shiu stood to strip away his final layer. Toji whistled.

"Thanks, Fushiguro. This was a good idea!" You gave him a wink, pulling your loot toward your fully clothed self. Toji, in turn, gave a prideful look followed by a mock bow, Shiu's tie still swinging from his head.

"Now to sit back and enjoy the view." You gloated.

Sure, it was Shiu who had taught you the rules. But it was Toji, afterall, who taught you to cheat.

Idea credit to the illustrious @noodles-even-less-stable

Tag | @queentoji

[dreaisgrayte]

Perfect Worship | Caleb x fem!MC

This blurb is told from Caleb's pov :) (unedited also I don't play the game but I get lots of info from my bestie and obviously...tiktok)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, kissing, obsession, heavy petting, fingers in mouth, glove play (?), dirty talk, childhood best friends are going to FUCK?, pussy rubbing, fingering (slightly), talks of raw vaginal penetration, teasing, edging wc: 1.6k a/n: O///o I need a stiff drink after that... and by a stiff drink I mean *** from Caleb's stiff **** ... I would be ashamed but let's be honest... I'm too far gone at this point

You’re staring at me with that look in your eye. It’s one I can’t ignore. “How could you…” those whispered words brought me out of my thoughts. How could I? What exactly did you think I did? I want to scoff, throttle you for believing any nonsense spewed about me. Though… the way you clench your fists in remembrance of our childhood is very endearing. It sends a stinging wave of happiness through my empty chest. 

“Haa…always so naive pipsqueak.” I breathe out, bringing my gloved hand to my lips. I gauge your reaction, watching your skin bristle at my words. That’s it. “When are you going to grow up?” Break for me. Your eyes narrow into slits, glowing with beautiful anger. Anything you felt for me was glorious as long as it was something. Your hatred for me was going to bring me to my knees. What I don’t expect is your hand to make a loud thwack against my right cheek. The action pushes my head to the left, the breath whooshing from my lungs. My fingertips caress the stinging sensation of my cheek, my eyes wide. Okay, so maybe you were stronger than I remembered. So then why? I want to groan with the flooding arousal to my groin. Fuck. Then I get a glimpse of you raising your other hand, ready to strike. 

This time, I stop your assault, catching your wrist in my hand. For a moment we just stare at each other, too caught in the moment to continue. I decide to break the stare off, slipping my hand further down your arm, then yanking you into my own body. You fall onto your knees, in turn, straddling me. I leave the choice up to you. Submit or drive me to insanity. 

Your lips close around mine in a desperate attempt to convince me you still had control. I let go of your arm, spotting my handprint outlined in red against your skin. A primal need pulses through my body, driving me to move my hand to the nape of your neck. More, I had to have all of you. 

A whimper falls from your mouth as I slot my mouth against yours, slipping my tongue to lap at your lips. Let me in. You oblige, allowing my tongue to swirl against yours in a dance of passion and yearning, built up over years. Even when I could see you everyday, it was never enough. 

I slide my knees apart so that you sink further into my lap, the apex of your thighs flush against my stiff cock. You moan into my mouth, pressing yourself deeper into the kiss. “Please,” you mewl, lips swollen from my aggression. Ah, begging me are we? 

“You’re grown, use your words.” I want to hear it from your lips. Hear your voice beg me to fuck you. The pitch and timbre give into moans. Let me worship you. Your brows furrow, frustration building on your face. Resistance. Something I know how to deal with all too well. “Fine then,” I coo, tracing the line of your neck with my leather covered fingers. “Be that way.” My evol surges, forcing you further downward until it feels like I’m in you. Your eyes widen and your hands immediately grip my shoulders. I can see it on your face, you feel it too. “How about now? Feel like talkin’?” I tilt my head, watching a shudder course through you. I lean back against the cushioned sofa, taking in the sight before me. 

Your face is a deep red as your trembling arm tries to hide your beautiful face from me. Damn if I was fucking you right now I could see everything. I blow out a breath, meeting your heated gaze from over your arm. “Ca…Caleb.” 

Oh. Did you think you could say my name like that and not have to deal with the consequences? I grab your hips, sinking my fingertips into the meaty flesh. “C’mon pretty girl, tell me exactly what you desire.” I’m begging you now. I can’t handle it. I’m going to go fucking insane. 

You slowly drop your arm, blinking at me through those thick lashes. You grind your hips down, eliciting a growling hiss from behind my clenched teeth. “Ruin me.” Your voice is low, almost too low. I want to hear you say it again, but my body moves on its own. I shift my hips to create an unbearable friction between us. “Please Caleb, I’ve missed you so much,” You’re ramblings couldn’t be a finer melody to my ears. 

There’s a part of me that wants to fuck you right here on the sofa, splay my cum all over your face like I’m some horny teenager again. But you deserve better than having my cock slam into you until dawn erupts through the windows. My first time should be making love with you, but I’d grown too accustomed to the art of war. “On your knees darlin’.” I command, observing the way you slip off my lap – disappointed by the briskness of the air around my legs since your warmth had left. You sink to the floor, using my thigh as stability, defiantly maintaining eye contact with me. “So brave,” I reach for your cheek, running my thumb over your plump lower lip. “If you do a good job I might go easy on you.” I warn, tightening my grip to where your cheeks squish inward. Your brows knit together and I can tell you want to fight back. There’s nothing you can do on any inch of your body that I don’t already know about. 

Your mouth parts, allowing my gloved-hand to sink into your warm and wet mouth. I hum, fascinated by the way your tongue glides around my digits. You close your lips around the length of my fingers, mimicking a sucking motion until my cock grows harder. You release me, saliva connecting the tips of my fingers to your mouth. “Did I pass?” You inquire, brushing a strand of your hair behind those lovely ears. How down bad did I have to be to call your ears ‘lovely’? 

I shrug my shoulders, leaning back once more. “I’m unsure, I think you might need something a little bigger to test your capabilities.” It makes your eyes perk up and your mouth quirk into a grin. My legs surround you as sturdy pillars as you move between them. Your eyes watch me like a hawk as you undo my belt, pulling it off with tantalizing slowness. It’s tossed to the side, the zipper of my trousers next. My cock immediately feels less stifled, but there was a part of me that misses that overwhelming pressure. The surrounding air was too empty, I needed something. Lucky for me, you can read me like a book. 

You pull my boxers down exposing my erection, which you stare at for an insufferable amount of time. I’m at my breaking point and there’s nothing you can do to save me. Your wet mouth wraps around the length of my cock, pressing your tongue under the head. Okay, maybe I was wrong. I’m obsessed with the way you push my length further into your throat until tears stream down your face. You hum against my shaft, eliciting a low growl from me. Your eyes glow with lust, keeping me on the edge. This was your way of punishing me, reclaiming control. Usually I’d be more than eager to allow your little rebellion, but unfortunately I’ve run out of patience. I click my tongue, wrapping my hand around your hair, then pulling taunt. Your eyes shutter as I pull you off my cock. 

“Hmm,” I like how pliable you are in my hands. Your eyes dart around my face, searching for an explanation only found in my words. “Shall I show you what happens when you're insubordinate?” The slight movement of your head is all it takes for me to yank you to your feet, tossing you toward the sofa yet again. You place your hands on the back, sticking your ass toward me. “You get punished.” I use my teeth to pull off one of my gloves, using the other to loosen your pants. They fall around your ankles, exposing a simple pair of black panties. Doesn’t matter, they’re going to be staying on my floor for most of this visit. 

I use my ungloved hand to rub your clit through the fabric, growing high off the soft moans escaping your mouth. “I’ve barely touched you down here yet you’re already so wet.” I comment, leaning over your back to hold you steady. I kiss on your shoulder blades and down until I reach bare skin. “Who knew you were so filthy?” I mutter against your back, slipping my fingers into your folds until I tease the entrance to your warm sex. “You gonna cum for me?” I inquire, not really caring if you answer with words because your body will be doing most of the talking here in a moment. “Haa, I bet I could just fuck you raw right now right?” I muse, drawing my hand from your throbbing pussy and to the hem of your underwear. “You want me to shove my cock in you huh? You’re practically serving me your wet cunt.” I’m hungry and you were going to feed me. “Don’t tell me you were waiting to see me again just so you could jump my bones?” I laugh, running a hand through my hair as you hang your head. “Well I’d hate to disappoint you, so I’ll show you everything I learned while I was gone. Come on, let me make it up to you.”

[burrowdarling]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: A super-fluffy lil blurb based on Sweet Nothing - Taylor Swift

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

Note: Heyo! Thank you for all of the love on my writing recently, it means so much to me that you're all enjoying everything! Thank you to this lovely anon who submitted this idea :)

Word Count: 838

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket, we almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes? Ooh, ooh

It was the littlest things that would remind him of you. Joe could be driving home and see your favorite restaurant, a billboard for a show you mentioned, or simply a street sign that made him think of a conversation you two had a few nights before. It could be different license plates from your goal to find every state wherever you go or your need to always play eye spy on every road trip the two of you took. You were sentimental, getting him to slow down and take a breather every once in a while. It wasn’t always something Joe was good at, having a narrow focus and one end goal for multiple months out of the year. He loved his job but he loved being with you more. You loved to find small treasures to bring back home with you on your trips. Small tokens of memories compounding into your relationship, able to bring you both right back into any moment. You were nostalgic, loving to reminisce on different milestones in your relationship together. For example, you always saved the flowers Joe would get for you in hopes that one day you could spread them down the aisle at your wedding. It reminded Joe that the little things do matter. Even when it felt like he couldn’t slow his pace, he had you there to pump the brakes for him.

'Cause they said the end is comin', everyone's up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'

No matter how loud the noise was inside his head, Joe was always able to find a sense of solace in you. It was like you were a security blanket, able to quiet the myriad of voices that tried to overtake his thoughts at all times. Coming home to you was the favorite part of his day, no matter the time or mood he was in. Finding you in his kitchen, making his favorite meal while you danced around, singing your favorite song at the top of your lungs while it played lightly from the speakers. You never let his presence stop you, continuing to sing while grabbing his hands, making him join into your antics. Joe would feign resistance, but deep down he loved every second of being home with you like this. You had a carefree nature about you, allowing him to let his guard down, even for a moment, and bask in the warmth that was your love. Being home meant there were no restrictions, no standards, all that he had to be was 100% himself. You were able to tell when he would need certain things like space to himself or to be held. It was something he thought was a superpower of yours, convinced you were able to read his mind somehow. 

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talkin' hucksters out glad-handin' each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doin' more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it, ooh

Sure, there was something about the spotlight that Joe reveled in, finally getting the recognition for his hard work and effort all these years. He didn’t need to hold any type of facade around you, though - able to see right through any of his fronts. To you, he was Joey - the boy from Athens whose dream was to play football for the love of the game. He was always striving to make other people’s lives better, spread kindness and joy in his hometown community. 

“Do you ever think that maybe I’m not cut out for this life? Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I didn’t make it.”

These were questions he would ask you in the dark, basking in the security of the night, a time for confessions he would come back to in the morning.You always knew what to do in these moments, never discounting his feelings or telling his mind to quiet. His favorite by far was when you would be in bed, ready to rest for the night after a particularly hard day. You would hold him in your arms, light scratches down his back, whispering any and every thought you had about him while he drifted off. Your sweet nothings were something he cherished, finding himself thinking about them on the nights when you could be there with him.

Home didn’t have to be a place, it was a feeling. That feeling was something he had with you always. Joe was able to call anywhere home as long as you were there by his side, taking life one step at a time. You were his sweet nothing.

[v6quewrlds]

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT; we saw the stream of tee listention to bmf by sza; so an imagine request could be; reader in her universe or wtv wrote that bc yk her and tee are together. and tee didn't know, and she just randomly posted new song out go enjoy, and when its released let's see tee is on stream and everyone's saying like tee reader dropped a new songs and he goes huh and so he calls her and is like did you just drop a song and she goes maybe and he goes to listen to and is like wait, is this about me and then gets really cute and excited that its about him

imagine writing a song about tee.

Tee was bored out of his mind.

The quietness of the off-season was usually a welcome reprieve from the chaos of football, but today, it felt like a prison sentence. His eyes darted from the TV playing the Notre Dame game to his phone and back again, searching for anything to fill the void. That's when he decided to set up his chair, pop his headset on, and start up his Twitch, hoping the time would fly by.

"Yo, what's good," Tee greeted his viewers with his usual enthusiasm. His screen flickered to life, displaying his face and the den behind him. The chatter in the chat grew as fans typed away, eager to interact with the star wide receiver.

Mid-game, the notifications started pouring in. "YOUR GIRL SURPRISE DROPPED," one fan exclaimed. "It's trending on Twitter," added another. Tee's heart skipped a beat. He paused the game and leaned in closer to the camera, his eyes searching the chat for more information. He hadn't heard a peep from you about this. You were in New York, tucked away upstate to finish recording your third album.

"Fuck is y'all talkin' about? My girl dropped?" Tee said into the mic, his eyes darting between the chat and his phone. He sent you a text, his thumbs moving at the speed of light. "Nobody told me nothing," he muttered under his breath. The notifications on his phone went wild, with fans sending links to Spotify and Apple Music.

After deciding you were taking too long to answer his text, he dialed your number, putting the call on speaker. It rang twice before you picked up, your voice as smooth as honey. "Hi, baby," you drawled out, playing it cool.

"Don't 'hi, baby' me," Tee said, trying to keep his own cool. "Did you really drop a new song?"

You giggled, the sound echoing through the room. "Maybe," you hummed coyly.

Tee rolled his eyes. "You playing with me?"

Your laughter grew. "I don't know. I miss you though."

Tee felt a tug at his heart. "Miss you too, but tell me about this song," he urged, trying to ignore the flutters in his chest.

"Why don't you play it and see?" you suggested, your voice dripping with mischief.

Tee's heart was racing. He pulled up Spotify on his other screen and searched for the new release. Sure enough, there it was: "BMF". He hit play and put the phone back on speaker. The song started off pleasant before the beat dropped, and your velvety voice filled the room.

Young and fine and dark and handsome The boy from Tennessee keeps bossing And I can't keep my panties from dropping

Tee's hand came down to press pause before the rest of the verse could reach his ears. "Hold on, is this about me?" He was grinning wide, a laugh bubbling up from his chest in disbelief.

Your giggles grew louder over the phone. "You're supposed to play it, listen with your ears, baby," you teased, your voice full of excitement and a hint of nerves.

Tee's smile was uncontainable as he hit play again. He leaned back into his chair, eyes on the lyrics scrolling by. The song continued as Tee continued smiling wide. He listened intently as the words painted a picture of your feelings for him. The fans in his chat went wild, posting heart-eye emojis and shouting out their love for the couple.

Know my baby packing, why I'm stuck That's why he my man

He couldn't help but press pause again, rising out of his chair to do a little victory dance. "Chat, y'all hearing this shit? This is about me!" The room was alive with the energy of his laughter and the thumping bass of the track. "Baby girl, you out here talking crazy. Goddamn!"

Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter. "I had to," you said, the sweetness in your voice contrasting with the explicit nature of the lyrics. "Just finish the song."

By the time the song wrapped up, Tee couldn't help but feel over the moon. He had heard rumors about artists writing songs for their significant others, but never thought it would happen to him. His cheeks were sore from smiling so much. He sat back down, his eyes gleaming with pride and love.

"So, what do you think?" You asked.

Tee looked at the screen, his mind racing with thoughts. "Baby girl, that shit is fire. Like, for real," he said, nodding his head in time with the beat that he decided to loop for a second play.

"You like it?" Your voice was a mix of relief and excitement.

"Like it?" Tee scoffed, his laughter still echoing in the room. "I love it, baby. You went off, baby, damn." His chest puffed out a bit, unable to contain his pride. The fans in the chat were going crazy, sending love to the couple and praising the song. Tee read some of the comments out loud, his smile growing wider with each one.

Your laugh was music to his ears. "Thank you, baby. I wanted to surprise you."

Tee leaned in closer to the mic. "Surprise? You could've just called me to tell me this. You ain't have to go and make a whole song about it," he joked, winking at the camera.

"Mute yourself for a second?" you said, your voice taking on a more sweet tone. Tee's eyes widened, and he quickly muted the stream before you could say anything more.

[aventurineswife]

I want Obey Me! brothers with a reader who is like Aventurine please

“Life’s a gamble, and I’m not afraid to play”

Tags: Obey Me! Brothers x Aventurine based Reader, Gambling, Complex Emotions, Dangerous Allure, Survivor’s Guilt, Emotional Walls, Vulnerability, Romantic Tension, Calculated Risk.

Warnings: Manipulation, Emotional Trauma, Mature Themes, Tension & Angst, Possibly Unhealthy Relationships.

Lucifer never let his guard down, but there was something about you, something that made him question his usually strict demeanor. You strolled into the room with the kind of confidence that could make anyone stop in their tracks. A blend of elegance, danger, and calculated charm, you had his full attention.

He watched as you approached, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, Lucifer," you greeted smoothly, your voice a melody of deliberate calmness. "I do hope I’m not interrupting anything important."

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “You never interrupt, MC. You simply… reframe the situation.”

You flashed a grin, the kind that could disarm any of his carefully laid plans. “I’m flattered, truly. But perhaps there’s more to this game than you realize.”

Lucifer studied you, every flicker of your gaze, every slight movement. He saw through your mask of charm—the hidden tension in your posture, the way your left hand, uncharacteristically, remained hidden behind your back. “Still playing with risks, I see. You never change.”

“And why would I?” You shrugged nonchalantly, turning your eyes toward the window, observing the moonlight dancing across the room. “What’s life without a gamble, Lucifer? A dull, predictable affair. I find excitement in the unknown.”

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “And what would you risk this time?”

Your smile remained, enigmatic, your eyes darkening with hidden depths. "Everything."

He chuckled softly, though his gaze was sharp. "Then it seems you and I are more alike than I care to admit, MC."

There was no answer, just a brief flicker of shared understanding between you two. The game was always on, whether you were playing with words or with your lives.

Mammon couldn’t help but stare at you, his gaze lingering on your every movement. Your aura—unpredictable, yet effortlessly charming—drew him in like a moth to a flame. You had that same glint in your eye that screamed danger, the kind of danger he couldn’t resist.

“Oi, MC,” he called, his voice a little more flustered than usual. “What’s the deal with all this... fancy clothes and big-shot talk, huh? Ya some kinda god of games or something?”

You gave a soft chuckle, flipping a lock of your sandy blond hair out of your face as you glanced back at him. "I like to think of myself as... an architect of fate. The stakes are high, Mammon, but I never back down from a challenge."

Mammon frowned, scratching the back of his head. “Yer freakin’ weird, y’know that? Always talkin’ like life’s a game. Ya can’t just gamble with everything!”

“Why not?” You asked, your voice smooth and enticing, yet with a flicker of something deeper. “Everything is a gamble, Mammon. Even now, we’re gambling with our time. With our choices. The difference between us is that I don’t mind losing, as long as the thrill remains.”

His eyes narrowed, unsure whether you were trying to impress him or scare him. “So what’s yer game, huh?”

Your lips curled into a smile, the edges of your grin both inviting and dangerous. “The game is simple, Mammon. Don’t fear the stakes; fear the regret of never taking the risk.”

He swallowed hard. "Guess you’ve got a point there... but maybe not all of us wanna play with fire."

You tilted your head, your eyes catching the light just right. “You’d be surprised, Mammon. Sometimes it’s the fire that keeps us alive.”

Levi was never one to deal with complicated personalities, but when you entered the room, he couldn’t help but stare. You weren’t just confident—you were unnervingly composed, and that sharp, strategic mind of yours? It sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey, uh, MC, right?” Levi muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re like... totally different from what I expected. I mean, your whole vibe is like... I dunno, like you’re always on a high-stakes mission or something.”

You gave a low laugh, the sound light but with a hint of a challenge. “High stakes? I would say it’s just life. Nothing more thrilling than walking a tightrope, don’t you think?”

Levi looked at you, wide-eyed. “A tightrope!? No way! What if you fall?”

“I never fall, Leviathan.” You tilted your head, eyes glinting dangerously as you continued, “Falling is for those who are afraid to rise.”

You seemed to glide through the conversation, your movements as fluid as a dancer. But there was a subtle tension in your posture, a hand always hidden or tucked away behind your back, a secret you kept locked in your mind. It fascinated him.

“I... I guess I get it?” Levi muttered, his fingers twitching nervously. “But... don’t you get scared? I mean, gambling with everything sounds... kinda crazy.”

Your smile was sly, calculating. “Fear isn’t the problem, Levi. The problem is living without it.”

Satan always prided himself on his intellect, but you, had a way of getting under his skin, making him feel like a mere pawn in your grand game. He observed you closely, noting how your eyes flickered with silent challenges as if daring anyone to take a step into your world.

“You seem so... sure of yourself,” Satan remarked, his voice sharp as he leaned against the wall, watching you with intense scrutiny. “It’s almost as though you see everything as a puzzle to be solved.”

“You could say that.” Your grin widened, your eyes locking with his. “Everything is a puzzle, Satan. And I... am very good at solving them.”

Satan raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “But you don’t mind playing dirty?”

You shrugged, the casual motion making your gold rings gleam. “Dirty? Life is messy. You either get in the dirt and make your play or you watch from the sidelines.”

He frowned, not sure if he was impressed or irritated by your words. “You sound like someone who’s never faced consequences.”

“Oh, I’ve faced them.” The playful tone in your voice slipped for a moment, a shadow of something deeper passing over your face. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same confident smile. “But consequences are just another form of the game. You play with the pieces, you take the risks. That’s the fun of it.”

Satan eyed you, a mix of curiosity and caution. “You certainly have a unique outlook. But I suppose that’s what makes you dangerous.”

You chuckled softly, your gaze never leaving his. “And yet, here you are, intrigued.”

Asmodeus was no stranger to captivating people, but you? You were a whole different level of dangerous allure. The way you walked into a room—your smile, your confidence, your playful, almost teasing nature—made him immediately want to know more.

“Oh darling, you’re a puzzle wrapped in an enigma!” Asmo exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “I can already tell you’re the type to keep everyone guessing.”

You leaned in, brushing a lock of your hair out of your face with a flourish, before meeting his gaze. “I’d say you’re half right, Asmo. It’s not about keeping others guessing, it’s about knowing when to let them in.”

He was momentarily taken aback. “So you do let people in?”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile lingering with a mysterious edge. “Sometimes. But it’s never without a price.”

Asmo couldn’t help but laugh, his interest piqued. “You certainly know how to make things... exciting.”

“There’s nothing dull about a gamble, Asmo,” you said, your voice almost teasing, yet with an underlying seriousness. “You of all demons should know that.”

Beel, despite his usual calm demeanor, couldn’t ignore the unsettling aura you carried with you. You weren’t like the others. The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself—everything screamed danger, but in a way that made him want to stay close.

“You don’t look like someone who’s afraid of anything,” Beel commented, his voice steady but curious. “Aren’t you scared of losing?”

“Fear of loss is a weakness, Beel.” Your voice was smooth, yet there was a quiet depth to it. “It’s only through loss that you truly understand what you’re willing to risk.”

Beel chewed on the words for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “I don’t know about that... I’ve lost a lot.”

You gave a small, knowing smile. “We all lose, eventually. But we’re still here, aren’t we? That’s the real gamble.”

Beel blinked, slowly understanding. “You make it sound like there’s no escape from it.”

“Exactly,” you said, your voice more certain now. “There’s no escape, only choices. And sometimes... the best choice is to keep playing.”

Belphie, the quiet one, was strangely fascinated by you. While most people were intimidated by your demeanor, he saw something else—a deep, unspoken vulnerability behind your games, your calculated charm, your hidden fears. He couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“Hmm... you don’t seem like the kind of person who sleeps well,” he remarked, his lazy voice cutting through the silence.

You tilted your head. “And what gives you that impression?”

He yawned. “I’ve met a lot of people who act like everything’s fine, but you... you’re different. Always playing your cards close to your chest, hiding behind that smile of yours.”

You paused, eyes flicking briefly to your hand, which was tucked behind your back. “I sleep just fine, Belphegor. But some things... are better left unsaid.”

His gaze lingered on you, as if waiting for you to reveal more, but he knew better than to push. Sometimes, it was the quiet moments that spoke the loudest.

“Well, if you say so.” He shrugged, rolling back into the couch. “I’m just saying, the game you’re playing? It’s got a hell of a lot more stakes than you let on.”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

buddy and monkey hc’s during the euros and how they were at the final? 🤭💗

— euros final hc's | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

Oooh! i absolutely love this hc, so i even wanted to add some photos, hehe as well! (sorry it took me so long for it, haha)

at the time of the euros, buddy had only just turned 1 recently so she wasn't to sure of what was going on around her but of course she was still there at the game, decked out in a pair of pink ear defenders with a custom made little england top, to watch leah and the rest of the lionesses lift the trophy

buddy was a bit fussy during the match so she was passed to each of the girls who tried to help her calm down but she eventually settled in monkey's arms, which monkey still is proud of that achievement that she could settle baby buddy down when nobody else couldn't and will remind jordan about given the chance

"ha, remember that time that buddy wouldn't settle for anyone apart from me? yeah, me too!"

monkey at first was her usual chaotic self and she wasn't able to sit in her seat that much while being on the edge, biting her nails as she watched in anticipation, annoying most of the arsenal girlies with her fidgeting but the moment that buddy was placed in her arms, its' like a wave of calmness for them both, which led baby buddy to fall asleep.

that being said monkey was absolutely buzzing when england won and as soon as the whistle blew, she gently handed a sleeping buddy back to jordan before she made a run for the pitch, where she literally tackled leah to the ground in happiness for her - she was standing on the side of the pitch to watch them lift the trophy and all but kept begging for leah to wear it at least once,

"come on just let me try it on, please? i swear i won't drop it or damage it whatsoever. pretty pretty pretty please!"

which the blonde eventually caved in to agree too.

"Fine, fine, you can try it on if you quit whining about it, but don't drop it!"

buddy was ecstatic to wear the medal, wearing it with pride and joy and leah had to literally pry it out of her hands, swearing blind it didn't have that dent in it before

"did you drop it?"

"nope, no, i don't know what you're talkin' about there,"

monkey still to this day denies dropping it, but of course less than 5 minutes after being given it, she did indeed drop it.

the celebrations were in full swing and monkey was on the dance floor, completely high on sugar and dancing the night away until she eventually crashed out on the middle of the dance floor

"you know one of us is going to have to carry her back right?"

"yeah, you're right there. heads or tails?"

at the end of the night leah carried monkey to bed while jordan followed swiftly with buddy, both of them fast asleep after the long day and night.

continue to send me all the hc's of buddy & monkey you want, i love answering them! 💗

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER TWO

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 9.3k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an —the tension… i hope you’re enjoying so far! i had so much fun writing this

masterlist

the night was already a disaster.

the tension between y/n and trent had been palpable the moment they stepped into the club. the air was thick with the heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and the unspoken animosity that seemed to grow louder with every second they spent together.

and as if the universe hadn’t done enough to mess with her lately, both their exes had decided to grace the night with their presence.

jadon was at the bar, leaning casually like he owned the damn place, his smirk a little too smug, his glances in her direction a little too calculated. each look felt like a reminder of how easily he used to worm his way into her thoughts.

“you sure you want to keep pretending this is going well?” y/n muttered, her fingers curling tighter around her glass as she leaned closer to trent.

he didn’t even look at her, his posture casual as he lounged against the booth. “you’re the one who thought this was a good idea,” he said, voice dry. “don’t blame me now.”

her irritation bubbled over, and she rolled her eyes. “fine. if you won’t, i’ll find someone else to dance with.”

she started to move, but before she could take more than a step, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her wrist.

“don’t even think about it,” trent said lowly, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

her eyes snapped to his, her lips curling into a defiant smirk. “let go of me.”

“not until you stop acting like a child,” he retorted, his grip unyielding.

she yanked her arm, but he didn’t let go, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t place. “you want to make a scene, or do you want to dance?”

the challenge in his tone made her bristle, but instead of pulling away, she leaned in just slightly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “fine. let’s dance.”

he led her to the dance floor, his grip still firm, and as they stepped into the pulsing lights and pounding bass, the tension between them only seemed to grow. the room was a wash of reds and golds, shadows playing tricks on their faces, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze as he turned to her.

“keep up,” he muttered, his hand settling low on her waist as he pulled her closer.

“don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, though her heart was hammering against her ribs.

their bodies moved in sync, the rhythm pulling them together in ways that felt far too intimate. her arms looped around his neck, her fingers brushing the short hair at the nape of his neck, and she felt him stiffen slightly under her touch.

“you’re not even trying,” she teased, her voice low as she leaned in, her lips grazing his ear.

his grip tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him. “careful, y/n,” he murmured, his tone a warning laced with something else entirely.

she tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes gleaming with defiance. “or what?”

his jaw ticked, his eyes flickering down to her lips for just a second before meeting her gaze again. “you don’t want to find out.”

the words sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to let him see how much he affected her. instead, she pressed closer, her movements slower, more deliberate, the friction between them almost unbearable.

“don’t get the wrong idea,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the conviction he was going for.

“i could say the same to you,” she shot back, her lips curving into a smirk as she leaned in just enough to brush against his jaw.

his breathing was heavier now, his hands twitching as though they wanted to roam, but he kept them firmly on her waist. every movement, every glance, every word between them was laced with an edge, a challenge neither was willing to back down from.

but then his movements faltered, his grip loosening as if he’d realized just how far this had gone. he stepped back, his eyes darker than they’d been before, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

“this is over,” he said, his voice clipped, the tension still thick in the air.

“gladly,” she replied, though the breathlessness in her tone betrayed her.

he turned on his heel and stalked off without another word, heading back toward the vip section where layla was still perched, her eyes following him.

y/n stayed where she was for a moment, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, willing her heart to slow. she exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders before finally making her way back to the booth, her pace slower, more deliberate.

when she got there, trent was leaning back in the booth, a glass in hand, his jaw tight. neither of them said a word, the silence between them louder than anything the music could drown out.

the tension followed y/n like a storm cloud as she made her way back to the section, her heels clicking against the club floor. she didn’t want to acknowledge the heat curling in her chest—anger, frustration, something unnamed—but it built with every step. and when she reached the section and saw a girl perched beside trent, her hand resting casually on his thigh as she leaned in to talk, the storm inside her broke.

she didn’t think twice.

her hands slid down trent’s shoulders from behind, her touch featherlight but deliberate, and she leaned in close enough for her lips to brush the curve of his neck. the kiss wasn’t soft or tender—it was calculated, staking a claim she didn’t even fully understand.

“who’s your friend?” she asked sweetly, her voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut glass.

trent stiffened under her touch, his posture rigid. sarah turned, her smile tight as she took in y/n’s presence. “i’m sarah,” she said with a pointed edge. “his ex.”

y/n feigned surprise, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “funny. trent hasn’t mentioned you.”

sarah’s expression flickered, her pride bruised, but she recovered quickly. her tone turned venomous as she said, “that’s odd. he was in my bed just a few weeks ago.”

the air between them crackled, and trent’s body went rigid under y/n’s hands. but y/n didn’t flinch. her nails traced along his shoulder as she tilted her head, her smirk sharpening. “shame,” she said lightly, “he’s in mine now.”

sarah face twisted with anger, her façade cracking before she stormed off, her heels clicking in retreat.

y/n stepped back, crossing her arms as she stared down at trent, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “you could’ve warned me.”

trent turned to face her, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “why? it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

her laugh was short, humorless. “you’re right. i could care less. but weren’t you the one lecturing me about being seen with exes?”

his eyes darkened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “that was different. your thing with sancho was messy. sarah meant nothing.”

y/n arched a brow, her tone sharp enough to cut. “doesn’t seem like it by her reaction. but sure, keep telling yourself that, trent.”

she turned to leave, her steps swift, but his hand shot out, gripping her arm. he pulled her back with enough force to have her facing him, their faces just inches apart.

“what the hell is your problem?” he demanded, his voice low but heated.

“my problem?” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “maybe it’s the fact that i’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend, and you’re letting your ex hang all over you like a lovesick puppy.”

trent’s brows furrowed, his frustration bleeding through. “what are you so mad about? this isn’t real, remember?”

her lips parted, but no words came out at first. because the truth was, she didn’t know why she was so mad. the jealousy burning in her chest wasn’t supposed to be there, but it was. and it infuriated her.

she shook her head, masking her feelings with attitude. “i’m not mad. i just think you’re a hypocrite, that’s all.”

trent’s hand loosened on her arm, but he didn’t let go. his gaze searched hers, his voice dropping to something softer, more teasing. “you’ve got an attitude tonight.”

“and you’re insufferable,” she snapped, though the heat in her voice wavered under his stare.

he leaned in closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “face it, y/n. you’re acting like this because you care.”

her jaw clenched, her defenses rising like a shield. “care? please. the only thing i care about is not having your exes make me look like an idiot.”

trent scoffed, his grip on her arm tightening just slightly. “you’re full of it. you’re mad because you didn’t like seeing her next to me.”

her laugh was sharp, cutting through the tension. “you wish, trent.”

his voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “don’t I?”

the intensity in his gaze was suffocating, but she refused to back down. “careful, trent. it might seem like you actually care.”

his eyes narrowed, the space between them charged and crackling. “and what if I do?”

the words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, before y/n tore her arm from his grip and scoffed. “yeah, right,” she muttered, her voice wavering as she walked away, her heart pounding as if it were trying to tell her something she wasn’t ready to hear.

“y/n,” he called, his voice sharp, cutting through the music and chatter of the club. when she didn’t stop, he moved, his longer strides closing the gap between them quickly. grabbing her wrist, he turned her around, forcing her to face him.

“what now?” she snapped, her eyes blazing with frustration.

he leaned in, his voice low and biting. “i know exactly what this is. you’ve got an attitude tonight, and you know what? it’s because i’m not playing your games.”

her brow furrowed, her lips parting as if to argue, but he didn’t let her.

“you’re mad because i’m not giving you the attention you so desperately want,” he continued, his tone dripping with irritation. “and you can’t stand it.”

y/n’s eyes narrowed, the anger simmering in her chest threatening to boil over. “don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut.

he smirked, though there was no humor in it. “oh, i think i’ve hit a nerve. admit it, y/n. you hate that i’m not falling all over myself for you tonight.”

her jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. but then she smiled, slow and dangerous, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“maybe i’ll go find jay,” she said sweetly, her tone dripping with mockery. “he’s never complained before. in fact, he’s pretty good at setting me straight.”

trent froze for a split second, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. his grip on her wrist tightened as he stepped closer, their faces just a breath apart.

“say that again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes boring into hers.

her smirk didn’t waver, though her heart was pounding. “what? the truth?”

his jaw tensed, his hand moving from her wrist to her waist, pulling her in just enough for the air between them to crackle with tension. “you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“am i?” she whispered, her eyes searching his, daring him to make the next move.

trent’s grip on her waist tightened, his breath warm against her skin. “you don’t get to throw his name in my face and walk away.”

her smirk softened, turning into something more vulnerable, more dangerous. “and what are you going to do about it?”

the space between them disappeared as the weight of their words hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

trent’s voice dropped, low and deliberate, his lips brushing just close enough to her ear to make her breath hitch. “you keep pushing me, y/n. one day, you’ll regret it.”

she tilted her head, her smile razor-sharp as she met his gaze. “regret?” she whispered back, her voice dripping with defiance. “the only thing i regret is wasting time here with you.”

his jaw tightened, but before he could respond, she pulled away sharply, her steps purposeful as she turned on her heel. “enjoy the rest of your night, trent,” she called over her shoulder, her tone mocking, leaving him standing there, simmering in the aftermath of her words.

the fluorescent lights of the boutique gleamed against the polished floors as trent trailed a few paces behind y/n. the two of them had been roped into this public outing, some half-baked idea from their teams about being spotted “casually” shopping together to sell their partnership. it was ridiculous, and y/n had made her feelings about it very clear.

“try to keep up,” she called over her shoulder, her tone sharp as she sifted through a rack of designer jackets.

trent shoved his hands into his pockets, smirking as he followed her. “it’s a store, not a marathon. no need to rush.”

y/n shot him a withering look, flipping her braids over her shoulder. “if you’re going to be useless, you might as well wait outside.”

he chuckled, stepping closer. “relax. i’m just enjoying the show.”

“what show?” she asked, not bothering to look at him as she tugged a sleek black trench coat off the rack and held it up to inspect.

“the one where you pretend this isn’t your idea of a good time,” he said, leaning casually against a nearby display. “shopping and showing off? come on, y/n. this is your element.”

she turned to face him, holding the coat up against her body. “first of all, i’m here because you needed to prove you can function in public without causing a scene. second, if this were my element, i wouldn’t be stuck with you.”

trent tilted his head, his smirk never wavering. “if i remember correctly, you’re the one who invited yourself to the dance floor last night. doesn’t seem like you mind being stuck with me all that much.”

her grip on the coat tightened as she narrowed her eyes at him. “you dragged me out there. don’t twist it.”

“right,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “and you just happened to press your back against me like that? totally involuntary, i’m sure.”

her cheeks flushed, but she quickly masked it with an eye roll. “don’t flatter yourself, trent. you’re not that special.”

“funny,” he said, crossing his arms as his gaze swept over her. “you didn’t seem to think that when we were dancing.”

y/n turned back to the rack, ignoring him as she rifled through the hangers. “you’re delusional.”

“am i?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. “because i can still feel the way you fit against me. a perfect fit.”

she froze for a split second before recovering, pulling another jacket from the rack. “you really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“only when i’m right,” he said, leaning against the rack beside her. “admit it, you enjoyed it.”

she scoffed, holding the jacket up and inspecting it. “enjoyed what? your mediocre dance moves or your constant need to run your mouth?”

“both, probably,” he said with a shrug. “but if it makes you feel better, you looked good doing it.”

her head snapped toward him, her brows furrowing. “doing what?”

“letting go,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “you should try it more often.”

she blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. but just as quickly, her walls went back up. “i’ll let go the day you learn how to shut up.”

he laughed, stepping back as she moved past him toward another section of the store. “keep telling yourself that, y/n. but we both know you had fun.”

“if this conversation keeps going, i might lose my mind,” she muttered, though there was a slight curve to her lips that she didn’t bother to hide.

trent followed her, falling into step beside her. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team.”

“you’re delusional,” she said again, shaking her head.

“you’ve said that already,” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow. “doesn’t make it any less true, though.”

“just pick something out so we can leave,” she said, trying—and failing—to ignore the way his laughter echoed in her chest, warm and infuriating all at once.

trent sank into the plush leather couch in the boutique's dressing room, his legs stretched out and his phone in hand. the faint murmur of soft jazz music played overhead as he scrolled mindlessly, only half-paying attention to whatever was on his screen.

this whole outing had been nothing but a headache. y/n was impossible—always had something to say, always ready to argue, always…

he glanced up when he heard the faint click of heels approaching, his breath hitching as y/n stepped into view.

the dress was black, fitted, and hugged her curves in ways that were borderline sinful. cutouts on the sides revealed just enough skin to tease the imagination, and the hem grazed mid-thigh, showing off her toned legs. her new light brown hair caught the light, framing her face like a halo, though the mischievous glint in her eyes was anything but angelic.

trent sat up straighter, his phone forgotten as his gaze lingered a moment too long. he tried to look away, but she caught him—of course she did.

y/n smirked as she turned to face the mirror, pretending to adjust the straps of the dress. she tilted her head, watching him through the reflection, her eyes sharp and knowing.

"well?" she said, her tone light but teasing. "you’re awfully quiet, trent. cat got your tongue?"

he cleared his throat, leaning back and attempting to regain his composure. "it’s… fine," he said, his voice coming out steadier than he felt.

she raised a brow, finally turning to face him fully. "just fine?"

before he could respond, she walked toward him, the sway of her hips deliberate. her heels clicked softly against the floor, and his eyes betrayed him, flickering downward before snapping back up to her face.

she stopped just short of his spread legs, leaning down slightly so their faces were level. her hands rested lightly on his thighs, her nails trailing faintly against the fabric of his pants as she tilted her head, her lips curving into a slow, sultry smile.

"so," she said, her voice low and honeyed, "what do you think, hmm?"

trent swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. her proximity, the heat of her hands, the way her perfume enveloped him—it was all too much.

"it’s a dress," he said finally, his voice strained.

her smirk deepened, and she leaned in just a fraction closer, her gaze locking with his. "you might think you’re in charge here, trent," she murmured, her tone like silk, "but you’re not. i am."

his breath caught, and he knew—knew—that she was doing this on purpose. she was toying with him, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

before he could muster a response, she straightened, her hands sliding away from his legs as she turned on her heel.

"good talk," she said over her shoulder, her voice light and mocking as she strutted away, the dress moving perfectly with every step.

trent’s eyes followed her, helpless to do anything else. he leaned back into the couch, running a hand over his jaw as he exhaled deeply, his pulse racing.

damn her, he thought, watching until she disappeared from view.

the meeting with their management teams had been as tedious as y/n expected. words like progress and great chemistry were tossed around like confetti, and both she and trent had to force smiles that barely hid their mutual irritation.

they’d spent an hour listening to executives pat themselves on the back for their "brilliant" pairing, nodding along as if the very idea of them working together wasn’t an elaborate mess. by the end of it, y/n was itching to leave, and she could tell trent felt the same by the way he loosened his tie the second they stepped into the hallway.

“that was... enlightening,” she muttered dryly, crossing her arms as they walked side by side toward the exit.

“if by enlightening, you mean a complete waste of time,” trent replied, shrugging off his blazer and slinging it over his shoulder. “at least we’re getting paid to sit through their nonsense.”

“wow, you really do think money solves everything, don’t you?” she quipped, throwing him a sidelong glance.

he smirked, his steps slowing as they neared the glass doors at the end of the corridor. “it helps. not that you’re complaining, considering you’ve been benefiting from this little arrangement too.”

she stopped, turning to face him with a glare that could cut glass. “benefiting? please. you’ve done nothing but annoy me since day one.”

“is that right?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock disbelief as he took a step closer.

“yeah, it is,” she shot back, lifting her chin defiantly. “you’re insufferable, arrogant, and—”

“and yet, here we are,” he interrupted smoothly, his eyes narrowing as a smirk played on his lips.

the hallway was quiet, the faint hum of distant voices from the meeting room fading into nothing. trent’s steps were deliberate as he closed the space between them, backing her toward the wall.

“you always this quiet when you’re annoyed, or is it just me?” trent asked finally, his voice cutting through the stillness.

she glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “maybe i just don’t have anything to say to you.”

he smirked, pushing off the wall and taking a slow step toward her. “funny, you had a lot to say the other night. remember? when you were rubbing on me”

she groaned, dropping her phone onto the counter. “you really can’t let that go, can you?”

“why would i?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual as he closed the distance between them. “you practically melted in my arms. might’ve even heard you gasp a little.”

her jaw tightened, and she hopped off the counter, refusing to let him see how easily his words got to her. “you’re so full of yourself.”

you could be too” he followed her as she moved across the room, his steps unhurried but deliberate.

she stopped in front of one of the floor-length mirrors, pretending to fix the hem of her dress. “you think every girl is dying to be in your orbit, but newsflash, trent: i’m not.”

he laughed softly, the sound low and mocking. “keep telling yourself that, y/n.”

she turned to face him, her glare sharp. “i mean it.”

he raised a brow, his smirk still in place as he stepped closer, backing her toward the wall. “then why are you blushing?”

“i’m not,” she snapped, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

his grin widened as he closed the gap between them, his hands bracing on the wall on either side of her head. his body was close—too close—and her breath hitched as she pressed herself against the cool surface behind her.

her gaze flicked to his lips, unbidden, and her heart raced as she realized the proximity wasn’t just physical. the air between them felt electric, charged with something she didn’t want to name.

“you gonna kiss me, trent?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost a challenge.

his dark eyes searched hers, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “keep pushing me, y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “see what happens.”

her breath caught, her pulse hammering in her ears as his words hung in the air. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to shove him away or pull him closer, and the uncertainty made her head spin.

he leaned in just a fraction closer, his nose brushing hers, and for a split second, she thought he might actually do it. her fingers curled into fists at her sides, every nerve in her body on edge.

but then he pulled back, his smirk returning in full force as he dropped his hands and stepped away.

“thought so,” he said, his tone smug as he turned his back on her and walked down the hall.

she exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling as she glared at his retreating figure. she glared at his retreating figure, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. “you’re a nightmare,” she muttered under her breath before storming off in the opposite direction, vowing to keep as far away from him as possible—at least until the next meeting..

“and you’re still blushing,” he called over his shoulder, his laughter following her as she stormed off in the opposite direction.

it was getting harder to pretend she didn’t feel it. the heat, the pull, the way trent had this uncanny ability to get under her skin and stay there like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch.

too many close calls. too many moments where the line between professional and personal blurred, where his dark eyes lingered just a second too long or his smirk hinted at things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking.

y/n hated that she knew exactly what he wanted. trent wasn’t subtle, not in the way his touch lingered when he didn’t need to, or how he always found a reason to be close to her, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. he wanted her. she could feel it every time his gaze dropped to her lips or his hand ghosted the small of her back.

but she wasn’t stupid. not anymore. she’d learned her lesson the hard way, and if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that giving in to temptation always came with a price.

she’d been there before. jadon had been her cautionary tale, a masterclass in how easy it was to lose yourself in someone who was all charm and bad intentions. he’d made her feel like the only girl in the world until he didn’t, until she realized the pedestal he’d put her on was just another place for her to fall from.

and she had fallen. hard.

so no, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. trent might have been different, smoother in his arrogance and sharper in his wit, but the outcome would be the same. she wasn’t going to be the girl who got caught up in another man who thought he could have her just because he wanted her.

and yet, avoiding him seemed impossible.

she’d vowed to keep her distance, to keep her head down and focus on getting through this arrangement without any more unnecessary complications. but when her phone buzzed and she saw his name flash across the screen, she knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

just a plane ticket. no message, no explanation, no apology for roping her into yet another situation she didn’t want to be a part of.

paris.

of course it had to be paris, the city of love and all the other clichés that made her want to roll her eyes.

she stared at the itinerary for a long moment, her jaw clenching as a wave of irritation washed over her. who did he think he was, deciding things without even consulting her? it wasn’t like she could just drop everything and jet off to france because he said so.

except she could. and she would. because their management team would insist, and the media would eat it up, and the illusion of their "chemistry" would keep them relevant for just a little longer.

she hated this. hated how easily he could disrupt her life, how the very thought of being stuck with him for a weekend made her stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she didn’t want to name.

because as much as she disliked trent, as much as his smug grin and infuriating confidence grated on her nerves, there was something about him that got to her. something about the way he looked at her, like he saw through every wall she’d built around herself.

he wasn’t jadon. she knew that. but he was still dangerous in his own way, still capable of making her want things she shouldn’t.

and that was why she had to keep her guard up.

this wasn’t about trust, or attraction, or whatever it was that made her heart skip a beat when he got too close. this was about self-preservation. about not letting herself get pulled into something that could only end in disaster.

so she tossed her phone onto the couch and let out a heavy sigh, already dreading what the weekend would bring. paris, the city of love, with trent.

she could survive this. she had to.

y/n arrived at the hotel later than expected, her mood dark and her mind still tangled with the frustration that had plagued her all day. the studio had been a nightmare—no matter how hard she tried, the song she was recording just wasn’t coming out the way she wanted. the lyrics felt forced, the melody too distant from what she’d envisioned. she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was failing herself, and nothing, not even the supposed glamour of paris, could lift her spirits.

the hotel lobby was sleek and modern, everything shining with an effortless elegance. it should have been comforting, the smooth marble floors and plush seating, but instead, it just felt like another reminder that she was here because trent had pulled her into this situation, and she was stuck.

as soon as she stepped into the elevator, the door closing behind her with a soft whoosh, her phone buzzed. it was trent.

trent: you here yet?

y/n stared at the message for a moment, her finger hovering over the keyboard. the last thing she wanted to do was face him, but she knew better than to ignore him. this was all part of the show, after all.

coming now she replied, trying to keep her tone neutral, as if she wasn’t still carrying the weight of everything she’d been struggling with.

when she finally reached his room, the door opened almost instantly. trent stood in the doorway, his gaze flicking over her with that usual mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. but tonight, there was no smirk, no teasing. just a quiet observation that made her feel seen in a way she didn’t want to be.

trent watched her for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, before he pushed himself off the wall and made his way toward her. his eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of her slumped posture and the distant look in her eyes. he’d known her long enough to recognize when something was wrong, and tonight, she was giving off all the signs.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something else lurking beneath it.

y/n didn’t even glance at him, her focus still on the window as if the city outside could offer her some form of escape. after a long pause, she scoffed under her breath, her words dripping with bitterness. “like you care.”

trent paused for a moment, his jaw tightening, before he shrugged nonchalantly. “i don’t. but we aren’t exactly selling a love story if you’re upset. they’ll think i’ve done something.”

y/n let out a dry laugh, the sound empty and dismissive. “maybe you have.” her eyes flicked to him for just a moment before turning away again.

inwardly, trent’s stomach tightened. he hated how she’d phrased that, but he refused to let her know how much it bothered him. he’d never been good with emotions, especially not when they were tied to someone like y/n. but as much as he tried to keep his distance, the truth gnawed at him. he hated seeing her upset—hated that he couldn’t just snap his fingers and fix whatever was bothering her. only he could annoy her to the point of being upset, but the thought of someone else doing it… that was something else entirely.

he couldn’t afford to dwell on it. not when this whole thing was supposed to be fake, a simple performance for the cameras. but there she was, looking like she’d been hit by a storm, and he couldn’t push the feeling away. something in him wanted to know what had her so worked up. maybe it wasn’t his business, but the image of her like this didn’t sit right.

with a long exhale, he took a step closer to her, his voice softening, though his words were still laced with that same playful edge. “come on, y/n. we’ve got to at least pretend like we’re enjoying this whole ‘love story’ thing. otherwise, they’ll think i’m the one driving you to the edge.”

y/n tilted her head slightly, her eyes flicking over to him, but still not fully meeting his gaze. “that’s not the problem, trent.”

“then what is?” he pressed, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. deep down, he knew it wasn’t really about the cameras or the performance—there was something more behind it. but if she wasn’t going to tell him, then he couldn’t do anything.

she exhaled, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. “it’s nothing. don’t worry about it.”

he could tell she wasn’t being honest, and that gnawed at him more than it should. there was a part of him—one he would never admit— that wanted to pull her closer and take away whatever was eating at her, but that wasn’t his place. not really.

“you know,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, “if you keep acting like this, people are going to start thinking we’re not even pretending to be in love. i mean, really, i’m working my ass off here.”

y/n rolled her eyes, the tension in her shoulders still evident as she glanced at him, then back out the window. “you’re such a drama queen.”

he smirked at that, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. “and yet, you keep putting up with it. tell me, y/n, what’s really going on? something happened at the studio?”

for a moment, y/n hesitated, her expression flickering between annoyance and something softer, something almost vulnerable. but before she could say anything, she snapped back into her usual guarded self, the walls going up again.

“it’s nothing,” she repeated. “just… a bad day. nothing you can fix.”

but it wasn’t nothing to him. it never was.

trent watched her for a moment, then closed the door behind him, leaning against it. “come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“it is,” she said flatly, her back still turned to him as she stared out the window. the city lights of paris twinkled in the distance, but they might as well have been a world away. “i just spent hours in the studio trying to get a song right, and i can’t do it. it’s just not coming out the way i want it to, and i feel like i’m failing at something i’m supposed to be good at.”

there was a beat of silence before trent spoke again, his tone gentler this time. “you’re not failing. it happens to everyone.”

“no, it doesn’t.” she turned around, facing him, her eyes burning with frustration. “i’m supposed to be better than this, and i can’t get it right. i don’t even know how to fix it.”

he pushed off the door and walked toward her, his presence suddenly too close, too overwhelming. “you’re overthinking it,” he said, his voice low. “you’re way too hard on yourself. i’ve seen you perform, y/n. you have something they can’t replicate, no matter how much you stress over it. but right now, you’re stuck because you’re trying to force it.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “you think i don’t know that?” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “i hate this feeling. i hate how out of control i feel.”

trent’s eyes softened as he took a step closer, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “you don’t have to do it alone, you know. it’s okay to need help sometimes.”

the sincerity in his voice made her heart skip, but she pushed the feeling aside. this wasn’t about him, not tonight. “i’m fine. i just… need to get my head straight.”

“so why don’t you take a break?” he suggested, his hand lingering on her arm a moment longer. “forget about the song for a while. we’re in paris, y/n. maybe we can find a way to get you out of your head.”

she met his gaze, her chest tight with the pull between wanting to retreat and wanting to be close to him. “and what, pretend this is just a vacation? pretend i’m not about to fall apart because i can’t even make a song sound right?”

“you’re not falling apart,” he said firmly. “but if you want to talk about it, i’m here.”

y/n didn’t know why, but something about his offer made her feel like she could drop the act. she didn’t want to be vulnerable, especially not with him, but the weight of everything was suffocating. “i don’t know how to make this work. everything feels… harder than it should be.”

trent was silent for a moment, just watching her with that same steady gaze, as if he could see right through the walls she’d built around herself. and in that moment, she hated how much he knew.

y/n stood there, her gaze still locked on the window, but her thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a way she couldn’t quite stop. she knew trent was just being trent—always quick with a quip, pretending not to care, but there was a softness in his voice, an edge of concern she hadn’t expected. he’s just playing the role, she reminded herself. that’s all this is.

but it wasn’t just the role she was fighting. something about the way trent was looking at her now, like he was genuinely waiting for her to open up, felt like a door she wasn’t ready to walk through. it’s not real, she told herself, trying to convince her mind that his attention was just part of the act. but the comparison kept creeping in.

with jadon, it had been different. after everything—the messiness, the anger, the mistakes—he’d known how to listen. or at least, he’d made her feel like he did. those late-night conversations, the vulnerability that came after they’d been wrapped up in each other. they never really talked before they were tangled in the sheets, but afterward, it was always easier to let down her guard. she could tell him things, things she never said to anyone else, and he would listen with that same, steady gaze. those moments were always fleeting, but they were hers, shared between the two of them in the quiet aftermath. he didn’t need to ask her what was wrong; he could already feel it, the shift in the air, the things she wasn’t saying.

but with trent? it felt different. in the beginning, when they first started pretending, she assumed he wouldn’t listen at all—he was too cocky, too sure of himself. his charm was his armor, and anyone who looked beneath the surface was either a fool or a casualty. yet now, he stood in front of her, waiting for an answer he could’ve easily brushed off, watching her with an intensity that was starting to fray her composure.

it was almost frustrating how he kept pressing. why couldn’t he just let it go? why did he keep pushing when she wasn’t ready to share, when she wasn’t ready to let anyone in, least of all him?

still, the difference between the two of them weighed on her, more than it should. jadon would’ve known by now, she thought bitterly. he wouldn’t have kept pressing. he would’ve just let me be.

“why do you care so much?” y/n finally muttered, turning to look at him, her voice tinged with frustration.

trent raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk curling his lips. “i’m just trying to make sure you’re not gonna make us look like idiots. you know, if you’re upset, they’re gonna think i’m the one who did it.”

she rolled her eyes at his excuse, but there was something almost genuine in his words that made her pause. his voice was too calm, too level for it to be part of the usual bravado. maybe he does care, she thought, though she quickly shoved the thought away, unwilling to entertain it.

“you’re the last person who should be concerned about how we look,” she snapped, trying to distance herself from the conversation. “besides, it’s none of your business.”

“maybe not,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “but it’s my business if it affects this whole charade we’ve got going on, yeah?” he shifted his weight, stepping a little closer. “but it’s also my business if you’re upset, y/n. i mean, we’re supposed to be ‘in love,’ right?”

the way he said it, so light, so playful, only made her feel more exposed. the heat in her chest rose, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. she knew he was just trying to get under her skin, but it was working. damn him.

“whatever. it isn’t a big deal,” she snapped again, her voice sharper this time. but she couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t face him long enough to lie to his face. her gaze kept flicking to the floor, avoiding the piercing look he was giving her.

trent let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. he was too close, too much of everything she didn’t need. “y/n. whatever it is, you can talk to me, you know.”

she looked up, finally meeting his gaze, and for a moment, she let the walls slip. maybe he is different, she thought. but the thought made her feel unsteady, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. no, don’t fall for it.

“you know, y/n,” he said, leaning back just slightly, “you might think you’re the only one struggling, but we’re both faking it here. just… don’t let them see you crumble, yeah? because we’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

his words were meant to lighten the moment, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were more than that. a little more sincere than they had any right to be.

trent stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. he had already gathered her things for her, throwing a jacket over his shoulder and tossing the keys to the hotel room onto the table. “you’ve got, what, an hour to freshen up?” he said, his voice cutting through the silence in the room. “i’ll meet you downstairs.”

y/n didn’t answer right away, still staring out of the window, trying to gather her thoughts. everything felt so complicated. trent’s presence, his playful persistence, the way he always seemed to get under her skin in ways she didn’t expect. she had spent so much time trying to convince herself that she didn’t care about him, that he was just a part of the charade. but even now, as he stood there, the words stuck in her throat.

he doesn’t care. she reminded herself. don’t let him in.

with a sigh, she turned back toward him, nodding briefly before stepping past him toward the bathroom. she moved with mechanical precision, still turning the events of the evening over in her head. he had coaxed her into talking about the song, which, if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure was even the root of her frustration. it was everything else—the tension, the heat, the way he made her feel like she was being pulled in two different directions.

as the water ran over her skin, she let the warmth wash away the feeling of being so caught. it wasn’t just the pressure of the trip, or the eyes of the people on them—it was trent, the fact that he had made her feel something, even for a split second. she cursed herself for being distracted by him, for giving him any power over her feelings.

but when she emerged from the bathroom, her thoughts were scattered, and there was only one thing on her mind: don’t give in.

when she reached the lobby, trent was waiting near the door. his usual confident smile was in place, and there was a certain glint in his eyes. but for a moment, she noticed something else—he was looking at her with a hint of something unspoken in his gaze.

“ready?” he asked, casually slipping his hand into his jacket pocket.

“lead the way,” y/n replied, her tone cool, though it was hard to ignore the way he made her feel whenever he was close.

the city of paris had already started to buzz with the energy of the evening. tourists and locals alike were heading toward the iconic landmarks. trent led her through the streets with a confident stride, not once acknowledging the way the people around them were looking at them—because they were looking, she realized. as much as they wanted to pretend it was just another weekend getaway, there were too many eyes on them now.

they arrived at the restaurant soon after, one with a beautiful view of the eiffel tower, its lights sparkling like stars above the city. the place was intimate, the kind of place where you were supposed to feel special, where every glance across the table felt significant. and as they sat down, y/n had the distinct impression that this was no ordinary meal. trent was too comfortable here, as if he belonged to this world.

as they began talking, a sense of awkwardness lingered, but it didn’t take long before trent was leaning back in his chair, the smirk on his face one of familiarity. and then, without a word, as y/n was lost in her own thoughts, he snapped a photo of her.

she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying attention to anything except the view, and when she glanced back at him. she swallowed hard, trying not to let the rush of emotions show on her face. she hadn’t expected this. sure, he’d teased her before, but the way he looked at her? this felt more like a claim. like he was… proud to be seen with her. and that made her skin crawl and her heart race at the same time.

as they continued their dinner, with the lights of the eiffel tower twinkling in the background, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly what he wanted. a casual show of affection, one that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. and despite her resistance, a part of her was starting to wonder: did he mean this? or was this just part of the act, too?

trent couldn’t help himself. as y/n sat across from him, lost in the view of the eiffel tower, he snapped the photo. it wasn’t of her face, not this time—just the back of her head, the curve of her neck, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulder. nothing that could be traced back to her directly, nothing that would scream her to the world. no caption, no tag—a sliver of his carefully curated life.

yet, as he hit post and the photo went live on his story, a knot of tension tightened in his stomach. it wasn’t the kind of post that demanded attention, but there was enough to make people start murmuring. the subtle suggestion that she was his, even if only in this moment, was enough to stir up the kind of gossip he hated.

he told himself it was all for show, just a small part of the game they were playing. nothing personal, nothing real. just a picture taken on a whim, for the sake of keeping up appearances. nothing more.

but as he sat across from her, watching her sip her drink and glance at the distant lights of the tower, he couldn’t shake the thought that had been creeping into his mind since he’d taken the photo. what if?

what if this wasn’t just for show? what if this was more than just a PR stunt? what if, in some twisted way, he wanted it to be real?

the thought sent a jolt through him, sharper than anything he had felt in a while. he shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the nagging pull in his chest. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. he had no business getting attached, not to someone like her—someone who had already shown that she wasn’t interested in any of the games he was playing.

and yet, every time she looked at him, every time their conversations shifted from the fake pleasantries to something more personal, he found himself wondering if she could see through the mask he wore.

he glanced down at the photo again, his thumb hovering over the screen. he had just posted a shot of her, a moment of vulnerability captured in the most casual of ways. it was nothing, and yet it felt like too much.

as y/n looked up from her drink, their eyes met across the table, and trent quickly looked away, trying to shake off the thought that had suddenly lodged itself in his mind. it’s for show, he reminded himself again. nothing more than that. but even as the words passed through his head, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of something else in his chest—something he didn’t want to examine too closely.

he leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. this wasn’t supposed to happen.

but it was, and it was happening whether he wanted it to or not.

the hotel room was quiet when they returned, the faint hum of the city slipping through the windows as they stepped inside. trent tossed his jacket on the chair and stretched, glancing over at y/n, who was standing near the bed, looking a little out of place.

“you know, this is a smaller bed than i’m use to,” he said, teasing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “you sure you’re okay with it? you get shy around one bed?”

y/n rolled her eyes and turned toward him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “stop projecting, trent,” she shot back, crossing her arms in the same manner. “i barely slept three and a half hours last night, so if you’re expecting me to give a damn about sharing a bed—this is happening. i’m sleeping in this bed.”

he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. he wasn’t sure why she was always so quick to shut down his teasing, but he kind of liked it. it kept things… interesting.

“fine, fine,” he muttered, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “but don’t blame me if you end up on the floor.”

y/n ignored him, already starting to unbutton her shirt, the fabric falling away as she rummaged through her bag for something to sleep in. trent, too, began to peel off his clothes—nothing too showy, just enough to get comfortable. the routine was familiar, like it was something they’d done a hundred times before, even though they both knew it was not the case.

he stole a glance at her as she pulled on a loose tank top, her back to him as she readjusted the straps of her shorts. she wasn’t looking at him, but there was a faint vulnerability in the way she moved, like she didn’t want to admit how easy it had become to be around him.

after a few moments of awkward silence, y/n crawled into the bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. she let out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as if she was trying to make sense of everything that had happened today—the date, the moments with trent that had made her question what they were even doing here.

trent, not one for silence, shifted next to her, settling into the bed with his hands behind his head. “so,” he began, his voice low and playful. “you enjoyed the evening more than you thought you would, huh?”

y/n turned her head to look at him, surprised by the question. “yeah,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t expect to enjoy it this much. i’ve been to paris before, but… i don’t know. tonight felt different. everything felt different.”

trent’s eyes flickered to her face, and for a brief second, their gazes locked. it was odd—this feeling that she was opening up to him, even just a little. but he couldn’t push it too much, couldn’t ruin the moment with any of the usual jokes or questions he’d normally ask.

“i get it,” he said finally, his voice surprisingly sincere. “paris does that to you. makes you see things in a different light.”

the silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind of quiet that came with familiarity, the kind of silence shared by two people who’d been around each other long enough to know what the other needed without saying it. the room was warm, the faint scent of their day lingering in the air. it was strangely domestic, like they were just two people existing in a space where nothing needed to be forced.

y/n shifted again, curling up on her side, facing him as she tugged the covers up around her neck. she could feel the weight of his stare, even without looking directly at him. it wasn’t the usual judgment she’d expect from him—it was softer, almost contemplative.

“you’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow. “are you gonna make fun of me for this now?”

trent shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. “no, i think i’ll just… enjoy the peace for once.” he said it teasingly, but there was something in the way he said it that made her feel… well, seen.

y/n didn’t know how to respond. it wasn’t like she could tell him that being here with him was comfortable in a way that confused her. that, despite everything, she felt more relaxed around him than she had with anyone else in a while.

the bed creaked as trent shifted again, closer this time. she could feel the heat from his body, the way the space between them seemed to shrink with every passing second. she wasn’t sure if it was the day, the city, or just the weight of their shared proximity, but she couldn’t help the way her heartbeat picked up when he reached for the light switch and dimmed the room.

“goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of something unreadable.

she closed her eyes, still unsure of everything that had just happened between them, but there was a flicker of something warm in her chest as she whispered back, “goodnight, trent.”

the night stretched on, but sleep didn’t come easy.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

[owatazumi]

Ok this is a ff idea for Heeseung or maybe the whole hyung line…but I kinda wanna see how they would react to catching you singing in different scenarios

For example: Hee = u were laying in bed with ur headphones in. Jay = u were cooking. Jake = u were drawing/writing. Hoon = u were in your room dancing and thought u were home alone.

(Doesn’t have to be exact…I was just giving u some ideas)

enha + reader best friends/relationship getting caught singing no warnings a/n: thank you squoxie for this cute request, omgomg i really hope you enjoy it !! i added all the members bc i feel like i don’t do headcanons and stuff like that enough so here you go !! hope you enjoy it nonetheless<3

heeseung and you were on the way back home, the windows rolled slightly down, the breeze hitting softly against your face as you tap your foot to the song that hee put on… «i hear the secrets that you keep, when you’re talkin’ in your sleep» and as soon as you start singing along to the song, heeseung couldn’t help but smile at you in such a tender way. he liked the song and he especially liked you so this just made the whole ride home better…

“i never heard you talk in your sleep before, you know? maybe because you don’t hide secrets from me…”

jay had been bugging you all week long to cook with him sometime, telling you that it would be a great way to bond further so eventually you give in and agree to his idea. a playlist of his and your favorite songs was playing in the background as you two run around the kitchen in a hustle, occasionally bumping into each other, maybe on accident, maybe not… «꼭꼭 숨었다가 웃으면 나타나, 어디서 온 걸까» but as soon as you started singing to dimple, jay stopped everything he was doing to listen carefully to your beautiful voice…

“i told you it would be great to cook together and i’m glad you agreed or i wouldn’t have heard your beautiful voice…”

jake was pretty busy with his game, not paying much attention to what you were doing so you made yourself comfortable on his bed, softly humming and singing to the songs you put on that you found when he went with you through his playlists one time… «come closer, i’ll give you all my love, if you treat me right, baby, i’ll give you everything» and needless to say, he was immediately thrown out of his gamer mindset as soon as he heard your voice singing along to falling. jake turned around in his chair, putting down his headphones and made himself comfortable beside you on his bed, cuddling close to you as you chuckle softly since he was accidentally tickling you…

“this song reminds me of you… i always have to think about you when i listen to it and im absolutely not complaining.”

sunghoon and you felt a weird craving for some snacks in the middle of the night, silently making your way to the kitchen to not wake up the other members. while he was rummaging through the shelves, searching for something that might interest him you were snacking on your cereal, phone in your hand, scrolling through socials as you sing a random song… «i want you to know, that if i can’t be close to you, i’ll settle for the ghost of you, i miss you more than life» sunghoon froze as soon as he heard you singing so softly, his heart doing jumping jacks. he noticed that you probably didn’t even notice that he heard you so he carefully sneaked up on you, looking over your shoulder with a soft smile…

“that wasn’t too bad, was it? mind singing the rest of the song for me?”

sunoo wanted to have a movie night with you since he had a few days off and he wanted to spent some time with his best friend again. you actually knew one of the songs that played in the movie so you couldn’t help but sing along, feeling all excited about it… «우연히 너의 메일을 알게되면서,모니터 앞에 널 밤새 기다릴때» and sunoo immediately started singing along with you, smiling brightly as you two started swinging side to side slightly, vibing and even harmonizing to i think i did together…

“i’m so glad we chose this movie! i really like this song and it’s much more special when we enjoy it together, right?”

jungwon had one earbud in his ear and you had the other one as you two walk along the river, the sky freckled with bright stars. he didn’t seem very focused on you, he was very relaxed, just enjoying the moment as you two casually walked together… «i knew it when i first read your lips, only angels speak like this» as if out of reflex, both of you turn your heads toward each other, your gazes connecting as the stars shine down on you…

“i’m glad you know this song too… it would be embarrassing if i told you that i think of you when i listen to it without you knowing the song.”

ni-ki wanted you to come along to one of his late night practices, the vibes were different and you had the whole studio to yourselves so nobody was interrupting or annoying. you were both vining to one of the songs that he recommended you to play, laughter and chuckles echoing through the room as you two enjoy the time together… «sippin’ bubbly feelin’ lovely, livin’ lovely, just love me, just love me just love me» ni-ki had to stop for a second, mesmerized by both the way you moved so comfortably, trusting him enough to just dance however you wanted and the way you started singing along to the song as well…

“not bad, i have to admit. maybe we should do this more often, what’d ya say?”

<33 @squoxle @echoofnoise00

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 22 - Had But Our Loving Prospered Well

Summary: As Dutch readies the gang for their next big score, Arthur is sent to Saint Denis to settle unfinished business, only to face a ghost from his past. Meanwhile, Kate's come down with an illness, but a vivid dream sparks a newfound resolve to secure her and Arthur's future—no matter the cost.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: About 10k words. I really enjoyed how this one turned out. I think it does a good job at setting up what's coming next while also keeping you on your toes. Guess you'll have to read and see ;)

And Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate! I am so thankful for all my readers <3

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw  @yallgotkik

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Caretaking, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Been a while since I put pen to paper. Feels like there ain’t enough time in the day anymore, though Lord knows I’ve been wasting plenty of it trying to keep my head above water. We’ve moved again. Ran from the law again. Stirred up more trouble. Same damn story, just a different setting. This time it’s Saint Denis—a place I heard was one of the seven wonders of the world. Well, if this is what they call a wonder, I reckon I’d be just fine never seeing the other six. It’s crowded, loud, and full of people who’d stab you in the back soon as they look at you. One of those people bein’ Angelo Bronte. Slimy, conniving bastard who’s got this whole city dancing to his tune.

He’s the same one who took Jack from us, but somehow, he’s also got us rubbing elbows with the mayor at some swanky garden party. Don’t ask me how that makes sense. Dutch’s idea, of course. Or maybe Hosea’s, hell if I know anymore. What I do know is he insisted Kate come along, dressed us all up like damn peacocks. I felt ridiculous, but then I looked at her. My Kate. She took my breath clean away. Lord help me, there’s nothing in this life I wouldn’t do for that woman.

The party itself? A circus. Drunks, phonies, and clowns as far as the eye could see. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some fun. Hell, I think Kate might’ve even enjoyed herself. It’s a memory I’ll carry with me, no matter how all this shakes out.

Still, this place ain’t sittin’ right with me. Dutch and Hosea keep goin’ on about opportunities, but I don’t see much besides folks with too much money and too little care for anything else. I better keep my head down while I can.

I introduced myself to a couple of Indians, father and son. The son is so angry and the father is; I don’t know exactly what. Something both impressive and frightening. And kind too. He’s a great man being defeated by powerful, awful forces. I don’t know why, but I agreed to help them. Seems they, like us, have a problem with that ape Leviticus Cornwall. 

And then there's Dutch, always in the middle of it all. He’s pushin’ Kate into things I’m not sure she should be a part of. Keeps talkin’ about loyalty, like I ain’t proven mine a thousand times over. Says Kate could help with this new scheme coming up—some high-stakes poker game on a damn yacht in the harbor. Wants to dress her up like some famous singer to get us in. The idea makes my skin crawl. She’s too good for this kind of life, and Dutch knows it.

I’ve been trying to keep her close, tellin’ her to stick to camp, help with the girls. But she ain’t the type to sit still. She’s got this fire in her, this restless spirit that makes her want to be out there with me, shoulderin’ the same burdens. And I love her for it, but it scares the hell outta me too. This gang is a powder keg, and when it blows, she’s gonna get caught in the blast.

John said something the other day that stuck with me—never thought I’d be takin’ advice from him, yet here we are. He told me I gotta start thinking about what happens after all this. If there’s even gonna be an "after." I don’t know what that looks like, but I know Kate deserves better than this life. Problem is, I ain’t sure I can give it to her. Not yet. Not while there’s still so much to fix, so much to make right.

I guess we’ll see what the day brings. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur closed his journal with a soft thunk, the familiar leather creaking as he slid it back into his satchel. Stretching, he winced as his muscles protested—stiff from too many sleepless nights and too many hours in the saddle. Dawn was just beginning to break, but Arthur had been awake long before the first hints of sunlight painted the horizon. Not that it mattered much. These days, the weeks were a blur, the days bleeding into each other with each task, each job, and every damn mission Dutch insisted on. No end in sight, just more running, more scheming.

He sat on an old, weather-worn chair perched at the front of Shady Belle, the crumbling manor they called home. Its once-grand façade was faded and cracked, much like the gang itself—held together by little more than stubbornness and dwindling hope. The morning fog clung low to the ground, curling around the gnarled tree roots and the broken fence posts, giving the place an eerie stillness.

It was mid-September now—Arthur only remembered because Sean’s birthday had passed a few days back. Some of the gang had stayed up late, passing a bottle around the campfire, trading stories about the fiery Irishman. Arthur had stayed longer than most, his heart heavy with memories of laughter now silenced by a bullet.

The chill of fall was creeping in, carried by the night and lingering in the shadows, though the sun would soon burn it away. Arthur inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling his lungs, chasing away the stale dampness of the manor. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—clean. He let himself savor it, knowing the day ahead would likely choke him with its demands.

Dutch had a plan, as always. This time, a high-stakes card game aboard a river boat in the Saint Denis harbor. Every detail had to be perfect. No mistakes. No run-ins with the law. Not this time. That meant a shopping trip to the city with Trelawny, of all people, to gather supplies and scout the area. Dutch wanted every angle covered, every loose end tied tight.

And then there was Kate. Dutch had insisted she play a role in the job, her part pivotal to getting them through the door. Her cover? A famous Italian singer, the kind who’d catch the eye of the city's most elite. Arthur had protested—loudly. But Dutch was unyielding, Hosea backing him up with reassurances that it’d be fine, just like the mayor’s party. Arthur didn’t care much for that; polished shoes, fake smiles, and too many lies—but Kate had taken it all in stride, and she was confident she could do it again.

Arthur wasn’t so sure. He didn’t like the idea of her standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t think twice about exploiting her if things went wrong. But she was stubborn, determined to help the gang any way she could. Arthur had no choice but to pray he could change her mind in the next two days. If he couldn’t, he’d be right there beside her. No way in hell would he let her face it alone.

Lately, though, his worries stretched far beyond jobs and plans. He’d noticed the signs—Kate sleeping more, eating less, missing chores because of her headaches. The girls had told him as much, and Arthur knew the cause. Shady Belle was no place for someone like her. Sure, it had walls and a roof, but they were cracked and rotting, letting the rain and wind slip through. Mold crept up the corners, and the damp chill seeped into your bones at night. Arthur did what he could—pulling her close when the nights grew too cold, letting his body heat shield her from the worst of it. But it wasn’t enough. It ate at him, watching her put on a brave face, pretending she wasn’t struggling just to keep his worry at bay.

But he always worried. Now, with Dutch’s plan looming and Kate’s involvement hanging in the balance, the concern gnawed at him, heavy and relentless, like a stone pressing against his chest. He sighed, shifting his weight in the creaky old chair, debating whether to head back inside and kiss his woman goodbye before the day’s chaos swept him away.

Before he could move, the door creaked open, and Mary-Beth stepped out onto the porch. The young woman was wrapped in a heavy wool coat, her night chemise peeking out from underneath, and she held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a white envelope pinched between her fingers. Her other hand clutched her coat tightly against the morning chill.

“Mornin’, Arthur,” she greeted softly, her voice warm and familiar. “Figured I might find you out here.”

Arthur smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “A fine mornin’ it is, Miss Mary-Beth.”

She handed him the coffee, and he accepted it with a grateful nod. The warmth seeped through his fingers, chasing away the lingering chill. If there was one thing about running all these damn jobs, it was the way the girls showed their appreciation in small but meaningful ways. It reminded Arthur why he kept going—why he fought so hard. Not just for himself, but for them, too.

Mary-Beth lingered as Arthur took a tentative sip of the bitter black coffee. Then, almost hesitantly, she extended the envelope toward him. “Letter came for you,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe. “I think it’s from that woman.” The last two words carried a subtle edge.

Arthur chortled, raising an eyebrow as he took the envelope. “That woman, huh? You mean Mary Gillis?” He turned the letter over in his hands, the elegant script on the front unmistakable.

Mary-Beth pursed her lips. “Gillis? Thought you said she was married to some Linton fellow?”

Arthur sighed, suddenly feeling like he’d been cornered. “She um— well she was. Barry Linton. But he passed not too long ago.” His fingers found the edge of the envelope, ripping it open as he spoke.

Mary-Beth folded her arms, her gaze sharpening with interest. “Then tell me, Mr. Morgan, what’s this widow doing still writin’ to you?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, darlin’. That’s what I’m fixin’ to find out.” He unfolded the letter, but he could feel her eyes lingering.

“You best get along before Miss Grimshaw catches wind you’re up,” he added pointedly, trying to nudge her away without sounding outright rude.

Mary-Beth narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to dismiss her, but after a moment, she relented, turning back toward the door. “Alright, fine. But I’ll be keepin’ my eye on you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He chuckled under his breath as she disappeared into the manor, shaking his head at her audacity. Then, finally, he let his gaze fall to the letter in his hand, the words waiting for him like the clouds on the horizon:

My dear Arthur,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to thank you for your help with Jamie. He and Daddy are still arguing, but I understand that Jamie is thinking of going back to college. Whatever happens, I believe you saved his life, and we are all truly grateful.

Oh, Arthur. I have made such a mess of my life, time and again. Why can I not change and be the woman I want to be? Why couldn’t you change and be a man and put down all those fantasies that cloud your judgment? Life is very confusing, and I see now that I am not very good at it.

I am afraid we have got ourselves in another mess. It’s not my fault, but I need your help. I’m staying at the Hotel Grand in Saint Denis. Oh, Arthur. I know it is wrong of me to ask you, but I have nobody else, and for what we had together, I beg of you, even though I am ashamed to do so.

Yours,Mary

Arthur sighed heavily, folding the letter with a deliberate care that belied the storm brewing inside him. He slid it into his satchel, the weight of it feeling heavier than any of the supplies or ammunition he carried. His jaw tightened as his gaze drifted out over the misty swamps, the sluggish waters reflecting a pale, muted sunrise. Mary Gillis. Always finding a way to haunt him, always pulling at the loose threads of a life he’d tried to leave behind.

The first time she’d called for his help, he’d nearly ignored her altogether. He’d wrestled with the question, torn between letting old flames die and doing what he thought might be the decent thing. It was Kate who’d convinced him in the end, her soft-spoken wisdom guiding him to answer the plea. "Helping others isn’t a weakness," she’d said, resting her hand on his, heart full of understanding. And so he’d gone. He’d helped Mary with her brother, with her troubles, and with it, he thought he’d finally put the past to rest.

But that was months ago. Months filled with battles, with losses, with a love that had rooted itself firmly in his chest and refused to let go. His heart belonged to Kate now, the woman who lay sleeping just upstairs, wrapped in the meager warmth of their shared cot. Whatever dreams Mary might still cling to, whatever fantasy she still entertained of what they once were, Arthur knew better. She’d signed the letter “yours,” but the truth was she had never truly been his.

They’d been just a couple of lovesick kids, foolish and reckless, trying to carve out a life in a world that seemed determined to keep them apart. Her father had despised him, calling him poor, unworthy, a scoundrel who’d ruin her. Maybe the old bastard had been right, in his own way. Mary, for her part, had always wanted him to change—begged him to leave his ways behind, to live a cleaner, safer life that had no place for a man like him.

He’d tried, God knows he’d tried, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Her rejection of his proposal had shattered whatever hope they’d built together, and they’d gone their separate ways, two hearts too stubborn to meet in the middle. At the time, Arthur had been furious, heartbroken. But with the years came clarity. She’d done the right thing by walking away, as much as it had gutted him. He’d have ruined her, and she’d have resented him for it.

Now, though, her reaching out again felt like opening an old wound that had barely scarred over. She must’ve been desperate to dredge up the past and call on him once more. Still, Arthur had made her a promise all those years ago—a promise to be there if she ever truly needed him. And damn it all, he’d meant it. But that didn’t make him regret those words any less now.

He sighed again, the sound heavy in the stillness, and turned back toward the house. His boots creaked softly on the steps as he ascended to the bedroom he shared with Kate. The air inside was quieter than the swamp outside, a hushed calm broken only by the occasional murmur of the gang stirring below.

Kate lay curled beneath their blanket, her hair splayed across the pillow in a tangled mess that caught the pale morning light. The sight of her tugged at something deep inside him—a mix of love and guilt that settled in his chest. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, a stark contrast to the restless energy she carried during the waking hours.

Arthur knelt beside the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Her skin felt warm against his lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

“Be back soon,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand resting on her shoulder as though drawing strength from the simple touch. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightened and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Whatever the day held, he’d face it. But as he made his way back down to the waiting world, he knew his thoughts would stay rooted here, with her. 

Always with her.

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate was lost in the throes of a feverish dream, her mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. Somewhere in the haze, she felt Arthur's lips brush against her temple—a fleeting touch that tethered her briefly to the safety of Shady Belle. But like water slipping through her fingers, she drifted away again, into a world both foreign and familiar.

She was standing in the bayou, its dark, twisting mangrove trees reaching like skeletal fingers toward a starless sky. Their roots dive far below the depths, peeking out in gnarled braids. There was no moon, yet the scene was bathed in an eerie glow, as if the shadows themselves emitted a pale, unnatural light. The air was thick and heavy, like the fever clinging to her skin, and she felt the weight of unseen eyes watching from just beyond the edges of her vision. Every time she turned, they vanished, retreating deeper into their dark spaces.

The cold water lapped at her thighs, the chill seeping through her soaked nightdress as it billowed around her legs like dissolving smoke. Shady Belle was nowhere to be seen, and she felt untethered, as though the world itself had abandoned her. She wanted to shout, to call Arthur’s name. But her mouth and tongue betrayed her, remaining silent in the oppressive quiet. Her mind grappled for meaning, but the logic of dreams offered no answers, only the inexorable thrill of what came next.

In a blink, the scene shifted, and she stood before an ancient, tortured looking willow tree. Its massive branches drooping low, their weight seeming to bow toward the water as if in devotion—or coercion. Devoid of color and leaves, it looked barren yet beckoning. The tree loomed impossibly large, its roots poking up through the earth as if it was trying to pry itself from the ground. They spread wide and deep, cradling something small and swaddled in a yellow fabric.

Kate’s body moved without her permission, her feet splashed forward sinking into the muck with every step, her hand outstretched toward the bundle. It pulsed faintly, as though alive, the fabric inexplicably dry and pristine despite the muddy water lapping at its edges. She knelt, her fingers trembling as they brushed the delicate cloth.

The earth beneath her began to quiver, a slow, rhythmic tremor that she realized was a heartbeat. It echoed in her chest, though strangely out of sync with her own, as if it belonged to something other. The sound grew louder, resonating in her bones, drowning out the hum of the bayou. It was steady and strong unlike her own, which began to falter under the pressure of uncertainty. 

This heartbeat was mighty.

With a deep breath, she peeled back the fabric. Expecting some fragile, living thing, she froze when all that lay within was a seed. Small, unassuming, nestled within the soft blanket—a peach pit.

A strange disquiet settled over her. What’s this doing here? she wondered, turning it over in her hand. She couldn’t explain why, but her mind immediately thought of Arthur. Before she could rise, a flash of light caught her eye. Looking up, her breath hitched.

Sunken into the tree’s ancient trunk was a mirror, its frame gnarled and alive, twisting like the roots that encased it. But the reflection that met her gaze wasn’t her own—or at least, not as she knew herself.

The woman in the mirror was her, but different. Healthier, fuller. Her hair was smooth and pinned in an elegant style, and she wore a fine dress—proper and clean, with no trace of the rough life Kate knew so well. But her expression was strained, her face marked by some deep, unspoken sorrow.

In her arms, the reflection cradled the same yellow bundle Kate had just unwrapped. The fabric was clean and vibrant, glowing softly as though untouched by the bayou's darkness. Kate looked on, and the image began to fade, its yellow hue leaching into dullness before her eyes.

"No," she whispered, a surge of desperation clawing at her chest. The mirror seemed to flicker, the image trembling as if on the verge of breaking apart. She dropped the seed into the water, her hands reaching out toward the reflection, pleading with it. Tears blurred her vision as her knees sank into the mud.

She clawed at the bark of the tree, her nails scraping against the wood as the mirror began to dissolve into the surrounding fog. The woman in the reflection lingered for just a moment longer, her pained eyes softened, and she smiled at Kate, before vanishing entirely.

As the last wisp of light faded, Kate’s gaze dropped. There, floating in the water before her, was the peach pit. It was glowing now, faintly golden, radiating outward as it nestled into her lap. Reaching down with cupped hands she felt its warmth, pulsing with the steady beat of her heart. Harmonizing, as if they were one.

A soft whisper reached her ears, though no voice could be seen or placed. The words were indistinct, like a lullaby carried on a distant breeze. Yet they filled her with an overwhelming peace, soothing the ache that had gripped her chest. Kate clung to the warmth, holding the seed close to her chest. 

The water began to rise, enveloping her body. But she held onto the tiny pit, clinging to the hope it offered her. Shielding it from the darkness as it swallowed them both. 

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The rhythmic clatter of Belle’s hooves against the cobblestone echoed through the bustling streets of Saint Denis, a steady cadence that drowned out the city’s chaos. The sharp clang of the trolley on its tracks, the overlapping shouts of merchants and passersby, even the piercing cry of a seagull overhead—all of it faded into the background. Arthur’s mind, however, was far from quiet. His thoughts churned, replaying the morning’s work, scanning for anything they might have missed. Anything that could tip their carefully planned mission into disaster.

Arthur and Trelawney had spent the better part of the day digging into every detail of the high-stakes card tournament scheduled aboard the Grand Korrigan the following evening. Trelawney and Strauss were confident they could fix the game in Arthur’s favor, but there was still much to learn. Who were the players? What were the stakes? And how could they infiltrate the riverboat without raising suspicion?

Trelawney, ever the charmer, had already secured the proper attire and spent hours mingling in the city’s seedier poker dens, listening to whispers and picking up useful scraps of information. Meanwhile, Arthur had taken to scouting the boat itself. He’d memorized its layout, noted its docking schedule, and kept a sharp eye on the captain and crew as they moved about their business. Every detail mattered, and Arthur was determined not to leave any stone unturned.

Lost in thought, Arthur rode back toward the heart of town to meet Trelawney at their arranged rendezvous. The weight of the mission sat heavy on his shoulders, his focus narrowing in on the steps ahead. So much so, he almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to him.

“Arthur!”

The shout was sudden, cutting through the din. Feminine, familiar.

He pulled Belle to a halt, glancing around until his eyes landed on a balcony just above street level. There she was—Mary Gillis, leaning eagerly against the railing, her face lit with a mixture of relief and excitement.

“Oh, Arthur, you came!” she called, waving as though the years between them had never passed.

Arthur stiffened in the saddle, his hand tightening slightly on Belle’s reins. He’d forgotten about her letter, about her request for help. Hell, he’d barely had time to think it over, let alone discuss it with Kate. The mission had consumed his every waking moment, and he’d figured he’d have a few days to sort it out—if he even decided to go at all. But now, fate had a way of forcing his hand.

He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible over the city’s noise. “Yeah, I, uh—I came,” he called back, the words tasting like regret the moment they left his mouth.

The smile on Mary’s face faltered slightly as she saw the frustration etched into Arthur’s expression. Her enthusiasm met the weight of his weariness, a stark contrast to the nostalgic hope that had brought her to this moment. She leaned on the hotel railing, her eyes fixed on him as though they could will away the years and pain between them.

"Wait right there, I’m coming straight down!" she called, disappearing into the building before Arthur could even open his mouth to protest.

He dismounted Belle with a heavy sigh, hitching her to the post outside. The doors of the Hotel Grand swung open moments later, and Mary rushed out, her steps hurried, her face alight with nervous energy.

"Arthur," she said again, softer this time, her tone steeped in wistfulness.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. "What is it you need this time, Mary?" His voice was steady but edged, cutting straight to the point. He didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to open doors he’d shut long ago.

Her expression faltered. "I can’t believe you came," she said, ignoring his question. Her voice carried a strange mix of gratitude and regret. "After everything…"

Arthur’s patience was thinning. He looked away, his gaze following a passing wagon down the street. "Sure, seems whenever you call, I come," he muttered, his tone clipped. "Now just tell me what’s goin’ on. I don’t have all day."

Mary took a hesitant step closer, clasping her hands in front of her. "It’s my daddy," she began.

Arthur let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Your father? Christ, Mary, I must be an even bigger fool than I thought."

"Please, Arthur," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I know my daddy was always hard on you, but he was just trying to protect me. Can’t you see that? He wanted better for me than—"

"Better than me," Arthur interrupted, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing. "That’s what you’re sayin’, ain’t it? Your father was never kind to me. He thought I was trash. Made damn sure I knew it, too."

Mary flinched but pressed on. "Your choices—Arthur, they—"

"What choice did I have!" he barked, rising with an anger that had been simmering for years. "You knew who I was, what my life was. I never left you, Mary. You walked away."

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but Arthur didn’t let up, the wounds of their past bleeding fresh. "You think I don’t know why? You made the right call, I’ll give you that. But you don’t get to come back now and act like I’m your knight in shinin’ armor. I’m not. And I can’t be."

"Arthur, please," she begged. "You’re still the best man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t be here asking you if I didn’t believe that."

He shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t know a damn thing about me anymore. You’re livin’ in some fantasy, Mary. Always have been. This pure life of yours? Your daddy’s still drinkin’ and whorin’ and gamblin’ away your money. Jamie’s nearly run off with some cult, and here you are, beggin’ me to fix it all."

Her lips quivered as she reached for him, but he stepped back, keeping the distance between them. "I’m sorry," she said quietly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I didn’t know who else to turn to."

Arthur sighed, his anger giving way to something softer, but no less resolute. He stared at her for a long moment, his voice low but firm when he finally spoke, feeling defeated. "This is the last time we meet like this Mary. I’m done doin’ your family favors."

Her eyes widened as she grasped the weight of his words. "Oh, Arthur…"

"I’ve got my own life to worry about now," he said, gentler but unwavering. "My own family. A woman who’s stood by me, who I’ve got a future with. That’s where I’m puttin’ my focus. Not on what might’ve been."

Mary’s breath hitched, and she turned away. "It wasn’t that I didn’t love you, Arthur," she whispered, thick with emotion. “You know that.” 

"Don’t," Arthur said quickly, voice tightening. "Don’t bring that up now. It’s done. We’re done."

She turned back to him, her expression desperate, but he didn’t waver. "Think of what we had," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Of what could’ve been."

Arthur shook his head, his voice firm even as his heart throbbed. "I’ve spent enough time thinkin’ about that, Mary. Now I’m thinkin’ about what I’ve got. And I’m not gonna throw it away for somethin’ that’s long gone."

Mary lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting together nervously. For a moment, silence fell between them, save for the distant clatter of wagon wheels and the murmur of city life around them. Arthur could see it—the shadow of the young woman she’d been, the glimmer of the love they once shared. That flicker hit him like a punch to the gut, stirring memories he’d buried deep.

He sighed, running a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the ache in his chest. Damn it all to hell, Arthur thought. Why was it always her?

Finally, he let out a long breath and stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at his touch, then turned to meet his gaze, her eyes hopeful and fragile all at once.

"Fine," Arthur muttered, his tone gruff and tinged with resignation. "But this is the last time, Mary. You hear me? The last damn time."

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a fleeting moment, her face lit up, though the weight of her troubles quickly returned. "Thank you, Arthur," she whispered.

He dropped his hand and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. "Don’t thank me yet. Just tell me what kinda trouble your daddy’s dragged himself into this time."

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Stealing back the Gillis family brooch had proven to be an unseemly task, though far easier than Arthur had expected. The brooch had found its way into the hands of a pompous collector named Mr. Hugo Abernathy, a well-known figure in Saint Denis. Abernathy had a reputation for exploiting desperate gamblers, trading their losses for heirlooms and sentimental trinkets to add to his collection of gaudy treasures. Arthur didn’t know whether the man fancied himself a cultured gentleman or just another leech, but it didn’t matter. He’d made the mistake of crossing paths with Arthur Morgan. As satisfying as it might’ve been to rob the man blind, this wasn’t about profit—it was about keeping his word to Mary, no matter how reluctant he’d been to give it.

By the time Arthur handed over the brooch, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the bustling streets of Saint Denis. He walked Mary back to her hotel, his boots echoing dully against the cobblestone as he turned his thoughts toward camp. Toward Kate.

As if sensing his distraction, Mary broke the silence. “So,” she said lightly, “tell me about this woman who’s tamed your heart.”

Arthur huffed a quiet chuckle. “She’s far from taming it. Hell, I can’t even tame her sometimes.”

Mary laughed softly, but there was something wistful in her tone. “She sounds... spirited.”

“She is,” Arthur said, a rare softness creeping into his voice. “She’s somethin’ else, Mary. She don’t back down from nothing. She’s kind, too, in her own way. Got a way of makin’ me believe I might just be better than I’ve been.”

Mary hesitated, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. “And... she doesn’t mind what you do? The outlaw life, I mean. Doesn’t it... bother her? I can’t imagine it’s the life any woman dreams of.”

Arthur’s steps slowed, and his jaw tightened as the words sank in. He stopped, turning to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mary’s eyes widened, realizing her misstep, but she pressed on, perhaps emboldened by old familiarity. “I just mean... I tried to love you, Arthur. I really did. But that life you lead—it consumes everything. I just don’t see how anyone can truly be happy with it. Or with you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly, as though the words had struck him like a blow. They pained him deeply, he already struggled with feeling unworthy of Kate’s affections. But it stung especially after what he had just done to save Mary’s family, again. A slow anger began to simmer in his chest. “Kate don’t see it that way,” he said firmly. “She sees me. For who I am. Not for what I’ve done or where I come from.”

Mary faltered, searching for the right response, but her silence said enough.

“That’s the difference, Mary,” Arthur continued, his tone sharpening. “You were always tryin’ to fix me, tryin’ to make me somethin’ I’m not. Kate... she doesn't ask for that. She just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “She loves me as I am.”

Mary looked away, a flush creeping into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Arthur. I just... I suppose I wanted to understand what she sees in you. What I couldn’t see.”

Arthur let out a breath, long and heavy. “Maybe that’s just it,” he said quietly. “We were never meant to see eye to eye. You were always lookin’ for somethin’ I couldn’t give, and I was too stubborn to realize it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distance between them suddenly feeling insurmountable.

“Thank you,” Mary said finally, her voice soft and resolute. “For everything.”

Arthur nodded, his expression unreadable. “Take care, Mary.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots fading into the din of the city.

As Arthur mounted Belle and rode back toward camp, a strange weight lifted from his shoulders. It was as though he’d finally closed a door he hadn’t realized had been open for far too long, letting the past linger like a ghost. Mary had been a symbol of what had always been out of reach—a life of quiet respectability, a pure life. A fantasy where he could be the man she thought he should be. But with every step Belle took, the clarity of his feelings grew. 

That life had never been meant for him. Mary had never been meant for him.

Mary had wanted a version of him that didn’t exist, a man who could walk away from the outlaw life and become something proper in the eyes of society. She’d seen his flaws as barriers, challenges to be smoothed over or removed entirely. That his past was something he could simply erase from his identity. She loved the idea of him, not the man himself. 

Kate, on the other hand, had never tried to change him. She had seen him at his worst—bloodied and bruised, hardened by the choices he’d made—and still, she’d chosen to love him. All of him. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Kate didn’t just stand by his side; she rooted herself there in devotion. She didn’t demand perfection or moral absolution. Instead, she accepted the man he was and encouraged the man he was trying to become. She saw the good in him, even when he couldn’t see it himself. Kate understood that his scars, both visible and hidden, were part of what made him who he was. Where Mary had always sought to mend or reshape him, Kate simply held space for him to be, flaws and all. 

As the city lights of Saint Denis faded behind him, Arthur let out a deep breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The ache of old memories had dulled, replaced by something warmer, steadier. He thought of Kate’s laugh, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she teased him, the strength in her voice when she pushed him to keep fighting for what mattered. She didn’t coddle him or let him wallow in self-pity. She challenged him, called him out, set him straight, and still, she stayed.

The realization struck him like a punch to the gut: Kate was his future. Not some imagined version of himself or a life he could never truly live. Kate was real, and she was waiting for him back at camp.

Arthur urged Belle into a faster trot, eager to leave Saint Denis behind. The past had its place, sure, but it wasn’t where he belonged. Not anymore. For the first time in a long while, Arthur felt certain of his path. His future lay ahead with Kate—and he could hardly wait to seize it.

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The camp was alive with the warm hum of camaraderie as Kate sat cross-legged at the poker table, her cheeks flushed from laughter. The early evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over Shady Belle as the group settled into their game. Hosea, ever the charming rogue, shuffled the deck with a flair, his mischievous grin growing as he eyed Kate's rapidly increasing pile of poker chips. 

Charles leaned back in his chair, sipping from a tin cup while Javier and Lenny exchanged jabs, their banter bringing easy laughter to the group.

“Now, Miss Kate,” Hosea drawled, dealing the cards with the finesse of a seasoned cheat, “you’d best not let that pretty smile fool us into thinking you don’t know what you’re doing. Although,” he added, nodding toward her hoard of chips, “I suspect the smile ain’t needed.”

Kate smirked, tossing a couple of chips into the pot. “Oh, trust me, Hosea. I don’t need my pretty smile to clean you out.”

A ripple of laughter swept over the table as Lenny slapped it. “She’s got you there, old man! She’s ruthless.”

“I’ll show you ‘old man,’” Hosea grumbled, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Charles leaned in, his tone faux-serious. “Or maybe she’s just cheating.”

Kate gasped, placing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “The slander! Lies on my good name!”

“Good practice for tomorrow,” Javier said with a sly grin. “Maybe we should put her at the table instead of Arthur.”

The group erupted in laughter as the game continued, the teasing punctuated by moments of concentration. Kate reveled in the lightheartedness, the warmth of her companions easing the dull fatigue that had lingered all day. The strange dream she’d had still nagged at the edges of her thoughts, but the laughter and camaraderie helped soften its weight.

The sound of hooves approaching broke through the chatter, and all heads turned as Arthur dismounted Belle and strolled toward the group. Kate’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Arthur!” she greeted warmly, setting her cards down. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be out until dark.”

Arthur tipped his hat to the group, his gaze softening when it landed on her. With a small, fond smile, he bent to tilt back her hat and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, completely unbothered by the amused stares from the others. 

“Figured I’d better get back,” he said, his voice low but full of concern. “How’re you feelin’? Grimshaw ain’t been ridin’ you too hard, has she?”

Kate waved him off, trying to mask her weariness with a smile. “It’s alright, Arthur. Just needed a little rest, that’s all.”

Arthur stepped behind her chair, folding his arms as he watched the game unfold. “You want me to deal you in, son?” Hosea asked with a knowing smirk.

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll pass. Looks like y’all’ve got enough trouble at the table already.”

Three hands later, Arthur couldn’t help but notice Kate placing a high bet despite her lame cards. He frowned, leaning forward. “Hold on. Are you whipsawin’ Hosea?” He whispered loudly. 

Kate froze, turning to glare at him with mock indignation. “Arthur Morgan, I cannot believe you right now.”

The men at the table groaned as Charles threw his cards down. “Told you she was cheating,” he said, laughing.

“How’s she even doing it?” Lenny asked, his curiosity piqued. “You can’t squeeze a player by yourself.”

Kate rose with a huff, tossing her cards on the table and dramatically pointing across at Javier. “Ay, pequeño diablo!” Javier threw his hands up in mock innocence. “I swear, it was her idea!”

Lenny leaned back, shaking his head with feigned annoyance. “Can’t believe you’d do Hosea dirty like that. Poor old man.”

Arthur burst into laughter as realization dawned. “You two teamed up on Hosea? Of all people?”

Hosea chuckled, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m touched, truly.”

Kate grinned, collecting her chips and dumping them in her satchel. “No hard feelings,” she said, pushing in her chair, and flicking her hat in a playful farewell.

“You’ve learned from the best,” Hosea replied with a laugh.

Kate looped her arm around Arthur as he wrapped a hand around her waist. “I think it’s time I turned in,” she said, her voice softening as the laughter behind her began to fade.

“Goodnight, Kate,” Charles said with a small nod, echoed by Lenny and Hosea.

Javier smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Sleep well, card shark. Don’t let Arthur keep you up too late.” He winked playfully, “we got a big day tomorrow.”

Arthur shot him a warning glance but chuckled, steering Kate toward the house. “They’re gonna have your name runnin’ through camp by morning,” he teased.

“Good,” Kate replied with a smirk. “Keeps things interesting.”

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The climb up the creaking, weathered staircase to their bedroom was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around two people who didn’t need words to fill the space between them. Arthur walked just behind Kate, his gaze focussed on her every movement. 

Up close he noticed the faint pallor in her cheeks. She was good at hiding it, but he could tell she was still feeling unwell. He ran a hand over his jaw, searching for the right way to bring it up without discouraging her mood. Listening to her laughter and the childish banter with Hosea and the other guys struck a chord in his heart. He didn’t want anything to ruin her happiness. But this next job, coupled with her abating strength loomed over his consciousness. Arthur couldn’t let it go. 

As they reached the landing, Arthur cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “Darlin’, I gotta talk to you about somethin’.” He was soft, cautious, but it was clear this wasn’t something he could brush aside.

Kate stopped just shy of opening the bedroom door, turning to face him with an arched brow. “That sounds ominous.”

Arthur gave her a crooked smile, his hat in his hands, but before he could continue, Kate pushed the door open—and gasped.

Hanging from a shelf inside the room was an elegant black and gold dress, the fabric catching the dim light like liquid fire. Beside it hung a sleek black suit and a matching golden ascot tie—Trelawney’s handiwork, no doubt. Arthur recognized the attire immediately, part of the plan for the riverboat job, and an uncomfortable weight settled in his chest. 

This wasn’t the first risky scheme they’d run, but something about involving Kate this time gnawed at him. The mayor's garden party had been a simple play to gather information. It had gone smoothly enough, but this felt different. The stakes were higher, the dangers more evident. Kate would be shoved in the spotlight. Open, and vulnerable. 

This wasn’t just another job with the gang. In the past, Arthur would dive into missions headfirst, guns blazing and ready to handle whatever chaos came his way. He’d learned to adapt, to put on a show when things went south, always prepared to claw his way out of trouble. But this time was different. This time, he had something to lose.

Kate wasn’t just another member of the gang. She was a light in the darkness, a reason to hope in a world that so often felt too heavy to bear.

Arthur's unease wasn’t just about her safety—it was about what her involvement represented. Every lie, every con, every dangerous move Dutch made, Arthur could swallow it. It was a part of the life he'd chosen. But dragging Kate into that world, risking her for the sake of their schemes, felt like a line he was dangerously close to crossing. One that gambled with her life. 

She deserved better than this, Arthur knew it was not the future he wanted for her. Yet here she was, caught up in it all because of him. Because Kate is too stubborn to let him take on the world alone. The thought of something going wrong made him feel sick. 

Kate stepped forward, running her fingers lightly over the dress, her expression equal parts awe and amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned. Trelawney certainly has an eye for style,” she murmured.

Arthur crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, an eye for flair and trouble. This don’t change how I feel about you being involved in it.”

Kate turned to him, her playful grin fading as she caught the concern etched into his face. “Arthur,” she began softly, already sensing where this was headed, “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” he pressed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You ain’t been feelin’ fine these past few days. You think I don’t notice how pale you’ve been lookin’, or how you’ve been tryin’ to hide it from me? I’m worried about you.”

“I told you, it’s nothing serious,” Kate said, though the edge in her voice betrayed her. 

“Darlin’, it’s serious to me.” Arthur stated. 

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Arthur or herself. Her thoughts drifted back to the dream she’d had that morning, the edges of it now hazy, like a half-remembered melody. She could recall flashes—shadows moving like whispers, an overwhelming warmth, and a sense of being drawn toward something she couldn’t quite remember. The dream’s meaning eluded her, slippery and incomprehensible, but it left behind a strange, fluttering feeling in her chest, like the stirrings of anticipation or fear.

Maybe it was just the lingering effects of the fever, or perhaps something more. Kate had noticed subtle changes in her body—a creeping fatigue that left her feeling weaker than usual, a loss of appetite, and persistent headaches that seemed to come and go. She brushed it off as nothing serious, likely just a common cold. After all, a little sickness had never slowed her down before.

She squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes. “I can pull my weight, Arthur. I always have.”

Arthur sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It ain’t about pullin’ your weight hon. You’ve got nothin’ to prove to me or to anyone else. I don’t want you pushin’ yourself too hard, not for something like this.” He gestured toward the dress, his voice softening. “If somethin’ goes wrong on that boat…”

Kate crossed the room and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “It won’t. Hosea’s got this all planned out to the last detail. I just have to sing a few songs while you win a couple rounds. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The fact that Kate rehearsed things with Hosea brought him a sense of calm, but still his anxiety festered. Arthur held her gaze, his deep blue eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt.

 “I just hate that Dutch is puttin’ you in the lion's den while your vulnerable. You mean everything to me, Kate,” he said quietly. “I don’t want a future without you in it.”

Kate smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as his warm hands enveloped her waist, squeezing them like he was testing if she were real or just his wild imagination.

“I’ll make you a deal, alright?” she resolved. “After this, I’m done. No more schemes, no more jobs. I’ll tell Dutch I’m out of commission.”

Arthur’s lips quirked into a soft smile, though the worry didn’t fully leave his face. She had made up her mind. “I’ll hold you to that,” he muttered, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

She rested her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her. “I know you will,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

As they stood in the quiet room, the soft glow of the lantern illuminated the dress and suit like relics from a story neither of them wanted to live, an unwelcome reminder of the weight of the world outside. Arthur tilted his head, his lips brushing against Kate’s hairline with a tenderness that belied the tension coiled in his chest. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles along the small of her back, grounding him as much as it soothed her. 

For a moment, Kate closed her eyes and leaned into him, the warmth of his body chasing away the lingering unease of her dream. Flashes of it teased the edges of her mind—a heartbeat, a pull she couldn’t quite explain. She opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest where she could feel his heart, steady and strong. 

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” she teased, though the mischief in her eyes couldn’t entirely hide the vulnerability beneath. 

Arthur let out a soft snort, his lips quirking into a smirk that made her stomach flutter. “Darlin’, I think you got that backward.” He leaned down to nudge her nose with his, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “I don't know what a man like me did to deserve a woman like you.”

Her laughter was quiet, intimate, the kind that warmed Arthur to his core and chased away the heaviness he carried. She moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingers tracing the lines of his shirt like she was memorizing him. For a moment, all the worry and fear melted away. 

“You know,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, “you could try on the suit—” She bit her lip, her lashes lowering as she glanced up at him, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.“And recreate that night we had in Saint Denis.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “What, you’re tellin’ me this doesn’t have it’s charm?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to his body and clothes. His tone was laced with mock arrogance, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed his act.

Kate pressed herself against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Absolutely,” she murmured, her voice softer now, her lips hovering close to his. Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, her breath mingling with his. “I want you just as you are.”

Arthur’s grin widened, his hands sliding up her sides to cradle her face. His thumbs brushed her cheeks as he leaned closer, his voice a rough murmur. “Then what are we waitin’ for, to hell with the suit.”

Kate didn’t give him a chance to say more. Standing on her toes, she captured his mouth in a kiss, slow and deliberate. Arthur stilled for only a heartbeat, then surrendered, his hands tightening on her waist as he kissed her back with a fervor that made her knees weak. The world outside the room seemed to vanish, the faint sounds of camp life fading into nothing. All that mattered was the way her lips moved against his, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, the way her body molded perfectly to his, like they’d been made for this.

His tongue brushed along her bottom lip, and Kate moaned softly, her hands sliding to his collar to tug him closer. Their movements grew more eager, more desperate, as they peeled away layers of clothing, discarding them without breaking their connection. Arthur felt his need for her aching between his legs, and he couldn’t stop himself from guiding her backward to the cot. He followed her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he ground his hips against hers, drawing a breathless gasp from her lips.

Arthur broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, his stubble scraping lightly against her sensitive skin. Each kiss was unhurried and reverent, as though he were memorizing her taste. He reached the curve of her collarbone, then lower, his mouth finding a peaked nipple. He captured it between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, and Kate arched into him, a soft cry spilling from her mouth.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as his kisses continued downward, his warm breath ghosting over her stomach. She shivered beneath him, flashes of her dream surfacing again—the heartbeat, the magnetic pull, the sense of inevitability. When he kissed her navel, she swore she could feel it again, that same unshakable connection.

Arthur paused, his lips hovering over her skin as he looked up at her. “You alright, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice thick with concern and raw desire. His hands caressed her thighs, grounding her in the moment.

Kate laughed breathlessly, her heart racing so fast she thought he might feel it. “I am now,” she whispered, her voice trembling with affection and longing.

Arthur chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against her skin. His hands slid down to lift her thighs, spreading her open for him. She gasped softly as she felt his warm breath against her most sensitive spot, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“I think I can help with that,” he drawled, his grin turning devilish before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss where she needed him most.

Kate’s body tensed at the first touch of his tongue, her head falling back as a moan escaped her lips, unrestrained and raw. That sound, coupled with the sensations Arthur was drawing from her, made her chest tighten with something beyond pleasure. The rhythm from her dream returned, steady and certain, like a heartbeat resonating deep within her soul. It wasn’t just her body responding to him; it was her heart, her entire being. Arthur’s mouth moved with a precision that wasn’t hurried but deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to explore her, to love her in a way that felt eternal. 

Every touch was a silent vow. A tangible expression of holy devotion, a sacred need that left her trembling beneath him, utterly lost yet feeling more whole than ever.

As the pleasure surged and overwhelmed her, Kate swore she could feel that heartbeat echo in her chest, pulsing with a meaning she didn’t fully understand but instinctively trusted. This moment wasn’t just an escape from the dangers of tomorrow; it was an anchor, a reminder of what truly mattered. What they were fighting for; their future.  Kate cried out his name, the sound trembling with passion and something deeper. Hope. In Arthur’s touch, in his unspoken promises, she knew that whatever lay ahead, there was hope for a future beyond this. For now, she let herself fall into his love, into the steady rhythm that promised her not just comfort but a forever she hadn’t dared to dream of.

AN: I know this chapter and the last one probably feel a little repetitive in the way they're structured; Arthur goes out, Kate is left at camp, and then they come together at night. But I promise the next chapter will include them together. I think you all know what mission is coming up....

Suffice to say, I think I've got the rest of this fic laid out. Well at least I have the bones, I've just been adding the meat as I go along. But it will be 35 chapters, with 2 epilogue chapters (37 total). It feels so far away, yet close at the same time. I wonder if I'll finish this before it hits the one year anniversary in March! ♥️

[amazingmsme]

Do you have any Penelope Headcanons?

OUR BEAUTIFUL QUEEN! Yes I do!

I think she has a very sweet & bubbly personality & that’s what sealed the deal for Odysseus. They are silly4silly. Her looks are what caught his eye, but it’s the personality that has him down so bad

You think that Odysseus was the one who fell in love first, but no. She noticed the way he was staring at her & blew a kiss at him & watched as he walked straight into a tree & that sealed the deal

She’s taller than Odysseus by a few inches & would tease him by catching him off guard & bending down to kiss him & tease him about how red he is

One time he knew it was coming so he waited til she was about to kiss his cheek & turned his head so they’d actually be kissing. She was so flustered she could barely speak & then Odysseus literally swept her off her feet & carried her to their room

Speaking of tall Penelope tho, she would love nothing more than to hold things out of his reach & every single time Odysseus would have to tickle her to make her give it back. It’s a well practiced song & dance & he knows that she’s just doing it to provoke him & be silly & he goes along with it & only calls her out when he’s feeling mean

She & Ody are the sweetest, lovey dovey couple ever & it’s honestly borderline disgusting for everyone else. Just hanging all over each other, nuzzling into necks, kissing, & touching foreheads & cooing the stupidest pet names for each other I’m talkin’ high school band couple levels of pda

I’m so sick & fucking tired of how this community constantly makes girl characters barely ticklish or not ticklish at all so she is absolutely the more ticklish one in the relationship, but she just has fun with it & doesn’t fight back very much so you just assume it’s Odysseus

She has a very high pitched & bubbly laugh that can light up a room. It’s just such a beautifully happy sound, you can’t help but smile when you hear it

It’s literally Odysseus’s favorite sound in the whole wide world

She’s so silly & goofy, especially with Telemachus. She wants to keep her son happy & entertained & she doesn’t care if she has to act a fucking fool & embarrass him to do it

Now that he’s older & more moody, she reserves tickling as a last ditch effort to cheer him up, but when he was younger, she used to do it all the time, & he’d even ask for it

He’d ask her to “play tickle monster” & she just sighs like “I’m not as good as your father, but I’ll try” just so that he can know a lil more about Odysseus & how he would’ve loved to play games like this with him

She’s barely been tickled since Odysseus left, & she really misses it. She’s played around with some friends, but it just isn’t the same. It used to be their thing, & now even their son has “grown out of it” (not really, he just thinks he’s too old for such “childish games”)

Once Ody came back, she had to be patient for him to be comfortable & more like himself. She didn’t push him & waited for him to make the first move, or grant her permission. She can tell he’s changed almost completely, & she knows he just needs time to heal

But she’d still try to subtly provoke him by stretching right next to him, reaching for things on tall shelves, & laying on in increasingly vulnerable positions. She was over the moon when about a month after he got home, he gave a shy squeeze to her side, & that was all she needed to know that her Ody is still in there

As a ler, she loves to tease about how fun they are to tickle or how cute their laugh is. & Odysseus taught her to master the art of fake nonchalance, & paired with her long nails, it makes for a killer combo

She was so excited once her sweet husband came home because now they can finally be a family together, & she absolutely goads Ody into going after Telemachus cause she can sense the distance between them & wants them to be closer

Like out of nowhere she just brings up the whole tickle monster game & Telemachus is blushing so much like MOM WTF?! But Odysseus is nervous about overstepping, he’s basically a stranger to his own son & doesn’t wanna make him uncomfortable, but he’s dying to have some fun with him & goof off. He missed the most vital years of playing & getting close with Telemachus, & now he worries that it’s “too late” so they’re both sitting awkwardly far apart & not really making eye contact

& Penelope’s like oh no did I just make it worse? I have to fix this! So she just huffs like “well if you won’t, I will” & then starts tickling their son & calling Odysseus for help because Telemachus is “too strong now” & she needs back up, but once Odysseus joined the fray, she slowly backed out so that she could watch her boys roughhouse & laugh freely

Her worst spots are her neck/ears, tummy, thighs, feet & arms (I’m a SUCKER for ticklish biceps & forearms, so she has both)

I JUST LOVE HER SO MUCH I NEED THEM ALL TO BE A BIG HAPPY FAMILY

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

NSFW Grind On Me

18+ content - Minors DNI

Bayverse Raph One-Shot

Listen to buy u a drank by t-pain to set the mood haha

all turts are in their 30s, mentions alcohol

It was game night at the lair, which had turned into having a few drinks and some fun, clumsy dancing with your four mutant turtle friends. You loved how easy it was to let go and have a good time with them, enjoying the slow buzz of the alcohol thrumming through your body as you twirled around to Mikey's favorite playlist.

The guys were feeling the buzz too, and as each new song would come on a different turtle would grab you by the hand and steal you for a dance. The smile plastered on your face was permanent as you swayed and laughed with Leo and Donnie, who were both more interested in singing along to the tracks than dancing.

Mikey was thoroughly enjoying your squeals when it was his turn, flipping you around and twirling you like he was on Dancing With The Stars to a chorus of "oohs" and "ahhs" from his brothers. Mike was such a great dancer, you were almost sad when his song had ended, but you were also sweating like crazy and needed a break. He let you up from the dip over his knee, and you patted him on the shoulder with a smile.

As you sauntered back to the game table and took another drink of your tequila pineapple, you grinned to yourself as Mikey bragged to Leo and Donnie about your moves. You were a great dancer, and you knew it.

As the next track came on, a familiar sound came over the stereo. You loved this song.

"Hey."

You turned around and were face to face with an oh-so familiar wall of green muscle and red accents. Raph smirked down at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna dance?"

You smiled and nodded slowly back at him, and let him lead you back to where he had been standing near the impromptu "dance floor". The song had kicked into full gear now, and as the lyrics played over the speakers he twirled you into his chest, his leg coming to rest in-between yours and his hand resting low on your hips.

I know the club close at three What's the chances of you rollin' with me? Back to the crib, show you how I live Let's get drunk, forget what we did

Your skin was buzzing with excitement as you danced together, deliciously close. Raph was surprisingly light on his feet, moving you around the dance floor swiftly but keeping you close to him all the while. As the song went on he spun you out with a flick of his wrist, but brought you back in so your back was to his plastron, his hands catching you at your hips.

Let's get gone, walk it out Just like that, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout We gon' have fun, you gon' see On that Patrón you should get like me

You could feel his hips gently grind against you in time to the beat, sending shivers up your spine. You ground back against him, leaning back into his plastron and rubbing your ass into him. His breath hitched at the contact.

We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh

You reached a hand up as the music enraptured the two of you, grazing over the skin of his neck and twisting your fingers in his mask tails. Raph released his grip of your hips and let his hands roam over your body as if burning it to his memory.

As he continued his sinful grind to the beat, he lifted your other arm up to his neck and lightly scrubbed his lips over the skin of your bicep as he huskily sang along.

I'm checking your body language, I love the conversation And when you lick your lips I get a tingling sensation Now were both 'bout tipsy, you say you in the mood All I need is 'bout a hour, better yet maybe two

You could feel the heat settling in your core as you felt his breath on your skin, the way his luscious lips grazed the delicate spot on your arm had a breathy whine escaping your lungs before you could think twice about it. He smiled into your arm, and turned his head to graze the shell of your ear with his pout as he continued singing quietly along, just for you.

We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, whoa

You bit your lip to keep from mewling in front of his brothers. You couldn't believe this was finally happening, after years of pining for Raphael he was finally making a move. And holy shit, was this a move.

As you kept swaying your hips together, trying to not melt into a complete puddle on the dance floor, Raph let his canine scrape over your ear and you lost all semblance of composure.

A sudden, needy moan tumbled from your lips, and Raphael tensed behind you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, sure that his brothers had heard you. But before you could think about anything else, Raph stepped in front of you, taking your face in his hands.

He leaned in, hesitant now, and gently kissed you, placing the sweetest of kisses on your rosy pout. His lips were softer than you had imagined, but still firm enough to be addictive. As he pulled away you licked your lips, eyes pleading him for more. He watched your tongue swipe over your bottom lip, and you saw your own hunger reflected back at you. He cleared his throat nervously.

"My room?"

"Yes please."

With a smirk, he nodded at you and lifted you up into his arms, your legs straddling his core and his hands under your ass as he carried you off.

The turtles looked at each other as Raph's bedroom door closed shut.

"Well it's about time, am I right guys?!" Mikey joked, putting his hand up for a high-three from his brothers. A chorus of groans were covered by the next song coming over the speakers.

[charles-smith-pillow-princess]

Oh you’re so talented 🤤

During the gang era can you make Charles oblivious to Arthur’s very obvious (to everyone else) feelings towards him while in camp?

“Oy!” Sean slung himself over one of the log seats surrounding the campfire, bottle in hand. It was only a quarter empty, which explained why the young Irishman’s whisper was merely at ‘most folks’ talking volume’ rather than his usual boisterous yell. “Was anyone gonna tell me King Arthur’s pining for Charlie?” Javier looked up from tuning his guitar, eyes narrowed dangerously. “You gotta problem with that?” Sean threw one hand up, slinging his other arm around Lenny’s shoulder, startling the second-youngest gun out of his book. “Not me, compadre!” Sean assured, whiskey sloshing from his open bottle. “I’ve got my gripes about ole’ English, but his choice of dance partner ranks at the bottom of the list. I just didn’t know the old bear had a romantic bone in that overgrown body of his!” Tilly looked over from where she was engaged in a vicious game of dominos with Hosea. “Arthur?” She laughed. “He’s always been a softie. You weren’t around for Mary.” Hosea sighed, squinting in the fading sunlight at the conundrum before him. He knew for certain that Tilly had been swapping her tiles out, but he hadn’t caught her at it yet. Sometimes, he cursed himself for teaching the young woman quite so well. Usually when she was publicly handing him his ass at what used to be his favorite game. “Leave off about Mary,” Hosea cautioned, picking up another domino with a frown. “I’m just glad the fool’s finally moved on.” Sadie snorted into her beer. “Don’t know if I’d call what Arthur’s doing makin’ a move,” she joked. “Pretty sure Charles still don’t know that Arthur’s sweet on him.” John looked around the circle, bafflement clear on his face. “What the hell are you all talkin’ about?” he said, looking around at the variously amused faces of the other outlaws. “Arthur ain’t sweet on Charles!” Javier laughed. “Those wolves really did eat half your brain,” he joked, knocking his boot easily into John’s from the seat next to him. “Arthur’s been loco about Charles since we were near Valentine, idiot.”

Continued on AO3 as Introduction to Cowboy Cryptography: Five signs of Arthur's affection that went straight over Charles' head, and the one that even he couldn't miss.

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars from this ask for this prompt meme. Karlach - "It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me."

-----

“Oy, who’s the glowy bitch by the door, then?”

Karlach knows better than to bother looking up when the fresh-meat greataxe grunt starts talking, down the barracks a ways. This shit isn’t new. They always like to talk, the new arrivals to Zariel's army. And as soon as they see Karlach, no other topic will do.

Fair play enough, after all; she does kinda stick out. There's nobody else like her in the platoon, or in the whole army. In the eight years she’s been here, nobody else has ever gotten the tin can stuck into them and survived. She’s special, as Zariel likes to assure her, though special has never bought her anything but more blood and death - and the attention of every ignot who want to pick a fight.

Today’s mouthy prick is a draegloth, which explains why he’s talking a big game. A dogskull’s almost as unique as Karlach is around here; makes sense he’d pick out a target fast before anyone can pick him out for an asskicking.

“Oh, that? That's Cliffgate,” says another voice. This one Karlach recognizes - Namtar, a cambion, one of the platoon sergeants. He and Karlach have butted heads before, because Namtar is a rotten pissant. “Zariel's little kiss-ass. No heart, just an infernal engine in her chest.”

"No way," the draegloth says. "That's the Demonsbane? A ruttin' tief? Not even hellsborn?" He laughs sharply. "Lettin' in all sorts these days, uh?"

Karlach ignores the mocking words, focusing on choking down the tasteless morsels that pass for rations around here. The bunk across from her creaks unhappily as weight hits it.

“They're talkin’ about you, Dart,” Flo says with a nasty grin, settling onto the bed and lounging back against the wall. “Gonna sit here and take it?”

Karlach sighs. She picked up the nickname around her second week in the Hells, and it's never once been meant with kindness. Even Flo says it with a nasty edge, and Flo is the closest thing she has to a friend.

Good reminder, I guess, that no one here really gives a fuck about me, no matter how much I might like to pretend. Even after eight years, she can sometimes, if she squints, convince herself that there's camaraderie here, like there was in Gortash's old crew before he sold her out. But it's vain hope, a desperate attempt to pretend this place isn't rotting her fro the inside out; the illusion never lasts long and always just leaves her feeling lonelier.

"If it's not them, it'll be somebody else," she says noncommittally. "Lemme eat my dinner in peace."

"Nawww..." Flo says, comfortably dismissive. "C'mon, Dart, give us a show. Been too long since we had a proper scrap in here besides the piece in your chest."

Karlach laughs softly in spite of herself. It's a pretty weak pun, but the jokes in Avernus are as bad as the food. "I'm wore out, Flo," she says, shaking her head. "Leave off."

She looks up to find Flo's smile has turned a shade more brittle. "C'mon, now, Dart," she says, and there's a warning note in it now. "Y'know I can't be seen bein' friends with a softy. Give us a show, I said."

The message is loud and clear, as it always is. My friendship is conditional. And you'll do as I say, 'cos you *don't* want to be my enemy. Now dance.

Karlach huffs out a weary, flame-hot breath and tosses aside the last bit of her ration pack uneaten. With a groan, she pushes herself to her feet and strides down the barracks corridor towards Namtar and the draegloth.

"Hey, there she is." Namtar looks up with a lazy grin as she approaches. He's flopped on his bunk with his boots off, his wings furled neatly under him and feet up on a stack of equipment piled at the foot of the bed. "How's tricks, Dart?" Before Karlach can respond, he shoots a conspiratorial glance at the young dogskull. "Y'know why we call her Dart, Markos?"

The draegloth -- Markos -- looks puzzled. "Why?" he asks.

"Dumb-Ass Rusty Toaster." Namtar brays with laughter so hard it shakes the bed a little. "Fits, too, cos all she's good for is throwing at things t' poke holes in them."

Markos snickers loudly. Several more of the platoon have picked up on the conversation; smelling blood in the water, they've started to circle up, leaned casually against the walls or peering over the edge of their bunks. Some of them are grinning, enjoying watching the Demonsbane get a dunking. Others - the smart ones - are eyeing Karlach warily. She hasn't said anything yet, but her eyes are smoldering. In spite of herself, the rage is building. 

She doesn't want to fight them. She never has. She's always been loyal, and even in this bitch of a place, even under Zariel's thumb, she'd have fought hard for anyone here who wanted to fight for her in return. But that's never made the slightest bit of difference, because everyone here is a fucking tosser.

Hells. Maybe, when you come right down to it, so am I.

And that, really, is what enrages her, far more than these empty little insults.

"Y'know," she says slowly, looking the draegloth up and down. "I expect this sort of crap from the fresh meat. A mouth spewing shit 'cos you haven't learned to shut the fuck up yet. But you--" She turns her gaze slowly and deliberately to the sergeant. "Eight years it's been, Namtar, and neither of us dead yet, so you'd think you'd have figured out not to mess with me." She lets a slow, feral grin curl across her lips, and there's a ripple of anticipatory mumbling from the gathering crowd around them. "My fault, I guess, that you've forgotten to be scared of me. But I can fix that."

She moves suddenly, with no windup, her fists and feet all shifting at once. Her left fist crashes into Markos's jaw, knocking him back into the steel frame of the bed behind him; his skull ricochets off it with a metallic whingggg as his skull ricochets off the metal. With her left foot, she kicks behind his knee while he's unbalanced and fully flips him sideways. As he bounces back from the bedframe, he goes careening onto his front, his nose crunching into the stone floor.

Meanwhile, her other hand grabs Namtar by the collar and drags him out of his bunk. He has almost two inches on her, but she lifts him with ease one-armed, the engine roaring in her chest and sending energy coursing through her bicep. Spinning out of the kick at Markos, she slams Namtar into the wall, then releases her grip for a split second, only to refix it tightly around his throat before he can fall.

All of the cambion's bravado has vanished. His eyes are wide and brilliant white in the dark red of his face and he squirms ineffectually against Karlach's implacable grip. His wings, crunched between his back and the wall, struggle feebly. "Oy! Let me go!" he bleats, gripping her hand with both of his and trying to pull it away.

She glares at him. "Maybe. If you want to grovel a bit. Otherwise I'll finally just kill you. Maybe everyone else would finally get it through their thick skulls that you don't mess with me."

He sneers in an attempt at disdain, though it's considerably weakened by the fact that he's now struggling to breathe. "You wouldn't dare."

She laughs humorlessly and leans forward until her nose is nearly touching his, so he can feel the heat radiating off her body and see nothing but the exhausted fury in her eyes. "That really a chance you wanna take, sergeant?"

He hesitates, balanced between his anger and his fear. But something he sees in her eyes must convince him, because the fear wins. "Sorry," he mutters.

"What was that?" she asks coolly. "Didn't hear you."

"I'm sorry," he snaps. "Now let me go."

She could drag it out further, but the whole situation feels sticky as hot tar on her skin, burning down into her bones. Gods, I hate this. I hate all of it. I don’t want to be this thing they’ve made me, but I don’t know how to stop.

She releases his throat with a jerk, letting him slide down the wall to the floor, where he sits clutching at his neck and wheezing. Markos, nearby, is out cold where he hit the floor.

"Good," she mutters. "Just... stay there and shut the fuck up." She doesn't wait to hear what the other gathered soldiers might have to say, but turns and stalks away back down the row of beds towards the other end of the barracks. 

Flo gives her a slow clap as she returns to her bunk, grinning unpleasantly from ear to ear. "Nice one. Damn good show, Dart, just as I asked."

"Shut up," Karlach answers, tossing herself facedown onto her mattress. The engine is still running hot, surging pain through her chest and her head and her arms with the slow letdown of adrenaline; she can smell it searing a scorched mark into the bedsheets. "You too - just... just shut up and leave me alone.”

[nanamismoonchild]

BTS hyungline reacting to you dancing or rapping to Bongos by Cardi and Megan Thee Stallion

warning: nsfw, and reader says "you must be trying to buy me?" as a joke, this is not a reference to sex trafficking :)

nsfw

note: listen i don't know what possessed me halfway through. i'm not sorry.

Namjoon

These hoes camped out in the comments Always talkin' like they know me (Ayy)

Namjoon listened to you vent on your live, almost screaming the words. Apparently, some "little rapper chick", your words not his, was in your comments trying to shade.

"Bitch, you in my comments. Get a damn life or go fix your lace front. Shit, do something."

"Tell em, baby!"

"Namjoon, I might need your bike, so i can pull on this hoe if she keep playing."

"Bet."

Seokjin

Bitch, I look like money (Like money) You could print my face on a dollar

Seokjin was living his best life. Not only were you giving him the lapdance of his life, but the way you were throwing it back, had him throwing bands. He was pretty sure Benjamin Franklin was traumatized from all the ass he was seeing.

"You must be trying to buy me or something?"

"I don't do that, sweetheart. But I'll buy you dinner."

Yoongi

My back shots sound like bongos I ain't scared to admit I'm a freak ho 

Yoongi knew one thing and two things for certain. You ain't never told a lie. But he honestly thought you were just spitting game to get into his pants. No.

Oh no. How wrong he was?

That ass is fat and the way you were throwing it back as he pumped himself into you from behind...Chile....this man was afraid that you were trying to baby trap him. And he'd be damned, if he wasn't thinking about putting one into you anyway.

Hoseok

Hoes pop pills, but I'm the one they can't take Hot-girl shit, I'ma make somethin' shake I know these stiff hoes can't relate

You were getting ready to go to Hoseok's listening party for Jack in the Box. You knew you were going to be shaking some ass on your man, so you were listening to your playlist called "Throw Dat Ass Girl" featuring songs from Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi, Latto, and yes, BTS.

Hoseok was behind you, eyeing your ass that was sitting just so right under that little dress you were wearing. Coupled with the dark lined lip with the lip gloss, the six inch stilletos, and the boob tape that your tiddies sitting nice and right, he wondered if he really wanted everyone at the party to see you.

"Don't be looking at me like that, sir. I need to make sure that lil bitch Kim Ji Soo knows that she should be afraid when I come around. So I'm going. And I'm going to shake everything my momma gave me."